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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

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Blended - 3

Note: Why hello - thanks for staying tuned and being here to check this out. Leave a note what you think. :)

Title: Blended

Previous installment here and chapter one here.

Legend of Korra, Lin/Tenzin, Modern AU, no bending

Blurb: A modern AU with no bending where Lin finds herself with three kids, where Tenzin is Mr Big Shot CEO, where Mako is an overprotective son, where Ikki endears herself to Lin, where Bumi is the cool meddling godfather/uncle and where Pema is out of the picture.

Multi-part, WIP

---

Another teenaged boy joined the first boy and Lin.

Lin ruffled the other boy’s hair in greeting.

Probably noticing Tenzin’s thunderous expression, Jinora turned around.

The first boy gave a half-smile then saluted her. The young girl rolled her eyes as she smiled back and saluted.

Ikki, to his surprise, gave an enthusiastic wave that the boy returned. “Is Mako joining us?”

Mako. Tenzin filed the name away for future review.

Ikki knew him? Just how close are they…

Jinora shrugged. “Mom won’t let him.”

“Oh?” Tenzin’s tone of practiced disinterest came into play.

Jinora rolled her eyes. “He could be quite overprotective.”

Tenzin frowned as both girls turned their attention back to their meal.

How dare that slip of a boy even presume that he was going to do something unsavory.

Lin slipped back into the booth, carrying a root beer float with two straws. “Mako sends his regards.” She nudged the drink towards the two girls. “Anyway, so thought of any questions, sir?”

Sir?

Tenzin cleared his throat as Lin waited with an amused smirk. “You can call me Tenzin, not… sir.”

Not awkward, not awkward at all.

“Okay then, Tenzin.” The emphasis on his name was somewhat derisive.

“Hmmm, yes – I think Ikki would be in good hands.” He paused, thinking of questions to ask.

How is Mr Lin taking this? Where is he? Is he in the picture? Why isn’t he mentioned? Is he okay with having a sleepover at their house? Did he mind that there was a young pup hovering around his woman and child? Or, heaven forbid, is Mr Lin that boy?

He heard that plastic surgery does wonders, and some ethnicities do tend to age better than others.

“I take it you don’t have any questions?” Lin finished her drink by now. “Well, then. For tomorrow, we will be heading out anyway so I can bring Ikki to your house, or we can meet at the mall.”

There was a challenge there. After all, it was a conglomerate in the mall industry that was the root of the demise of their long-term relationship.

“Sure, let’s go to the mall.” And they agreed on a time and place to meet the next day.

Lin waved the waiter over and requested to have the leftover food of the girls to be packed home (“You’ll both remember your unfinished waffles later tonight when you’re finishing your project so best to take it home.”).

Tenzin motioned for the check.

“Already taken care of.” Lin nodded.

“You didn’t have to.” Tenzin mumbled weakly, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

He was met with a shrug. “Consider it as a belated welcome gift to this city.” Lin stood up once the leftover food was brought over by the waiter, and they all prepared to head out.

Tenzin was well-aware of the two boys from the other table following them.

“Mako, Bolin – please help Jinora and Ikki with their things while I get the car ready.” Lin walked over to where she was parked to turn on the air conditioning.

For his part, Tenzin led the children to his car, surreptitiously watching their interaction.

Ikki gave one of them (Bolin, was it?) a high five while Jinora was quickly exchanging words with Mako.

As he was pulling out the key from his pocket, a hand shot in front of him.

“I’m Mako.”

He shook the hand without hesitation. “Tenzin.” He clicked his key to unlock the car and opened the trunk, where the overnight bag of Ikki is as well as the other art supplies of both girls.

The other boy came forward now, extending his own hand. “Bolin here.” He grinned widely, a touch friendlier than Mako.

Tenzin grasped it and introduced himself as well. He handed Bolin one of the heavier bags while Ikki and Jinora went forward to get their lighter ones. Mako, meanwhile, hung back and was sizing him up from the looks of it.

Only, he wasn’t sizing him up apparently.

Mako moved silently to pick up the bulkiest of the materials so that Jinora did not have to carry it.

The young girl beamed up at him, saying. “That’s why you’re my favorite brother.”

Brother?

“Hey!” Bolin grumbled from the other side as he swung on his back two duffel bags. “What about me?”

Correction: brothers?

“You’re my favorite brother-friend.” Ikki punched his arm.

