#Undertaker's final farewell

[tomatosoupcat]

Seasons of Life

🍅 A Sims 4 Legacy Challenge 🍅

Required Packs: Seasons, Life & Death, Discover University, Island Living, Cottage Living, Eco Lifestyle, Snowy Escape, Outdoor Retreat, Paranormal, Crystal Creations

(graphics) (base game version)

General Rules:

You can start with any season you like, depending on your mood. After that, simply follow the natural progression of the seasons in order.

Play on any lifespan you feel comfortable with (I recommend long so you have more time to enjoy your designated season).

Goals with an asterisk * are optional.

Each generation will have a color theme (2-3 colors) that you can either spin for or select using their corresponding color wheel.

Start with the sims starter budget of 20k.

Skills are more like hobbies, you don't need to max them out unless you want to. Instead, incorporate them naturally into your gameplay for a more enjoyable experience.

For each generation, write a bucket list and complete it.

Autumn/Fall

You've always felt a deep connection to the past, especially the untold stories of lives once lived. As a Mortician, you offer comfort and guidance, helping others navigate their final farewells. Your fascination with the afterlife fuels your passion for writing and spiritual communication. Crafting candles is another way you honor this connection, bringing light to where darkness has taken hold, and creating moments of peace for those who have departed.

Colors: https://spinthewheel.app/BUX2XpbCyZ Aspiration: Ghost Historian Career: Undertaker (Mortician) Traits: Bookworm, Loner, Macabre Skills: Candle Making (fabrication), Thanatology, Medium, Writing, Baking

Goals: 

Spin or choose 2-3 colors from the respective color wheel.

Live in Ravenwood or Forgotten Hallow.

*Own a black cat.

Build a secret room in your house dedicated to spiritual communication, filled with creepy stuff, books, and your candle creations.

Hold séances regularly and communicate with spirits to further your knowledge of the afterlife.

Have a baby with the Grim Reaper.

Complete the Tarot Card collection.

Complete the Ghost Historian aspiration.

Winter

Growing up, holidays were always a special time for you—a chance to come together, celebrate, and experience something out of the ordinary. Your love for adventure led you to take up skiing, and your curiosity for how things work pushed you into engineering. You have a fascination with shiny objects, too, which fuels your desire to complete the gem collection. But your real pride and joy will be the day you bring a Servo to life, a mechanical companion that will share in your festive spirit.

Colors: https://spinthewheel.app/snqHArXyqB Aspiration: The Curator Career: Engineer (Mechanical Engineer) Traits: Outgoing, Ambitious, Loves Outdoors Skills: Gemology, Logic, Robotics, Handiness, Skiing

Goals: 

Spin or choose 2-3 colors from the respective color wheel.

Study Physics in Foxbury to earn a degree.

Build a Servo and add it as a household member.

Practice skiing regularly.

*Go to all the Mt. Komorebi festivals.

Collect every gem in the game to complete the Gem Collection.

Host at least one major party or celebration per season/holiday.

Reach the top of the Engineering career by maxing out the Mechanical Engineer branch, where you can truly live out your ambitions.

Spring

Spring is a time of fresh starts, you find beauty in every blossom and new connection. You’re deeply connected to nature, with a knack for growing plants and arranging flowers. Your garden is your peaceful escape, where you spend time tending to it, making homemade juice, and crafting cross-stitched gifts. Full of romantic energy, your dream is to find lasting love while staying close to the freshness and color of spring. Whether creating floral arrangements or nurturing relationships, you live with an open heart and a love for all things that bloom.

Colors: https://spinthewheel.app/BNiCeRWGo4 Aspiration: Soulmate Career: Gardener (Floral Designer branch) Traits: Romantic, Green Fiend, Cheerful Skills: Flower Arranging, Romance, Juize Fizzing, Gardening, Cross-stitch

Goals: 

Spin or choose 2-3 colors from the respective color wheel.

Grow and maintain a beautiful (flower) garden, using it as your main source for flower arranging and juice fizzing.

Have bees and harvest their honey.

Sell your juice with a sales table.

Be in a polyamorous relationship.

Cross-stitch gifts for your loved ones as romantic gestures.

*Have pets or farm animals.

Hold a spring wedding in a garden or outdoor space.

Summer

Summer is your favorite season, a time when you thrive being outdoors, and surrounded by family. You cherish those moments spent on fishing trips, at cookouts, or singing campfire songs with a guitar in hand. Family means everything to you, and your dream is to create a warm, joyful home where you can pass down these cherished traditions, like camping adventures and fishing outings. With your part-time job, you value your downtime, often enjoying some well-deserved relaxation when you're off work.

Colors: https://spinthewheel.app/UexIB1BIcT Aspiration: Big Happy Family Career: Fisherman Traits: Family-Oriented, Loves Outdoors, Goofball Skills: Fishing, Guitar, Parenting, Cooking, Comedy

Goals: 

Spin or choose 2-3 colors from the respective color wheel.

Live in Sulani or Tomarang.

*Live off the grid.

Go camping at least once every season. (Granite Falls or other worlds)

Marry a Mermaid.

Have at least 3 children.

Host regular family barbecues, kava parties, or cookouts.

Teach your children fishing and guitar, passing on your love for both.

[inlovewithregencyera]

A letter from Maximilian Worthington to Frederick Worthington:

July 8th, 1817

Often, I am haunted by the fear of judgment for expressing my emotions so freely, save for you alone am I truly able to confide in. Today was extremely hard for me because it would’ve been Mama’s fiftieth birthday. I remember her death so clearly in the back of my mind, just as if it were yesterday. I returned from my daily ride, shortly before the usual dinner. I picked Mama a handful of daisies hoping to lift her spirit as she had been so melancholy with the loss of my dear sister the year prior. I hastily walked up to her chamber, knocked, and received no answer. Knocking once more and still hearing nothing, I entered the room, only to find her lifeless body limp and sprawled across the bed. I screamed for Father, who rushed from his study, and upon seeing his dear wife, collapsed and was immediately consumed by tears. His scream was heard all over Ivyhurst, as Isabella came immediately from the drawing room. We were all overtaken by grief, and sprawled on the floor in our despair. Miss Hurst, Bell’s governess, gently took the poor desolate girl away from the scene. I attempted to console my dear Father and it seemed my mind had gone blank. I don’t know how long I sat there with him weeping into my arms, perhaps it was an hour or two because when I looked out the window the sky was pitch black. Papa refused for anyone to come near her body, and told Reverend Smith to be damned to the depths of hell. When the funeral furnisher and undertaker finally arrived, he could not part with the corpse of his beloved Phia and therefore attacked both men who tried to get her. Because of this, he was given one last night alone with her, and he didn’t sleep. He held her in his arms and wept into her bosom the whole night, begging God to do the irreversible and take him instead. He said it wasn’t right that a man's sweet little daughter and now his beloved wife must go before him. I sat with Bell the whole night who cried herself to sleep in my arms. I didn’t sleep and had no more tears to cry, so I just sat there with my right leg joining my heart in numbness. At the crack of dawn, Father called us to embrace Mama’s lips and say a last farewell. I knew this kiss would be the last I should ever bestow upon on the woman who held all my affection. In the evening, she lay in the chapel with all the servants and the few people she held dearest to her heart around her coffin. The only person missing was you, as Papa blamed the entirety of your household for her demise, thus you were forbidden from coming. The daisies I picked for her were placed into her hands, and that was my final gift to my mother. She was taken to Thornfield before nightfall, to be reunited with the vessel of her daughter just as her spirit had been. Papa refused to watch her be put into a grave as he said he would jump into it with her, and Bell and I knew our hearts couldn’t handle that same sighting we saw less than a year ago with the death of our Elle. I watched the hearse head for the gates, and before it left, I kept telling myself that it was a nightmare. I hoped it would return with haste and bring back my nurturer, my savior, my most cherished Mama-but it never did.

[belit0]

Heyy, can you write about indra coming back to take his lover with him after like 2-3 years of his fight with ashura?

Of course! there is no way to refuse anything to do with Indra. I'm a little rusty, so bear with me while I get back in the game….

I allowed myself the freedom to adapt it a little bit to my own idea, I hope you like it!

TW: none Pairing: (Otsutsuki Indra / Fem! Reader) SFW

It's been 3 years of hard fighting, that's news to no one.

All the inhabitants of the area fled as soon as the conflict started, consisting of two large groups facing each other, Indra and Ashura at the forefront of the dispute. Eventually, as time passed, soldiers fell on the battlefield, one by one, succumbing to various injuries.

Some gave up because of hunger, cold, and the environment, choosing to flee. Those who tried on Indra's side, encountered endings far more tragic than what the battlefield itself would have brought them, facing their commander directly, only to be killed by the sword of the one they supported.

Numerous attempts were made by Ashura, trying to negotiate and end the slaughter, as it not only annihilated the area of the fight along with all its underlying villages but also took the lives of thousands of soldiers who lent loyalty to one of the two sides.

His eldest brother was relentless in his conviction, choosing to die in combat rather than surrender to his enemy.

Time passed, and only two fighters were left standing after the first year of the war. Family, eternally opposed by miscommunication and resentment, destined to ruin each other's lives regardless of the outcome of their confrontation.

It only ceased when Ashura decided to take his own life in front of him, permitting not only the pleasure of victory but also the satisfaction of seeing the one who snatched what was his, who destroyed his destiny and replaced it with violence, fall.

Ashura never fought with the desire to win and never pursued the goal of defeating his brother. He answered every attack with all his strength only to avoid premature death, yet always harboring the hope of reaching his soul, of finding the Indra with whom he grew up, who understood him from beginning to end. Realizing that this would never happen, that the war could drag on for another 5 years, if necessary, he opted for the option that would give peace to them both.

A self-inflicted throat cut, just as another day of fighting was about to begin.

While that meant triumph for Indra, it did not come without a bitter taste, a sense of his younger brother making it easy for him. He had fantasized about the moment he would pierce his heart with his sword, the final words he would utter with contempt on his face as he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Both clans were practically destroyed after the end of the battle, finding the destruction of Ashura's descendants unnecessary. Yet undertaking the journey back home became the most difficult part.

What was home?

What was Indra returning to?

What would be left after three years of absence?

It wasn't where, it was to whom.

“Home” was not a physical place, but a person. His, person.

She had promised to wait, remaining away from the battlefield to ensure her survival, under direct and strict instructions from her beloved. Indra could not afford to lose her, anything but her.

The place where he had sheltered her was recondite, remote, hidden, difficult to access, and under his personal power. The same place where he had stayed years after initially losing to his brother, plotting and planning how to strike back properly.

The path would be arduous and complicated, long in the making, and hard to execute. It hurt him knowing she had no way of telling the outcome of the battle, that she could do nothing more than imagine he would be the one to win. All she could do was wait and hope, praying he would eventually walk through their simple door into the little hut where he had left her on their farewell day.

He promised to return, yet there was no certainty.

