#WE ALL KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN I SIMPLY CHOSE TO REMAIN AN OPTIMIST.

[pergaias]

baby’s first lesbian situationship breakup 🥹

[midorishinji]

Armillaria solidipes

— Do you know which organism is the oldest to inhabit this planet, Sakura? It’s a fungus, Armillaria solidipes, 8650 years old. It’s in Oregon, in the United States, and it’s also the largest organism to live… Inside the earth, its hyphae spread for miles and miles, as far as the eye can see… To give you an idea, humans live an average of 72 years. And we are also absolutely insignificant creatures.

Sakuino ｜Oneshot｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

— Do you know which organism is the oldest to inhabit this planet, Sakura? It’s a fungus, Armillaria solidipes, 8650 years old. It’s in Oregon, in the United States, and it’s also the largest organism to live... Inside the earth, its hyphae spread for miles and miles, as far as the eye can see... To give you an idea, humans live an average of 72 years. And we are also absolutely insignificant creatures.

I smiled back at her. It was Saturday morning and I was accompanying Ino on her research in the college's biology laboratory. While she observed something beyond my comprehension under the microscope — I was a mere math student, thank you — Ino rambled on about the most random topics.

— I don't think 72 years is that insignificant... And by the time we reach that age, life expectancy will have increased, of course... In Brazil, it's already higher than that, because an average measure is prone to distortions, some countries will always pull the mean score lower: wars, famine, high infant mortality. — I replied, trying to remain optimistic.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, without taking her eyes off the lens of the microscope. That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear: — Do you know why I chose Botany, out of all the branches of biology?

I could say yes and give common answers like "because you like flowers" or "because you want to run your family's flower shop," but I knew they were simply inappropriate. Ino and I had known each other since we were kids, and yet, if I had to walk inside her soul in the dark, as one does within the familiarity of home, I would stub my toe on a corner. Understanding her veered on the impossible. — No.

— Because fungi are fascinating, but they scare me. Plants are easy to understand, methodical even… But not fungi. They're not plants, they're not animals, and they're a little bit of both, so we had to create a new category to classify them. Some can save lives, like the genus from which penicillin is extracted, others can kill with their toxins, like Amanita phalloides... Some form symbiotic relationships with plants and are what sustain entire forests, connecting trees and sharing nutrients, while others feed off death and destroy everything in their path. They are both life and death, two sides of the same coin, and putrefaction exists regardless of everything. It's what started life and it's what will end it, closing the door and turning off the lights when there's no one else here.

Thinking about it made me shiver. Being in a grave, devoured by organisms without any awareness (at least that I know of!) of what they do, of what they are. Little by little I would become part of the land and part of the Earth. It’s beautiful, even if in a somewhat macabre way. — Someday I'll be a really cute red and white mushroom, and some biology student will pick me up and slice me up to analyze me under a microscope. — I replied, as I dodged the air conditioner and got closer to her.

— What happens after we die?

Another one of her existentialist questions. — Come on, if you wanted to discuss philosophy, you should have called Hinata, it's her area. I don't understand anything other than numbers and equations. To me, life is a series of formulas, chemical reactions and concentration gradients that cease when we die.

— Don’t you believe in heaven, hell, purgatory, reincarnation?

— I don't know. Should I?

— Wish I knew. Maybe we’re already in purgatory, or hell, and this life is nothing but a punishment. We have to atone for our sins, correct our mistakes, to move forward. When we die, we become free: free from conscience, free from weight. Just a white light surrounding us that erases everything.

I wish I could argue back and say that this could be heaven, but I'm not that optimistic. — Who knows…

— Wouldn’t you like to know?

I remember, during my time studying for confirmation, they told us that the forbidden fruit was an apple. But I also remember sometime later coming to the conclusion that the forbidden fruit was knowledge: ignorance is bliss. As much as I disagreed with this stupid saying, Ino's proposal made me stop for a second, with bated breath: wouldn’t I want to know? It was a tempting proposal, as much as it was a deal with the Devil himself. I always wanted to know everything, of course. I would have bitten the damn apple without thinking twice, like Eve did.

— Does it matter if we know?

The words flowed out of my mouth so easily that I even got surprised. Ino was also taken aback by my comment: — As expected of miss Sakura Haruno. — she said, laughing and turning to me, finally looking away from the stupid microscope — To you, knowing doesn't matter because you would keep fighting and moving forward as if nothing had changed.

— In heaven or hell, my definition of ethics does not change.

— Ah, you're right about that. If I knew I was in Hell now and that I was damned to spend eternity here, it wouldn’t matter if I found my existence comfortable before, I would stall like a spoiled kid and follow the advice from that old saying that says “if you are in Hell, embrace the devil”. But you would go on with your life, doing what is right even if you knew there was no salvation, simply because you do what’s right. Nothing beyond that.

— If you say it's because I'm as stubborn as a mule... — I already threatened to get up from my chair, a little annoyed.

Ino laughed. She had a truly infectious laugh, and it was impossible not to like her, you know? Even more so when she laughed like that, without worry, without limits. — If you say so, then I won't say it... By the way, do you know something that's also very interesting? Did you know that humans and fungi have a common ancestor from around 450 million years ago? This is why psilocybin works on us, because it’s pretty similar to serotonin, and acts on the same receptors. That's why it makes us happy.

I knew the name psilocybin. — Tell me you didn't take it before getting in here…

But Ino Yamanaka laughed again, and returned her gaze to the microscope, without answering me.

[jubilantwriter]

Of Blood and Static

Chapter 2: We're still stuck in the same rut as always.

(AO3)  (First)  (Previous)  (Next)

Word Count: 2356

////

The Lady is aware of the loops.  She knows how the song and dance goes by now - Mono frees Six, Mono and Six venture together through the Pale City, encountering foes new yet familiar at the same time, Mono frees the Thin Man, Six gets taken and becomes a monster, and Mono must save her by destroying her beloved music box.

And then they run to the exit, only for Mono to trip and lag behind.  The bridge crumbles before them.  Six stops and waits to catch him.  She catches him, holds on tight as he dangles over the darkness below.  And then she lets him go.

Each loop has her releasing him for a different feeling.  Anger.  Fear.  Apprehension.  Regret.  Apathy.  Sadness.  Odd how the same journey seems to result in different feelings near the end.  The song and dance continues, only she does so by herself.  More and more loops continue.  More and more fragments of memories persist.  The Lady finds herself gathering these fragments like collecting broken shards of different mirrors, each reflecting a different her.  A different loop.  A different emotion.  But now, with so many fragments collected, she finds herself piecing together mismatched shards to form a haphazardly cobbled mirror that reflects back a single her.

The one yearning for survival and life.   

With Mono?

Without Mono?

She looks down at her empty hand, flexing it in the open air.

She needs him still.  Needs him to continue these loops.  That's what the her in the mirror reminds her of.  A monster reflected back, so willing to use another if it means she can live forever.  With Mono?  Without Mono?

(What if they could live together in peace?  Is that too hopeful?  Perhaps.  Perhaps survival is all there is.)

Maybe she'll never find an answer for herself.  Instead, she turns from her mirror and faces the television in her quarters.  The last loop ended... differently than most.  There’s a sweetness to it, almost bittersweet.  A feeling that leaves her craving for more.  It had been... nice.  Is she allowed that?  To have nice things?

(Selfishly, she thinks yes, she does.  Because being selfish is the only comfort she can provide for herself.  Because that's all she ever is.  Selfish.)

She places her hand up against the screen, curious to see how this one will end.  It flickers on, screen twisting and turning until it focuses on the silhouette of a familiar man in a familiar hat.  He looks defeated from where he sits, and immediately she knows that she has her work cut out for her.

"Again?"  There is none of the greeting she expects.  Just a simple question that she must answer.  She looks down at her own hand.  Why did she let him go this time?  What emotion reared its ugly head this time around?  She thinks and thinks and thinks and... finds only the feeling of unwillingness.  Unwilling to let him go?  How long have they been doing this?  Maybe she too is getting tired of the cycles.  But they need the cycles to survive.

(...Right?)

"I had to," she simply says.  Because she doesn't have any other particular reason for letting him go.  It's a habit now.  A given.  An expectation.  She catches him and lets him go.  She remembers looking down at his young face, so full of trust and relief.  She just needed to pull him up.  But she didn't.  Why?  

"Of course you had to."  He slumps forward in his seat, leaving her to wonder what inflection he intended for.  "Again and again and again.  Nothing changes.  It always remains the same.  Why do we allow this to continue?"

"Because we must.  To survive."

"Survival?  Is this really survival?"  The television doesn't voice his laughter, but she can see how his shoulders shake.  "We're just living a mockery of life.  A terrible simulation where we make the same mistakes over and over again.  This isn't survival, this is..."  He waves his hand around in the air.  "This is hell."

For a moment, she doesn't answer him.  Survival is survival.  Isn't that why she chose to play along with his actions?  To ensure these loops continue?  So that they could live forever in this way?  She doesn’t want to die for good.

(She doesn’t want him to die for good.)

"It's only hell if we make it to be hell."

"Bold words coming from someone who has an entire ship at her command."  Even without his voice coming through the speakers, she can still hear the bitterness in his words.  Perhaps she should be more careful with her wording given his… circumstances.

"Don't be like that, my life isn't all laughter and happiness."  But she must admit, the Thin Man has a point.  Calling her life anything terrible would be hard to argue when the Thin Man is forced to resign himself to being locked away until the loop begins its new cycle, only allowed to reach through screens to do... whatever it is he's allowed to do.  He never elaborates on what it is that's supposed to make him monstrous, but she supposes she's never told him much about the Maw as well.  

Still, it bothers her to see him so put out.  He was always the more optimistic half of them, the one who was all smiles and laughter and knew how to find the brightest spot to bask in when they lived in a dreary, dark world.  The Lady, then and now, was never good at humor.  But she could try, if it means pulling him back to his feet.  She hums and the man, still slumping in his chair, gives a curious tilt of his head.  "But even if it's hell, at least you still have me."

His shoulders shake again, a mockery of the laughter that used to brighten her days when they were children.  "Sometimes I do.  It still feels strange to hold a civil conversation with you nowadays.  I wonder what changed to make you see me as a friend, and not some... unseemly reminder of your past."

Curious.  Now it's her turn to tilt her head.  "I always found you to be a bright spot in my past."

"So bright," the caption begins, "that you had to let me go?"

"Well, you were simply too blinding to look at."  She smiles behind her mask, watching him jerk his head up.  "I never did get to see you without your paper mask until that day, you know."

"What are you trying to say?  That you let me go because of my blinding good looks?"

"Well, you do make a very close second.  Between the two of us, dear friend, I'd say that I'm the one with the truly blinding good looks."  She presses her hand up against the glass screen, the warmth filling a piece of her up as she imagines a hand just as warm, with a gentleness to it that she'd forgotten she missed.  "Maybe if I could see your face again, I could make a better assessment of your looks."

"Oh, you wouldn't like what you see."  A pause.  "Or perhaps you will.  I heard you have a reputation for keeping ugly things around you."  

She ignores the implications shot at her person (though, it's not as if he's wrong) and instead focuses on the other.  "Are you calling yourself ugly?  After I said that I was blinded by your looks as a child?"

"Time changes a person, my Lady."  He straightens in his seat, as if to make a point.  "I'm not the same boy who used to hold your hand."

(And whose fault was that?)

"Perhaps not," she mumbles, fingers curling on the screen, "but I would wager a bet and say that you haven't aged poorly at all."

"Bold words coming from you."

"One of us has to be bold."  They always did try their best to be what the other lacked.  If only she could take his hand and reassure him that it would all be okay, just like when they were children.  "Besides, I always found you to be the better half of us."

"That's quite the admission.  I always thought that you were too proud and vain to ever say something like that."

"Maybe," she says with a slight hum, "but I think for today, I can put it aside just for now."

"And why's that?"

"Even I crave a little change every once in a while."  She taps at the screen, wondering if he can hear it from his side.  "And for once, I’d like to be a little more honest with myself."

"Oh, so this is honesty?  Not some sweet words to keep me on your side?"

"What if this honesty can be sweet?"

"I've never taken you to be a sweet person."  Still, she can see his shoulders shake a little.  A slight tremble that looks genuinely pleased.  A little happy.  When they were children, his laughs tended to make his entire body quake as he tried to keep it contained.  She wonders if he still tries to keep his laughter quiet even now.  How she wishes she could hear him.  

"I usually am not.  But I can make an exception every once in a while, where I see fit."

The Thin Man stays silent, and she wonders if she said something wrong.  It's so hard to see his face from within the screen.  With his hat casting shadows over his face, she can never tell what expression he holds at any given moment.  Though when she thinks about it, it's not so dissimilar to when they were children and he kept that paper bag over his face.

Still.  At least she had his voice to go off of.

"My Lady," the words begin, appearing slowly, letter by letter, as if he's carefully choosing his words, "can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is."  Despite her coy act, she knows that deep down, she'll agree to whatever the Thin Man says.  "What is it?"

"If you could, in the next loop, would you please try once more to... make an exception?"

"An exception?  To what?"

"An exception to be sweet.  More often."  Even without him speaking, she can see the hesitance in his words.  It tugs at something within her, an old feeling that makes her want to reach in and take his hand.  "I think things would be a little more... tolerable, if something nice were to happen."

"I... don't know."  It's her turn to hesitate when the implications of his plea sink in.  She could be sweet.  She could be nicer and treat him as kindly as he treated her.  But then... the loops.  They still continue.  He knows this.  She can treat him like he deserves and she'll still have to let him go.  The betrayal won't sting then.  It'll tear him apart, crushing him entirely as she lets him go.  Doesn't he realize that?  That she only treats him more sweetly now because she has nothing else to look forward to but her own death?  It'll hurt him more than it'll hurt her, and yet...

"Please."  He slumps forward again, head resting in his hands as he resumes his defeated pose.  "It'll just be for one loop."

"I can't... guarantee it, Thin Man."  She doesn't want to guarantee it.  "Won't it just hurt you more?"

"I'll remember."  He raises his head up, and she imagines the most pained smile on a face she's only seen in nightmares.  "I'll remember that I asked for this, when all is said and done."  

"I don't want to hurt you more than I already have."  Hasn't she already done enough to him?  Why would he want more pain?  

"I want to hope again, Six."  She flinches when he uses her name.  The name she abandoned so long ago when she became the Lady.  "I want to know if it's... possible.  For us to change.  To be different."

"Why?"

"Consider it a personal bet."  His shoulders shake again, but there's a tiredness to them that speaks volumes of the weight on his shoulders.  

(It's for their survival.  It's for their survival.  It's for their survival.  Even if it hurts.  Even if it's too much.  It's for their survival, so that no one but themselves can hurt each other.)  

"I..."

"Please, Six."  The hopelessness in his text makes her want to crumble.  "Just for one loop."

"...Okay."  There's no way she's going to remember this promise.  Not until it's after the fact.  Not until her younger self takes her place as the "new" Lady and she becomes whole again.  It’s always like finishing a puzzle - once the final piece slots in, she sees the bigger picture for what it is.  Until that final piece completes it, all she has are the corners and cobbled together sections that she managed to put together.  But maybe… that’ll be enough.  Maybe the sentiment will remain strong enough for an inkling of feeling to trickle through, enough so that her younger self can see the sections and corners and think, “Ah, maybe I should try this.”  The Lady lets her shoulders sag with the weight of the Thin Man’s hope.  "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you."  He straightens, looking oddly stiff before the screen turns to static.  The Lady sighs, thinking that their little conversation has ended without a single goodbye.  Just as she's about to turn away from the television, a pair of hands press up against the screen.  She sucks a breath in, watching with wide eyes as two hands push out from the screen, arms hanging out limply.  Nothing else seems to push out, much to her dismay. 

Still.  Chances presented must be taken.  She gently takes his hands and sandwiches them between her own.  Her thumb rubs circles into the back of his hand as she softly hums a haunting tune.  They share their warmth together in the quiet of her quarters as she takes everything he offers her.

Eventually, the loop draws to a close with the broken whine of static and the shattering of glass.

[itsclydebitches]

The Crosshair stuff is a symptom of the lacklustre character establishment of it's main cast. Crosshair is the only Bad Batcher with a defined character to pull from, even if it's wrapped in the cluster fuck of the show being indecisive about the Inhibitor chips's abilities. The rest don't have a developed enough personality to draw from, they're archetypes who'll voice the position the plot needs them to occupy at the moment. What they'll defend in one episode they'll decry the next.

TBB characters are definitely archetypal, though I'm not sure I'd agree that this is inherently a bad thing and/or that it's at the root of the Crosshair messiness. Archetypes don't necessarily equal a lack of a character, just a character that we've seen many times before. Unless you prioritize novelty in your storytelling (which many people do), there's nothing inherently wrong with taking the "dumb," but emotionally intelligent brute, the socially inept genius, the stoic leader, and the "evil" asshole, cramming them in a small ship together, and letting sparks fly. The reason that dynamic works — as it has worked many times before — is because it pits such differing personalities against one another, resulting in both great teamwork and amusing conflict: such as when Wrecker is gleefully stuffing Lula in a pissed-off Crosshair's face. The contrast is fun and that contrast stems primarily from keeping their personalities simple and defined. Unless you really know what you're doing, the more you mess with those personality boxes, the less individualized your characters feel. See: the RWBYJNOR team who have, over the years, lost both their specialized skills and their distinguishing personality traits. The person who just blushed sweetly and awkwardly rubbed a hand behind their neck... was it Ruby? Oscar? Blake? Yang? Jaune? Even Nora? Could be any of them because at this point their core personalities have flattened. Though it's definitely not to everyone's taste, the black and white differences between TBB was kind of refreshing. Throw out a line of dialogue and you can easily figure out who said it. There's something to be said for that level of understanding about a character, even if the understanding itself is simple.