Bolin laughed boisterously while they went off to Lin’s car.

Ikki turned to face her father quickly who was bringing up the rear. “Don’t tell Meelo.”

Tenzin raised his hands in surrender. “Of course not.”

“Well, technically, I’m not your brother so…” Bolin wringed his hands worriedly. Thinking that maybe Tenzin would say something about it.

So… brothers.

Tenzin had a lot of questions while Lin and her children loaded the things of Jinora and Ikki into their trunk. The boys were a lot older than Jinora. Much, much older… Something that did not quite sit well with him.

Before he knew it, Tenzin was left at the parking lot as they waved good-bye at him as the car sped off.

---

Pema settled herself at a quiet corner in the coffee shop. She placed down her bag beside her and let the waiter place the tea tray on the table.

She checked the time on her tablet.

It was time for her weekly call with her daughter.

Ever since the divorce, she and Tenzin tried to figure out a way to co-parent despite being a couple of countries apart. One of the things they agreed on is that they were not going to let their children bounce from one household to another a lot during the school year. Another is that Pema would continue to consistently remain in contact with the kids through a weekly video call. This also linked to their eventual agreement that Ikki was to have her own (child-locked and parental monitored) phone.

It was something that Pema looked forward to every week.

For all the differences that she and her ex-husband had and the reasons that they went into the marriage, Pema does not regret her children with him.

“Hi Mommy!”

“Hi Sweetie!” Pema found herself smiling at Ikki’s toothy grin. “How are you doing?”

Ikki, as she expected, launched into this enthusiastic story about what she had been up to since the last time they chatted. When she was in the middle of gesturing and talking about her big sister-little sister project, other voices wafted into the call - voices that Pema was unfamiliar with.

Pema leaned closer to peer into the screen, brows furrowing, only noticing that the background of Ikki’s call was different.

In the background, someone (a male someone) let out a loud whoop.

Ikki paused to take a deep breath and Pema interjected. “Dear, where are you right now?”

“Oh-oh-oh! That’s what I was going to tell you next, Mommy!” Ikki waved her hands excitedly in front of her. “I’m on a sleepover with Jinora! At Jinora’s house!”

Pema was surprised but did not let it show. She did not want to dampen Ikki’s delight. She would not be that mother (she would not be her mother). And, well, at the end of the day, she did trust Tenzin’s parenting decisions. “That’s great. How is it so far?”

“It’s fun! She has two brothers. Two brothers, Mommy! And not two Meelo’s too. They’re very nice. Her mommy is really nice also – not like Korra’s uncle. Korra’s uncle is grumpy at home but nice outside. Jinora’s mommy is nice both outside and at home.”

Pema had to bite back a smile at Ikki’s commentary. Having crossed paths with Unalaq during her marriage with Tenzin, she did not particularly enjoy spending time with the politician. Everything was mostly for show and behind closed doors, to family, the man could be quite cold and standoffish.

There was raucous laughter from Ikki’s side and Ikki looked to the side, to someone or something off-camera.

“That’s Bolin, Mommy. Jinora’s older brother.” The view shook a bit as Ikki was likely moving her phone around to show her mother the view of the room. “And that’s her brother, Mako.”

Pema could see that they were probably in some sort of study room. Behind Ikki, there were two computers set-up, each with a teenaged boy sitting in front of it wearing a headset.

“And here’s Jinora.”

The view moved again and a familiar girl who she has talked to in previous calls waved at her. Jinora was beside Ikki and was in the process of gluing something to a small card.

Ikki placed her phone steady again and went into detail about the project they were working on, and Pema could see the door at her side opening.

“Bolin, Mako – no yelling, you know Ikki will be on a call right now.” The woman who entered the room hissed audibly at the teenagers.

“Sorry, Mom -.” The stocky boy started to apologize then trailed off, inaudible to Pema’s ears.

What struck Pema most, however, was not the amount of glitter that Ikki and Jinora were putting on their projects, or the two boys punching each other’s arm when they probably get a point in their computer game. No, it was the woman who stood watching their game, hands at her waist.

It was a woman that she has never met but was quite familiar with.

Pema was left pondering how her daughter landed at a sleepover at Lin Beifong’s house.

---

“OMG – is that – is that a background image of the Fire Ferrets’ place? Where did you download that?! Can you send it to me? Pleaaaase! Didn’t know you’re a fan of the Fire Ferrets!!”