Days were all the same, hours passed slowly, and while (Y/N) had managed to build a daily routine that helped keep her sane, uncertainty lurked every day.

Dread at the thought of her man having lost the battle long ago, his body being covered by dirt in a forgotten war field for months, that no one would come looking for her, that he would never return… a daily companion.

She had begged and begged Indra to forget the matter, they could start from scratch somewhere where no one would know about them, build their own village and clan, and redeem their reputation.

He could never even consider it.

His honor had been put at stake, his ego had been bruised, and in the face of it, he could only fight back, act, and do. Start a war and hope to return home.

The night they parted was something permanently etched in (Y/N)'s mind. Unprecedented passion in the darkest shadows of the room, lit only by a few candles providing a timid light to their naked bodies, covered lightly by tangled sheets.

She had cried, and he had wiped away each of her tears, promising in vain everything would be all right.

She had pleaded, and he had refused her every attempt, claiming he would be the conqueror.

Frequently, anger was her greatest companion in her terrible loneliness. Since Indra left, she could not avoid a feeling of apprehension toward him. Why could he not desist from his stupid and long-standing anger, an unnecessary war? Why should he risk his life for it?

She never understood. Nevertheless, she supported him.

Millions of mundane thoughts began to monopolize her mind, eventually. Tending the garden, cooking, washing, keeping the house spotless for possible and unforeseen arrival, tending to the animals of their small flock, and making sure everything was in order.

She stopped dwelling on him constantly, stopped resenting him, stopped holding him in her mind all the time, moving him to the depths of her thoughts, where she kept her most beautiful and cherished memories alive, immaculate.

She chose to trust, to believe.

Someday he would come back and everything would be all right.

A chicken escaped from the pen. The greatest entertainment (Y/N) was having during this gray day.

When chances are scarce, you have to find ways to amuse yourself, right?

The weather did not lend itself to going for a walk in the woods, as it was threatening to pour a terrible rain at any moment. Conditions like this forced her to stay indoors, tending the fire so that it would not burn out and keep the hut warm.

Of course, she could find something else to do, yet it was the chicken escaping that she found most interesting and enjoyable. Forgetting her other possible hobbies, (Y/N) she decided to catch it before the rain came down.

Armed with courage and determination to solve the problem before she got completely soaked, she set off through the forest, looking carefully at the ground and searching for the trail of her little target.

The damned thing had speed and had soon moved away from the sector where (Y/N) keeps the animals, the ones she uses as therapy and occasional food when protein is needed.

"Damned little audacious one... where are you?"

The first drops were starting to rattle against the leaves, the ground was dampening and thunder rumbled angrily in the sky.

"Shit! Of course, you couldn't select better weather for this... no, of course not... it's not like we spent days of absolute sunshine and warmth! Fuck!"

The rain took its time but began to descend with a rush. The ground turned to mud, a curtain of water covered her immediate view, and her clothes clung uncomfortably to her body.

Bad idea, after all.

She opted for abandoning the foolish illusion of rescuing the chicken, which it could manage on its own in the weather, and if it was lucky enough to survive, it might even return on its own in search of some corn kernels. This had become very ridiculous.

She set off back to her hut but found herself disoriented amidst the noise of the rain and the lack of visibility. She had suddenly lost her own footprints on the ground because of the water and had no way to trace her way back.

Feeling desperation sink into her chest, hyperventilation followed close behind. The fire had been left burning in the cabin, if any brace were to jump out it could mean losing absolutely everything!

Finding the way back was critical and necessary and it had to happen now!

Turning around in her unleashed anxiety, looking for marks on the nearby trees to give her direction and trying to hear animal noises to get an idea of where she was standing, she began to run without any direction.

Rain lashed the leaves mercilessly, thunder stunned her eardrums, despair crowned her mind, her steps were erratic and incoherent, with the only objective of advancing to who knows where, and BANG!

She fell helplessly to the ground, hitting her back against the cold mud. Her vision became double from the blow, and she didn't understand if what she was seeing was an illusion.

A man, her man.

Dressed entirely in war armor, still stained with dried blood, hair loose and completely wet, full of marks and scratches on any part of skin his armor allowed to be visible. In his right hand he carried a sword, and in his left, the chicken, which he held by the legs, head down.

He looked at (Y/N) with the same perplexity as she looked at him, not understanding whether what was happening was real or not.

Neither said a word for what felt like minutes, with the storm and chicken noises being the ambient sounds of the scene.

"(Y/N)...?"

Her name came from his lips trembling and incredulous as if he found it hard to believe that the one who lay dumbfounded on the ground was his beloved, and life was reuniting them in this situation.

"In..Indra-a..?"

He pounced on her, sending the poor chicken flying through the air, who ran away as soon as it sat up on the ground. A deep embrace brought the two of them together, amidst cold metal and freezing water in between.

"The... the chicke-e-en!"

(Y/N) exclaimed, still astonished and in shock.

It was Indra's deep laughter that finally brought her back to reality, wrapping her arms as best she could around him, holding her beloved after years of separation, fear, and uncertainty.

"No need to worry about anything... I'm back."

They remained in that position for what felt like hours, simply sensing each other's presence, nothing mattering.

Not the storm, not the cabin, not the chicken.

[layanasstories]

Cause of Pain

Part 27

I am standing in the parkinglot in front of the funeral home. I take in the building and its surroundings. Lots of nature, flowers are planted along the walkways, weeping birches and willows seem to have sprouted at random and the drooping branches sway quietly in the breeze. It is a serene atmosphere, exactly what a cemetery should emanate, eternal peace.

It is late in the afternoon, the sun is already starting to set. With the assistant at the mortuary, I had planned a nice quiet farewell. There wouldn't be many visitors anyway, Mary and I certainly would, Lilly and Dan aswell, but otherwise maybe Alan or Andrew the FBI supervisor might be there. I had asked if 'Jake' could be cremated before the ceremony took place. So that in the small room of the funeral home I could do a memorial, where the temporary urn will already be there. The assistant had told me that the cemetery has a beautiful scattering fiele. And that is what I wanted to do, give Mark, the real one, a beautiful final resting place.

I take a deep breath of air and walk inside. The small room, was not as small as I thought. Fifty people would easily fit in. There are chairs, divided into two to create a middle aisle. At the front of the room, the urn sits on a small table decorated with flowers. White roses, that was my choice, to symbolise the love I feel for Jake. There is gentle quiet but neutral music, I had indicated that would be enough.

The further I walk down the room towards the urn, the more the lump in my throat grows. Despite the fact that I know it's not Jake in the urn and I'm not going to scatter him, it is a farewell. It is a goodbye to the Jake I have come to know, a goodbye to Jake's existence. And even that I know he is now sitting on the sofa at home in his house, safe, it brings tears to my eyes. I had called him, after planning the memorial. I had told him about the meeting with his mother, and what I had told him about why the FBI was looking for him. He had to chuckle a little when I told him that. "How did you figure that out?" Had he asked as I got it right in one go.

I had urged him not to come to the memorial. It is quite something that his mother wanted to be there and help stage the play. But I don't want to give her a harder time than necessary and for her expression to betray that Mark is Jake. And besides, for her it's also a form of saying goodbye to her son in a way. She has no idea that there is a actual cremated body in the urn, I had told her it is just ashes from burned coal and wood.

In the front row are Mary, Lilly and Dan. All three look up as I walk past them to the urn and place my hand on it for a moment. Everything should be an act, but I feel the mourning. The mourning of losing last year. The mourning of never having 'Jake' again. The mourning for Mark who had to sell his life for the freedom of my greatest love, planned or not. I release my breath that I had been holding all this time, turn around and sit down next to Mary.

It does not take long for the undertaker to speak. As if in front of a full room, he starts speaking. "Welcome family and friends, we are gathered here in memory of Jake Alexander Harisson. In a moment, his beloved will speak a few words in his honour. Afterwards, she will walk with Jake's urn to the scattering field, she has indicated each of you are welcome to attend the scattering of Jake's ashes. Miss Schmidt, if you are ready." He turns to me and extends his hand invitingly. I take another deep breath, stand up, walk to the urn and turn towards the room. I expected to speak to an empty room, but I am overwhelmed by what I see.

[skeller-impact]

[Short horror story I thought up the other day. Let me know if you can tell where the inspiration came from.]

You enter the art gallery, you don't know how you got here or where you are. But you know this to be what this is, as you've seen places like this before. Another person is coming in behind you, so you feel obligated to move deeper into the gallery.

It is a unique gallery, but it is a pleasant and not unfamiliar, pretty standard affair. You see some interesting pieces on a brochure in the lobby. The only issue is that the gallery seems quite busy. You swear someone new enters the building every minute or so.

It's crowded and slow going, and there are people blocking the few to many of the pieces. You think about leaving, but you see a group of irritable people by the exit. You would need to make yourself heard multiple times and say excuse in a way that is understood. People would be annoyed with you, so you stay.

As time goes on, the gallery fills up more and more until it is challenging to move. The chatter around you is loud to the point that it becomes challenging to think. You've become stuck in a corner, people are idling moving around, and some touch you briefly on their way past. A few of them offer an apology in passing, but others don't seem to register your existence. You are crushed under the social pressure.

Eventually, there is a call that the gallery is closing. You've unfortunately been unable to see all the exhibits you were hoping for. You think maybe you can get a quick look when people are filling out. However, a large number of people linger in the gallery until the very last moment, slowly making their way out only when the building is officially closing for the night. You, of course have to exit as quickly as you can.

Even so, you find yourself being one of the last people to leave the gallery. The employees are pleasant in their farewells, but you can feel the air of judgment in their voices. You get to your car, it's dark out, and you realize you've got a long drive ahead of you. You'll have to sit in traffic for at least a while, making the thing feel even longer. Eventually, you turn off from the main road. Technically, it'll be faster, but the speed limit is much lower. Part way home, you realize you're getting low on gas. There are no gas stations open at this hour, at least none that you know of. You feel unwilling to attempt to go somewhere unfamiliar at this hour. Plus, it would make the trip so much longer to take a detour. You'll have to get gas tomorrow.

You're finally home. The bed calls to you, but you've things you have to do before sleep. Some are just getting ready, but others you know that if don't do now, you'll not have time for in the morning. Because it hits you, you've got to go to work tomorrow. You'll have to set an alarm, and this hour, it's not going to be a full night's sleep. You do not sleep well this night. The blankets feel uncomfortable, and you have not showered in a while. The one thought is on your mind- in 1998, the undertaker threw mankind off Hell In A Cell and plummeted 16 ft through an announcement table.

[teecupangel]

The ink-stained parchment lay before me, bearing words of importance. It held a message that needed to reach distant shores, far beyond the reach of my current abode. The task was clear—I had to undertake a voyage, braving unknown lands and treacherous seas, to ensure the safe delivery of this precious missive.

With the letter safely tucked away in my bag, I embarked on a grand adventure. The road unfurled before me, winding through verdant landscapes and bustling towns. Each step carried me closer to my destination, yet the distance seemed vast, the expanse of the world unfathomable.