Personally, I'd say the problem lies not in creating another team where everyone has a distinct skill and a stereotypical personality to match, but rather in severely underutilizing the thing that shook that dynamic up: Echo.

Look, I ADORE Omega. I was cheering for my fictional daughter through every step of this season (quite literally during "Replacements"). But—but—if we wanted to push things in the character development department, I'd relegate her to season two. Omega's character serves as the audience surrogate/newbie/hopeful optimist archetype and that's great... provided that you ignore how Echo was already positioned to fill those roles. He became the newest member of TBB, but we skipped over his integration to instead introduce another new member. And, as much as I love her, Omega doesn't push TBB the way that Echo could.

TCW introduced a severe dislike for the "regs," something the first episode of TBB re-emphasized through the cafeteria scene, and then what do you know, the newest member is a former reg. I was expecting there to be a lot of tension stemming from that as the group worked to overcome their prejudice, a prejudice we now know is born of harassment and, interestingly, a sense of superiority. That's one of the few places where TBB does something unexpected: rather than suffering severe insecurity about being "defective," TBB is proud of their differences. (Or, at least, they've embraced pride to cover insecurity.) But unlike a reg's haircut, tattoos, or name, theirs isn't an individuality that they chose. The Kaminoans made them to be different. "I like to blow stuff up because I LIKE TO BLOW STUFF UP" Wrecker roars, but it's a moment that foreshadows his eventual fall to the chip: "No one controls me." Except, you know, he is controllable. There's a story there about characters trying to remain proud of skills and personalities that they know are engineered, trying to embrace individuality when they know they're controllable, who long for the stability and connection of their brothers, but reject the uniformity of "real" clones... and then there's Echo, suddenly on the scene, a former "real" clone who now is nothing like the majority of his brothers, whose differences were also forced on him by another, who should likewise be grappling with embracing his individuality vs. hating how it separates him from what he once knew... that's a lot. Echo could have — arguably should have — been the catalyst for a ton of self-reflection within TBB, mirroring his own development, and resulting in archetypal characters who nevertheless have a secondary layer of nuance.

But none of that happened because Omega became the focus instead, a character who forced TBB to struggle with taking care of a child, not struggle with their own identities. I'd thought for a hot second that the conflict would be whether soldiers could raise a child at all — whether they'd have to change for Omega's benefit — but instead she rather quickly became a soldier of her own, despite how often the dialogue insisted she wasn't. Here's her weapon. Here's her memorizing orders. Here's her first mission alone. Here's her almost never struggling with the horrors that she's experienced; she's as emotionally sturdy as the men bred for war. Omega develops, which is fantastic to watch, but the downside is that everyone else, our title characters, remain pretty static. I think if we'd had a season of Echo joining TBB, perhaps taking place a little before Order 66, and then Omega came on the scene, we would have seen a bit more depth to their characters, simply by virtue of Echo being a character whose personality and problems would inevitably push them. Omega doesn't push them. She's wonderful... and from a writing standpoint that's kinda the problem. She's always optimistic, always compassionate, doesn't take long to get good at these complex skills, never wavers in being satisfied and happy with this life. TBB never had to change to care for her, Omega just did them the courtesy of becoming another elite-soldier capable of keeping up with their dangerous, crazy lives. Her presence is a constant joy and benefit to the team, adding only good things to the status quo they'd developed. Echo? His arrival should, theoretically, have shaken the status quo like whoa. Here's this traumatized reg trying to become a member of a four-unit team who have an Us vs. Them approach to life. That's a recipe for conflict and development.

However, just because I can see other possibilities for TBB doesn't mean I think what we got is wrong. Yeah, it's simple in many respects and as said, the comparative complexity of Crosshair's situation might not end well, but beyond that, simple isn't inherently bad. I found it a lot of fun to watch a found family of extreme personalities take in a wonderful child and go on adventures together. I don't need every show — particularly every Star Wars show — to be a deep dive into complex storytelling. It can be enough to just embrace predictability, especially since the predictable became predictable because lots of people liked those choices.

[fullmetalscullyy]

!! Could I have that “where’s the medic” prompt with riza and one of the kid characters? 🥺👉👈

hi anon!! i am so sorry that this took me so long to write!! i hope you enjoy it 🥺 and thank you for sending in the prompt <33

rated: t | words: 1896 | tags: parental riza, angst with a happy ending, gunshot wound, blood and injury, guilt

read on ao3

He shouldn’t have even been there. Riza had her reservations about allowing Alphonse to join the mission, however he was an adult and could make his own decisions. She chalked it up to her slight overprotectiveness towards him, after all he’d been through in life already. He could have easily hung back and remained on the side-lines, however Al insisted.

Her concerns were voiced, and the team readily listened and accepted them. They trusted her authority on security details. Riza was only concerned for Alphonse’s safety, however, she could recognise when to take a moment to pause and gauge how much of her fears may be erring on the side of being slightly irrational. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, Riza thought as she dismissed her self-doubt.

It also didn’t stop her from being hyper aware of their surroundings at all times or on the look-out for any potential dangers. She kept quiet about her increased protective detail, shouldering the responsibility alone and taking it even more seriously when a bad feeling suddenly started to coil inside her gut halfway through the mission. Riza always trusted her gut, so when something did begin to feel off, she started walking towards Al and opened her mouth to suggest moving away from their current position.

But Riza hadn’t been quick enough.

When Riza saw Alphonse fall to the ground after a muffled pop there were no thoughts of ‘I was right’. Only pure horror. Bile accompanied that fear when she witnessed a red stain blossoming on his crisp white shirt. It spread like ink soaking into paper.

“We need a medic!” Riza yelled over her shoulder as she started to run.

People scrambled behind her and were barking orders but Riza was completely focussed on Alphonse. The world slowed and it felt as though she couldn’t get to him fast enough. The painful feeling of her knees crashing to the ground was never felt. Instead, all that was present was terror and the sickening feeling of Alphonse’s blood sliding between her fingers as she put pressure on his wound. She cradled the back of his head to protect it from hitting off the concrete beneath them repeatedly as his body jerked and heaved with choked breaths.

“Easy, Al,” Riza commanded firmly while encouraging him to lie as still as he could. Her tone was much calmer than it should have been. It sounded as if she was trying to soothe him after a small abrasion, something small and insignificant, instead of a gunshot wound. It was too relaxed compared to what was inside of her. Riza’s stomach was roiling and her mind was going into overdrive as it went through the motions of trying to stabilise Al as quickly and as best she could.

She’d been in the field and had seen her fair share of gunshot trauma. Riza was intimately familiar with the effects of those types of wounds, however it never got any easier to witness. It was exceptionally difficult when it was someone she knew. A close friend. A young man who’d gone through so much already and who was on the road to recovery. This would set him back and slow his progress. Guilt gnawed on her stomach painfully.

Riza put more pressure was put on the wound and Alphonse groaned. A whimper passed by his lips and Riza’s heart broke in two.

“Al?”

His head rolled in place and his eyes opened. They were unfocussed as he blinked slowly.

“Al, can you hear me?”

“Yes.” It was a broken whisper, almost a whine, but it was a response, nonetheless.

“Al, I’m right here, okay?”

“Lieu…” He couldn’t even finish the word.

“That’s right. It’s Hawkeye. It’s Riza.”

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

“I know, Al. I know.” Riza wasn’t sure what compelled her to reach over and brush his fringe off his forehead and place a comforting hand on his forehead, but she felt it was both warranted and needed for the two of them. “I’m so sorry.”

He groaned and his eyes closed.

“Al? Stay with me, please.” Her voice cracked as she spoke her request. She wouldn’t lose him to this. He had so much more to do and give to the world. He was one of the brightest boys she knew, and Riza refused to let that shining light go out. Not on her watch.

“Where’s the medic?” Her demand was an agitated yell this time. She was breaking down.

“Right here, sir,” a voice replied close by her ear. Riza didn’t even turn to look at them. She simply moved aside and let them in so they could administer treatment.

Riza latched onto Alphonse’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m still here, Al,” she called to him as the two medics efficiently worked over him. “Right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re in good hands. They’re going to start working on you now, then we’ll get you to the hospital, all right?” Riza never even registered that her voice cracked while she spoke. Her relocation had resulted in Riza kneeling by Al’s head, so she placed her non-bloody hand back atop his forehead. She ran her hand over his hair to try and soothe him, watching critically as the medics worked to save him.

“Riza?” He sounded so small and childlike. Nothing like the grinning young man he’d grown into.

“Yes?” Her eyes snapped down to look at his golden ones. Alphonse’s face was drawn, and he grimaced and grunted in pain, but there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Thank you.”

Riza blinked down at Alphonse. His face scrunched up in agony and he let out a broken groan while his eyes squeezed tightly closed. Her chest tightened.

“Rest easy, Al. I’ve got you and I’m not going to leave your side.”

*          *          *           *          *           *           *          *          *           *          *

It was three days before she got the call.

“He’s awake.”

Relief washed over Riza in a wave. She exhaled slowly. It felt like if she moved too quickly she may unravel, so Riza kept her movements slow and controlled. Those two words were the ones she wanted to hear most, and it didn’t hit her until Edward told her just how badly she’d been waiting for them. Riza’s knees shook while standing on the phone.

“And?”

“He’ll be okay.” Edward sounded optimistic. There was a sprinkle of his exhaustion in there too, but overall he sounded pleased. “The doctors expect he will make a full recovery. It will just take a little time.”

Riza’s gut clenched. More time for Alphonse to spend in recovery. More of his life put on hold. If she’d been quicker, she could have spared him of that.

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” the Colonel had stressed, as if he could read her mind. Havoc had offered the same sentiment too. But Riza would. It was because of her that Alphonse was lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound. She had been tasked with his protection. She should have been more vigilant, taken more precautions, taken more back up with them to better cover the area.

“He’s been asking to see you. Al was wondering if you were all right.”

Riza took a deep breath. “I can come in, if he’d like?”

“I think that would be best. He’s worried about you, Lieutenant.”

“Me?” She scoffed in disbelief, wondering how on Earth Alphonse could possibly be worried about her.

“Yes. He wants to talk to you and see for himself that you’re all right. He –” Edward paused, and she heard him swallow. Riza gripped the phone tighter and wondered what could have possibly tripped him up. “Al remembers what happened. He remembers you talking to him throughout it.”

Riza’s heart thudded inside her chest.

“Well, I’ll let him tell you the rest. He wants to.”

“Okay. I’ll be there shortly. And thank you Ed.”

“For what?”

“For telling me that. And for phoning.”

“No problem, Lieutenant.”

*          *          *           *          *           *           *          *          *           *          *

Steeling herself, Riza took a deep breath and opened the door to Alphonse’s hospital room. Edward beckoning response was friendly and didn’t sound strained, so that counted for something. Still, Riza was unsure what would await her on the other side of the door. She’d seen Al malnourished and weak before but seeing him like that again… Riza didn’t want that for Alphonse. He deserved all the good things life had to offer him. He’d fought to get his body back and deserved time to live in it and use it to its fullest.

He was sitting up in bed. As soon as Al saw her, his face lit up with a grin. He looked tired and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he still had a friendly smile for her. “Hello, Lieutenant,” Al greeted warmly.

“It’s good to see you,” Edward added.

“Hi. It’s good to see you both too,” Riza replied.

“Come in, sit,” Ed beckoned. He stood from his chair and offered it to her. “I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Edward excused himself. The door was closed quietly behind him.

“How are you doing, Alphonse?”

“Doing okay,” he replied with a smile. “Getting better already.”

Riza couldn’t help but return his grin. It was always so bright and happy. But hers quickly fell as Riza’s guilt started to niggle in her mind. “Good, I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Lieutenant?”

She glanced over at him. Riza noted the look in his eyes. It was familiar, because she’d seen it on the faces of two of her co-workers already when they told her not to blame herself for what happened.

“I knew the risks going into this mission. I accepted that and still chose to go. That was on me.”

Riza wasn’t sure if she should be bothered by the fact that so many people seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking in regard to this situation.

“But I remember it all. I remember you talking to me and helping me through it, and I wanted to thank you in person for being there for me. It meant a lot to me.”

“Of course, Al,” she replied softly. “You’re welcome.”

“It was a big help and a nice comfort. I’m glad you were there,” he added softly.

Riza nodded, unable to offer him anything further.

“Make sure you get plenty of rest, okay?” Riza reached over and patted the back of his hand gently. “And go easy on your brother if he starts to fret.”

“Starts to fret?” Alphonse chuckled and Riza couldn’t help but join in. After witnessing Edward’s stress levels while they waited for Al to wake up, Riza didn’t doubt he’d already slipped into the protective older brother role once more and was hovering over Alphonse.

“He was worried about you. We all were.”

“Sorry to have kept you wondering for a bit,” he apologised sheepishly.

Riza shook her head with a quiet laugh. “You’re awake now. That’s all that matters.”

“And I’ll be out of here before you know it,” he nodded with determination. A confident smirk played on Al’s lips. He’d already accomplished the impossible with his brother, so Riza didn’t doubt that he would be.

That was all Riza wanted for him; to be happy, healthy, and living his life to the fullest.

[kamiboothblog]

Befores, Afters and Always

On this day 20 years ago I dropped my seven-month-old son off at daycare and a short while later pulled my car into a parking space at the high school where I worked. Then the world exploded. 

Terrorists were attacking the World Trade Center in New York, the news reported. The Pentagon too.

Chaos. Confusion. Disbelief. Fear.

My first instinct was to turn around and make the 20-minute drive back to pick up my child. As a new mother, I immediately felt guilty for bringing him into this now-unsafe world. Would this be our new norm, a life of bombs and plane crashes and threats from people who simply hated you for being you?

Deciding to wait to take action until I learned more, I walked into the choir room where I served as the piano accompanist and was met by singing. The classroom of teenagers, too young to know much of war but old enough to understand this was now a day their grandchildren would ask about decades later, was raising its voice in patriotic song. The wise choir director had decided that music was the only answer these kids needed at this time when too many questions were being asked, too few answers were being given, and when nothing made sense. Music: something familiar, something tangible, something that can never be destroyed. An always. 

As the days and months and years rolled by, we learned the rest of the story of that fateful Sept. 11th, and we adapted to the changes it brought in how we lived and worked. We mourned and we continue to mourn. We never suspected that on the 20th anniversary of the terror, we would be under another attack - this time not from humans but from covid-19, a virus that has taken the lives of more than 4.6 million people.

Similarly to 9/11, the pandemic is marked by an excruciatingly painful awareness of the before and after. Life before quarantine and face masks and Zoom calls held an innocence we didn’t even realize we had until it was taken. 

“I miss sitting next to you in a crowded gym and breathing each other’s air,” I half-heartedly joked nine months ago to a group of fellow high school danceline moms as we longed for the return of in-person dance competitions.

What was once normal daily life now seems like a privilege just out of reach. Even as vaccines have made it easier to return to some of our pre-pandemic ways, a cloud of uncertainty about the future remains.

So how do we live like this? How do we face every day watching the death toll rise again, putting masks back on that we had hoped we could discard for good just months ago, distancing once again from loved ones, and listening to the non-stop, often vicious chatter from groups that are making this pandemic political? How do we keep from sinking into deep despair at the thought that life as we knew it is gone and may never return?

Before these trying times, I always thought the answer was in hope. Hope is defined as “a feeling of expectation and a desire for a certain thing to happen.” Being hopeful is positivity and positivity is good. We can hope that through vaccination, herd immunity and medical advancements covid will die out just like other diseases of the past. 

But these days hope feels….passive - a little too soft, a little too future-focused.

Cue faith. Faith is “confidence or trust in a person or thing or belief not based on proof.” Faith deals in the now, not the someday. Yes, it is important and arguably calming, inspiring and motivating to dream, to wish for a brighter tomorrow. However, the optimistic attitude that hope can birth is fruitless without a solid foundation on which to build it. We need faith to first plant the seeds to grown our garden of hope.  

If you are a Christian, your faith is in God. But I believe that you do not have to be religious to have faith; you simply must have conviction. You must hold deeply to your truth.

In his 2014 book Keeping the Faith Without a Religion, bestselling author Roger Housden writes, “Faith implies a basic trust in the way life weaves its patterns - an awareness that is not passive or fatalistic, but actively engaged with and accepting of all of life’s twists and turns.”

So keep the faith. This is not a saying to be taken lightly but an earnest call to action, a conscious and committed decision that must be recognized and renewed daily. At times, faith may appear intangible, but I believe it can actually be felt deep within your body, if you are willing to practice being attuned to it. Faith is a solid and steady knowing in your gut that gives you courage in the midst of fear, strength in times of weakness and confidence when uncertain. If you don’t know where to start, why not try believing in something - anything - that gives you even the tiniest sense of peace, comfort, or motivation to keep moving forward. Therein lies what I believe to be the secret to navigating the unknown. 