Ikki read and reread the message of her cousin Korra at their chat.

It did not make sense to her.

What background was she talking about?

She scrolled up to the last picture she sent which was of her and Jinora holding up their project with their final touches completed.

Jinora nudged her, noticing her preoccupation. “You, okay?”

Ikki wrinkled her nose, showing her phone screen to Jinora. “What’s a Fire Ferret?”

“My ears are tingliiiing - did someone say Fire Ferret?” Bolin jumped in between them, his hand cupping his ear. “You don’t know who the Fire Ferrets are?” At Ikki’s slow head shake, he clicked his tongue and placed his arms around the shoulders of the girls. “I can’t believe Jinora didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Jinora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I don’t think Ikki would have been interested.”

“Don’t you put down her possible interest in esports!” Bolin flicked his sister’s nose with affection. “The Fire Ferrets is today’s up-and-rising, the ones-to-watch-out, most promising esports team!” He followed up with a faux-whisper, “At least that’s what eSports Unlimited.com says in their latest ranking article. Impressive huh?”

Ikki just blinked up at him.

Bolin did not let that deter him. “And, what’s more – you’re looking at one of them now!”

“Cut it out, Bo.” Mako sighed from his position at his desk, having taken off his headset. “I hardly think Tenzin would like Ikki to be exposed to the wonderful world of esports at her age.”

“And, you’ll be right at that point, kid.” All four of them faced the door, where Lin had peeked her head. “Tenzin would not be keen on prolonged screen time and neither would he appreciate if we bring his daughter back with darkened eyebags. Bedtime now, kids!”

The pronouncement brought a cacophony of complains.

“But, Mooom -.”

“Please Ms Lin – I-.”

“Mom, we’re too old to have a bedtime.”

“Kids – please, we’re going to need to wake up early.”

“We can still wake up early – our body clock’s fantastic.”

“No.”

“Yeah, we’ll even prepare breakfast for everyone.” A punch. “Ow! What was that for?”

A snort. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’m holding you all to that then. I’ll head on – good night, kids!”

A door closes and another punch. “What was that for, now?”

---

Little did they know, while Lin was having a smidge of trouble getting the kids to get to bed, across town, a certain businessman was having trouble sleeping.

After dinner and after tucking Meelo to bed (with two bedtime stories read), Tenzin found himself exhausted from the week (and day) he has had. And so, he had gone off to prepare for bed but was unable to find a comfortable position to sleep.

Who was he kidding – he had a lot of thoughts running through his mind.

Feeling restless still, Tenzin got back up from bed and went to pull out his laptop.

He scrolled through various folders until he found what he was looking for. His fingers tapped swiftly on the keyboard, the password a muscle memory. However, his cursor hovered over the ok button, unable to belie his hesitation and uncertainty.

Tenzin paused and asked himself if he really wanted to do this.

Eventually, he pushed through and out popped the window showing files upon files. Scanned documents, audio files, slide shows, videos, saved emails and photos.

One of the reasons why he managed to bring back the White Lotus Corporation to life is his tenacity, his dogged determination to see things through. Tonight, it is this same tenacity that brought him to go through his past as he started to go through old photos with one Lin Beifong. He went through the photos and emails – trying to see, trying to look for a clue at what point did Lin start showing or possibly start getting involved with the boys’ father, at what point in their relationship did he not become enough.

Tenzin would later come to wonder if he should have just let sleeping dogs lie.

---

Note: Dundundun. Misunderstandings upon misunderstandings – my favorite genre. Haha! Hope all is good with you reading from the other side of the screen. Just a note here – Pema won’t be a nasty bitch here, and no hating gonna happen. Trying to make this as light as possible, so no overly angsty~ plot lines. Crossing my fingers this experimental story works out fine haha.

Share your thoughts, theories, feelings, anything about this story with me. 😊 I am trying to get back to writing so this might not be up to my usual length or content. Happy to hear from you though.

#linzin #linzin fanfic #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina wip #toccatina blended #lin beifong #tenzin

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wisteriashouse · 4 years ago

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aflame (ii).

pairing: firefighter!rengoku kyoujurou x cook!reader

genre: fluff, modern! au

word count: 2073

ii. chicken soup

Rengoku Kyoujurou and you have a rather strange relationship.

He’s what you would call your life benefactor — the man had saved you from a fire a couple of months ago when the gas pipe in your kitchen had exploded, leaving your eatery in flames and you choking on smoke, thankfully out of the blast range.