As I traveled, I marveled at the sights and sounds of foreign lands. The air was scented with unfamiliar fragrances, the language spoken by the locals a melodious symphony that danced upon my ears. The customs and traditions of these distant realms intrigued me, offering glimpses into lives so different from my own.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, as my journey pressed on. I encountered fellow travelers along the way, their stories intertwining with mine for fleeting moments. We shared meals, exchanged laughter, and bid each other farewell, knowing that our paths diverged as swiftly as they had converged.

The physical distance between me and the intended recipient of the letter seemed inconsequential compared to the emotional chasm bridged by those written words. They held the power to convey sentiments that transcended borders and time, reaching into the depths of the reader's heart.

Through rugged terrain and unpredictable weather, my resolve remained unyielding. The letter, a testament to love, friendship, or perhaps a plea for forgiveness, grew heavier with each passing mile. Its contents were etched in my memory, their weight echoing in my thoughts.

Finally, after countless trials and tribulations, I arrived at the edge of the known world—the place where the letter would find its final purpose. The distant land, with its foreign customs and unknown faces, embraced me in its arms. The letter, once entrusted to me, was now ready to continue its journey, to convey its message to the one who shall receive it.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, I stood before the local post office—a humble abode where dreams and stories converged. I handed over the letter, its journey nearly complete. The postmaster, with a kind smile, assured me of its safe passage, knowing the significance it held for both sender and recipient.

As I departed from that distant land, a sense of fulfillment washed over me. Though the journey had been arduous, it had been imbued with purpose and meaning. The letter, a vessel of emotions and words, had been delivered to its intended destination, bridging the distance between hearts separated by miles and oceans.

The receiver by the name of Teecupangel opened the mail and pulled out the letter, inside it says "HayDes where they are both birds"

(I have no regrets)

After a brief confusing mistaken identity incident compounded by the sudden traveling and moving weak bones unused to such travels nowadays had to endure, the alchemist known by many names has finally gotten used to the new atelier. A large cauldron with liquid swirling in colors of golden sands and azure time ready to be filled with many alchemic materials sits over a fire on the right end of the main room. Next to it is a small chalkboard that has been written on and erased so many times it has forever been whitened by the residue of the previous words clinging to it now written with a new list of the materials that must be added to the cauldron before the end of the week so that the alchemist might be able to peddle next week’s wares to the archives.

On the table near the cauldron lies two synthesized items of a kind of glass bomb, its clear glass surface showing the swirling golden flames made of high-quality gunpowder, inspired by a recipe from a group of professional alchemists only known as IW. One of the bombs seemed to have been placed in an apparatus of some kind, an alchemic tool used to rebuild already created synthesized items so they may be checked and materials may be added or changed if necessary.

A final step needed to ensure the quality of each synthesized item before they are peddled to the archives.

By the back of the main room, next to the large chest filled with materials picked or ordered by the alchemist were seven or eight cauldrons of varying sizes all stacked on top of each other, each bearing a little post-it with different numbers that seemed to be ‘0808’, ‘0812’, ‘0816’, ‘0826’ or ‘0828’. One of these cauldrons seemed to have the phrase ‘?w b 1012’.

On the left wall of the main room of this atelier, there appeared to be smaller cauldrons all lined up with a smaller fire already crackling over a small cauldron. There was the shining sounds that alerted the alchemist that it was done and the liquid inside the cauldron turned into a puff of multicolored smoke. All that was left inside was some kind stuffed teddy bear that seemed to have come from the nightmares of children. The alchemist grabbed the cauldron and hauled it off next to a box filled with small items that had been requested before and will be delivered today. The alchemist took the teddy bear and inspected it to make sure it was of good quality before placing it on the box. The alchemist walked back to the line of smaller cauldrons and took the closest to the fire before grabbing the next one and dragging it closer. The alchemist took the letter that they have placed inside when they had prepared the cauldron and placed the cauldron into the fire. As the cauldron heats, liquid of endless possibility slowly fill the cauldron while the alchemist opens the letter. The alchemist’s lips curved into a smile as they read the journey that this letter had gone thru all in the hopes that the writer’s request would be given even just a small item.

Then…

“HayDes where they are both birds.”

And the alchemist shuffled to the chest of materials to look for bird feathers and taco shells…

(And you shouldn’t regret anything about this ask. The whole introductory part made me smile and really made me wonder what you plan to ask XD)

You’re free to think of what kind of bird they would be although I was thinking of a House Finch when I was writing this, the ones with the red plumage since red is both a part of Haytham’s color and the color of the Assassins that Desmond has in his main outfit.

Haytham used to be owned by one Reginald Birch who had to let him go because he was acquired illegally and, well, Reginald Birch was in trouble with the government for other more serious crimes that he can’t afford a ‘loose end’.

Haytham was just minding his own business, trying to get used to the sudden freedom he had received, flying out of the way of larger birds of prey that he would sometimes see flying above him when he happen to hear singing. He flies to that direction, making sure to stay in the cover of branches and anything that would hide him from any predators above him and managed to perch on a branch that overlooks a small home with a well-maintained lawn with a bird feeder at the center, surrounded by bushes that held delicious looking berries.

The singing was coming from the bird feeder where a lone bird of the same species as him seem to simply be lazing around, hopping from the bottom part of the feeder to the top, sometimes even dipping a wing into the drinking water for a bit.

Almost as if mesmerized by the song, Haytham raised his wings to take flight and go to the bird feeder but then he heard a loud cry of a bird of prey that sounded quite larger than him.

He raised his head…

And three large eagles stare down at him as if warning him to not do anything foolish.

Unorganized Notes

Desmond is unofficially the pet bird of the house with the bird feeder. Every morning, a man with glasses and a noticeable British accent would do maintenance of the lawn and even pick up some berries to place on the bird feeder for Desmond to snack on. Whenever Desmond chirps his gratitude to him, he just goes, “Yes, yes, of course you’re happy, you bloody freeloader.”

The three eagles are the ones keeping the other birds from going to the bird feeder. Haytham has no idea what they’re deal is and they have no plans to explain anything to Haytham but Desmond seemed to know them, even calling them by their names. They’re all different kinds of eagles.

Haytham gets a crow friend named Shay who tells him the tea. Apparently, Desmond was also thrown away like Haytham although Shay don’t know the reason for that one. Anyway, Desmond befriended the eagles during his time looking for a place to live and they just… sorta stayed together? Anyway, the owner of the bird feeder only knows about Desmond and the three eagles usually hunt nearby and stuff.

Haytham thinks the entire thing is stupid and, really, don’t the damn eagles think that maybe Desmond would like some company?

“Of course, just not you.”

This does end with Haytham getting Shay to make noises that wil distract the eagles (Shay decided that getting chased by that asshole dog Gaultier would be a good distraction enough and started screaming for help once he was nearby all the while goading Gaultier just to be a jerk).

Haytham manages to dive into the bird feeder but one of the eagles realized it and let out a loud cry to alert the others so Haytham ignored precision and grace for speed.

And ended up diving straight to the water fountain.

From there, the eagles are powerless as Desmond and Haytham start to grow closer because, now that Desmond has seen and talked to Haytham, they can’t ‘make him go away’ (“You’re going to eat him?!” “Shoo him away.” “But eating was never off the table.”) because that would make Desmond sad.

They usually just talk while sharing the bird feeder as they learned about each other and Haytham totally ignored the glaring he could see behind Desmond.

Once they started getting close, they began to groom each other.

Haytham usually hides in the bushes and flies from one bush to another whenever the owner would come out. Desmond tells him that this ‘Shaun’ would be happy to find another bird using this large bird feeder but Haytham isn’t gonna risk it since the man always sounds so annoyed when he’s doing the daily lawn maintenance.

When they’re finally together, they began to sing at the top of the bird feeder and Haytham stays even after the man has come out. The man stares at Haytham for a few seconds before turning to look at the forest where the eagles have (disgruntedly) approved of Haytham and Desmond’s relationship, “You three finally decided that Desmond can have a partner?” There was three sets of grumbling bird sounds and the man nods as he said, “Yeah, I guess not.” (From inside the house, they hear a female voice shout, “Shaun! Stop pretending you can understand birds!”)

Sidebar: I was thinking of this kind of feeder:

[aphroditestempleimagines]

The Obsidianite Jewel

A fem!reader x Chevalier Michel Fanfiction

Chapter 18 -> Chapters Masterlist

Words: 3217

Warnings: language, violence, death, blood

Summary: It all started when your fiancé, Prince Gilbert, brought you to the palace of Rhodolite. He hoped he would find the secrets of the princes. Instead, he lost your heart to the brutal beast. However, Gilbert is not going to let your heart wander away easily

Chevalier stood alone outside the closed heavy door of the cathedral. He stared at its wood and iron frame, carved with depictions of mythology and built with the finest materials, befitting of the crown jewel of the Istidorian Church. His long white cape and usual robes were replaced by a black suit, roses elegantly embroidered on the chest with gold thread; he had not worn that thing in years. He took a deep breath. He had not known hesitation in his life, yet this feeling could be nothing but. He clenched the letter in his one hand, the white roses in the other. Everything would change once he crossed that doorstep. Everything would be real.

She would really be gone.

He pushed the door open. At the end of rows of cushioned benches laid the open coffin, filled with white flowers as if brought out from a fairytale. Yet this reality was the furthest thing from it, since the woman that rested inside was the light of his life, snuffed away too soon.

He manoeuvred his way among the crying people, held by guards in a row to bid their final farewell. James had placed Melville among them in order to let Chevalier approach from the family's seats. He thanked him with a nod, the guard returning a sorrowful look. It was strange how that single look of pity comforted him in his deep despair; perhaps it was another thing he had lacked when he had first needed it.

It had been a year since he had last seen her, so full of life and hope. The woman in the coffin looked nothing like it. Her skin was stuck on her frail bones, her eyes tired even in eternal sleep. All the makeup of the undertakers could not hide those things from him. She wore a white dress; he never attended her wedding so he could not tell if it was just a coincidence. Her hands held a bouquet of red roses. Chevalier reached for the petals. His breath caught. He would recognise that texture anywhere; they had been brought in from Rhodolite.

"How did she die?", he almost did not ask.

"Scarlet fever your Majesty", said Melville.

"That's a lie. There are no signs of that"

Melville lowered his head. "Broken heart", he finally confirmed Chevalier's fear.

It was the same. The same thing all over again. Had he truly become his father? Leading a good woman to die of this affliction? Yet the King had never loved his mother. He had loved y/n with all his heart's might.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek. Did he imagine it? People were staring. Irrelevant, they did not matter. But had he truly lost his composure? He tried to shake the tears away but only called forth more. His body was not responding. It was not that of a beast anymore, but that of a human. A human in pain. A human in loss. A human like her, like everyone else.

He leaned forward to place a kiss on her frozen forehead. He touched his own oh the same spot, his warmth never transferring as he had hoped.