“Life’s twists and turns” has brought me to a place where my seven-month-old son whom I feared for and yearned to apologize to on Sept. 11, 2001 is now 20 years old, a junior in college. He is happy, confident and grounded. He has a younger sister in her last year of high school who is doing equally well, a compassionate and brave soul who encountered her own unexpected hardship a few years ago but chose to walk in faith through it. My children have successfully and (mostly) happily grown up in a world that is just as safe and just as unsafe, just as kind and just as unkind, as we view it to be. If I allow my fears and imagination to run, I could picture our future to be strewn with with more terrorism, more pandemics, more racial and political division, more strife. But I do not. I walk tall and deliberately with purpose, wearing my belief as armor. Whether those obstacles arise or not is of no matter because I will carry my faith with me - always, of course, singing the entire way. 

[afandomroom]

Freedom

Warnings: I don't think many are necessary, but we got some angst.

Previous Stories: Gone Soft, Separated, Mini-Stories 

Daemon stared at the floor of his cell, normally glowing eyes surprisingly dull. The chill of his vengestone restraints bit into his wrists, shivers coursing through him occasionally from the cold of the stone room. 

It had been two months. Two months since the normal life he and Safa had been living was torn to shreds. Two months since he had agreed to willingly go to Kryptarium, if the ninja just let him say good bye to his young companion. He could still hear her desperate, begging voice as she called out to him. It rang throughout his mind, reminding him how he abandoned her. But it was for the best, right? The ninja thought he would hurt her, and given his history, who was to say he wouldn’t have, albeit accidentally, in the future? He was already lying to her; it was only a matter of time. He was secretly glad for the solitary confinement the ninja had thrown him into. At least no one else was around to witness his tears, to hear his pained, muttered apologies. “Don’t leave me like my other family did” Daemon clenched his eyes shut, tears rolling out. “I don’t want you to go!” He shook his head, trying to block out her voice. This was for the best.  “I didn’t want to leave ya, kid” “Daemon” “I’m sorry, Safa” “No! Daemon!” “I-I’m sorry” His voice quivered, raspy from his tightening throat. “DAEMON-“ The final echoed cry was cut off by a clattering outside of his cell. Daemon glanced up, raising his cuffed hands to wipe his eyes.  It was late...but, maybe the cops had decided on another round of questioning. Everyone seemed to think he knew where his fellow Bizarros were, that he knew something about some random vigilante that had popped up recently. No matter how many times he told them he didn’t know anything, they continued to interrogate him. Clearing his throat, he called out. “I already told ya, I don’t know anythin’.” No response. Raising a brow, Daemon slowly stood, walking over to the door, and glancing out. “Wha-“ He stepped back in confusion at the sight of two unconscious security guards, laying face down on the floor. Wide eyes narrowed when he found the cause. “Hello, Cole” The icy voice of his fellow bizarre greeted. “Zane” He stated flatly, taking in his ex-teammates new appearance. His snow white hair now had black roots, and ice blue tips. His gi had been replaced with simple clothing, and a leather jacket with frosted sleeves. “Whatd’ya want?” The robotic bizarre sighed, stepping forward to unlock Daemon’s cell. “I…no longer go by that name. But for my purpose of being here, I am breaking you out-“ “- Why? Thought I wasa waste of time. ‘sides, who said I want out?” “The whimpered apologies I heard just now suggest there is someone you wish to see again” Zane responded coolly, placing a key card from the unconscious guards into a slot by the cell. Daemon glanced away, some of the echoes of Safa’s voice returning. “As for...why I originally chose to break you out...”  Sudden regret filled the nindroid’s voice, an expression of guilt appearing. “I...suppose it is a form of apology. We, both have had a change of heart, it seems. I should not have agreed to remove you from the team; we should not have said the things we did. There…is nothing wrong with being a good person...” A small smile appeared on Zane’s face, as he looked up at his old companion. “As cheesy as that sounds.” Daemon took a moment to process this. It..wasn’t impossible to believe that Zane had changed. After all, Daemon had done the exact same thing. Besides, even though he still held a small grudge, he’d chosen to stop letting their words affect him, soon after he’d taken in Safa…. Safa …No, no he couldn’t leave. He was here because it protected Safa. Before Zane could reach for the vengestone cuffs, Daemon stepped backwards, shaking his head. “Can’t…can’t let ya break me out…I’m stayin here” Zane blinked in confusion, “Cole, I am certain you do not wish to stay here. You are not meant to be cramped in this small room, and elemental masters are not meant to have vengestone on for this long.” The larger bizarro glanced down at his cuffs. He couldn’t deny the cold feeling in his chest that came from them, the nausea that prevented him from eating. He couldn’t deny that the cell he was forced into had left him restless, and sore. Nonetheless, he still took another step backwards, going into what remained of his cell. “Doesn’t matter how ‘t affects me..this..this is for the best, trust me” His ex-teammate frowned, stepping forward. “Cole-“ “Daemon…my name is, Daemon” “I..see…Daemon, why, in your words, is this for the best?” Daemon went quiet, lowering his head as he averted his eyes away from the nindroid in front of him. Zane continued, stepping forward once more. “Are..you protecting someone?” Daemon stayed silent still, but nodded his head. He hated the tears that built up, as Zane continued to come closer and question him. “Is it the person you were apologizing to just moments prior?” Daemon swallowed, nodding once more. His voice had turned somewhat raspy, “Safa…h-her name is Safa…the ninja have her..” “And they’ve convinced you that you are a threat to her safety..” Zane sighed, finally close enough to place his hands on Daemon’s shoulders. His hands were cool, firm. “Co- Daemon…you allowed yourself to be locked away, you are suffering under the vengestone, for Safa. You are apologizing, you are making sacrifices. Whatever the ninja told you…I do not believe it was true..” “ I thought I had changed” Daemon muttered, “But the minute the ninja showed up…I fell into my old rage.  What if, our change is temporary,” He looked up at the icy bizarro, “what if ‘t’s just a matter of time before we’re back t’ being evil? Back to being what we were created to be?” “I…” Zane took a moment, “I will not lie to you..I have had the same fears. However, I have also searched for an answer, as to why we have changed for the better.  And, I believe it is simply because, the source of our corruption no longer exists. Garmadon is dead, and before that, reformed. The golden weapons, destroyed.” Daemon fell silent again, looking away. He..wasn’t sure if he believed Zane. The theory sounded plausible, and Zane was just as intelligent as his ninja counterpart. Didn’t make the guy trustworthy. Before either could say anything more, however, the alarms began to blare. Zane had overstayed his welcome. “I wish I had more time to convince you, that we are good” Zane moved his hands from Daemon’s shoulders, to the cuffs around the bizarro’s wrists, “But have you at least made a decision?” He was met with more silence, for a moment. Daemon stared at his cuffs. He was his own person, wasn’t he? He could make the decision to change, who cared what the ninja said? At least this way he could check in on Safa, something the guards had refused him. Looking Zane in the eyes, Daemon nodded. The bizarre almost looked relieved at his friend’s decision. Moments later, they were running for the forest, not looking back at the cops chasing after them. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- He and Zane, or Blizzard, as he had told soon after his escape, watched Safa sit in the courtyard of the building she was living in. She looked miserable. Not at all like the happy, optimistic, and sweet girl Daemon knew. Her usually colorful dress was swapped for some grey uniform, matching her mood. It hurt him to see her so sad, to watch her sit and sulk instead of playing with the other kids, or laughing and singing. She wasn’t coloring or playing with dolls, or planning a tea party. She looked alone…she looked abandoned. Blizzard seemed to sense how Daemon felt about this, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Daemon had decided to forgive the icy Bizarro. And, admittedly, it was nice to have a more genuine friendship with the guy. He turned to his friend. “We’re getting her out right?” Blizzard nodded with a smile, “Of course. If I can manage one break out, I can certainly manage two.” Daemon exhaled, “Thank you…” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Safa was crying before she even hugged Daemon. “You came back for me!” The bizarro gave a quiet chuckle, returning the small girl’s hug. Her face had lit up when she saw him, she was happy. That was his job, his purpose. To make sure his little sister was happy. “O-of course I came back, kid. Couldn’t stay away from my little sister forever, could I?” He wouldn’t have a problem admitting that he was crying a bit to. “B-but..you said..” Dameon’s smile fell slightly, as he gently moved Safa away from him. He felt the urge to hang his head in…was this shame? Regret? A mix of both? Both seemed correct, after he’d let himself get taken away without a fight. “I-I know what I said kid…but I was being stupid. I’m not abandoning you again, alright?” Safa was quiet, and for a moment, Daemon was worried he had upset her again. But then she held up her pinky finger. “Ima hold you to it,” She grinned, “Ya have ta pinky swear ‘t” He couldn’t help but laugh as she mimicked his accent. Gently, he looped his pinky with hers. “Pinky swear, kid, ‘t’s not gonna happen, ever.”

[strwberrytae]

Karma | 01

✦ characters: warlock!yoongi x witch!reader ft. warlock!taehyung ✦ summary: you never wanted to be a part of a coven but sometimes you crave to be a part of one. they seem too structured and formal for your liking, so being a Solitary Witch seemed more appealing. a Solitary Witch is a witch that practices magic alone, without a coven. that and the last coven you were a part of kicked you out due to your refusal to practice the darker magic that they were so drawn to. this meant losing your friends and a boyfriend that you loved you deeply. but after meeting a Solitary Warlock, you found yourself wanting to be a part of something again - maybe a coven or maybe something more. ✦ genre/words: witchcraft. mild violence. death. drama. light flirting. | 5.3k → chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 → [mini series in progress] ✦ moodboard made by me ✦

What exactly does it mean to be a witch? You ask yourself that very question everyday. It has a different meaning to everyone. Hence why there’s 10 different types - that you know of. It’s only been a year since you left your coven. To be honest, it’s been very peaceful. The life of a Solitary Witch is sometimes frowned upon. What is a Solitary Witch, one may ask. Essentially, it’s a witch that chooses to practice magic without being a part of a coven - solo magic if you will. Some witches feel that you need a coven for protection and guidance. Your coven was leading you down a dark path, so you chose to leave rather than betray them by joining another coven. They didn’t take that choice very well either. 

Leaving your coven meant losing your friends and a boyfriend you loved very much. They were your family for years and then...something shifted. Su-mi, the leader of your coven, started presenting new spells and incantations to practice. Small things here and there like making someone get a flat tire on the way to work, a pipe bursting in a neighbor’s apartment just because they always gave you a dirty look, but then it got bigger. The other witches wanted to get revenge on those that have wronged them - cursing exes, bosses, the barista who got a coffee order wrong. Things were getting out of control and when you spoke up about how wrong it was, they laughed at you. One day in particular pushed you over the edge.

“Tae, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” you said as you nervously watched one of your witch sisters lying on an altar. It was midnight, witches hour, and your coven was going to sacrifice your witch sister, Ara, for a ritual. Candles and torches decorated the sacred ground to illuminate the dark area. Ara looked over at you from the altar with a cute smile.

“Relax Y/N. It’s only temporary. There’s a spell to bring me back. I’ll only be gone for a minute.” You raised your eyebrow at how nonchalant she was being about the situation.

“Ara, that’s necromancy! Once you’re dead, you’re dead. What happens if we bring you back and your soul gets stuck in limbo or something? Or what if you pass because it’s too late?” Your boyfriend, Taehyung, stood in front of you and placed his hands on your shoulders; leaning down slightly to meet your worried eyes.

“It’s okay, baby. We know what we’re doing. Don’t you trust us? We wouldn’t let anything happen to her, okay?” His deep voice and kind eyes were so soothing. You felt your doubts slowly fading but something didn’t feel right. Death was not something to play with and this was crossing into a realm of dark magic that made your stomach churn. What happened to innocent little spells to give someone good luck or cure someone who was sick, things that helped the greater good? Now we’re doing spells that require a sacrifice so your coven can heighten their powers to become stronger? Nothing good comes from magic that results in personal gain.

You took a deep breath and nodded your head slowly. Tae smiled at you and cupped your cheeks to press a gentle kiss on your lips. He lightly brushed your hair behind your ear after pulling away.

“That’s my girl. Now, did you bring the knife?” Reluctantly, you pulled the antique athame, ceremonial blade, from your bag. It was your job to find it for your coven’s use and although it was an easy task for you, it was easier than handing it over to your boyfriend. Behind him near the altar stood Su-mi, with a proud smile on her face. A part of you felt that smile was more deviant than anything else. Su-mi extended her hand towards Taehyung to get him to walk towards the altar. Your boyfriend was the strongest warlock in the coven. Naturally, she always chose him to do the dirty work, and you hated it.

Taehyung walked to the altar as you stayed back. Your brothers and sisters gathered to form a circle around the altar. They held hands together and began the incantation. One of your brothers turned around, always the sweet one who would realize that you were still left behind.

“Y/N, join us,” Jimin said kindly. All you could do was look between them and Ara lying on the table as Taehyung stood beside her with the knife in position above his head. Tears formed in your eyes and you shook your head, frozen in place. Slowly, you found yourself backing away. Su-mi scoffed.

“Leave her be. No one can force her. Her loss anyways.” Her words were so cold. She’s been questioning your loyalty to the coven for some time now and maybe she’s given up. There was no way you could be a part of this. Their voices became louder and louder. A breeze began to blow amongst the sacred ground and you could feel a stronger magical presence. Before you knew it, Taehyung’s arms dropped and the athame pierced through Ara’s heart without a single scream, only a small whimper that rang through your ears. The flames from the candles around the circle ignited in a stronger haze as a rush of smoke rose from Ara’s lifeless body and dispersed into the mouths of your coven. The spell worked. 

Within seconds, the wind ceased and the candles returned back to their normal state. Everyone collapsed to the ground, which made you panic. Who would perform the revival spell to bring Ara back? Would Ara just rise soon on her own? As fear coursed through your veins, you ran over to make sure everyone was still breathing. They seemed to be unconscious but certainly still alive. When you turned to Taehyung, you shook him lightly, calling his name but he wouldn’t stir. You didn’t know the spell that needed to be performed to bring Ara back but even if you did, could you perform such a dark spell to bring someone back from the dead? Maybe you could take her to the hospital.

Your heart raced as you stood next to the altar to observe her body. The athame was still in her chest; a perfect stab into the heart. Blood stained her white dress, a dress to symbolize her purity. The youngest witch of your coven lies before you with nothing behind her open, lifeless eyes. Your hands shook as you attempted to lift her but you didn’t have the strength to lift her stiff body. Suddenly, you heard a voice.

“Y/N?” You froze at the sound and slowly looked up to find Ara standing on the other side of the altar. Your eyes widened at the sight of her. She looked at you and smiled.

“Did it work?” You looked at her in disbelief and shock. Your lips parted but you couldn’t speak, not knowing what to say or what to do. Ara’s eyes fell to the altar, realizing that her body still remained there. Reality settled in as she discovered that she was merely a spirit form of herself.

“A-Ara...I...I don’t know. I-I don’t know how to bring you back.” Tears streamed from your eyes as you could see worry flood over your sister. It looked as if she was going to cry but she smiled and shook it away.

“It’s okay. They will wake up soon and they will bring me back.” Always such the optimist, always believing in the coven; all the while, you could not. You looked at your brothers and sisters on the ground with no sign that they would wake soon. Your heart sank into your stomach. Ara followed your gaze and her smile slowly disappeared.

“Y/N...I don’t feel well,” she said with a shaky voice. When you looked back up, her form was becoming more and more transparent. 

“No, no, no, no. Ara, stay with me,” you said as you rushed to the other side of the altar, “Wake up! Wake up please!” Your voice roared into the night but no one stirred. Ara stood before you with tears streaming down her face.

“Y/N,” she said with pure sadness in her voice. You reached out for her but you couldn’t touch her. Your lips trembled as you watched her fade away.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll bring you back somehow,” you promised desperately. But it was too late. Ara disappeared and the candles around you extinguished. Silence surrounded you and you felt more alone than ever. Your friend was gone and your coven remained unconscious. You knew this would happen and no one listened, not even the man you loved. Is this what they’ve become? Murderers for power? This isn’t what you signed up for. Without giving it a second thought, you found yourself running and never looking back.

It’s been a year since you ran away from your coven. Taehyung tried to see you but you would never open the door or respond to his calls or texts. In fact, you had heard recently that he was now dating Su-mi. That was all she ever wanted - more power and your boyfriend. Now she has both. Mazel tov. There was never any report about Ara’s death or disappearance. No one in town questioned it. It was as if she never existed but you could never forget her. Her death haunted you ever since. In fact, you haven’t used any of your magic since that day; at least nothing spectacular. Just small spells here and there. Anything more didn’t seem right.

Sometimes you still see Ara in your dreams. Whenever you passed by your friends on the street, they would give you dirty looks or simply pretend like you don’t exist. A few times, you’ve tripped over nothing and fell to the ground; knowing that it was their doing. You considered trying to speak to them and explain what happened and why you left but it seemed useless. They would believe anything Su-mi said and you were not her favorite. You were nothing more than a threat that is now gone. Your magical abilities surpassed hers and she couldn’t stand it. She especially couldn’t stand the fact that you did nothing with your powers except help others. She said you could do so much more, become all powerful, but you didn’t care. Now that you’ve chosen a life on your own, you’ve tried to live a normal life. At least until the anniversary of Ara’s death.