That’s when he’d appeared, charging through the flames fearlessly in full gear, looking like an angel descending from the heavens to rescue you. His eyes had met yours through the visor, a shining golden colour that you had never seen before, full of determination and courage, and you think it was that moment that you’d fallen in love.

In the middle of the roaring flames, his voice had been gentle and comforting, his arms strong and reliable as he carried you out of the fire like a prince from the pages of a fairytale.

That single encounter had left you completely starry eyed for a man whose name you hadn’t even known. After three weeks of fruitless agonizing over your mysterious savior’s identity while your eatery was being rebuilt, you had decided at the end of it to put the man firmly out of your mind — you had other things to focus on, such as filling the hungry bellies of your patrons.

As if fate would have it, however, the very day you had decided to reopen your eatery and forget about him, the very man you had been searching for this entire time walked right through your doors with the brightest smile on his face.

Rengoku Kyoujurou visiting your eatery that day had been a pure stroke of luck, you later learned. According to him, it’d been two months since the previous designated chef of the fire house had resigned, leaving him and the firefighting crew with no form of sustenance but cup noodles and microwavable meals. That had already sounded absolutely deplorable to you already, but the breaking point for them had come when the only microwave in the fire house had broken down right before lunch break, leaving all of the firefighting crew tired, stressed and downright angry.

Kyoujurou had then proceeded to lose at janken, the responsibility of finding an alternate food source before his co-workers went completely ballistic thrust upon his shoulders. Upon being tossed out onto the streets, he happened to remember about the eatery fire that he had attended to a few weeks ago, and hence decided to give it a shot.

That was how he had come to enter your eatery that day, very nearly giving you a heart attack and causing you to fall for him all over again. When he’d explained his plight to you with a rather sheepish smile on his face, you had insisted on treating him and all his co-workers to a hot lunch in return for saving your life. And that’s how things had gone from there.

Now, Kyoujurou drops by your eatery daily at twelve exactly when his break starts to collect lunch for the fire house crew. You hate to admit it, but his visits are easily what you look forward to the most every day; they never fail to brighten your mood with his presence and chatter.

So, you’re understandably put out when Kyoujurou doesn’t come by one day.

“Boss, is your Prince Charming still not here yet?”

You whirl around from where you were staring at the clock on the wall, mouth falling open in shock. “Stop calling him that!” You insist, fanning your cheeks wildly. The new part timer at your eatery, Kanzaki Aoi, only laughs in response as she rushes to fish the tempura from the deep fryer.

You smack your cheeks lightly, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind, it’s now lunch hour and the eatery is fully packed - you can even see a queue beginning for form outside. This isn’t time to be distracted!

“Aoi, take the tempura and chicken soup to Hakuji-san’s table, don’t forget to give them a cup of hot green tea on the house too–”

“Because his girlfriend catches a cold easily, I know.” Aoi calls back, already nimbly balancing three trays on her hands. You have to take a moment to admire your protégé, only two weeks of working here and she’s already so capable! Pleased, you turn back to the pan you’re tending to, but you find your eyes wandering back to the clock once more. The stack of bento boxes sit at the side, untouched.

It’s already fifteen minutes past twelve. Is he really not coming today?

“If you’re really that worried about him, just drop him a text.” Aoi’s voice interrupts your thoughts once more and you yelp at the sight of Aoi staring at you with her arms crossed, terribly embarrassed about having being caught distracted twice in a row. Is it really that obvious that you’re thinking about him?

“A text message?” You repeat dumbly. Aoi nods, gestures to your phone lying on the counter.

“Yes, a text message. With alphabets and words. Ask him why he hasn’t come yet, and tell him that you’re worried about him.” Aoi speaks slowly, as if she’s coaching a baby, and squints at you out of the corner of her eye. “You do have his number, right?

Sure, you have his number saved on your phone, but the only messages you’ve sent each other have been meal orders so far. To ask him why he hasn’t come yet... does that seem a little too awkward? Too personal?

“He should take responsibility for ordering food and not turning up to it. Imagine if he takes you out on a date and ends up blindsiding you... If he’s that sort of man, then you should just kick him to the curb. ” Aoi suddenly declares, folding her arms across her apron. You gasp.

“Don’t speak like that about Rengoku-san!”