"Come back", he whispered, "Come back"

He repeated those words again and again even as his eyes fluttered awake, the tears he had shed in his sleep watering his pillow. He brushed his fingers underneath his eyelid, gathering those peculiarities people called tears. He sat up on the bed and buried his face in his hands. He could not allow that dream to come true. He would not.

He walked to the main deck, where James chatted with Silvio, who manned the wheel.

"Wakey wakey sleeping beauty", James grinned, "I was just about to have Silvio here give you true love's kiss"

"Don't pull me into your weird fantasies, shithead", Silvio barked, "It's enough that I have to sail you all the way to bloody Istidor"

"If you did not want to owe me a favour you should had been better at playing cards", James smirked at him.

"We both know you cheated you bloody cod"

Chevalier let out a long sigh. It was a ridiculous idea to involve the Jangling fool to begin with. "How far are we from port?", he interrupted their continuing banter.

"Port?", James' face contorted in confusion, "We're not going to a port"

"Then well shall we-"

"Their castle has a beach enclosed between the walls", Silvio said, "And all this trouble because this crook is a criminal on multiple levels"

"Hey", James crossed his arms in front of his chest, "I'm starting to regret helping you set up the trade route"

"You didn't help jack squat!", Silvio fumed again.

Chevalier did not dally longer to listen to the rest of that pointless conversation. He climbed down and walked to the stern. In isolation he sat, his hands on the rail as he gazed at the trail of sea foam the ship left behind. Benitoite was long gone in the horizon on his right. They had sailed to the open sea instead of following the coast to avoid detection. It was crazy to think, but Chevalier had never been this far from Rhodolite before. It was like an invisible hand constantly quenched his heart as he was to far away to learn, let alone react, if disaster befell his people.

Did you ever feel that way? You must have. You have been the official heir to the throne from the moment you were born. Yet you travelled away from your homeland, to reside in what was basically the wolf's den.

Chevalier buried his face in his hands. Who was he to think he had any say in your actions? Who was he to claim he should be your saviour? Yet again, how could he stand on the sidelines? The thought of going against your choices made him more nauseous than the relentless sea. The thought of him even remotely resembling what disgusted him about your relationship with Gilbert...

Soon the ship turned and the horizon beyond which the land resided disappeared behind Chevalier. They must had reached their drop-off point. By nightfall, they were bidding Silvio goodbye as he and James boarded a boat to cross the small stretch of water to the shore below the Royal palace.

"Don't put your trust in him", Silvio grabbed Chevalier's arm before he boarded the rowboat, "He's not worthy of it. He always has another goal"

Chevalier did nothing but nod to Silvio's warning. The prince of Benitoite had not provided him with any new insight. He was well aware that both he and James were using each other; there was nothing else they could do when they had only met a few days ago. He trusted that he could help, but he never took as guaranteed that he would.

James rowed the boat inside a cave, hidden by unforgiving rocks underneath the cliff where the castle stood. They passed under a drawn iron gate, its spikes hanging menacingly above their heads. They docked in front of a small wooden door which James opened with a black iron key he wore around his neck. As he pulled it out, a small religious pendant was pulled with it; James was quick to tuck it back inside his black silk blouse. They climbed over a thousand steps to reach a network of tile-paved corridors. James lit a lantern on one of the walls and carried it along the way until they happened upon a glass wall, a large ballroom residing on the other side. James hung the lantern and pulled a small lever on the side, letting the glass door relax enough to push it open. They slipped on the other side and the young prince pushed closed the glass door, the ballroom's reflection concealing the path from which they came.

Chevalier's hand fell on the hilt of his sword. "Why did we come out here?", he asked.

"'Tis the only way out of that maze"

"I sincerely doubt that",

James let out a sigh. The low whistle of armour became louder and louder as the seconds passed. "Don't fight", James said simply before throwing his sword away and putting his hands behind his head. Soon after, a group of soldiers from the King's guard surrounded them. The eyepatched prince stood in shock on the steps behind them. "I caught an intruder", James said theatrically, "An enemy to the crown. Now isn't that worth reinstating me?". Gilbert smiled in satisfaction as the soldiers took Chevalier to the dungeons and James to the King's office.

Chevalier's blood was boiling as he restrained himself from annihilating his captors. He had not even let Clavis do something like that in his presence. He took a deep breath as the soldiers tossed him unceremoniously into one of the cells. After a while, Gilbert passed by to mock him. Chevalier looked at him with his icy blue eyes, never uttering a word to him. He looked around; perhaps he could escape. Maybe he could pick the lock like his idiot brother would and steal a sword from one of the guards. If he had a sword and he had his wits he would be as good as free. But such a thing would defeat the purpose of him coming all the way there.

"Pssst", a whisper was heard from behind him. Chevalier turned to see Melville's freckled face peak from the shadows that sheltered a hidden door on the back wall. Was this part of James' play?

He followed Melville inside another maze of corridors until they reached a wooden door. Melville pushed it open and they entered the King's study through a library. The guard gave a slight bow to the man sitting on a large armchair behind the book-ridden desk and returned to the hidden corridor.

"Take a sit", the man pointed at the chairs on the other side of the desk before returning to his paperwork.

So this was King Edward. He sat proudly, his back straightened, as he examined the papers in front of him with grace. His face was scared on the left. His great longsword was left on his side, always kept at arm's length. Chevalier looked around; all doors to the room were closed. He saw the chairs the King had offered him. They had no arms to them, as a King's chair should. This was a test like all the rest of his family liked to pull.

"I did not come here as a conversant of your Majesty", Chevalier dragged one of the chairs to sit next to the King, "I came here as Chevalier"

The King let out a light chuckle. "As Chevalier, huh?", he repeated, "And what could just-Chevalier dare request a King?"

"Your daughter's hand", he said.

"In case you didn't realise, the princess is already engaged", Edward dipped his feather quill in the ink and continued writing.

"I asked for your daughter", Chevalier said again.

"You did not ask for something different than what I said", the King lectured, "From what I've heard you're known to respect such things as duty and titles. My daughter is the crown princess. She will wed someone of her stature"

"From what I have heard, you, unlike me, do not hold titles and duty in the same importance when family is concerned"

King Edward let down his pen. He turned his serious gaze at Chevalier, the unwavering might of experience meeting the coldness of pride. "And what do you know about family?", he spat. He stood and walked closer to Chevalier. "Your father was a lecherous fool who prayed on women in response to his own hollow heart", he told him, "Your own mother resented you. You don't see the type to care about family"

"I care about your daughter"

"That is not enough"

The King took a step back, letting out a heavy sigh. He walked to the fireplace on the other side of the room. A portrait of a woman hung above it, recently brought to the room. She greatly resembled y/n but her hair was a different colour.

"Why did you call me up here then?", Chevalier asked, "You did not throw this charade in front of Gilbert's face to tell me to go back to where I came from"

King Edward placed his hand on the mantle. "You're here to be given a choice", he said, "If you want my daughter there are two ways to get to her. Either let Rhodolite become part of our Kingdom and marry her as the Earl of a prefecture or she forfeits her claim to the title and you marry her as a nobody"

"Neither is possible", Chevalier said, "But if you wish then I'll step down as King and travel here as my former self"

"I will not accept such a condition", said the King, "I gave you your options. Either choose or leave"

"Rhodolite is a nation that has been fighting against invaders for decades. I can't let it become a slave in the span of one night. I shall not."

"So you have chosen for y/n to come with you then"

"Let me be clear, I will NEVER ask that of her", Chevalier said determinedly, "Even if she agreed in the spur of a moment out of love for me she would ultimately regret it. I could never replace any of the things she's known her whole life. Not her home, not her family, not her birthright, not..."

"I know who you are Chevalier", the Istidorian King said, "I know you plan to go to war with the continent and unite the kingdoms in the name of peace". He turned to meet Chevalier's gaze. "I will not, do you hear me, I will NOT have you use Istidor in order to spread your tyrannical reign to the rest of the world"

Chevalier was regretting the place and time he had first uttered that plan. That damn plan. To his bleeding heart it appeared as a mere triviality. "Fuck that", he uttered for the first time in his life.

"Excuse me?"

Chevalier's brows furrowed as his eyes drilled into Edward's. "All I want is for me and y/n to be together", he clenched his fists, "I would not even care about proposing marriage or anything else if it weren't for our positions. I'd wait for her to feel free to move on. I would settle as her unnamed lover for a lifetime if it meant we would be an 'us'. But I understand who our ranks made us to be. I am aware of the barriers and the rules that have been placed to keep us in line with a standard. That is the only reason I'm here instead of her room asking her to stay with me"

King Edward's chuckle put a stopper on Chevalier's argument. "You really are a piece of work", he covered his face with his hand. He pulled up his chair and sat next to Chevalier once more. "I don't want y/n to marry Gilbert either"

Chevalier frowned. "What?"

"I know what Gilbert wants and that is to abolish the aristocracy and nobility from the world. Though a beautiful dream, I did not spend half of my life trying to convince the idiots in this country to let my daughter be the sovereign for Gilbert to come and dismantle her power"

Edward opened the drawer to his right. He searched between the papers and stamps and other trinkets he had shoved inside the small compartment instead of organising them until he found a small golden ring. "This is my House's seal", he handed the ring to Chevalier, "Not the King's, but my Family's". He stood and opened a cabinet between the library shelves. Unlike the rest of the room, the objects inside the cabinet were neatly organised and stored in small boxes. Edward took a blue velvet one in his hands and sat back down. Inside laid a gold medal on a blue ribbon. "This was my mother's", Edward said, "it is worn by the King's Consort or, in y/n's case, the Queen's consort. The ring I can give you with my blessing. But this, you have to earn in the eyes of the people's council"

"I'm assuming you have a plan for that", Chevalier's eyes narrowed,"Otherwise you wouldn't have brought me to see you"

Edward lifted the medal to eye level. He twirled it in his hand, his eyes glued to its shiny material. "I was not lying when I said that marrying you would cause problems.", he explained, "But in truth is the only solution I would accept is your abdication from the Rhodolitian throne and reinstatement as King Consort here"

Chevalier nodded his head. He was prepared to do this. A title, in the end, meant nothing in his eyes. "I simply request some time for a Belle to choose a new King before I leave", he said in earnestness.

The King of Istidor seemed enthralled by that answer. "You are a talented man", the King smiled, "It'd be a shame to clip your wings so soon". Chevalier responded with a frown to which Edward said "I'm not dead yet. You don't have to abdicate right now. Just in the future. Y/N would have to travel back quite frequently of course but other than that you are free to start your life together in peace"

"Would a mere promise like that be enough to convince them?"