It was early May and the days were becoming warmer. Although the days were brighter, they seemed darker as your lost friend’s anniversary was approaching in a week. Living in a small town, it was always enjoyable to take little walks downtown as you always came across a friendly face. Friendly faces always put a smile on yours when you were feeling blue. Today seemed to be the exception. Today, there were fewer friendly faces and more appearances of your past coven. What are the odds?

“Screw this,” you mumbled to yourself as you saw your ex, Taehyung, and Su-mi walking hand-in-hand down the street. It seemed like a glamour spell of sorts. A spell that made you see things because it wasn’t just once that you saw them but it seemed to be about ten times within the same block. You stood in the middle of the sidewalk and closed your eyes for a moment, rubbing your temples to try to shake off the illusion. When you decided to keep walking, you bumped into someone.

“I’d say I’m sorry but your eyes were closed. Seems like it’s your fault, hm?” The voice didn’t sound familiar but it was deep and smooth. You opened your eyes and found a dark haired man before you. He wasn’t much taller than you but he had soft features, despite his eyebrow raised as he looked at you. You didn’t recognize him but you admired his grunge-style clothes.

“S-Sorry. I had a sudden migraine. I didn’t mean to,” you said as sincerely as possible. Witches were a best kept secret in this town, so you couldn’t explain what was really going on. Although you did feel a large amount of energy from him. The man chuckled lightly and presented you with a small smile.

“I’m just teasing. I can tell when someone’s having a bad day. I may have intentionally stepped into your path, so I’m actually at fault. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Now you were the one raising your eyebrow at him. A bit forward for a strange meet and greet.

“That’s...kind of you, I guess. I’m fine. I just need to get out of here. Clear my head. It was nice to meet you,” you said the words as you stepped around him. He turned around and laughed lightly.

“Did you really meet me though? You didn’t get my name and I didn’t get yours. So, it would be more appropriate to say ‘It was nice bumping into you’.” You stopped and turned around with a look of disbelief on your face. Who the hell is this guy and who does he think he is? It’s hard to tell if he’s being nice or trying to cause trouble. Perhaps it would be best to try to get rid of him a different way. Harmless magic wouldn’t be too terrible. You scoffed with a smirk, folding your arms as you faced him.

“You’re right. My mistake. It was nice bumping into you,” as you spoke, the man’s shoes were becoming untied and re-tied together with the force of your telekinesis abilities without him noticing, “I’m not sure if you’re just visiting, passing through, or a new resident but enjoy your day. Have a wonderful walk.” You smiled sweetly and waited for him to take his step in hopes that he would trip on his shoes. The man looked at you and remaining in place. He put his hands in his front pockets and smirked.

“That’s impressive. Subtle movements and you didn’t even have to look at what you were doing,” the man said without a single stutter. Your heart felt like it dropped into your stomach but you tried not to show emotions. Instead, you tried smiling.

“What are you talking about,” you asked nervously but trying to mask your nerves with steadiness. The man mirrored your crossed arms.

“Do you usually practice magic so freely out in public? Someone could catch you, you know? That’s kind of careless, don’t you think?” And in that moment, your heart stopped and started beating faster. The only witches you knew of in your town were those in your coven. Other than that, there are rumored to be witch hunters around. So, does that make him a witch hunter? Panic coursed through your veins.

“Very funny. I have to go. Sorry again for running into you,” you said in a rush, unsure of what to do in this situation. You turned on your heels to continue walking away.

“Wait,” the man called out to you but it only made you walk faster. You wanted to make sure you lost him, so you turned down an alley to take a shortcut back to your apartment. Your stride was cut short when you turned back to see if you were being followed then suddenly bumped into someone. Again. When you turned, the man from before was standing in front of you. This made you jump back.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a slight laugh. The laugh made you only worry more and also become a little annoyed. This game wasn’t funny. 

“How did you do that? Your shoes were tied together,” you asked to get right to the point. He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head a little to look at you.

“How did my shoes get tied together when they were perfectly tied before I bumped into you,” he asked with a cocky tone with a smirk that made your heart flutter a little. You couldn’t help but to smile.

“Touche,” was all you could say.

“I’m Min Yoongi and I did that the same way you did. Simple telekinesis can go a long way. I was untying them as you tried running off. As for my sudden appearance? That’s called Apporation. Different from Astral Projection because my whole living form can project to other places. Simpler term is Teleportation.” You looked at Yoongi like he had two heads. You’ve only seen people Astral Project, so this was completely new to you. Astral Projection is basically teleporting somewhere but only mentally while your physical body remains in its original place. A projection of yourself, if you will.  He suddenly made you feel very insignificant but it wasn’t his fault; just your own insecurities.

“I’m Y/N. Telekinesis is really all I have, so. Not as cool as…” You stalled for a moment as you tried remembering the word.

“Apportation,” he said to help you with an amused smile on his face.

“Yeah, that.” The two of you laughed. You didn’t feel as nervous around him anymore. He seemed like a decent person nor did you sense anything off about him. Even though the weather was warm, you felt goosebumps on your arms, causing you to rub them slightly as you looked away.

“Do you want to go somewhere? You said you wanted to get away and I have the perfect place for that,” he saw the hesitation in your eyes, “I’m not a serial killer. I promise.” His comment made you snort.

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say but sure. Why the hell not?”

It’s been so long since you’ve been out in the woods. Yes. The woods. Why did you agree to venture out to the woods with Min Yoongi? Because there was something about him that made you trust him with your life. Not only that, but this was the first person that has given you the time of day to this extent since the incident last year. Perhaps it was a coincidence or fate; either way, it’s worth a try, right?

Going to the woods ignites something in you. Perhaps it’s a sense of home or perhaps it’s a chilling feeling of suppressed emotions from a dark past. Leaving your own coven and staying away from a part of you that means so much to you - it’s been too hard; at least alone anyways. Thinking back, you don’t have regrets of leaving them but you do miss that sense of belonging. 

The forest was just as beautiful as you remembered. There was a subtle eeriness that was somehow overwhelmed by a calm nature that made it more comfortable to be there rather than fearful. Now that spring has passed and summer has blossomed, the trees and ground that surround you are covered with greenery beyond belief. The tall trees provide shade from the blistering sun. Twigs graze your black jeans but it doesn’t bother you - not one bit. 

As Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can’t help but to watch his stride. He didn’t necessarily seem like a loner; more of a wanderer. His porcelain skin in contrast with his dark hair and attire was alluring. He seemed gentle and calm, not threatening or menacing. With your past experience as a witch, you knew better than to follow a stranger into the woods but you felt as if you could trust him. The tall trees around you start to become more and more bare. Just tall stalks of lumber that are so symmetrical in every way that then leads to a clearing. Before you is a clearing of trees that create a large circle with nothing in the center; just dead grass and leaves and rocks. Yoongi slows to a stop. Now you can’t help but to become highly alert. You scoff with slight nervousness and laughter.

“Okay. This is officially the part when you kill me on some ancient burial ground,” you say loud enough for him to hear. He turns around and looks at you. His expression is calm but a part of him looks sad. In his eyes, you see something lingering within them. Your smile slowly faded as you could see that he didn’t think this was a joke. You felt a strong energy from this place - very strong. Something about this place seems all too familiar and not in a pleasant way. You take a look around all the trees and try to channel the energy you feel radiating around you. Suddenly, you feel completely drained; as if you’re going to be sick. Your eyes widen as you feel a cold chill brush over you. How strange to feel such a chill in the dead of summer. Yoongi remains the same, as if waiting patiently.

“W-where...did you bring me? Yoongi, what is this?” Yoongi remains. Panic starts to set in as you’re taking in the situation. Unsure of whether or not you need to take flight or fight. Either way, you find yourself bracing yourself for either. 

“This isn’t funny. Tell me what this is right now or I’m out of here.” Your voice is stern but no matter how hard you tried to mask the fear in your voice, it was evident. Yoongi let out a somber sigh as sadness truly washed over him.

“I lost my sister a year ago. People have been telling me that she ran off and moved somewhere to discover herself or to live her own life but I know better. I knew her better than anyone. She would have never abandoned me. Not like this,” as Yoongi spoke, you felt your heart beat harshly inside of your chest.

“I went to look for her. Day and night. I couldn’t rest until I got answers. People in town wouldn’t give me a straight answer. It was always the same as everyone else as if it was rehearsed. I searched everywhere but something told me to try the woods. I didn’t find anything. Even when she was missing after 48 hours, the cops wouldn’t come out here with me to look for her. Then I noticed that here, in this clearing, I could feel something. To other people, this clearing was just filled with trees. No one could see that it was a symmetrical opening. Here in this spot, I felt my sister’s presence. She was here. She lingers here. Trapped. Now why is that Y/N? Why do I feel my sister here? Why is it that we can see the clearing and no one else?”

Yoongi’s words froze you. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. There was nothing but screaming in your head. Unwanted flashbacks from a year ago. It couldn’t be… 

“A...c-cloaking spell. Only witches and warlocks can see it. It’s...sacred ground.” Every word that came out of your mouth was so difficult to voice. Now is the time to tread lightly. There’s no knowing what is about to happen or what Yoongi is trying to say. At least...you’re hoping that he’s not about to say what you’re thinking. 

“Right. A sacred ground. Witches would use places like this for so many reasons. Rituals, cleanses...sacrifices. There’s a plethora of reasons. Right, Y/N?” His tone changed. The air changed. So cold. Shivering to your core. Sweat beading down your temple.

“Y-yeah… Various reasons,” you take a few deep breaths before speaking, “but why bring me here, Yoongi? Why show me this?” You weren’t sure what to prepare yourself for next but you started channeling energy in case you needed to defend yourself. It wasn’t your fault, no, but does he know that? Does he know what happened to Ara? Is she really his sister? 

Yoongi let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head. A look of defeat on his face as he looks down and nervously drags his foot across the dry dirt on the ground.

“I don’t know… I-” He lets out a loud cry that makes you jump a little. He runs his hands down his face and lets out a huff.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I just thought maybe… Bringing you here… You’re the first witch that has actually been nice to me. No one would come out here with me. Everyone has their own coven and they’re so damn possessive of each other. I’m not trying to make my own coven! I just want answers! I thought maybe...nevermind. This was a waste of time. Why would you know anything? You’re a lone witch and...the nicest person I’ve met in this shit town,” he lets out a sigh and takes a step closer to you but you take one back in hesitation. He stops walking when he realizes you’re stepping away from him. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to scare you. If you want to leave, I get it.” Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair. Frustration is so evident on his face. You can’t help but to feel empathetic towards him. In that moment, you let down your guard and take a step forward.

“It’s okay, Yoongi... Do you...want to talk about it?” There’s genuine kindness in your eyes and Yoongi can easily see it. He sighs in relief; as if he’s been dying for someone to ask him this question. He sits down in the grass and crosses his legs to get comfortable. Your instincts tell you to follow suit as you approach him to sit in front of him. Your empathy can feel the dread illuminating around him.

“She was my twin sister. We were inseparable...are,” he scoffs, “I find myself talking about her as if she no longer exists but… I’m still hopeful, you know? She just vanished. I know damn well that the coven she was a part of knows where she is but they always deny it. I told her that she shouldn’t hang out with them but she never listened to me. At least after joining them…”

Guilt flooded your core. There was this bad feeling in the pit of your stomach that he was definitely talking about Ara. She had mentioned having a brother once but she spoke very little of him. It was as if she was trying to protect him. Su-mi was the only one that would bring him up from time to time; trying to get him to join us. She always said that the power of twin siblings was a force to be reckoned with. Your coven would be stronger, she would say. 

“They wanted me to join too. Several times. But I don’t know. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, I guess. I only use my magic to help the Earth, you know. A Green Witch. Using my magic for good. As witches and warlocks, we shouldn’t use our magic for anything else besides protection. We’re protectors of the Earth. Not...manipulative, selfish, mischievous little...” Yoongi stopped as he realized he was rambling. His pale cheeks turned bright red. The sight made you smile softly.

“S-sorry… I didn’t mean anything-”

“You shouldn’t apologize for having an opinion, you know,” you interrupt with a warm smile, “You’re one of the few that remember what our true nature is as witches. That’s why I haven’t tried seeking out a coven to join. Most of them are...well, corrupted. Dark. Wanting to cause harm to others or use their magic for personal gain. It’s sad.” 

Yoongi listened with the utmost interest in your words. There seemed to be a little twinkle in his eyes. The more time you spent with him, the softer he seemed to become. Something about his presence made you feel warm - given the current circumstance.

“Yeah, exactly. Glad I’m not the only one that feels that way around here. So, I’m curious. Have you ever been a part of a coven? Or have you always been solo?” His question made your cheeks flush. 

“In the past, yes. But it wasn’t for me. Dark and corrupted, just like the others. Even left my boyfriend behind because of it. He seemed like one of the good ones but...I guess I was wrong.” Your head shifted downward as you fiddled with your fingers while playing with a leaf that you found on the ground. Yoongi could hear the sadness in your voice.

“That must have been tough. But...for what it’s worth, it seems like it was for the better. Maybe it was fate.” His words made you lift your gaze to his. He was being so kind. This stranger didn’t know you but it seemed as if he did in a way. The thought started buzzing in your head - if someone I cared about was missing and someone knew where they were, I would deserve to know. The urge to cry suddenly flooded over you. You couldn’t find the right words; as if your mouth was filled with cement.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Yoongi shifted as he could see your distress. To avoid crying, you shook your head and sniffled a little. 

Suddenly, thunder cracked in the sky. When you looked up, you noticed that dark clouds were moving in very quickly. Strange how there wasn’t any rain forecasted for today. Simultaneously, the both of you stood up from the ground just as the rain came rushing in. To avoid the downpour, you ran to the nearest tree that had enough branches and leaves for coverage but it was too late. You were both soaking wet but couldn’t help laughing it off. Damp hair and clothes clung to your skin but the summer heat made the coolness from the rain more tolerable. 

Leaning against the tree, your laughter faded as you looked up at the sky. The clouds were already starting to separate to let the sunshine back through but the rain continued to fall. Yoongi wiped the hair dangling over his eyes, revealing his dark eyebrows and brown eyes. He had such innocent features and yet so mature at the same time. A soft smile appeared on Yoongi’s pouty lips. 

“We should hang out again. Only...not under such cryptic circumstances,” he said with a laugh that was infectious. You nodded lightly with a kind smile.

“I’d like that,” you said timidly, realizing just how close you were standing next to each other, “It’s nice to meet someone who actually seems like a decent human being for a change.” Yoongi scoffed.

“I don’t know about decent. Tolerable, maybe.” Yet again, he made you laugh as he did the same. The rain slowed to a stop as the birds began to sing once more. This seemed like a good opportunity to head home. One too many overwhelming things have happened today and you weren’t about to stick around for another phenomena. You wiped your arms of the excessive rain water and fixed your hair.

“Let’s grab coffee or something tomorrow. Meet at the town square say...at noon,” you asked in a kind tone. Yoongi nodded with a light tint to his cheeks; flushed it seems.

“Noon it is.” His response and tone was so smooth and deep. Chills ran up and down your spine. You didn’t intend for it to sound like a date but perhaps it came across that way. Heat filled your cheeks.

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi,” you said with a cute little wave before venturing off into the woods. Your encounter with Yoongi started off strange but somehow, it seems as if your bond will grow stronger. A new friend perhaps. No phone numbers were exchanged but you had a feeling that he would definitely be there. Call it a hunch.

[blissfulalchemist]

12 + catraf xx

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

Thank you for the prompt stella!

The center had become busier in the recent weeks of the reaping, now that it looked like John was going to lose his power over the valley, people were scared of the potential consequences that would follow. It was on both sides as those that joined the faith and never wanted to fight, simply worship, feared they wouldn’t be able to feed their families as well feeling they would be cut off from the church. Those that weren’t part of Edens Gate were trying to seize control of what they could, feeling they deserved it more than those that willingly joined. At the end of the day Catlina made it very clear to anyone that passed through the doors, that despite the giant signs promoting Eden’s Gate her outreach center would continue to remain a neutral area where everyone was equally entitled to the supplies there.

Today it seemed as if there were still a few that refused to listen, his fear taking over as the blonde haired young man came in demanding they take everything with them, gun pointed at her. It had to be the second time that week she’d had a gun aimed straight for her, but just another notch in a long line of incidents like this. Cat’s heart still raced as she focused on the person in front of her, her mind calmer as she worked to calm him down, get the young man to lower their gun. Moments like these where she questioned if it was the best decision to walk around this place still unarmed, take the advice of Wes, Raf, and Lance to keep a gun within reach, just in case. She just could never bring herself to do so. Not only did it feel like it went against her morals, she had made a promise to make this area a safe one, which included keeping herself free of them, an unwritten rule developing that weapons were to be kept away from the building as much as possible, even she wasn’t that optimistic.

“Sir,” Cat repeated, her voice even and soft, “I understand the frustration, but you can’t take away from others,” her eyes scanned the other patrons, many holding their breaths, the few kids cowering behind their parents, “I’ve already said what I can offer you, so I politely request that you take it and go home.”

Her arms burned and started to fall as the man’s eyes moved around the room, breathing quick, “No. No, we need more. These people already have their supplies because they’ve taken it from the rest of us.”

“I assure you, they want nothing to do with this holy war, just like you and me,” Cat’s brown eyes caught movement near the entrance, “They simply want to worship and prepare in their own manner. Not everyone is going to try and make you join.” Cat looked to the familiar form of Rafael, heart slowing as he assessed the situation.