“So just text him.” Aoi snorts, grabbing the stack of bento boxes and hefting them into the trolley your eatery uses for deliveries. “I’ll get this to the fire station and see if he’s there, so you just focus on finding out what happened to your prince charming, alright?”

“He’s not my prince charming!” You squeak, voice even more high pitched than earlier, but Aoi is already on her way out of the door, humming a merry tune to herself. Nervously, you heed her advice and pull out your phone, studying your most recent conversation with Kyoujurou.

The last message he’d sent you had been the evening prior.

Rengoku-san: I hope you’ve had a fantastic day at work! Your customers must be lucky to have your delicious food to strengthen their bodies and warm their hearts, as I am.

Rengoku-san: According to the weather forecast, it seems that it will rain tomorrow morning, so remember to take an umbrella with you. Although it may be cold and wet, I am sure that it will not dampen your spirits!

Rengoku-san: Uzui would like to request for extra onigiri. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow! Thank you very much <3

See? Just a normal conversation between the owner of an eatery and their customer. Chewing on your lower lip, your fingers hover over the keypad, unsure of how you’re supposed to phrase your message.

How are you, Rengoku-san? No, too formal.

Are you alright, Rengoku-san? What if he isn’t sick? The message sounds like you’re assuming that he’s already sick. He might just be busy, and have forgotten about lunch.

Good afternoon, Rengoku-san, I was wondering if you were...

No, you wail internally, hitting the backspace again and again. All of it sounds awful! Absolutely awful! Come on, you can form one sentence right, can’t you?

Taking a deep breath, you stare at the screen of your phone with renewed concentration. “You didn’t come by today to pick up your lunch...” you mutter under your breath as you type out the message carefully. “I had Aoi send the food to the fire house instead. Are you alright?” You hit send before the scraps of courage you managed to gather earlier flee you again.

The message stays at two grey ticks.

You add a ‘:(’ for good measure and toss your phone to the side, too anxious to look at it any longer. Just as you do, there’s a light rap of knuckles on the counter top and you glance up to see on of your regulars, Hakuji, standing there with a big grin, holding out the money for lunch. “No luck with fire boy?”

“I’m not trying to do anything with him!” You exclaim frantically as you take the money from him. You wish your voice sounded believable, at the very least, because Hakuji only raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh, is that so?”

“Anyways! How is Koyuki-san doing?” You ask, desperate to change the subject as you root about in the cashier for his change. At the mention of his girlfriend’s name, Hakuji’s eyes soften almost immediately, head tilting back to glance at the slight young woman in the back sipping carefully at her cup of hot tea. His jacket rests around her shoulders.

“Better.” He says, unable to keep the happiness out of his voice. “She loves your chicken soup. It’s the only thing she wants to eat when she’s sick. I like to joke that it’s more effective than the medicine.”

You beam, joy welling up in your chest at the praise. “Well then, in repayment, remember to invite me to your wedding.” You joke, dropping the change into his hand. The man waves goodbye, flashing you a playful grin and a wink, before carefully escorting Koyuki out of the eatery.

Staring after the sweet couple as they leave with a smile, you’re startled when your phone suddenly buzzes, indicating a new message. You take a deep breath and pick up your phone.

Rengoku-san: My deepest apologies, I was feeling under the weather today. My younger brother turned off my alarm, so I ended up sleeping in until now. It’s my fault for forgetting to inform you.

Rengoku-san: I promise I’ll make it up to you the next time I see you. I’m really, really sorry about this.

Rengoku-san: Ahh, it’s only been a day, but I already find myself craving your cooking.

The last message makes you flush a little, but you snap yourself out of it, rereading his messages once again. Not a single exclamation mark? He must really be feeling awful, you think.

Chef-san: It’s no problem!

Chef-san: Rest properly and get well soon, Rengoku-san! I look forward to seeing you again.

Just as you hit send on your reply, a crumpled slip of paper is thrust into your field of vision. Bewildered, you look up to see Aoi standing there, one hand cocked on her hip. “Oh, you’re back from the fire house. What’s this?”

“Rengoku-san’s address.” Aoi says matter of factly, as if it’s perfectly normal for her to have people’s addresses scribbled on random slips of paper. “I got it from the angry white haired man at the fire house.”

You blink. “From Shinazugawa-san? Why?”

“So that you can deliver food to his house, of course.” Aoi nods at the phone in your hand. “Didn’t he say he wants to eat your cooking?”