"Which is why you need some back-up", Edward took a map from a small bin he kept next to his desk and spread it over the table. "Do you see that?", he pointed his finger at a mountainous region up north, "That is where my daughter is right now. A count that has a great dislike of me has organized a revolution. I want you to go there and help snuff it out, not by being a strategist but by being a leader."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"If you inspire the people then the people will follow you", the King said, "We keep pretend the nobles have all the power but in truth, especially in a Kingdom as large as this, they are merely ants compared to the number of lesser wealthy people. They are the true power in this country. If they want you here, the council will have to obey or be faced with widespread criticism and even violence"

Chevalier lifted his eyes from the map. "That is how you ensured y/n would be Queen isn't it?", he said, "You turned her into their hero"

"Now you're getting it", Edward gathered the map back into a neat roll before handing it over to Chevalier, "It's on you now, son"

Chevalier reached for the map. The moment he touched it he was pulled closer, close enough for the King to rest a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"Do you know why I exiled my son?", asked the King. Chevalier shook his shoulders. "Because it makes men like Gilbert trust him", Edward said, "I don't worry about him betraying me. That is the kind of trust I expect from my family, and why I can never call Gilbert that. Question is...can I call you? I'd like to. My daughter loves you. You certainly don't lack in intelligence and capability. But I will not put you over her safety or her inheritance. So be careful not to stir up the wrong kind of trouble"

Chevalier nodded. He could do nothing else. And with that, the King led him to another path and gave him the directions to find his way out.

[daybreakrising]

@delusionaid: ‘ life , as i see it , is all about farewells rather than reunions . ’ (from Ayato for Thoma)

Thoma knows a thing or two about farewells.

He studies the board before him, feigning focus on his next move as he collects together the thoughts that Ayato's words have summoned to his mind. It is not uncommon for them to have meaningful discussions over a game like this - it is one of the rarer moments where they have some peace, a moment of reprieve from Ayato's complicated schedule and his own jobs to undertake. A chance for them to just sit and talk. So, he is used to such statements from the other man - expects them, even.

But they are usually prompted by something, and that is what concerns him. With the Sakoku Decree lifted and ships parting their shores for Sumeru, for Liyue, for Mondstadt, it has been playing on his mind that he would like to visit home. It's not something he has yet mentioned to anyone, but Ayato knows him. Even if he hasn't sensed the call to home that lurks in Thoma's heart, it wouldn't take much to assume he might wish to make the journey now that it is possible. He has, after all, spoken of his homesickness before.

"It doesn't have to be." He remarks at last, his tone remaining light, casual, as if this was simply any other conversation of theirs. "And not every farewell is forever, either."

Though his heart has yearned for the familiarity of Mondstadt more and more, the subject of home is no longer quite so simple for the housekeeper. Home has many meanings to him - it is both the place of his birth, the place that holds so many fond memories of family and friends, the familiar landscapes, the food he grew up on; and it is the place he has made his home, the life he has built, everything he has fought tooth and nail for. It is the man sitting across from him.

Yes, he aches for Mondstadt, but he knows that he would ache equally for Inazuma in turn.

"We've both said our share of farewells in life," he continues, lifting his gaze at last from the board to meet Ayato's. "Farewells that are forever. Farewells that cannot be taken back. Farewells that still sting with the pain of grief." He thinks of his mother in her last days. He thinks of the last time he ever saw his father, waving from the deck of a ship.

They understand each other. They understand that grief that still lies heavy in their hearts. He may not shoulder the kind of responsibility that Ayato does, he may not grasp the intricacies of Inazuman politics quite as keenly, but in this, they are equal.

"There is something so... final... about the word. It automatically conjures a feeling of loss. So, to that regard, I have a proposition for you." Deft fingers pluck a piece from the board, make his calculated move without breaking eye contact. "Instead of farewell, say goodbye."

His lips curve into a smile as he leans back, his eyes softening with a warmth that highlights his affection for the other. "Personally, I prefer see you soon. That promises reunion, don't you think?"

There is an unspoken oath in the housekeeper's words - one he thinks, hopes, Ayato will hear. If I leave, I will come back. I promise.

[pearlplusau]

Pearlplusau Chapter 10 Part 2 - The Farewell

Rose and the gems did one round of visits to witness the beauty of the planet one last time. They traveled in a group as they all wanted to be as close to Rose as they could. They went to the strawberry fields where most of the battle took place, the lunar sea spire, the deactivated communication hub, and pretty much anywhere with a stable warp pad.

They spent the whole day together, which hardly happened since the human came into the picture. They tried to cheer each other up by theorizing how Rose could experience human life through her baby and how the four of them would do their best to care for the child.

But on the inside, the gems were struggling. They were doing their best to keep up with their appearances and not let their forms flicker for even a moment. If Rose found out how dire of a situation the gems were in, it could ruin everything for her, and the gems didn’t want that.

None of their gemstones were damaged or cracked, but they were merely struggling to hold onto their forms together before they had to retreat into their gems. It was like holding on to the base of a hot kettle and the more they held on to it, the more it burned. They had to let go of the kettle when they could soon, or else their hands couldn’t take the heat much longer.

The gems were at their last stop, the Healing Spring, which was also one of Rose’s gardens. At the center of the garden was Rose’s fountain, overflowing with her healing lachrymal essence in a peaceful shade of pink hue. The healing paradise was one of the clan’s most crucial sanctuaries, especially during the rebellion. Sure, they could get the healing tears from Rose, but it’s not practical to depend on their leader every time a gem was damaged. That’s why there is a haven for wounded gems to heal themselves whenever it was needed.

It was another beautiful day in the spring. The healing substance in the fountain was working just fine along with the watering systems on the nearby greenery. Despite the healing tears at an arms’ reach, the gems knew it wouldn’t help much with their situation.

The gems sat around the edge of the fountain and admired its beauty. There were five Rose statues decorating the fountain. Four of them were life-sized sitting at the middle of each side of the square. A gigantic statue of Rose stood in the middle of the fountain, where the healing tears streamed from the closed eyelids, acting as the water dispersion. And finally into the water reservoir where the tears were stored. The running healing substance rippled through the surface where the reflections of the five gems were disrupted.

“As you all know,” Rose was sat on the edge of the spring, with her midsection so enlarged she could be giving birth any moment. “This is one of our most precious sanctuaries ever since it was constructed during the rebellion. I may not be able to bring any more healing tears to you in the future, but in times of incredible need, you can always visit here for a breather or two.”

The gems nodded with gloomy expressions as they were fully aware of the implications of what she said.

“Promise me,” Rose implored, “That you’ll look after this safe space and take good care of them.”

The gems had their minds wondered elsewhere, but Rose took their silence as their agreed undertaking. She was very pleased as she believed the sanctuary and her garden would be very well taken care of and guided by her fellow gems.

Right after they left, rose petals bunched up and clogged the chambers. With the healing tears cut off to the fountain, the water slowly evaporated and dried up. Angry vines and other brambles started to surround the sanctuary, covering every inch of the garden and spring, desperately looking for a single drop of their master’s lachrymal essence to survive…

The once bright and hopeful sanctuary, only days after the gems’ departure, was transformed into a dangerous, dark, and dreadful maze filled with wild, directionless, and unguided brambles. The only source of light was from a skylight that shot down onto Rose’s fountain, hoping for their master’s return.

-

Today was the “Due date” predicted by Garnet. Rose stood in the middle of her room while the gems gathered outside of the temple cave. She wanted to say her final goodbyes with them one at a time.

Garnet was the first to enter the pink-clouded room. She stood right in front of her as she held onto Rose's hands. The pink gem turned over to the fusion’s palms and examined the two gems attached. The dark red gems gleamed as if the two individual gems were trying to bid farewell to the being who made them possible.

“Bounded by love.” She began while holding up her hands, “Garnet, I want you to take over this clan, lead this team, and protect this planet under my name. I also want you to be strong, not just for me and the gems, but for yourself too. We would never have made it this far without you. And I know, whatever the future holds, whatever comes in your way, you’ll do just fine with the gems at your side.

Garnet took a moment and swiped her sunglasses away, revealing three very watery eyes struggling with their tears. “It has been an incredible honor fighting alongside you and this clan.”

The two gems embraced one another, with Garnet on her toes and the abnormally enlarged midsection, they shared one last hug until it was time.

After the fusion left, the small purple gem with her thick, fluffy hair so long it reached to the floor, peeked into the room from the door.

For this goodbye, Rose was sat on the pink clouds while encouraging Amethyst to do the same. The small gem, now on all fours, was sulking her way in. She promptly collapsed, face first, right at the foot of the pregnant lady.

The depressed gem muttered something incomprehensive, but it sounded like “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

Rose couldn’t help but giggle at the playful sight of the earth gem despite the situation. “Oh my sweet, pure earth gem.” She said as she lifted her up by the arms, revealing a shielded expression from the depressing goodbye. As she pulled her into a hug, her guarded expression was softened into a quivering one just as a few moments ago. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened here. Don’t listen to what anyone says about the kindergarten. It’s your home, it’s where you came from. You might not be especially proud of that place because of its history, but you can’t define yourself solely of your place of origin either.”

She pulled her away from the hug and held her up like a soccerball. She did one of her favorite games with her: tossing her as high as she can till her laughs uncontrollably. As the goal was achieved, Rose continued while holding her like a little baby and bopping her nose. “You’re my fun, charming, and adorable Amethyst. No one can take that away from you, even when I’m gone. Be yourself, and be proud, okay?”

With her spirits lifted, literally and mentally, Amethyst went in for another hug before it was time.

The pearls were both called into the room after Amethyst got out. They were not expecting to be called at the same time, but they didn’t want to disregard/dismiss her last wish.

As both pearls got close to Rose, she motioned them both for their hands. Pearl held onto Rose’s left hand while Coral held her right hand.

She remembered an encounter with an old neurobiologist who explained to Rose the human brain. The human brains apparently can be split into two sides and contributes to different functions of the brain. The left side of the brain conjures logical and rational thought, contributing to something like a mathmatical intelligence. The right side of the brain, however, offers creative aspects of the human experience, such as art, imagination, and being fun in general. It can never be sure if the mind of a gem works the same way as a human’s brain. But one thing is for sure. The two of them, together, will be able to deal with any situation thrown at them.

“My pearls,” She said as she kneeled down to be on the same level and pulled them closer. “You two have been a part of my journey for so long, that it seems impossible to see how far you two have come. Pearl, you’re our strong logician and the best strategist I could ever ask for. I know you’ll be able to come up the best ideas for any obstacles to come. Coral, you’re creative, energetic, and you have always known how to make me happy, even in my worse emotional states. After everything I’ve done, you’ve both stuck with me all this time. You’re both caring, loyal, faithful, and the best friends a gem could ever ask for. And I want you to know, there is nothing in this universe that will make me forget either of you. The relationship between us will always hold a very special place in my gem.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Rose faced both pearls and found them both trying to contain themselves as best as they can. Rapid sniffles can be heard from Coral.

Was it something she said?

After some silent sobbing from each of them, Pearl was the first to pick herself up but struggled to speak, “I- We’ll miss you, Rose. We’ll miss you more than you could ever imagine.” Said Pearl while Coral nodded next to her.

Rose gently pulled both pearls into a hug.  Just as both pearls were done sobbing on the shoulders of their leader, Rose pulled them away and stood up. “It’s almost time. Gather the rest of the gems will you Pearl? I’ll be out in a minute.”