“How can we trust you,” the man’s automatic rifle gestured closer to her, his finger dangerously close to the trigger, eyebrows raising briefly over wide eyes, he really was just a scared young man, “Your psychopath of a husband is a big cause of this. How anyone can love that monster is beyond me, but you are and therefore not to be trusted.”

An argument she had heard again and again, nothing new, “Please I assure you, there is nothing and no one here that wants to bring harm to you,” if only she could tell him that she was on their side, that she wanted to give freedom to everyone, to stop the violence that had started….she couldn’t though. Not while she was still having to play herald wife, having chosen to stay, become the mole that was needed, the one that would help in figuring out how to get John out, Faith too if she chose to leave with her in the end.

Raf knew though and he made his way up behind the man, “I think it's time to put the gun down soldier,” the man turned to face him, eyes going wider before trying to compose his face for someone he saw as his superior, “All you’re doing is scaring good people that just want to go about their day.”

“Captain, you should know better than anyone here what these people have done,” the man stammered out, weapon still pointed at Cat.

“I do,” Raf took another step forward, lightly touching the man’s shoulder, “I also know what a civilian looks like and that’s all these people are,” he gestured around the center, eyes watching as the man’s followed the motion, “We don’t create collateral damage. We’re better than that, aren’t we?” The man swallowed, nodding slowly, “Exactly, so put the gun down,” Raf’s hand guiding it, slipping the safety on, “We’ll grab your things and I’ll walk you to your car.”

His head hung, shoulders following making him look even younger than Cat initially thought, handing the gun over to Raf as he reached to take his share of supplies. The building grew silent, all eyes glued to the man and Raf as they made their way out the door. A collective breath released as the door shut behind them. Cat moved from behind the counter checking in with everyone, starting with the children, drying tears and offering words of reassurance, thankful that the price was everyone being a little spooked this time. The center started to get back to its normal self as Rafael walked back through the door, Cat smiling as he approached her. He returned the smile quickly, Cat handing control off to one of the teens that volunteered with her, hand outstretched to him.

He took her hand in his, looking down into her eyes, “Are you okay, Mary,” he asked, thumb subtly rubbing circles on the top of her hand, “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

Everything felt too formal with him, knowing that if they were alone his voice would be softer, his thumb running along her cheekbone. “I’m okay, Captain. Thank you for your intervention,” Cat shook her head, looking down to the floor, her adoring eyes endangering their little secret, “Think I could have handled it though.”

He laughed, Cat joining him, “Yeah because that is exactly what it looked like was happening when I walked in.” His eyes shined, oh how she wanted to lean up and kiss him right in that moment, “Speaking of which I came to-.”

“To check in with the produce you requested for the Whitetails,” Cat finished for him, her smile widening, releasing his hands, “Come with me.” She worked to slow her steps, hands close to her body the two making their way to the walk in fridge of the building, goosebumps raising on her arms with the sudden change in temperature. With the door fully closed the two looked around the area finding it empty, ducking behind some taller crates, Raf pushing her against the corner Cat always left open for them. His hands moved quickly to pull her closer to him, lips warm as they met her colder ones, Cat standing on her tiptoes, fingers wrapping around his curls, her body pressing against his.

It had been almost a week since they had seen each other, it became too dangerous to risk detection now that things were starting to come to a head, even their radio contact had to be limited. Time together like this was limited and moved too fast, Raf pulling away first, forehead pressed to hers, their breathing heavy, and eyes closed. “I missed you,” Cat whispered, “I don’t like having to meet this way Raf,” she swallowed, her hand detangling from his hair, running down his neck and chest slowly.

He nodded, “I don't either, Conejito,” her heart fluttered hearing her nickname, “but you know why we have too.” Raf pulled back, Cat leaning into the hand he placed on her cheek, “I can’t risk losing you. Not now. Not ever.”

“And I can’t lose you either,” she responded softly, “but the secrecy makes it hard to know if you guys are safe and alright out there.”

“I know,” Raf searched her face before he sighed, “Please let me get you out of here already. Then we can be together how we both want to be.”

Cat frowned, she wanted to leave with him, wanted the freedom he offered her, “I can’t,” she gave him a small, sad smile, “I have a few more things to take care of here,” she reached for his face with her colder fingers, “and I can’t just abandon it now. You have your mission and I have mine.” She reached up to kiss him again, “Soon we can be on the same one and neither of us never have to worry about this staying in the shadows.”

He nodded sadly, “It just doesn’t seem soon enough and I worry for your safety, since this is the second time someone’s held a gun to you like that this week alone I hear.”

“I can handle myself, people are just frightened is all. Fear makes people lash out,” Cat looked to the ground shaking her head slowly, the thoughts being pushed to the back of her mind. Once clear she pushed herself up on some of the old crates, gripping his shirt, “Now we still have a few minutes before people get suspicious,” she hooked a leg around his hips pulling him to her, lips smashing against his briefly, “So let’s take advantage of that.”

Raf smirked, leaning down to kiss her, his hands finding their place behind her neck, tipping her lips closer to him, and his other hand sliding up her thigh under the light blue fabric of her dress, pulling her hips closer to his once he managed to grab hold of them. She moaned into his mouth, feeling him harden as he grinded against her, “I think I know the best way to do that, mi amante,” he whispered against her lips.

[maaaddiexo]

Chapter Seventeen | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

[Chapter Eighteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Much like her first night at Aslan's camp, Rosemary spent her night dancing and laughing. Except now, she knew her dance partners. Susan, Lucy, and Rosemary spun in circles, laughing hysterically and trying not to trip over their own feet. Finally, Rosemary came to stop and dropped her hands. "Okay, I need a break. The room is spinning."

Susan turned Rosemary to face the refreshment table, nudging her in that direction. "Water's that way."

"Thanks, Susan."

At the table, a faun dressed in servant's clothing filled a lavish chalice full of water before handing it over to Rosemary. With a curtsy, Rosemary drifted over to the corner of a room, watching the festivities but no longer wanting to participate in them. Something was troubling her. While dancing with Susan and Lucy and talking with everybody, the issue had been pushed to the back of her mind, but now that she was alone, her thoughts were running rampant.

"Something on your mind, my dear?" Aslan appeared from thin air, as he usually did. Like Rosemary, he chose to watch the festivities instead of taking part.

"I'm afraid so."

"Let's go for a walk."

Rosemary tangled her fingers in Aslan's soft mane, wondering to herself how it never knotted. Aslan led them through a maze of hallways to the gardens. Out there, the noise of the party was distant and Rosemary knew that they were alone.

"What's troubling you, my dear?"

"England." Rosemary took a seat on a stone bench, unable to look at Aslan. "I miss home."

"I too miss my home country," Aslan replied, taking a seat in front of Rosemary. "But there seems to be something else that is bothering you. You more than miss it."

"When I asked you what would happen to me if I ever returned to England, you said you didn't have the answer. If you don't then who does?"

"Only you can answer that, Rosemary. Like I said before, only the best of us deserve a second chance. So, why would Narnia delay your death by bringing you here only to let you return where you will die when you no longer want to?"

Rosemary frowned. She couldn't answer that. "What if I'm only worthy of a second chance here? In Narnia."

"You were taken from England, Rosemary. You were deserving of a second chance before you arrived here. And whether it is in Narnia or England, your life is one worth living. You've had such a large impact on so many people here, Rosemary. On the Narnians, on our defeated enemies, on the Pevensies, and on me."

"And they've had an equal impact on me. It is through them that I realized that I want to live and be with them but I miss England."

"You believe it's time for you to go home."

"Not if I'm going to die."

"If you don't want to die, then have faith in yourself and that might just be enough."

Rosemary inhaled deeply, running her fingers through her hair. "So, how do I get home?"

"No two things happen the same way twice."

"Well with those confusing words," Rosemary slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up. "I am going to spend every last minute here in Narnia as best as I can."

•

Back inside the Great Hall, nobody seemed to notice Rosemary's temporary disappearance and she quickly joined in on the dancing once more. Her conversation with Aslan was still at the front of her mind but it didn't weigh her down as it did before. Instead, it pushed her to keep dancing even when her feet hurt and laughed even though she was breathless. All of the windows in the hall had been opened as wide as possible but Rosemary could still feel a line of sweat trailing down her back between her shoulder blades.

A glass of water appeared in front of Rosemary and she followed the arm, smiling up at the gold crown resting on a head of blonde hair. "Good evening, Your Highness."

"I swear, Rosemary, if you curtsy I will have you thrown in the dungeons."

Rosemary took the glass, downing half of it in seconds, her manners having been thrown out one of the large open windows. "Not even King for a day and you're already making threats."

"How about this: you take a walk with me and I won't throw you in the dungeon."

"I don't think I'm allowed to refuse a King."

"Stop it!"

Rosemary laughed at Peter's adorable pout and linked her arm with his and guided him out of the Ballroom. The drop in temperature is immediately and extremely relieving. Rosemary had to fight the temptation to simply drop to the ground and press her cheek against the marble floor.

For the longest time, neither of them spoke. They wandered the halls, having gotten lost long ago. Paintings of random people had been hung up on the walls and ancient artifacts had been placed throughout the castle. Not that either of them recognized anything.

"I can't believe this is mine," Peter said in awe, breaking the silence for the first time. "There's so much of it."

"It kind of reminds me of a museum."

"Well, this museum is also your home." It took Peter a moment before he no longer heard a second set of footsteps against the floor. He turned back around and noticed she was a few feet behind him. "What's wrong? You don't want to live here?"

"What? No. I want to live here with you and your siblings and everybody else."

"But?"

"But I can't."

"Why not?"

Rosemary's heart shattered at the sadness in Peter's eyes. "Before I came here, I made some mistakes and wrong decisions. I need to go back and make things right. There's peace here in Narnia. I have no reason to stay here anymore."

"What about me?"

Rosemary's voice broke. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

"Then why do you have to go back so soon? Why can't you stay?"

Peter," Rosemary sighed. "Did I ever tell you how I got here?"

"Through the river by the Beavers' dam. Susan told me."

"But I never told you why I was in the water in the first place." Rosemary pulled Peter into a random room. It was a bedroom, completely untouched for an unknown amount of time. "Peter I...I jumped into the English Channel."

Aside from two words to Mrs. Beaver, Rosemary had never told anybody what she did nor did she plan on it. And now here she was, about to tell Peter the whole story. So she certainly didn't expect Peter to laugh.

"Well, why would you do that, silly goose? The water's cold." Rosemary simply waited for Peter to connect the dots - she was sure a smart boy like him would. It took close to thirty seconds before the look in Peter's eyes changed. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"It's not something I can just come out and say. Besides, I was embarrassed. I still am but I'm more at peace with it."

Peter sighed sadly and pulled Rosemary into him for a long hug. She had a feeling it was more to comfort him than Rosemary. How had he never noticed? Weren't there signs for this kind of thing? Peter wondered if she still would have tried to jump had they known each other before Narnia. "I'm so sorry, Rosemary."

"It's okay, Peter. I'm better now. But when I jumped into the channel, Peter, I was transported here. But I have to go back. I miss home and I need to make things right."

"How?"

"I'm not sure, but I know I need to go back."

"No." Peter shook his head, pulling away. "I won't let you leave. Not if you're just going to die."

"It isn't your decision to make, Peter. And honestly, I don't think it's entirely mine either. It's time for me to go back."

Peter wasn't sure when he'd begun to cry, but he could feel his salty tears stinging his eyes and his nose had begun to run. "Please don't leave Rosemary."

"Oh, Peter." Rosemary guided Peter to the large bed in the center of the room. She sat down beside him, leaning her head on Peter's shoulder. Her hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on Peter's back and she let him cry, feeling tears of her own spill over onto her cheeks. "I don't want to leave, Peter. There are so many things here that make me want to stay and you are one of them. But, Peter, I have to go back."

Peter sighed, dejected. He couldn't fight Rosemary on this nor would he. He understood as much as he could. She was going back to England. "When?"

"I don't know. But soon, I think. It's almost like I can feel it."

Peter sighed again. He was doing a lot of that tonight. "Is it selfish of me to want to spend every last second with you?"

"Yes, but I don't mind," Rosemary admitted, blushing. Peter stood up and held a hand out to Rosemary. Curiously, she took it. "Peter, what are you doing?"

Peter placed a hand on Rosemary's waist and grabbed her other hand, holding up their conjoined hands. "Well, since we have an unknown amount of time left, I suggest we spend it getting to know as much as we can about each other in the limited time we have left."

"While dancing?"

"You didn't save me one back in the Ballroom."

"You didn't ask."

Peter laughed as he guided Rosemary across the room. "Fair enough. First question: would you like me if we'd met in England instead of Narnia?"

•

Peter had lost his suit jacket and Rosemary had long discarded her shoes when the two finally collapsed on the large canopy bed. Rosemary was laughing loudly despite her exhaustion as Peter told her of the time he broke his arm whilst playing soldier with Edmund.

"And now you fight for real."

"Who would have thought," Peter huffed. Rosemary yawned loudly from beside him and he smiled, wrapping his arm around Rosemary. "You tired?"

"Yes. But I don't want to fall asleep. I'm scared that if I do I'll wake up back in England."

"You want to go back, Rosemary," Peter recalled, rubbing his thumb over Rosemary's bare shoulder. "And you have my address and I have yours. We'll write to each other."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise, Rosemary."

Rosemary sighed, curling into Peter's side. "Call me Rose."

•

When Rosemary opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was. She was overlooking the English Channel, standing right where she was when she had jumped into the freezing water below.

Am I back in England?

Rosemary tried to move away from the cliff but her feet were planted in place - at the very edge of the cliffside. This was a dream. No - a nightmare.

The wind began to pick up, making the trees around her rattle. Rosemary began to cry because she knew what was to come next.

"Please," she begged to the air as one foot moved to hover over the air. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pull her foot back. She began to tip forward into the vicious waves below. "I don't want to die!"

[Chapter Eighteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

[allie1804-fan]

New Beginnings (Chapter 11)

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New Beginnings Baby Drabble

New Beginnings Baby Drabble No2

Warnings:mentions of babyloss

For the remaining weeks of the pregnancy Emily and Keanu made a pact to check in every day on how they were each feeling. Their short-hand was to say whether they were at O (Optimistic) or SS (Scared Shitless) or maybe somewhere in between.  A day wasn’t to go by when they didn’t check in on their status.

Emily continued to work until her 36th week after which it became too much to sit in a writers’ room all day long.  She needed rest  for her brain and body. Keanu was still training but he’d cut down a little so he had more free time to spend with Emily as well as run her to appointments and oversee the decorating work to transform one of the guestrooms to a nursery.

 The day after the session with the counsellor he’d hired a van and collected the crib and other equipment from his mother’s house determined to stop thinking of everything he did as a potential jinx.

Midwife appointments were weekly from week 34 – that was a little more than the norm but they both needed that reassurance as the baby’s movements got less with time – quite a normal pattern but not easy to deal with in their situation.

At the childbirth classes, Keanu was visibly more relaxed as well which helped Emily feel she could join in with conversations rather then hover on the edges to protect him. At one session the leader asked the parents to share their fears. Emily could sense Keanu visibly tensing and she caught his eye, subtly shaking her head and he nodded his agreement knowing exactly what she meant.  Their main fear was the same and they had no desire to freak the hell out of everyone else there. They could just agree with someone else’s comments.

As they worked round the room, the leader asked Claire and Aiden, a couple Emily had liked from the beginning but not really talked to much, how they were feeling.

“well I really don’t want to bring everyone down”, Aiden said “but our biggest fear is that our baby dies, because our first was stillborn”

There was a sharp intake of breath from some and a sigh of relief from Keanu and Emily!

When it came to them, Keanu was able to say “We’re on the same page as Claire and Aiden and I think they’re really brave to share it in a room like this. I lost my daughter to stillbirth 21 years ago and we had an ectopic pregnancy last year, so yeah, that’s our biggest fear too. Rationally  I’m confident it won’t happen but that doesn’t entirely stop the fear”

He looked at Emily who was kind of thunder-stuck to hear him share so openly with a group of strangers. He was so private normally but she knew speaking its name was a big part of helping him conquer the fear. She squeezed his hand and whispered ‘I’m so proud of you’ in his ear.

When the  session was over, everyone stood chatting and Keanu went over to Claire and Aiden

“Listen, we were planning on grabbing a bite to eat after, do you fancy joining us? I know a place where they do  really good noodles”

Aiden burst out laughing.

“’Really good noodles’ like in the Matrix?” he asked making air quotes.

Keanu chuckled, only then realising what he’d just said.

“Oh yeah sure - you remember that line?”

“Man every time I have noodles I think of it -  am I too much of a Matrix nerd to have dinner with you two?”

“Nah,  no man, it’s cool  - and thanks”

Emily caught Claire’s eye and rolled her eyes skywards, smiling broadly at Aiden geeking out with Neo!

They headed over to the Jinya Ramen bar and had a good time getting to know each other a little better. Keanu repeated how brave he thought Aiden had been to speak up.

“I mean I was sitting there thinking “death man, death is my fear but that’s gonna fuckin freak them all out so I’ll just say some generic crap and then you were like ‘bam’

Aiden laughed.

“the things is, it really is my only worry and I thought, you know what, shit happens and people are scared of it so let’s just cut the crap and stop pretending!”