What Aoi is trying to imply finally pieces itself together in your mind and your mouth falls open in horror at the thought. “You mean, me, deliver food to Rengoku-san’s place? Personally?”

“Exactly.” Your part timer waves the paper in your face even as you continue to gape at her like a goldfish out of water. “He’s sick and you have some chicken soup left over from earlier. You know, the one you made for Koyuki-san? Close shop early after the dinner crowd, go deliver it to him and voila! Affection stats raised instantly!”

You... visiting Kyoujurou’s place... bringing him dinner... “B-but, the washing up–” you stutter, trying to wrap your head around the idea of seeing him outside of your eatery and failing terribly.

Aoi clicks her tongue.

“I’ll take care of it. You, Boss, just need to focus on keeping the soup warm for him. Alright?”

The little slip of paper is pressed into your palm. The words on it stare back at you, as if encouraging you to go give that very special man a visit.

“Okay.” You whisper, clutching it tightly in your hand.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic

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seventhstar · 3 years ago

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reading update 11/3/2021:

Current TBR:

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

The Councillor by E. J. Beaton

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

The Queen of Ieflaria by Effie Calvin

Jade Fire Gold by June CL Tan

The Bone Shard Emperor by Andrea Stewart

Heaven Official’s Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske

5/5! Queer Edwardian romance ft. himbo/grumpy intellectual, aka the best character dynamic ever. Intense family dynamics! Cool worldbuilding! It's a relatively slow book, imo, and it definitely feels like the first book in a series -- if you prefer faster paced fantasies or books that can stand alone, you might not enjoy this. Personally I loved it and tore through it pretty fast.

At the beginning of 2021 I set a goal of 50 books. Once I hit that goal, I upgraded to 75. I've now hit 75, and am debating whether to upgrade again...can I reach 100? We shall see.

Jade Fire Gold is still theoretically my next read, since it's the last of the hardcovers I've impulse bought and I need to return it if I don't like it (or realistically, exchange it for something I do want). I'm hoping to be able to fit in another book between it and The Bone Shard Emperor. The Queen of Ieflaria is probably gonna be the one if I adhere to my list; if I don't, I'll probably pick from my list of unread contemporary romances.

I'm also debating carving out a couple weeks either at the end of this year or early next year where I only reread.

#jellyfish reads #there's a list of 5 or 6 books i usually reread annually and I have not gotten to any of them this year! I think i've reread 2 whole books!#usually i do good omens and the first 2 wallflowers books from lisa kleypas at least

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mintchocolatechipnut · 4 years ago

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icarus | takami keigo

Note: I first posted this on Ao3, you can find it here. Hawks seems a little OOC here and I Regret That as I reread it but I still liked how it turned out overall. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: ‘Hawks has a crush!’ drabble, reader works at the same agency, possibly OOC Hawks, slow burn, fluff galore, overly generous use of italics

Word count: 2.4k

It’s just moments before he has to leave for patrol, but as Hawks hangs around in the lobby of his agency that fact momentarily leaves his mind when he catches sight of you, with your perpetual smile. You’re at the reception desk, back ramrod straight, fashion impeccable as you greet clients, your eyes lighting up as they regale you with their latest anecdote. Hawks could have been fooled, if he hadn’t known you since the three years he and you began working here, him nineteen and you looking a little older. Perhaps twenty? Twenty-one?

He knows what you look like on a cloudy Monday morning running late for work, your hair in a frizz due to the humidity in the air and the slightly crumpled hem of your dress shirt peeking coyly atop the waistband of your skirt. He remembers the cup of coffee from the cafe down the block that you clutch in the palm of your hand precariously as you shuffle into the building, bidding a hasty ‘good morning’ and letting a look of pure relief grace your face when you spy the clock ticking three minutes to eight.

The you that he sees that’s not for customers is, sadly, also seen by most of his colleagues. They know you’re the entertainment fairy of the agency; despite your calm and collected looks, you’re really the life of the party at functions, always ready to go ham on the karaoke machine and take the dance floor with some killer moves. It’s led to a lot of love for you as one of the youngest in the agency, aside from him, and how the atmosphere becomes a little lighter the moment you step into a room.