The white pearl took a shaky breath, but she didn’t deny her final request as a leader.

Coral stayed behind, knowing it was her last chance to talk to the reason of her existence. She whispered closely to her, “Rose, you won’t have to worry about us. We’ll take great care of everything.” She patted her big hands for assurance.

“I know you will.” Tears began to form at the edge of her vision once more. She wiped them off with the back of her hand and got up. “Come on, let’s go.”

The duo walked out of the temple to see Pearl with Garnet and Amethyst by her side. The gems were starting to prespire as the struggle of maintaining their forms was on the edge. They just had to hold it until they saw her off.

From a distance, they noticed Greg who was taking great interest in the van’s digital clock. He looked up just in time to see the gems’ final goodbye to Rose. "…I have faith in you. All of you."

KER-SPLASH

Oh, and just what Garnet’s predicted, her water broke just in time. Some type of liquid was streaming down her thighs and into a small puddle between her feet. While the other gems looked confused, Pearl looked disgusted and slightly mortified. She tried to not look paler than she already was. “Uh, Rose? I believe there is amniotic fluid coming out of your bottom, ergo your water broke.”

“Congratulations Rose!” Coral forced out a smile. “You’re in labor!”

Greg, who saw everything, rushed into scene. “Ohhhkayy, 7.21pm. Garnet’s timing was impeccable. Come on Rose let’s get you to the van.” He said as he helped her to the van. The rest of the gems followed in pursuit.

As they scuttled towards the van, there was a certain level of pain taking over Rose’s abdominal area.

“Oh wow.” Rose took a moment to register the pain. “That is an incredible pain for labour. Oh! It’s gone. I think it comes and goes every few minutes. Do all pregnant women experience this, Greg?” She asked as they got out of the beach. Her expression shifted between astonishment and pain as the contractions come and go.

“Y-yea, I guess.” He kept his eyes to the van. They’re almost there.

“Do the males experience this too?”

“Uh no us guys don’t-”

“Then why aren’t the women here worshipped for enduring this exruciating pain and labor to another lifeform?” Rose asked as Greg got her up the van. He rushed to driver’s seat, got up, and turned the ignition. The van didn’t start, so Greg tried again and again while muttering anxiously, “Come on, come on…”

Just as Rose was having the contractions, she realized the gems were just outside the passenger’s seat. Coral being the closest to the door while the rest of the gems stood back, looking very uneasy. She rolled down the window to bid her final goodbye to everyone. The engine finally roared to life after the dozenth attempt. “Finally!” Greg exhaled in reflief, “Alright, I know a guy who might be able to help us. Hang tight Rose!”

Before the van zoomed out of sight, Rose reminded the gems outside of the window. “Take care of yourselves and take good care of each other.”

With that said and done, the van sped into the town.

The gems, still teary-eyed, turned and carried each other back to the temple. They couldn’t take it anymore as one by one, different clouds of smoke went off, followed by the clinks of five gemstones.

End of Part 2

(A/N: I like to think that Rose didn't mean for the fountain to be empty and deserted like how it was when it was first introduced. Since the gems have known about the healing spring, I'm guessing they didn't do a good job at looking after it since they were occupied with Rose's final moments with them.

As for Rose's individual goodbyes, I had fun writing up the possible farewells for each gem Rose had prepared. Of course she would bring up the best aspects of the gems while preparing them for the worst send off in the world. Not to dismiss their feelings or anything, but to have their last moments with her to be the best moments.

Also, if you guys took note of the foreseened water breaking, it took place at 7.21pm. In military time its 19:21, and if you replace the numbers with the alphabet in its place, you'll know why its that specific hour and minute.

Lastly, the gems' forms being unstable and poofing at the end of Rose's departure had been a thing since the episode: Three Gems and A Baby. If you didn't know, all three gems had distinct looking forms before and after Steven was born, indicating the retreating into their gems and reforming with completely new forms.

Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for my own take of Steven's birth/Rose's final goodbye.)

[wrestlingisfake]

Starting to see the discourse on whether Sting should have lost his retirement match.

I know the whole idea is that you're supposed to pass the torch on your way out. But that concept comes from a time when nobody would have imagined a man headlining big show three weeks before his 65th birthday. Realistically, the time for Sting to do the honors and give the rub to the next generation was ten years ago, when he still had something left to give. And he did that--on his way out of TNA, he put over Nick Aldis and EC3, and then in WWE he put over Triple H and Seth Rollins. His career was supposed to be done at that point--everything since then has just been a victory lap.

Look at the end of Undertaker's career. He went out in 2020 on a win, and the last decade of his run saw very few defeats. But in 2010, his final year as a full-time(-ish) guy, he put over Kane repeatedly, and his 2014 loss to Brock Lesnar was at the tail end of when "beating the Undertaker" really meant anything. Same thing with Hulk Hogan--I think he only lost one match (to Sting in 2011) after 2003, but by that point he was just a goofy old man doing a nostalgia act. It's hard to say he didn't "do the honors," though, when you look at the key losses he took in 2002--which is probably the last time he was truly relevant.

It might be nice if every pro wrestler finished up like Jushin Thunder Liger did--you're 54 years old, you can still go, but you can't keep up with the next generation, so you announce a retirement tour and end it by losing a good match to a key guy. But in the West, there's too much money in propping up the old guys until they literally can't walk. So you're going to keep seeing big names pass the torch in their late 40s/early 50s and then circle back for a "nobody's paying to see me job" farewell tour. We've already seen Steve Austin start do to it, and it's only a matter of time before the Rock, Adam Copeland, and John Cena go through the same pattern.

Is this good or bad for wrestling? We'll see. But anybody old-school enough to complain that Sting should have lost his final match would have already been complaining since 2020 that AEW is "killing the business" by letting top young stars sell Sting's offense. You're not going to convince me that any of those guys would be appeased if Sting put over the tag team that turned "killing the business" into a catchphrase.

[zennec-fox]

doing something fun

so, i'm sure some of you are aware of the website goblin.tools, which takes your to-do lists and breaks it down into easy-to-manage tasks. you might not know, however, that it has a feature called the Formalizer, which can rewrite your text in different styles. one such style is "More sarcastic".

you might also know that i have a fanfic, my 101 Dalmatian Street fan-season. so i decided, instead of updating the damn thing, i'd just put a couple of chapters through the Formalizer on the More sarcastic setting. enjoy the results.

[an excerpt from Chapter 1: The Human in the Room, Part 1]

Oh wow, what a stunning and mind-blowing sunrise in Camden. We simply can't contain our excitement for this ridiculously amazing morning, especially for those Dalmatians in that oh-so-special house on Dalmatian Street. Apparently, these Dalmatians had such an incredibly peaceful night of sleep, you guys won't even believe it. I mean, they escaped from Cruella de Vil's clutches and now they can bask in the glory of carefree naps. Like seriously, pinch me, I must be dreaming!

Wait, Dylan just finished counting the pups for the millionth time. Seriously, dude? Can we please pause counting, Dylan, and finally, oh I don't know, eat our breakfast? Oh, but of course, the pups are starving! Dylan, can't you just stop being so overly cautious?

Breakfast time! The pups literally sprint past Dylan to the kitchen, and all he does is sigh. Ugh, Dylan, could you be any more resigned? Seriously, breakfast should just magically appear before our eyes without any effort on Dylan's part.

Oh look, Dylan's paranoia resurfaces! He can't seem to let go of his worries about Cruella. Oh Dylan, sweetheart, she's locked up now! Can't you just move on and enjoy life? But no, Dylan just keeps torturing himself with all these hypothetical situations. Like what if Cruella breaks out of prison? Oh no! And what if her henchmen come after us? Oh please, spare me the drama! And you know what, Dylan? What if you suddenly turn into a flying unicorn? Gosh, I just can't handle your constant worrying!

Finally, Dawkins tries to comfort Dylan because the poor guy just can't seem to let go of his guilt. Come on, Dylan, you're supposed to be feeding the pups, not drowning in self-pity! Dawkins has to literally coax him out of his brooding state, reminding him that, lo and behold, he has pups to feed! Can't you see, Dylan? There's a world out there that doesn't revolve around your constant distress!

So the brothers enter the kitchen and guess what? Breakfast is served, folks! Dylan, the hero of the day, launches kibble from a hose into each precious dog's bowl. Oh, thank goodness for Dylan and his amazing kibble-pumping skills! Like seriously, son, you deserve a standing ovation for achieving the ultimate task of breakfast preparation. We are eternally grateful!

But wait, Doug, the world's most appreciative dad, just can't resist praising Dylan for another "perfect" breakfast. Wow, Doug, your enthusiasm is truly contagious! And thank you, Dylan, for providing such an impeccable culinary experience. You are a culinary genius, a true master of doggie nutrition!

Oh, here comes Delilah, the queen of time management. We must leave now because, you know, time waits for no dog. Farewell, precious pups, Delilah has dragged poor Doug out the door.

So now what? Dolly has to bathe the pups? Oh, what a dreadful task! Poor Dolly, she deserves a medal for undertaking such a burdensome responsibility. And Dylan, of course, vows to clean. How noble of you, Dylan! Cleaning up after everyone's messes is definitely the height of excitement. Ugh, the thrilling life of a Dalmatian.

[Chapter 4: De Vil's Advocate]

Oh, would you look at that, Hunter is complaining about the absolute garbage people throw into the canal. How original. I'm sure it's such a burden for him to clean up after the fantastic citizens of this fine city. Fergus, being the voice of reason, suggests that maybe Hunter could stop doing this thankless task. But no, Hunter just can't stand the thought of spending his precious alone time in his flat. God forbid he has a moment of peace without having to be the hero of the canal.

Of course, Fergus has an oh-so-brilliant idea for Hunter's entertainment. Why not smuggle Fergus and his gang of misfits into various shops? Because that's a surefire way to get banned from every corner store in London. But oh, wait, Fergus clarifies that it doesn't have to be corner stores. Restaurants, cafes, and even ice cream shops are fair game for their mischief. Yes, you read that right, they don't even eat ice cream, but they just want to enjoy the nuts. How utterly thrilling.

It seems the loneliness is getting to Hunter's head, as he suggests that maybe the entire Canal Crew could move into his flat with him. I mean, who needs a proper park when you can have a dingy flat to "wander around" in, right? What a generous offer from Hunter, but of course, Fergus politely declines because they are apparently part of the "natural order of things" in Camden. How profound.

But hold on a second, what's that? Trash is moving? Oh boy, Hunter has stumbled upon a squirming sack. How delightful. He quickly scoops it up and wades back to the Canal Crew as if he's some sort of hero. Do we really need to applaud him for rescuing a dog from the canal? How heartwarming. Fergus is understandably angry about the whole situation, as if he didn't see that coming a mile away.