“Fair enough” Keanu agreed

“But you were brave too, being who you are, to just open up like that”

Keanu took a gulp of his beer

“Yes I don’t quite know what got into me, that was err, most unprecedented!”

They all burst out laughing then, recognising the Bill and Ted quote.

“Yes way” Aiden said clinking his beer to Keanu’s who grinned back thinking to himself “I like this guy”. Emily looked on, secretly thinking ‘bromance!’

By week 37, they were basically at the clock watching stage. Everything was ready and Emily spent most of her time reading,  watching TV or sleeping.  If Keanu was home when she took a nap, he’d join her and spend the time stroking the bump or leaning his head against it talking softly to the little one who’d usually make his or her presence known with a little shove of one if its limbs. Sometimes they’d kiss and pleasure each other though Emily was struggling to move easily so everything was tender and low key rather than intense. Neither of them really minded, their focus was all on meeting their child in just a few weeks.

Chloe had organised a Baby Shower, the hospital bag was packed and ready, the nursery was waiting stocked with nappies and neutral coloured baby-grows and a sort of birth plan was ready but they both knew they would have to go with the flow on that one.

“control what you can, like a playlist and speaker, your snacks, what t shirt you’ re going to wear and have an idea of your other intentions like pain relief and so on but just go with the flow  on the day” was Chloe’s wise advice.

Through weeks 38 and 39, Emily had lots of false alarms when the Braxton Hicks contractions felt like they were the real thing beginning but still nothing materialised. They were well into week 40 when things actually got started.

It was mid morning on a Wednesday and while Keanu had confirmed that the contractions were in fact regular and he’d let the hospital know, they wouldn’t have to go in until 1 minute long contractions had been coming every 5 minutes for at least an 1 hour.  For now it was every 10 minutes but varying in length and intensity. Emily chose the living room to either lie down or pace or sit on a birthing ball or hang onto Keanu’s broad shoulders to help breathe through the pain. At its worst, it felt like a really bad period pain or indigestion for now so mostly she could cope on her own and that’s kind of how she preferred it. She felt a bit like an animal, wanting to go into a quiet corner and have her baby out of sight of everyone!

By lunchtime, the pains were definitely getting more intense but still only coming every 8 minutes. Keanu made them a sandwich then at around 2 she got her maternity swimming costume on and spent an hour floating in the pool. The sensation was soothing  - they were hoping it would still be possible to use a birthing pool at the birthing centre but it wasn’t guaranteed. It would depend on her condition and if they were all in use by other mothers. Even Keanu’s money couldn’t guarantee a pool unless they had done it at home and neither of them had been of a mind to do that  - they wanted every medical expert right on hand.

As evening was falling,  the contractions actually seemed a little milder and were still only at 8 minute intervals so they ordered pizza take out. Later on Emily had a bath and to her annoyance, things were still no further on come bedtime so they settled in for the night wondering if she would sleep at all.

4am Thursday morning

Emily woke with a start as a strong contraction tightened her stomach and made her groan with pain. Keanu sat up straight away – he’d been sleeping but only very lightly at her side all night and so was quickly fully awake.

“was that a big one?”

Emily nodded but didn’t speak since she was managing the pain by slowly breathing through it, kneeling up slightly and grabbing onto the headboard of the bed.

She relaxed when it was over thinking there’d be a few minutes wait for the next one but it seemed to hit very quickly and she shot Keanu a nervous look.

Breathlessly she asked Keanu to get his phone to check the gap.

“Fuck that was just 4 minutes he said, wide eyed as the next one came “ we gotta go”

Fortunately, she hadn’t got into nightwear, so they just needed to slip on some shoes, grab the bag, get in the car and go.  Keanu was still a little freaked out that they had missed the 5 minute gap point but he knew in his rational mind that 4 minutes was what most advice said and they’d  simply gone with 5 minutes to be super cautious! And it was still early and pre rush hour so there wouldn’t be any traffic.

As they set off and Emily gripped onto the door handle as another contraction hit, she joked

“just don’t drive like John Wick or Jack Traven OK!”

“No mam” he grinned glad of her lightening the mood just a little.

The empty streets and soft grey light across the city helped to calm them both down and within half an hour they were pulling into the birthing centre car-park.

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New Beginnings Baby Drabble

New Beginnings Baby Drabble No2

[pendragonfics]

It's Not The Knife That Hurts, But The Wound It Leaves

Paring: Loki/Reader

Tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns used for reader, set after Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, post canon, alternate universe - canon divergence, character death, heavy angst, triggers death, fake character death, angst with a happy ending, fluff, reunited and it feels so good

Summary: Loki being dead to the world, to the Avengers, to you; it wasn’t real. It never had been, why would it be now? He never stayed dead for long, and if he was in hiding, you’d find him. 

Please do not read this if you are triggered in any way, shape, or form by Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, the theme of character death, and, heavy angst. Please know that if you have suicidal thoughts, there is help for you out there.

Word Count: 2,554

Current Date: 2019-01-13

There was a notion that there was something freeing, in the idea of death. Perhaps even the event of it, too. But this was to other people, surely, to those who had stared it in the face with their own eyes, a bullfighter to a bull, and choosing to fight onward. To you, death was…a place. A destination? Yes, that was more like it. If life was a train journey, one stop after another, death was the end of the line, simply another place.

Loki being dead to the world, to the Avengers, to you; it wasn’t real. It never had been, why would it be now? He never stayed dead for long, and if he was in hiding, you’d find him.

You just hoped not at the end of the line.

You try your best not to think of what happened, because when you think of it, you dwell, and your thoughts become cloudy, dark. Unsavoury. You try to think of anything else, but like everything else in your life, you keep coming back, to face the facts.

Number one: you survived the curse that Thanos put the Earth under, the snap.

Number two: you weren’t there in Wakanda to fight him, unlike the rest of the Avengers. The cabin you and Loki chose, secluded from society had few ways to contact someone there, and by the time that you heard, it was too late. If only you had been there…

Number three: despite these three facts, none of them would have helped Loki.

It didn’t matter to you that there was no Asgard, no Heimdall to hail you to space to search the Yggdrasil of the nine realms for your lover. With the help of stealth technology, exploitation of weak-link employees of Stark’s own labour, you impersonated him, stole a prototype spaceship Quinjet, and booked it out of the stratosphere to the coordinates that the Hulk had hailed from, before -

But when you got there, there was nothing. Just orbiting space junk that you had to assume was remains of Thor’s ship, lingering, a reminder of the damage caused by the demon who destroyed so many lives. The cold carnage of war left no favours to the losing side.

After that, you flew everywhere. Planets, both artificial and natural, inhabited asteroid belts, ships that were willing to dock with you - all places that your wildest imagination could never have concocted as a child. But no matter what, when you asked if anyone had seen, heard of or knew word of Loki, brother of Thor, the King of Asgard, there was silence that met your ears. It would seem that people did not care for him, nor wanted to care for him, but desperate, with low credits and lower fuel in the tank of your vessel, you spoke another name.

“What of Jötunheim, then?” you proposed.

The rowdy bar went silent in a matter of seconds upon the utterance of the planet of the Frost Giants. You were about to leave when a man, of dishevelled appearance; crooked teeth, patchy hair, wild eyes, approached you.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, speaking in a thicker accent than motor oil, or molasses.

He passed you a note discreetly, folded within your palm, but when you went to ask what he meant by those words, or thank him, the man was gone, disappeared into the crowd of the intergalactic creatures.

Once returned to the Quinjet, you opened the note, imploring, hoping, that it was good news. A lead. But like the last lead, it was simply just numbers, scrawled on the page; coordinates. You tried not to feel so let down; it would have been a long shot if the stranger had written Loki is XY. Like the good soldier you were, you followed your new lead, like the train of life, another stop.

It led you to a place where there was no mistake of the fact that it was Jötunheim. As soon as your ship landed, you felt the strong winds batter the sides of the Quinjet, the insulation doing little to protect you from the outside. But as soon as you made it to the outside, suited up in what extra layers you could find, you found that both you and the ship were surrounded by Frost Giants. Cautiously, you complied, unsure how you felt at being at the other end of the weapon as they herded you like a prisoner. You were an Avenger on your planet, a solider. Here? Fodder for these creature’s wills. A speck.

As you were herded, you had time for your mind to wander, as your body got colder and colder as you moved with the Giants. In the little time that you and Loki had had together, you had heard all his stories, of places like the ones where you had been. From himself, from the mouths of others, it didn’t matter. Perhaps because they were all stories in the end, just like now, you were becoming one. An unwise decision, to escape Earth without telling anyone, just to die on Jötunheim. You had heard stories of Thor the King, the grubby speakeasies and relaxed crime across the galaxy, the planets like Musspelheim and Knowhere, like Niflheim and Jötunheim.

To think that you had thought you were a regular person. Before S. H. I. E. L. D., of course, picking you from your college alumni for your brain capacity, and training you to become one of the best unassuming undercover operatives they had on payroll. From being a spy, you become a soldier, never questioning, always acting for the good of Fury and Coulson. From being a soldier, you became an Avenger, after they formed, and since, life was never the same. You were always helping others, never yourself: the good soldier.

All of this ran through your head as the Frost Giants marched you toward a place that looked nothing short of sinister.

This is how I die, you thought. You had no doubt about it - this was the last stop on the train for you. We’re at the end of the line.

The Jötuns tossed you onto a sheet of ice, your palms catching you sharply as you fell. You looked up at what you were thrown before, and all you could think of, was the word throne. It soared high above you, carved into the snow and ice with shards that caught the light in a terrifying display of defiance of the temperature. There was a Jötun who sat at the top, looking down at you with a red-eyed glare, and frightened, you shivered in anticipation of your fate.

“I know of your kind,” the creature spoke garbled words, but it was in English, and it was loud enough to vibrate your ribcage. You shook once more, this time, you were sure it wasn’t the cold. “Human. What brings your kind to my domain?”  

“I have been searching,” you tell him, unsure if the wind carried your words away, or not. You kept your eyes to yourself, out of fear, and respect. “Across the galaxy.”

The Jötun King laughed, a booming threat. “What makes you think that I care to hear of the words of a human?” the creature retorted, harshly. “I am a King.”

“Evidently,” you reply, the words rolling from your tongue before your mind can think not to, “but humans rarely stray from their planet, if you know. And yet, here I am, searching for the man that I love.” You reiterate, and cautiously, you add, “From what I gather, few visit your ‘domain’, and fewer stay to talk, and that would make anyone lonely, let alone miserable.” You say.

“Bold words,” the King said.

“Please,” you plead. “I looked everywhere, and this planet, it’s…it’s the last place I have to search, it’s…it’s the last place I can be before I run out of resources. “After this,” you sucked in a deep breath, your chest hiccupping in emotion, “I’ll have no choice.”

“My land might be frozen, but not my intrigue.” The King responds, “Leave us be, my Guards. Now, human, your tale. Go on.”

“The man that I love, he is not like me. Like anyone. He has seen Hel itself and yet smiles to me so sweet. He speaks with a tongue to silver and can command all with his words.” You speak carefully, choosing your words with caution. “He…he came from this place. He came from Asgard. And if we had had more time together, he might have called the Earth his home too…”

“What of this man, of yours? Lovers have no cause to flee.” The King spoke up.

You shook your head, “Yes, but he was a warrior. A prince. He would never flee or cower. He hated to think he was noble, and yet he was…my love, he died.”

“Dead men go nowhere.” The King’s words cut you deep, and you felt a fury course through your cooling blood, your numbing hands.

You shook your head. Defiant. “No. He never stayed dead. First, he fell into the abyss on the cusp of Asgard, and yet, he returned. He nearly died at the hands of the Dark Elf, Malekith, but he did not, and with time, we reunited. And Thanos -,”

“A war criminal, unwelcome here.” The King spat.

“He - he can’t have died.” You speak up. “When he survived, he would have been weak, weaker than usual, suspended his Asgardian glamor and appeared to be Jötun, but not a Giant.” You resist the urge to look to the King, but your words, they implore him. “Please, have you heard of him, his legacy? Word, tale, news…?”

The King guffawed, and from the sounds you were hearing, he was dismounting his throne, coming toward you. “Have I, heard word of a small Jötun, who cannot die? Whose tongue is metal, who is noble?” the hope you held so very close to your heart quivers, optimistic despite all circumstance. “No.”

The word parried at your heart, and it shattered in your chest. “No,” you repeated - a whisper, a curse, a plea. From where you sit on the ice, it touched you, yes, but now it crawled inside your bones, into your mind, and seemed to sit on top of all feelings, numbing all but misery. “He - no. No!” you cry out, burying your head in your hands.

“No one survives Thanos.” He says, grim.

You shake you head once more. “I did. And yet, he didn’t. It’s my fault - if only I -,” you squinch your eyes shut, the cold air freezing your tears as they fall. “If I had his seidr, or Doctor Strange’s magic, I could go back, save him -,”

“The dead are dead for reasons,” the King huffed. “And unlike your love, they stay dead.”

“But he - no…” you gape. “I’ve come all of this way. I did all the right things, I was a good soldier!” you exclaim. “This can’t be fair!”

As you open your eyes, you see his feet before your face, close enough to see the markings upon his skin. Scared, you recoil. You feel like all the denial of all of it is floating away, and it’s settling in. Finally. Loki is dead. So many of your friends, so many of the Avengers, so much of your family, so many humans who called Earth their home are dead.

And there is nothing that you can do about it.

“King of the Jötuns, I ask one thing of you.” You shake, the grief breaking you down.

“Only if I can ask the same of you.”

You nod; a simple bargain. “I want you to strike me dead.”

“An odd request, but…only if you tell me the name of the man you love.” The King asks you. A beat passes, and he adds, “Today is momentous. If I have heard your tale, I want all of it, before you die.”

“His name was Loki,” the words tumble out, but you speak his name with care, cradling it with all your heart, like his name could break at any mishandling. “Loki of Jötunheim, of Asgard, of…of my heart.”

The King does nothing, and swaying, you let out a moan, pained, like a wounded animal. “Please!” you screech. “I kept my end of the bargain -,”

“I want to ask another thing of you.” The Jötun King demands. You tremble. “As I do the deed, you must look at me.”

Slowly, you raise your head, eyes closed. You know that he is right before you, and when your head is at the right angle, he will carry out your wish, and you will be looking at the terrifying Frost Giant. Your chin raised, your eyes flutter open, the world beyond your eyelids coming into focus. You expect the breath in your throat to be your last, the same as these thoughts in your mind.

For the train of life to reach its final destination -

To be with Loki. At last.

“Look at me.” He says, and you comply.

Except, standing before you is not the Jötun King that you were expecting. He has dark hair and with every second passing his skin pales from blue to ice white. He has green eyes and bright marks on his neck that look like they hurt still. He wears tattered clothes unlike what a King would wear, and in the corners of his eyes there are tears that have fallen, and threaten to fall again. There is an ache to his soul that you can feel, like he has been to Hel, and survived it.

He was Loki.

“You…” your breath is gone, your whole body without strength to go on. “You bastard.” You might whisper the curse, but there is no malice behind it.

“My love,” he says, taking steps toward you, and you rise only to sink into his chilled embrace. He holds you tight, and hearing his heartbeat, you relax into his chest, “My world.”

“I found you,” you murmur, covering him with kisses. “I - I did it. I flew to the stars for you, and all my wishes came true.”

“I had no strength to return to Earth, to Thor.” Loki tells you. “I heard the news of what Thanos did to Midgard…I had no hope that you survived. He kisses you deeply, cradling you close, your bodies so very near that you might meld into one. “I feared you to be an imposter as soon as I saw your face…please forgive me for my interrogation, my love.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I will.”

“I would never strike my lover dead.” Loki adds, kissing your forehead. It’s then you feel a tingling sensation throughout your whole body, like every other time that Loki used his magic upon you. There was warmth to your limbs again, and revitalised, you shared it with him. He slides his hand into your own, and the both of you walk toward where the Frost Giants escorted you from your ship. “Let’s go home, my love.”

There might be something freeing in the idea of death. But to be reunited with the one that you love? To live another day with renewed purpose? That was better - a thousand times better. 

[jeidafei]

The Core Message of D.Gray-Man

In my opinion, every story has something to tell. So what is D.Gray-Man actually trying to show us beneath the layers of all this tragedy and deaths?

This is my wild guess!

P.S. This is just my opinion, everyone! Every story conveys several messages and we are all free to interpret what the core message is in each work of literature...or whether they have a message at all...(I believe they all do, though!)

What is the core message of a story? A very clear example would be Aesop’s fables, which all end with “The moral of this tale is...”.

Most stories don’t just shove the message right into our faces from the get-go. In fact, most stories didn’t set out to preach at all, and the authorーsometimes even unknowinglyーdevelops the core theme and message as the story progresses. And part of the fun for me as I read novels and manga is figuring out the core message stories are trying to convey.

As D.Gray-Man is still ongoing, there are possibilities of plot-twists and new revelations, so I’ll state my guess for the story as of now (Chapter 230). 

And most importantly, if you’re an optimist like me, this core message might have already ensured that D.Gray-Man will have a HAPPY ENDING.

Though it does not necessarily mean Allen will survive, though...

1. Denying the Fate of an Exorcist

The message is there from the very beginning.

Yes, the bomb dropped pretty fast. Too darned fast most peeps including me wouldn’t notice. I’m talking waaay back into the first volume. Over a decade ago. We folks might not recall much, but we'll definitely remember this signature quote from Allen:

"Fate has got nothing to do with this. This is the path I chose by my own free will."

Yes, folks! The BIG SPOILER BOMB has dropped. This whole manga is all about....

                                                Fate Versus Choice

In this scene, Allen is denying what the Grand Generals and Cross Marian have told him: that by being born with Innocence, his fate had been set in stone by God himself, and to fight to the death as an Exorcist is his destiny.

Allen, however, assures Mana that he walks this path for he himself had chosen it. To atone for Mana. To save the suffering souls only he could see.

He's not doing this because Godーbecause Fate forces him to. It’s his own choice.

Allen's choice to become an Exorcist is what sets him apart from most ーif not allーExorcists from the very beginning. Other Exorcists usually joined through pure necessity or by being forced to fight by the Black Order. It’s more like can’t help it and I’m born to do this rather than I chose this. And this, as Dumbledore would put it, makes all the difference in the world.

And though some of them, like Lenalee and Kanda, later embraced their fate bound by Innocence, it's only due to having no other choice; Lenalee knows she can't keep living her daydream of a world without Akuma, and finally accepts that the only way she could protect her world is to fight.

Meanwhile Kanda first accepts his Innocence solely in order to survive and find his lost love, then later to repay Allen for his kindness. After he's done with that, then he can finally get his long-overdue rest in peace. Krory destroys Akuma to make sure Eliade didn’t die in vain. Miranda can’t make herself useful otherwise. Timothy has to leave the orphanage due to the danger Innocence brought to those around him. And so on and so forth.

Allen, on the other hand, probably could have gone on living normally even with his arm activated; Cross had simply asked him whether he would like to be an Exorcist. Despite all his misfortunes, Allen had what the other Exorcists-to-be don’t: a choice. And he made it: He decided on his own to become one and atone for Mana, then later to save the Akuma, and eventually to fight alongside his friends. That is his sole purpose. Allen will not choose another path even if it is open to him, as I will talk about in the next point. 

Had they not possess Innocence, Lenalee would have chosen a normal life in China with Komui even after her parents had died. Kanda would have chosen to run away with Alma and Marie and start a new life. Lavi would have gone on training to be a Bookman. Krory stated himself that he would be content to stay locked up in that castle with Eliade forever. Miranda would have chosen anything else, any job she could do well. Timothy would have chosen to stay on at the orphanage with Mother Superior and Emilia, etc.

2. Denying the Fate of the Fallen One.

When Allen's left arm was destroyed, everyone thought his fate had been sealed. It's over. He's not an Exorcist anymore. He’s fallen. Bak Chang offered him many choices: he could walk a different path, become a Finder or some other support staff. I think he could even leave the Order, actually, seeing as nothing else binds him to the place, and be whatever he wants.

But Allen instead chooses to stubbornly walk forward on this road, even with no hope of regaining his arm, refusing to bow down to fate.

Later when he faces the destroyer of his arm, Tyki Mikk, once again in Noah’s Ark, he states that one does not cease to be an Exorcist when one’s Innocence is destroyed. He then demonstrates this by repairing his broken Innocence using nothing but his own willpower. Nothing, even destroying his arm, will stop him from pursuing his goal as an Exorcist. 

3. Denying the Fate of the Host

Yes, Allen never seems to get a friggin’ break. Right after the Invasion, he starts to learn that his beloved Mana might not be what he thought he was at all.

This is a very, very devastating blow to Allen’s personality and development. His whole life had been built around this illusion, this mask of Mana he cherishes.

He chose to walk this path primarily because he wants to atone for Mana, after all. He hates the idea of succumbing to fate, so he chose to be an Exorcist that fights with his own free will, instead of bowing down to the Innocence’s (or, in other words, God) will (that’s why he won’t let Suman’s Innocence kill its host).

Allen soon learns of his true fate: his fate is to disappear and make way for the 14th Noah to use his body to reincarnate.

But still he refuses to surrender and go quietly into the night. When Link brought him some porridge in jail and confesses to him about the Thirds, Allen said this one sentence that deeply moves Link:

“If only I knew, then I would be able to change something, wouldn’t I?”

Exactly, by trying to learn more about it all, Allen hopes to change his fate. Yet again he does not obediently accept his fate. He then leaves the Order to do so, vowing to Lenalee that no matter what fate throws at him, he will always remain an Exorcist, as he has finally found his home amongst his comrades in the Order. He also refuses to accept his fate and disappear even at Cross’s insistence, as he believes that if he continues to walk he might be able to change his fate, or at the least inspire those who walk the same path as him to fight.

Don’t stand still. Keep walking has always been the words Allen lived by, and may actually translates to Never stop fighting against fate. By coming to a stop on your path, you are accepting that fate no longer has a future laid out for you, and you simply await your end: your chance to change things is zero. By going on, walking on even when the end looms ahead, there is still hope for a better tomorrow.

And as Cross most wisely and beautifully put it: Our path is not laid out before us from the start; but the earth hardens and forms into our road after we have walked upon it. He is saying that there is no such thing as fate; our lives are decided solely by our own choices.

Really, the Hallow OP said it all:

「誰一人邪魔をさせるか。初めて自分で選んだ道だ」

I won’t let anyone stand in the way...of this path I first chose for myself.

4. Link’s confession to Kanda

This recent(?) piece of evidence is what seals the deal for me, actually. The penny drops in this scene Link confessed he fervently hopes Allen will be able to win against the fate of the host:

"There’s someone I want to save...

If heーif Allen Walker could really triumph against his fate as the host...then I want to be there to see him make it.

If it’s true that people could choose any future they want simply by following their hearts, then I want to know the source of their strength."

In my opinion, when Link said there's a person he wants to rescue, he is talking about Tewaku. He's hoping to see Allen win against such a hopeless fate, so he could finally believe in the power of choice himself, and use that inspiration to spur himself to save Tewaku and his remaining Third friends. Link, though he had started to have doubts about Lvellie, is still too weak-willed to openly defy his fate as Lvellie's dog, and relies on Allen to make him believe in himself. And if my noobie writer's sixth sense is to be trusted, THIS scene confirms that the core message of D.Gray-Man is indeed trumping fate, against all the odds. 

And this is why I say DGM would probably have a happyーor at least bittersweet ーending: Even though DGM has always been a very tragic manga, the message of friendship, love, sacrifice and perseverance in the face of impossible adversity is always portrayed as having an optimistic outcome. Characters may die or suffer a lot throughout the series, but every arc ends on a positive note.

This is what sets DGM apart from stories like Attack on Titan, whose message is cynical and pessimistic, and if any dude starts spouting idealistic crap you might as well just stick a death flag on his head, and not a single arc ends positively.

Hoshino-sensei herself said that no matter what happens, Allen will always have friends by his side. You won't see that kind of heartwarming note with AoT. So if the core message of DGM is winning against fate, you can be quite sure DGM won't betray it and will show Allen winning against fate in the end.

5. Even his personal motto confirms it.

The latest guidebook, Gray Log, has revealed Allen's personal motto: To wait for fate is to wait for death.

Exactly, Allen. Literally. 

6. Even his fate as the host is something he chose by himself

Yes, this is the real deal. This is why I say that there is no such thing as fate for Allen; even the so-called fate he is fighting to change right now is actually brought about by his own choice.

Other reincarnations of the Noah have been doomed by random; no-one knowingly becomes one (pretty much like the Exorcists, come to think of it!), but in the case of Allen (if that past!Allen really is him) he willingly chose to become one. Why? I’d guess that maybe he believed that by doing so he could help Neah save the world...help change fate.

The Allen of then already knew the Earl is the enemy of mankind, with his soul-sucking powers. His purpose has not changed, be it 35 years ago or now; he wants to save the world from the Earl, and now he’s going to learn why he brought this fate upon himself.

In the end, after he has learned the Truth, Allen may no longer be an Exorcist in the sense that he fights on behalf of the Order and dons the black coat, but in the sense that he fights to save Akuma and mankind alike, just as he had decided when he regained his Innocence.

Allen’s journey, from the time when he was Red the circus errand boy, has always been one of finding his true home and family. Now that he has found his second true home amongst his Exorcist comrades, he will not let his fickle fate tear it away from him.

(NEW!) 

7. The Mask of Allen and Red’s determination

I stumbled across this one while finishing my translation of Lost Fragment of Snow.  

As I mentioned earlier in Number Three, we now know that Allen’s current personality and motivations are mostly shaped by his determination to atone for Mana: The Mask of Mana. He doesn’t care that much for God or the Holy War or whether the Order wins this war; Remember, he refused to help the Order’s cause by being just any support staff; he just wants to save souls (and later humans) as an Exorcist. In this way, Allen’s worldview is perhaps just as particular and narrow as Lenalee, and that is why during his training to restore his arm, Lenalee’s question of “When you close your eyes and think of the world, what do you see?” constantly had him thinking hard, and finally adding humans to his world as well.

Back to the Mask of Mana. We now know that Cross despises that mask and torments Allen because 1) It’s payback for having him mopping up his two icky Ps and nursing him for months 2) He’s a d-head and d-bag 3) Because he likes his share of booze and boobs and 4) Because he wants Allen to drop that mask and be The Boy With A Red Arm once more. 

(Why do I not simply say Red? Because actually in the Japanese text of LFS and D.Gray-Man, Red is actually just “The Boy with A Red Arm”. It’s in BRACKETS. Yes. He has NO NAME AT ALL.  For the sake of convenience I’ll go back to calling him Red for now, but we must keep in mind that Red is not a proper name.)

In Lost Fragment of Snow, Red is initially a silent, traumatized yet unusually perceptive kid. But his true personality shines out when he starts befriending Mana after Allen the Dog’s death. Just like how Allen gets frustrated by the irresponsible, improbable Cross and yells at him occasionally, Red also loses his temper with and bossily mothers the distracted, naive, slightly amnesiac Mana. The more I read LFS, the more I notice the similarity between the rant-mode Allen to little Red, and normal Allen to Mana back then. 

But Allen’s mask has existed long before Allen turned Mana into an Akuma. His first mask was the Mask of Allen.

After a fiasco in the circus during which Red lost his temper with Mana and pummels him on the head with his dormant, Innocence-embedded arm, Mana became entirely amnesiac, forgetting even his purpose of searching for Neah, and even confusing Red for his dog. 

After an enraged Cross blames Red for Mana’s plight, an extremely guilty Red decides to play along as Mana’s dead dog Allen in order to payback to Mana and Allen for the simple love and happiness they showed him. That is how Red donned his first mask and adopted his first name: Allen Walker.

Why is all this important? 

Back when Red faced impending death, thrown into a lion cage, Red was thinking in frustration and despair about how his life is meaningless, his existence pointless, that he is helpless and powerless, simply waiting to be killed. During his childhood in the circus, Allen/Red repeatedly lamented having no power to change his own fate. He yearned to escape the hellish circus and make a better life somewhere, but with his disabled arm he was unable to do so. 

Evicted from the circus, and with the circus later destroyed by the Millennium Earl, for a while there Red had no clue how to proceed with his life. This is no different from the time Allen lost his arm and had no clue how to keep walking on. But then Red saw the amnesiac Mana and remembered how he destroyed him, and decided that atoning for Mana will be his new reason to live on.

Yes, Redーnow Allenーhas always lived to fight fate when it dropped him into terrible spots, to find meaning for his life. And that journey has led him through THREE turning points on his road, after all of which he still chooses to live to atone for Mana Walker. 

But then, along came Neah’s resurrection and the unfurling truth behind Mana. And now that (in the latest chapter) this Boy With The Red Arm has returned to Eddystone (which is actually Edinburgh according to lots of our dissatisfied readers XD), where he had first donned his mask of Allen Walker, he must question his reason for living and take action one last time to change his fateーand perhaps finally live for himself. 

After listening to the theme song for D.Gray-Man Hallow, I must say that though the anime’s quality (and decision to replace Ms. Kobayashi) might be up for debate, this is the best and most relevant theme song for Allen. 

Key-Bring it on, My Destiny mainly talks about the Path of One’s life, of choosing between crossroads and keep walking on with free will. Once I was researching suicide in Japanese culture, and I came across an interesting explanation of the importance of The Life Path for Japanese people. The Japanese of old seem to view life as one single path set out for them. Once they came to a standstill or hit a wall in their way, they feel as if their life is over, and thus many chose to end their lives. Unlike western culture, the Japanese do not seek an alternate path.

In my opinion, the concept of walking on one’s road and challenging that road is becoming more and more significant in D.Gray-Man. Allen has always been very fixated on one goal. He viewed his life as one road he cannot deviate from, and falls easily to despair whenever it seemed he could no longer live as he had chosen to. Cross reminds him that his life path is not straightforward but meandering. One’s fate and life goal can change during the course of one’s life. And understanding that, Allen finally sets out to face the truth behind Mana so he can decide what he should do next with his life. 

The concept of living on by yourself after the death of your loved one has always been another central theme, obviously, of D.Gray-Man. Allen early on said he came to understand that the tears of Akuma are not tears of hatred, but love and grief for the bereaved who could not find the strength to live on alone. But Allen himself is still unable to move on from Mana. In a sense, with Mana living inside of him as his Akuma eye, with Allen “wearing” Mana like a human suit, Allen is an Akuma himself. And thus his story might end with him exorcising himselfーby finally stepping out of Mana’s shadow, putting the past to rest, and freely choosing his own future.

End of uber long rant. Will add more when I could think of more XD

[thesimplyluxuriouslife]

288: Cultivating a New Normal

The Atlantic recently posted an article asserting there won't be a clear end to the pandemic. Rather, the end for each of us will be as unique and differentiated as each one of us and occur on a different timeline.

Frequently, the yearning for "returning to normal" may be voiced by those around us, strangers or intimate relations, or we may be simply thinking such thoughts, constantly, as we grieve the parts of our lives we enjoyed that are no longer readily available or available at all.

However, even before the pandemic introduced itself and in what seemed for many to change our lives much like a light-switch, the psychological experts have been talking about this word that seems to roll off our tongues more often than ever before in recent times - normal. Writing in 2009 on Pyschology Today, "The fate of normality is very much in the balance," wrote Peter Kramer.

While speaking about individuals as to their neurosis or so-called normal behaviors and the perameters of what constitutes "normal", he shared a final thought which may help reframe how we strive forward in our current times as we are more broadly looking at an entire world, culture, etc. and what "normal", the new normal, may be:

Normality may be a myth we have allowed ourselves to enjoy for decades, sacrificed now to the increasing recognition of differences. The awareness that we all bear flaws is humbling. But it could lead us to a new sense of inclusiveness and tolerance, recognition that imperfection is the condition of every life.

—Peter Kramer, psychatrist at Brown Medical School

Unhealthy normalization of any one behavior reflects a lack of awareness regarding the shift that is happening. Even if the normalization is a positive change, to not be aware speaks to a life lived unconsciously. Living with intention, remaining present and intentionally choosing to cultivate healthy change is how a new worthwhile normal materializes.

While unwanted changes infilitrated our daily lives, if we were and are living consciously, we chose to examine why they were unwanted. What was it about being able to go to a crowded theater for a play, a movie, a concert that elevated our spirits and our moods? What was it about travel to foreign lands that ignited our enthusiasm and adrenaline? What was it about casual, unplanned interactions with passersby by on our walks, at the store, that we now long for, and perhaps would have never pinpointed as a vital necessity to our everyday lives?

Thoughtful examination of what we miss, why we miss it, and then choosing to broaden our perspective and seek out inspiration to introduce new ideas to welcome such a feeling of boosted spirits and connection and fulfillment and [fill in the blank with what you are missing] is the new task each of us have.

The new normal need not be a heavy-heart of constant mourning. Rather, it can instead be a destination to be grateful we had the chance to step toward and now experience.

New normals that appeared in decades past: following the 1918-19 Spanish flu and the end of World War I, leisurely, carefree entertainment was a sought out intentinoally, thus welcoming in the cars and radio into everyday life. Following World War II, commercial air travel took off for the masses, and following the accessibility to connect via the internet at the turn of the 21st century, "busy" became the "new normal" of its time.

Not all of the three changes will be seen as positive, but it was an event, a significant shift in how our lives could or had to function that brought them to be present.

Conscious living will determine if the new normal for each one of us is not only satisfying but something we savor and long to embrace and continue.

The intuitive part of me is cautiously optimistic that our ability to observe and appreciate quality rather than quantity may emerge. Our lives, our very lives - the breaths we need to live, were/are at jeopardy with the pandemic - whether we felt the pain and loss that Covid19 can thrust into our lives directly or more indirectly - lives that once thrived and walked about the globe are no longer. Perhaps we begin to realize, acutely come to accept, our mortality, and live accordingly a life of sincere fulfillment and engagement. A thoughtful "yes" will become more exercised rather than a reflexive "yes"; a resolute, yet respectful no will hold no guilt, but instead peace and working smarter will replace working longer hours for the sake of looking "busy".

The hope leads us, the repeated intentional action cultivates the new normal we wish to welcome into our lives. In the blink of an eye or gradually over time, our lives can change, and it is being aware that such change is possible that reminds us to participate in the process.

The normals of the past and present that we have accepted can be influenced by endless outside sources if we are not careful. Walt Disney himself knew the power of movies, "Movies can and do have tremendous influence in shaping young lives in the realm of entertainment towards the ideals and objectives of normal adulthood." Social media in our twenty-first century can have the same "tremendous influence" if we do not thoughtfully navigate through what we read, listen to, etc..