Turns out, the sack contains a little German Shepherd pup. Poor thing is completely soaked and coughing, but at least he has Hunter, our savior, to thank for saving his life. Jaeger, as he introduces himself, is incredibly grateful and declares that Hunter is a "good human" and asks if he can live with him. Because, you know, a single act of heroism definitely makes up for all the other questionable actions Hunter has taken in his life.

Naturally, Hunter is taken aback by being called a "good human" because we all know he's been nothing but perfect. But hey, it's not like he had any other plans for his lonely life, so he agrees to take Jaeger home. Oh joy, now Hunter has a little buddy to keep him company in his flat filled with mystery cages. You know, the kind of cages you definitely don't want to ask about.

Time for some gossip with Fergus, who is regaling Dylan with the story of how Hunter helped him take revenge on Pearl. Such upstanding citizens we have here. Dylan, being the judgmental dalmatian that he is, doesn't approve and can't stand Hunter. Can you blame him? I mean, who wouldn't want to hang around Mr. H? Must be pure joy.

In a sudden turn of events, Jaeger comes crashing into Fergus, who happens to be best friends with Dylan. What a coincidence! Of course, Dylan has no idea who this little pup is, but Jaeger takes it upon himself to bounce on top of Dylan and annoy the living daylights out of him. Ah, the beauty of friendship.

After the chaos settles down, Dylan realizes that Jaeger has no collar. Oh, the horror! Is Jaeger part of the sacred Canal Crew? Absolutely not! But he sure thinks Hunter is a swell guy and wants to introduce him to his human. How adorable. Dylan, in all his wisdom, sniffs Jaeger and immediately realizes that they must go somewhere safe. Away from that monster, Hunter. Can't trust him, you know?

Fergus, now panicking, attempts to stop Dylan from taking Jaeger away, but instead tackles him to the ground. Way to go, Fergus. Meanwhile, Jaeger seizes the opportunity to run back to Hunter, the "good human" who saved his life. Convenient timing.

So, Hunter and Jaeger find themselves in a state of tranquility. Oh, what a touching moment it is, with Jaeger trying to catch his breath and Hunter scratching his head. Hunter, now filled with remorse, spills his deepest secrets to Jaeger. How he framed the dalmatians, took Dallas' fur, and even kidnapped them for his great-aunt. Such a stand-up guy, isn't he?

Jaeger, not quite understanding why a "good human" would do such terrible things, tries to console Hunter. How sweet of him. And with that, Jaeger declares that he likes Hunter. How heartwarming

[traditional-with-a-twist]

lvii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

Kiki enters the hunting lodge eagerly, her step light and quick, head up, eyes alert.

She is looking for him.

The lady knight would never betray her dignity with excitement, but she has missed Mitsuhide — felt his absence keenly, an unaccustomed space at her side, an ache that has worsened in inverse proportion to the healing of her bone.

Her arm is functional again, regaining its old strength with training and with time.

Time has not healed their parting.

Anger subsided into melancholy, invisible to almost all beneath Kiki’s implacable calm.

Then followed this dull discontent, punctuated with bursts of hot vexation when something brought him to mind — a maneuver on the practice ground, a remark he might have made, a thought she might have shared … if only he had been there.

...

Sometimes she misses him so much, she wishes him gone forever.

Better the certainty of a final and irrevocable farewell than the vexatious hope, repeatedly disappointed.

Kiki took refuge from the strain by renouncing him — casting him off in her heart, declaring the self-exile banished.

She cannot oppose his choice; therefore she affirms it, finding reasons to justify it, embrace it, declare herself satisfied.

If he will go, then she will wish it so.

She won’t think of him, but when she does, she will be glad that he left.

...

At a stroke, his letter swept all that aside.

It had arrived by royal courier, a brief but painstaking thing — perfectly in keeping with the feelings she could easily imagine as animating him.

That mingled sense of shame and duty, peculiar to Mitsuhide, runs through it all. 

He disavows himself, writes as if to strike himself from the record with the very hand then pens it, yet never more clearly has he shown himself honorable in the humility of addressing himself to her.

...

She took it in at a glance, knowing at first only that he had asked for her. 

Annoyance evaporated; her heart lifted. A cloud passed from her countenance.

It had lingered so long that all had forgotten what she looked like without it.

...

A second read apprised her of the circumstances, and her elation turns to urgency.

Mitsuhide had not made the request on his own behalf — of course he had not. He thought of himself first, never.

Kiki had expected something serious when he wrote; he was not a man given to trivialities, nor one likely to disturb a still pond (no matter how much it needed weeding) unless spurred to it.

Still, this news outstripped all expectations.

It answered a mystery — what had become of her friends since Shirayuki’s letters had stopped coming, since it was quietly known that the recently declared heir to one of Clarines’s largest and most prosperous estates had gone missing.

The answer was plain: nothing good.

...

Keenness of purpose mingled with brightness of anticipation, of pain relieved. She presented herself to request leave.

The first prince did not press her for explanations. “You have served well, Lady Kiki, at a time when others might have expected a greater claim on your attendance.”

He saluted her with an elegant hand; she bowed.

“Consider this furlough a token of gratitude for your dedication.”

...

As Izana spoke, he passed Kki a sheaf of papers, which she slid into an unmarked satchel.

Some would be written in code; others were not.

A good many were useless: disconnected excerpts from unrelated reports, taken at random from their proper context.

One contained her instructions for the task she had agreed to undertake, should a plausible occasion arise for her to leave the capital.

...

“Do not press yourself,” urged the prince with his half-lidded smile. “It is only your due.”

...

Kiki rode hard, eating up the miles between her and the origin of that letter.

She weathered the barrage of memories that emerged from the trees along with the hunting lodge.

The brightness of that time had crystallized like a colored pane of glass — fragile, fragmented, yet brilliant in the light of memory.

If she tried to hold on to it, the edges cut into her. She could embrace it only from a distance, and that separation was its own wound.

Another time, the hurt might have penetrated more deeply, but not today.

Hope was her shield, her ward against the doubt and pain of the past.

...

Her first misgiving came when she found the stable empty.

A dozen explanations flicked through her mind, hastening to account for the incongruity. 

She settled on none of them, but let them hover around her thoughts like a curtain, a layer of obfuscation between herself and the dawning possibility that she refused to countenance.

...

Resolutely, she turned and entered the lodge.

Silence greeted her.

The sitting room, the hearth – empty. The coals smoldered; a pot hung on the hearth, but there was no one there.

Kiki stopped.

She looked, and she listened — straining for any trace of her partner-that-was.

Nothing below, so she ascended, unwilling to give up the search, to relinquish her hope.

...

Upstairs, dim candle light flickered under one door.

Kiki’s chest tightened painfully as her pulse accelerated.

She laid a hand on the latch and eased it open.

...

Inside, a solitary figure lay buried in blankets. A flush of red hair left no doubt as to her identity.

Again they were meeting in an in-between place, somewhere on the journey from one home to another.

Then Shirayuki had met them with a confidence alien to her predicament; now she looked scarcely larger than a child, her stillness a mute appeal.

Beside her, there was no one.

Kiki stopped.

Her heart sank.

As it fell, she hardened it, cutting off the shock of dismay before it could immiserate her. She looked and understood and willed herself to feel nothing.

...

“Kiki…”

The voice, delicate as a bird wing, recalled her to sensation.

The lady knight heard her friend’s call, and a gladness tangled with concern kindled in response.

She stepped quickly to the bedside and knelt down.

Shirayuki smiled at her. “You came.”

The tightness returned.

Yes, she had come — for nothing! cried her injured self, the tender core of every human, who all long to receive love where it is given.

...

For a moment, Kiki struggled with herself.

She met the impulse to lash out in pain, and she mastered it.

Coolness returned; she regarded the situation dispassionately and recognized that she had not been summoned without cause.

...

“Yes,” Kiki agreed. “I’m here.”

...

A smile illuminated Shirayuki’s face, restoring a glow of vitality to it.

Gratitude welled up in her.

As was Shirayuki’s way, she sought immediately to share her happiness.

“Mitsuhide—” she began, but Kiki’s face stopped her.

She faltered at the blank look that overtook her friend’s features, the smile vanishing into a void.

“He… he’s not…?”

...

“He has gone,” said Kiki, colorless.

“But… you’re here… How did you find us if…?”

“He sent for me,” came the reply, “and now he has gone.”

...

Shirayuki gazed at her in confusion and real sorrow.

‘Oh,’ she said softly. ‘Kiki, I’m so –’

Her friend rose, avoiding the hand stretched out in consolation.

...

“You must be hungry,” Kiki said quietly. “I will bring you something to eat.”

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Free to Be Me: Yukiko's Castle Preview

Since these are still works-in-progress, it is likely that the following excerpts will change between now and the final draft! Please keep that in mind while reading. The following excerpts have been taken from Chapters 7 - 11!

(Something shakes Yu, and he can hear a voice on the edge of his senses. It’s that voice that snaps him out of it and wakes him up. Yu bolts upright, a cold sweat dripping down his face and panting heavily. That… That was definitely Yukiko.)

Dojima: Yu? (Yu scrambles back. It takes a moment and a little light for him to see that it’s just his uncle. He was probably the one who woke him up. Yu lets out a sigh.) Are you alright?

Yu: I um… (Yu nods. He notices the small sparks that are dying on his hands… and the marks on the wall.) I… I-I didn’t wake you, did I?

Dojima: No. I just got home when I heard the lightning from your room. (Yu looks down.) What happened?

Yu: J… Just a dream. I’m okay. I promise. …sorry about the wall.

Dojima: Don’t worry about it. It’s happened more often than you think. Just try to get some sleep. Alright? (Yu nods. His uncle finally leaves his room. Yu immediately scrambles for his phone. That dream felt way too real to be anything good. Yu has only one person that he can call and talk about this with. It takes a few seconds for Yosuke to pick up.)

Yosuke: Hello…?

Yu: Yosuke?

Yosuke: Huh? Dude, it’s the middle of the night. What’s up?

Yu: I… I uh…

Yosuke: You okay, man? (Yu shakes his head, realizing a little too late that Yosuke can’t see him.)

Yu: Are we sure that Amagi is okay?

Yosuke: Amagi? You mean Yukiko-san? Yeah. You heard Chie talking to her earlier.

Yu: What if something happened to her since then? 

Yosuke: Are you that worried that you—

Yu: Yosuke!

Yosuke: …

Yu: …I’m sorry.

Yosuke: …*Sigh* Nah, don’t be. Two people have died so far. You should be worried. I mean, I am too, but…

---

Igor: Our contribution will not be the control of your gift. (His… gift? It’s not a gift. It’s a curse if there’s no hope for Yu ever controlling it.) Instead, we will assist in the training you must undertake to control the magic that dwells inside of you naturally. At times, it may be hard to grasp, but you must master your fears to control the powers you possess. It is one of your chief sources of strength. You will do well to take it to heart. Theodore…?

Theodore: Yes… well… I—

Margaret: Master. Theodore and I have discussed this in length, and we believe that it would be best that he oversee our sister’s lessons while I tend to our young witch’s training.