Your new normal may not be exactly like my new normal, or anything at all like my new normal, but if you can introduce even just one desired change that will positively affect the quality of your life, your new normal is better than what you are living currently.

Some savored routines will be able to return, and when they do, let's celebrate them. In so doing, we are living presently, we are letting go of the understandable ease that is taking things for granted. Other routines may be changed forever, but that is okay as well. It's time to stretch. It's time to push a bit more out of our comfort zone. Everything does not have to change. In fact, it shouldn't, but upon taking the time to examine what you miss and why, consider new approaches, new activities, new ways of going about your day that you didn't consider as possible before or as in your "wheel-house". The outcome may surprise and delight you.

Petit Plaisir

~A Signature Catch-All Dish

Bring a small, yet significant touch of comfort to locations in your home where you sit to relax or settle in for the evening.

Shop for a unique plate or dish or tray that fits the tabletop, but doesn't take up the entire flat space (leaving room for a lamp or other necessary decor items). Shop second-hand, consignment, antique or even your own cupboards for a unique dish that brings a smile, and can function as you need it to - holding the items you need and reach for regularly, as well as keeping the tabletop organized.

An example catch-all plate (salad plate - 8.5" diameter - Gien's Peonies Scalloped Plate)

Ideas of items to include:

Bedside Table (primary or guest):

lip balm

linen spray

lavender (or favorite scented) hand and/or foot lotion

a small bud-vase for a single stem bloom

small candle, such as these from Kerzon or these from Maison Balzac

water pitcher and glass (see this one from The White Company and these from Maison Balzac - varying colors)

match striker

Desk

reading glasses

favorite writing utensil

hand lotion - the one I currently use and love

lip balm - my favorite

any trinket that makes you smile

earpods

Living Room/Reading Chair

bookmarker

small notepad

book

candle with cloche (shop below)

match striker

bud vase

Candle Glass Cloches

Crate & Barrel (dome in design)

Maison Balzac (square in design)

Large glass cloches (varying sizes)

Ikea 7" H glass cloche

Bell Jar Dome Cloche (multiple sizes)

As fall will begin on Tuesday of this week, I wanted to share with you three posts you might enjoy to step well into the new season.

15 Ideas for a Strong Life Approach to the New Fall Season

Why Not . . . Prep for a Great Fall?

19 Soon-to-Be Released Books Worth Reading (Fall 2020)

~The Simple Sophisticate, episode #288

~Subscribe to The Simple Sophisticate:  iTunes | Stitcher | iHeartRadio | YouTube | Spotify

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

[akiharashizuka]

Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains episode 20 thoughts

Unyielding Justice

How happy Ai looks just because him and Yūsaku agree for once xD

As expected, Akira refuses to reveal anything, which means that this duel needs to reach a proper conclusion. I really don’t have much to say about this part of the duel...just that it was interesting to see how first Yūsaku turned the situation in his favor, only for Akira to do the exact same thing.

Kitamura wanting to blackmail his bosses with that data sounded like a nice twist, both for the story and for his characterization. Then, he reveals he would do that to get promoted...

In a way, that’s what makes this guy so entertaining to watch (at least for me), but come on...That data is too valuable.

Playmaker demonstrates once again that the placement of the Monsters matters a lot now. I liked how everyone thought that he is destroying himself by placing it in the range of Cerberus’ marker, but, in fact, that was the best zone for it. Also, I liked how firstly he said the trivial stuff, like “Only one Security Gardna can be on the field at a time”,and left the main effect for when Akira thought it was over xD

That was weird...because I thought that Ai was genuinely worried when Yūsaku placed Security Gardna under Acute Cerberus. It never crossed my mind that he was acting...Either he got a bit better or I have to pay more attention.

Let’s talk a bit about the way the duel finished. Yūsaku chose a roundabout way to end it. He could have done things more directly, but he did it on purpose, so those two cards, representing Akira and Aoi, could return from the Graveyard. He also did give a very nice explanation for that, which proves that he is not really blinded by revenge and sticks by his morals. Yes, he seeks justice, he wants to uncover the truth and confront the mastermind, but not at the cost of other people’s safety. 

As for Aoi stepping in front of her brother, it shows that now she has a better understanding of him. Which she actually admits herself a bit later. Akira still shields her in the end, but I think the point across. 

The main focus of this mini-arc (idk how to call it) was to shed some light on Yūsaku’s past, but also give those two some character development. Which I definitely liked. I hope that from now on the siblings will be more understanding to each other.

Now they know as well, thanks to Kitamura’s big mouth. Hmm, I wonder if this is going to lead somewhere...Like these two leaking what happened to the data to a higher-up.

If not that, then this has to play a significant role in the future. I haven’t forgotten about that crystal thing Emma was holding when Yūsaku arrived. And I’m glad it was mentioned in this episode that she also had the data. I’m assuming she copied it on that crystal, which probably works similarly to a memory stick. 

The reason why I’m thinking this might lead somewhere is that Emma is a quite important character, so she’ll definitely show up in the future. Whoever is going to buy the data from her might turn out to be a future antagonist, or maybe someone related to the incident from 10 years ago who wants to know the truth. Like one of the other kidnapped children (if they are rich enough...) or a relative of their. These are just some examples. There are many possibilities with this.

One thing I would really like to happen is someone stealing the data from her xD Not buying, but simply robbing her of it. Considering that its in digital format and that Emma is very competent, whoever does this must have some crazy skills up their sleeve.

Yeah Ai, good job at storing all that data...

Hmm, I didn’t think that turning off the speaker was an effective threat. This guy must really hate being ignored.

I knew it!

Hmm, it doesn’t look like he changed during the past 10 years...then again, the Kogami we know is an online avatar, so guess it doesn’t matter.

Ok...I don’t know what to start with...Guess the first thing I should mention is that the files say that he started that incident alone. Going back to my speculation from last week, I don’t believe this is the case. The SOL higher-ups must have set it up, but didn’t mention their involvement in case someone manages to find the data or something. 

Kusanagi said that the motive of the incident isn’t mentioned, but if you take a closer look at the files’ name, you’d see that they are titled “Development Record of LinkVRAINS”. Maybe the motive itself isn’t stated, but this title should be a hint. It’s also the reason why I’m still holding on to my speculation. The Knights of Hanoi want to destroy Link VRAINS. Actually, they want to destroy Cyberse, but I’m guessing the two are connected somehow. They also oppose SOL Tech. That’s why I think this hacker group might be Kogami’s way to atone for kidnapping and traumatizing those children.

Now, for the reveal that he died 7 years prior to the current events. Well, I think he’s actually in a coma, more closer to death than to life. However, his consciousness can still functions in an online environment. As for how that happened, at first I thought Kogami might have faked his own death, but now I’m more inclined to think that either someone caused it, or it was an accident. Or maybe a suicide attempt...Whatever the reason, it’s going to be a dark one...

Speaking of Kogami, it looks like him and Revolver are up to something. Not sure if the next episode will reveal it, but it’s certainly building up to another confrontation with Revolver.

I hope what the summary says about further analyzing the data remains a thing because there were so many folders with “Project Hanoi” in the title, plus so many other folders. These must contain some interesting info, not only on the incident, but on SOL itself.

One more thing. Next week I’m starting my last year in college. I have no idea how the classes are going to be on the timetable, yet, but I’m not very optimistic about it. Most likely, the Vrains reviews will be posted towards the end of the week again.

[apprendrelacoeur]

well it certainly has been a while. i was just thinking that while i’m on this plane & have a moment to spare...i might as well catch up on my own thoughts, especially since 2017 is ending soon & i haven’t really taken much to this blog in 2017.

i think...2017 was one of the hardest years in terms of work. school work, internship work, freelance work. i was very busy this year trying to figure out my life after college while writing a thesis. i graduated from undergrad & i started making income--albeit very small income. i learned how to write an invoice & also learned a shitton about finances in honestly less than a year. i went apartment hunting (incredibly stressful experience for several reasons). i started reading more--more than i ever did in college. & i actually really enjoy shopping for books now. i also started to realize when i don’t need to spend money, & where i don’t need to spend money. 

not really sure how to structure this post, but i suppose the easiest way would be to just go backwards. 

i spent christmas with my family & we went to hawaii. while i was in hawaii, i got a full time job offer. it was one of the heaviest moments of relief i’ve ever felt. i’ve been job searching for so long, & while i knew i would eventually get one, i was getting really restless & impatient...& honestly a little worried that maybe i won’t unless i look at other positions & responsibilities. but i’m so fucking glad i finally have a job. with a company i love working with doing work that i love doing in an office/building i love being in. i may be bottom bitch but getting a permanent position at this company is just one step towards one day not being bottom bitch. 

moving onto a different topic. earlier today while i was waiting at the gate, i read The Dalai Lama’s “An Appeal to the World”. the book is tiny, but i didn’t expect to finish it in one sitting--less than one hour to be exact. that makes it the second book i’ve read by His Holiness (the first one being “The Universe in a Single Atom: The Convergence of Science and Spirituality”). before that, while on vacation, i finished reading bubzbeauty’s book too, “A Beautiful Mind, A Beautiful Life: The Bubz Guide to Being Unstoppable”. her book was such an easy read. it just felt like watching one of her videos---albeit a really long video. but what bubz’s book & BOTH of His Holiness’ books have reminded me & taught me is to be kind & be patient. & it brought me back to a lot of the things i talked about a lot when this blog first started.

the world is so much bigger than me. sure there are moments where it might feel like the world is a small place but in the end, we are nothing. we are absolutely nothing on this minor planet, orbiting a very average star in one among a hundred billion galaxies. but because we are nothing, & because our world is so much bigger than who we are, we have to make every second count. every second gone is a second that will never be had again. being kind, understanding, patient, empathetic, & compassionate make this shitty world so much more bearable---for everyone. 

i have always known that i am a pacifist. i hate war. i hate violence--even something as small scale as a fight after school or something. i hate it all. i truly truly want everyone to get along, because in the end we are one in the same. though our personalities, temperaments, likes & dislikes differ vastly from person to person, at a biological, basic level we are all the same. the only thing that separates us is the land we live on. for me, race means nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. religion means nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. humans are born innately good & kind. but humans are the only species that go to war with each other. humans are the only species that will kill one another simply because of a disagreement in religious ideology or government philosophy.

i fucking hate it. i hate how ignorant & cruel & greedy & narrow-minded some humans can be. this is not the type of world i want our generation’s kids to grow up in---the type that teaches them it’s ok to shoot someone because God told them to or that it’s ok to ban an entire group of religious people from refuge & salvation just because some who subscribe to that same religion have violent tendencies. 

one thing The Dalai Lama spoke about a lot in both of the books i read is that change must begin at the beginning: education. he says that schools must begin to teach education of the heart, secular ethics, & morals. it is not enough to educate our brains. we must educate our hearts as well. we must teach our children to be compassionate, understanding, patient, & respectful of all human beings. His Holiness said that he thinks the world would be better off without people, & i absolutely agree. i would have no problem dying if it meant this earth was rid of war-mongering people. but back to the education of the heart, many people today need to realize they must grow their hearts to be more compassionate as well. if people would just take the time to understand their nieghbours & their enemies more, the world would be a much better place. The Dalai Lama says is, “i don’t have enemies, just people I don’t know yet.” y e s. he doesn’t hate the Chinese government for their “genocide” in Tibet. he doesn’t hate the Chinese government for driving him into exile for 58 years & counting. he doesn’t hate the Chinese government for wanting to decide who the next Dalai Lama would be. he respects the Chinese government & is very hopeful of peace between China & Tibet in the future.

i find that so wonderful. it is so easy to succumb to feelings of hatred, frustration, judgment, prejudice, & cynicism. an interviewer once asked the Dalai Lama why he doesn’t hate the Chinese government. He asked why he should be upset. He said that if he did get upset, he’d just have to calm down eventually & that’s much too exhausting. & he is absolutely right. i have always prided myself on not being an angry person. i don’t get angry very often, & when i do get angry, it doesn’t last long because it takes out all of my energy. after awhile i just decide to forgive because i’m tired. & i know there are plenty of other people out there like this too. but if we all just decided to not succumb to our feelings of anger in the first place, & chose to stay positive, imagine how much less exhausted we would feel.

now that was weird for me to type: “stay positive”. i’ve always been against optimism & “staying positive” because i felt like people who were optimistic or too positive were naive & fooling themselves of reality. i preferred to preach pragmatism. i preferred to preach practical hope: keeping hope alive in your heart but still accepting & knowing that shit will happen---more often than not. well that’s another thing that i wanted to talk about in this post. bubzbeauty is an incredibly optimistic person, & it did bother me in the past. but after reading her book, i do feel inspired to be more optimistic, but it’s not blind optimism. i think i’ve come up with my own definition of optimism that i can live with. i don’t know if this definition is already out there, but it’s something that i’ve come to realize on my own & so for now i will call it my own. i’d like to think that it’s the happy medium between optimism & pragmatism.

how i define myself being an optimistic pragmatist (or pragmatic optimist) is accepting life’s downfalls---sometimes even welcoming them, because i am well aware of their existence. i know life is about the highs & lows that happen in succession. i know i will have bad days--relapse days. i know i will have manic days. i know i will have suicidal days. but i also know that i will have ok days, gr8 days, & truly gr8 days. i know i will have days that make me feel grateful to be alive, & motivate me to stay alive. i know i will have days that i don’t want to end because they’re so gr8. i know i will have a balance of both in my life, because the universe is all about balance. but no matter what kind of day i’m having, i have to believe that things will be good for me in the end. i have to trust that the universe is taking me to where i belong. i have to remind myself that things could always be worse---not just for me but for everyone else in the world. 

while i’m having a gr8 day, i have to be extra grateful for it because someone in the world is having a horrible day, & i’m lucky to be alive & smiling, with shelter & food available to me whenever i so please. while i’m having a shitty day, i have to be grateful that i am at least no longer numb to the world & to life, that i can at least feel something & still have shelter & food available to me whenever i so please---because someone else in the world does not. & to add onto all of that, if someone disrespects me in public, or responds to me rudely, or behaves in a way that i don’t agree with, i must try to remain calm & refrain from judgment. i don’t know what that person is going through & i have no right judge them for having lower character than i do just because we’re different. 

the latter half of 2017 is when i really began to realize just how meaningless my life is. i don’t mean that in a self-deprecating way. what i mean is...i’ve always talked about how i’ve gone through so much shit & how it’s hardened me over the years. but honestly...who the fuck cares. in the end, the shit i go through means nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. my hardships mean nothing to a stranger, mean nothing to my employer, mean nothing to my superintendent, mean nothing to my neighbours. i cannot walk around with self-pity cause it’s...honestly just not cool. i know there have been times where i was truly depressed, truly suicidal, & truly low beyond low. i’m not discrediting those times because those feelings were very real. but now it’s time for me to move forward & not think about the past so much. 

one of my best friends once told me that he thinks the reason why i’m always so sad & disappointed in the world is because i continue to think about all the bad things that have happened to me in the past, & that since that’s all i’m focusing on, i miss the good things that happened to me in between. i’ve come to realize that he was right. i don’t even want to begin thinking about all the possible good times i missed because i was so focused on my past. now with my updated life philosophy, i find myself still thinking about the past, but in a more reminiscent way. i’m more focused the present. i think the time when i was most focused on the present was 2015, & i’m trying to get back to that. in between that time & now i lost it a little, but i’m working to get back there---or at least the 2018 equivalent. 

despite these two authors & the three books though (which i recommend to EVERYONE by the way), the one person that has taught me above all else about patience & compassion is my boyfriend. i’m pretty sure he has no idea, but being with him for the past 18 months has really taught me more about patience & understanding. whenever we get into arguments, i find myself practicing mindfulness. i choose to not be petty & instead be straightforward with him about my feelings. instead of playing mind games, i’m honest. instead of getting frustrated at him immediately over something that may be nothing, i decide to breathe, be patient, & understand his situation better in order to be a kinder girlfriend. most recently, though, i’m learning to expect less of him--not because he’s been a disappointment but because it’s not fair to him that i do so. i think the biggest thing i took away from bubz’s book is an anecdote she wrote about a time when she was angry at her husband & venting to her older sister. bubz went on & on about how she felt like tim wasn’t putting in the same amount of effort as she was in taking care of their firstborn, & she resented him for it. her older sister was silent at first but then said, “lindy, you’re not disappointed in tim. you’re disappointed in your own expectations.” that really stuck with bubz, & it really stuck with me. it is not fair to get upset at my boyfriend for not doing something that i only expected him to do. he is not a mind reader & i should not expect him to be. i should also not get frustrated over his shortcomings & just appreciate & love him for who he is in my universe. actually, instead of saying i should expect less of him, it would be better to say that i should just not expect anything of him. that’s much better. because to me he is already perfect & for me to expect more of him is to be greedy.

so in summary, my 2018 spiritual resolutions are:

to stay kind

to stay patient

to stay understanding

to stay compassionate

to stay empathetic

to practice optimistic pragmatism or pragmatic optimism

anyways...as always this was longer than i intended it to be. you know what in the future i should just not care about whether or not the post is longer than i intend.

ok that’s added to the list of resolutions: don’t give a crap about how long my posts become & don’t apologize for it.

(:

; e