Igor: Is this true? (Theodore, a bit nervous, nods.) I see… Very well, then. I will allow it. (Yu can see visible tension slide off of Theodore’s shoulders. Margaret clears her throat as she turns to Yu.)

Margaret: I will be the one to oversee the progress of your training, much like a teacher. Any time you wish to visit, simply insert that key into any lock. It will transport you here. While you’re here, no time shall pass in reality, so you may stay for as long as need be.

Yu: (nods) I understand. Thank you.

Margaret: I look forward to seeing how you will grow and what new powers you might develop. (Igor chuckles.)

Igor: Do you recall my words to you from before?

Yu: Um… You told me that this year would be important… and that if we don’t solve the mystery at hand, we may lose our future. …Right? (Igor nods.)

Igor: I meant precisely what I said. Defeat in battle is not the only way your journey may come to an end. Please, do not forget this. (Yu swallows something down, fist clenched at his sides. But he nods.) The next time we meet, you will come here of your own accord. *chuckle* I look forward to it. Until then… farewell.

---

Shadow Yukiko: Chie… *chuckle* Yes, she’s my Prince… She always leads the way… Chie’s a strong Prince… Or at least… she was. (Yu blinks, and even Chie seems stunned. Yukiko can’t look at her, doubled over with her head in her hands.) When it comes down to it, Chie’s just not good enough! She can’t take me away from here! She can’t save me!

Chie: Yukiko…

Yukiko: (pushing herself up) S-Stop…

Shadow Yukiko: Historic inn? Manager training?! I’m sick of it! I never asked to be born here! I never asked for everything from how I live to where I die to be decided for me! I’m so sick of it all! To hell with it!

Yukiko: That’s not true…

Shadow Yukiko: I want to go somewhere far away… I want to go anywhere that isn’t here! Someone, please take me away… I can’t do it on my own. I’m completely useless…

Yukiko: Stop… Please, stop…!

Shadow Yukiko: I have no hope if I stay and no courage to leave. So I just sit on my ass hoping that my Prince will come and rescue me! I don’t care where we go, as long as it's not here! Tradition? Pride of the town? What a bunch of bullshit! That inn could burn for all I care!

Yukiko: How dare you…?

Shadow Yukiko: That’s how I really feel. Isn’t that right… me?

Yukiko: N-No… (Yu can figure out what’s about to happen.)

Yu: Amagi, don’t—!

Yukiko: No! You’re not me! (Shadow Yukiko bursts into a vicious laughter.)

Shadow Yukiko: Ahhh, this feels wonderful~! It's building… more and more…! If this keeps up… I’ll… (She laughs once more, Shadows overtaking her and building her up into something terrifying. Yukiko screams, collapsing with her head in her hands. Webs come out from all different directions, cocooning the jorogumo and suspending her high in the air.)

---

Yosuke: Hey, Yu.

Yu: Huh? Uh… Morning.

Yosuke: Hm? Hey, isn’t that the Practical Magic teacher or something? Uh… I don’t have her class, so I don’t—

Yu: Amamiya. Um… It’s Ms. Amamiya. She’s one of my teachers in the afternoon. (Since Inaba was a town where Non-Mortals didn’t have to hide, the schools taught the children to control their abilities and as such, Yu’s elective courses were filled with magic classes. Practical Magic was his last class of the day. And Ms. Amamiya was steadily becoming one of his favorite teachers.)

Yosuke: Right, you’re a witch, so you kinda have to take those classes, dontcha? (Yu nods, Yosuke groans.) Way better than the extra P.E. lessons I gotta take… seriously, I could do without them.

Yu: That kid with her, though…

Yosuke: That would be her son. (Yu does a double take. Her son? But Ms. Amamiya looks really young.) I know, she doesn’t look like the type to have a kid. But it seems to me like the kid having a rebellious phase. (Yu hums.)

Yu: The murders might have every parent worried about their kids… (Yu can remember when he accidentally let it slip to his parents the other night about the murders. To say that they were worried was an understatement. It took everything Yu had in him to convince them to stay on assignment and that he would be fine with his uncle to watch over him.)

---

Teddie: Are you feeling better, Yuki-chan? I did what you said and I’ve been a very good bear!

Yukiko: I see… (She pats his head.) Good boy, Teddie!

Yosuke: Uh… So, like we told you on the way here, this bear… thing’s part of the reason we want to find the culprit. (Yu nods.)

Yukiko: Mmhm… I’m part of the group now, so let’s work together. Okay?

Teddie: Okay! I was thinking about that, too! So that’s why I got these ready for you, Yuki-chan! (Teddie produces a pair of pink glasses for Yukiko.)

Yukiko: Oh, so these are what everyone’s wearing. Thank you, Teddie. (She puts them on.) Wow, it’s like the fog doesn’t even exist…

Chie: Hey, how come you have so many pairs of glasses?

Teddie: I make them! I’ve lived here a long time, so I came up with a way to pass the time!

Yukiko: I see… but don’t you need a pair? (Teddie shakes his head.)

Teddie: I can see just fine through the fog! It doesn’t bother me at all. (Yu hums, thinking. Maybe it’s because Teddie’s lived here so long that his eyes adjusted naturally?) Didn’t you know?

Yosuke: Of course not. You never said anything about it! If you can see just fine, how come you’re making these glasses anyway?!

Teddie: I already told you! I get bored!

[pcttrailsidereader]

I Thought It Would Never Happen

The spring of 2017 was the beginning of the end in terms of my quest to complete the PCT. I had recently left my teaching job, retiring after forty years in the classroom. My career had afforded me a fair amount of flexibility with summers pretty open to go after sections of the PCT with my long time hiking partners Jim ('Pierre') and Rees ('Boris'). The desert sections had alluded me since they were best attempted in the spring. Not an easy time to leave the classroom! With 're-wiring' the next phase of my life beginning to finish the PCT was at the top of my 'to do' list.

Of course I was nervous about my grand undertaking. This was THE DESERT! So many questions...could I do it? How hard was it going to be? How hot was it going to be? And the list went on and on in my head... mostly. Sometimes I would share my fears/anxieties with my family and friends. They were very reassuring. It really helped my psyche when Rees agreed to accompany me for part of my hike and another friend agreed to join me for a another stretch. I would, however, finish the hike between I-10 to Cajon Pass on my own.

I said goodbye to my wife as I caught a bus to Seattle so I could fly to San Diego where I was met by a couple I had known from college days. The next day Rees arrived and the day after that we headed out to Campo. I really couldn't believe I was finally doing this. Giddy is the word that comes to mind.

Rees had previously walked from Campo so he gave me an insider's edge. His prior experience shaped how we approached this new undertaking. Honestly that prior knowledge was extremely reassuring for me. As we prepared to launch ourselves from the southern terminus marker the imposing border wall stretched out behind us. It felt surreal to say the least. And with a hearty farewell to our friend Jack who got us there we were off. Wow!

The next few weeks left me with many profound memories and experiences I will always hold close. First of all the cherished time walking with Rees and my friend Billie were precious. The time by my self was scary at first and soon became inspiring not to mention very empowering. The trail was hard in places. The trail was hot in places too. My pack was heavy at times. The trail was my home away from home. I embraced it more and more the longer I was hiking.

Apple pie in Julian

My days started early and sleep times began before the darkness had fully enveloped my surroundings. I had some big mileage days, for me, walking in the high teens to even the low twenties a few times. When I arrived at Cajon my feelings were all over the place. I was elated, enthused for the future, and a little sad too. I knew I would be back next spring and that would leave a couple of pieces left to put in the puzzle that was my PCT experience. I put those last parts of the puzzle in place in 2019.

There were many times when I thought this would never happen. Going to the desert to hike the PCT...no way! Hiking those last 900 miles or so...I wasn't so sure. There were just too many 'what ifs'. In thinking about starting out in 2017 and revisiting those experiences reminds me of the staying power walking all or part of the Pacific Crest Trail can have on a person. Thinking something will happen is the first obstacle to get past. Believe it can happen and any obstacle will shrink in your shadow.

[sdyuteiaok]

Eye's feeling better, but still some ways to go...slowly but surely making our way through these eye drop bottles, too...soon...soon, we'll be free of them and so much more...it's a mini trauma having to put these things in my eye constantly...but at least we're getting pretty quick at it. It's still torturous, though, no getting around that. Anyway...never wound up drafting Foundations again, but that's fine, really enjoying Pioneer Masters. Doing pretty okay this format, which is always a tough negotiation once you get past Gold, but we're in Diamond already--but again, that's bittersweet cuz that means we get relegated to a higher rank at the end of the season, which means tougher games early on, versus the more generous leagues, which means less potential prize packs and more potentially blown resources as you get pitted against actual sluggers. I did beat a 300-ranked Mythic player, though, so that was pretty cool. And then speaking of bittersweet, how about Joe's farewell speech? I'm proud of what he's accomplished, but the tech industrial complex part was pretty stark and frightening...just imagine if he were handing this off to Kamala...we'd be on course to shepherd these accomplishments that are only just now coming to fruition, but importantly, we'd be gearing up to face the very challenges he cites in this address. But rather than face them, it feels like we're going to run straight into their arms like idiots, embracing and encouraging these terrible tendencies just so people already obscenely wealthy can gobble up even more wealth. The warning against billionaires accumulating power was chilling not just for its face value, but also the willing compliance so many are eager to undertake--even now, before these villainous clowns are even in, everyone is bending over backwards and sprinting to obey in advance all these absolutely disgusting people and ambitions. Gosh, we were so close to an era of true renewal and resurgence, forget about seeing actual justice finally, at long last, being done...

[moochilatv]

Aleksandra Vilcinska presents: Sunrise Epilogue

Amazing piano touch ! inspiring music

This piece is the final track from Aleksandra Vilcinska's 13-piece concept solo-piano album. The album tells the story of a young girl who falls asleep and enters a dreamy world filled with fantastical creatures and events. Through her journey, she confronts various challenges and emotions, such as soaring through space on a dandelion and falling in love with the enigmatic King of Dreams.

Overwhelmed by butterflies in her belly, she realizes she is losing too much of herself in her dance with the king and decides it’s time to return to reality. Although it pains her, she bids the King of Dreams farewell, promising to return someday. He respects her decision, giving her a tender goodbye kiss.

"Sunrise Epilogue" plays to mark the conclusion of her journey, while also illuminating the beginning of a new one yet to come.

Listen Sunrise Epilogue in Spotify:

Aleksandra (Sasha) Vilcinska is a Latvian composer, multi-award-winning singer/songwriter, and pianist. MASA 2024 Rising Star award winner and HMMA 2024 Short Live Action score nominee. She has worked on a student BAFTA 2024 winning video game "There Was a Home", student ACADEMY award 2024 finalist documentary "The Undertakers" and Kerry International Festival 2023 winning student documentary "Harvest".

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Influenced by her background as a vocalist, her music often incorporates voice into its instrumentation. Her compositions are frequently synth-based, hybrid, modern, and experimental.