He’s not going to lie, those three years with you really did a number on him. He’s a willing contractor of your contagious cheer, his heart lifting when the sight of you greets him after a harrowing day of taking down villains. The job’s not always difficult, he admits, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. Sometimes, if you’re not busy, you’d glance up from your seat, your eyes peeking over the edge of the counter, and disarm him with your gaze. Then a smile, and a wave, and you’re back to work. Little do you know those gestures have carved a nice little space for themselves in his mind, but not his heart.

He’s asked himself the question many times, but he’s been warned many times more. About how it is when you give your heart away to someone who might never understand the workings of a pro hero, or to someone who understands because of their own experiences, but in return you’re never fully guaranteed of their safety out in the field. He definitely has hero acquaintances who’re happily married, with kids and fur-kids, but the stories that echo in his brain whenever he looks at you are those of broken bonds, severed ties and loved ones lost. And then he remembers how pretty you look with that smile on your face, and knows he wouldn’t want anything to ever risk its existence.

But is it too much to hope that he might be, at some point of time, the cause of that smile?

He’s shaken out of his reverie when his sidekick calls out to him, having just stepped out of the elevator in time for their patrol. Unconsciously, he takes one last look at your form, now turned away from him as you stand before the photocopier, and his chest vibrates with the murmurs of his heart’s wish for you to turn back for one last glance.

But you don’t, instead your head turning sideways to return a conversation with a coworker, and Hawks finally looks away. The automatic glass doors open up before him as he steps out into the city for another day of work, and the last thought he has before switching into professionalism is how you greet him in a way these glass doors never could.

Hawks has always been one to be in tune with his emotions, but just because he acknowledges them doesn’t mean he needs to act on them, or give in to them.

But as he sits alone in his office, hands tightly balled atop his knees as he heaves through his mouth, he’s tempted to let go. The words Dabi uttered to him feel like they were from eons ago, yet they’re floating afresh in his mind, bouncing off the confines of his brain like echoes as he strains for his own voice to be heard above the din. He’s shaken, no doubt, but heaven forbid that he’s so shaken he loses his balance in the air.

He’s known as the man who goes too fast, but never as the man who flies too high or too low. He’s comfortable where he is, his technique immaculate as he keeps himself airborne. But the drawbacks of being too fast is that without near perfect control you’re prone to crash and burn, and Hawks surmises that he’s close to that end when he’s never once slowed down enough to confront the feelings collecting dust and despair inside his heart. The mental strain the undercover mission has on him weighs on his conscience like gravity, and suddenly he’s falling, and his wings don’t open up fast enough, he’s not fast enough—

And then the sound of his name in your voice envelopes him like a safety net and grounds him gently, instead of the splat to the earth that he’d seen as imminent just seconds ago. He looks up from where he’s sitting to see your eyes scan over his hunched figure, and he prays you can’t see the sweat beading the sides of his neck or the whiteness of his knuckles in his lap. He watches as your brows knit together, your stare once sweet now laced with worry, and he curses internally that he’s not able to put you at ease in his condition. Smiles come as easy to him as they do you, so why is it so hard to muster one now?

He barely hears the click-clack of your heels as you make your way over to him. All at once his brain is firing off warning signals, his head is ringing with alarms. No, don’t come near, don’t get near me, the sirens blare, don’t see me like this—

A carton of juice is placed on the glass tabletop before him, and his gaze slowly traces up your fingers to your face. He wants to remove his gold-tinted glasses to convince himself you’re not as perfect as he perceived, but at the same time your light is so blinding he’s afraid that if he sees you in your full glory he’ll burn.

But you’re still perfect in his vision, though the edges of your mouth don’t quite reach your cheeks as you put on your trademark smile, and are you faltering? It’s the first time he’s ever seen it, and yet you look prettier still. Hawks wonders if you're not accustomed to sadness, you with your eternal grin. Wonders if, for all the cheering up you do, you lack in comforting and sympathizing, but then he realizes that's such a rude thing to assume.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” He spies the stray strands of hair plastered against your damp forehead, as you walk away from him towards the windows, where you start to draw the blinds. “You can stay here if you want, but I’d really like to lock up soon.” When you turn to him again, your smile no longer wavers. Your gaze does, though, and it's enough to prove his earlier theory wrong. "I also think you should get some rest."

That precarious position he holds while airborne is threatened immediately by the sun in your smile, your laugh, your heart, and he finds himself falling to the sea below, instantly relishing the feeling of air through his feathers and the coolness the water’s about to grant to his scorching skin. But oh no, oh dear— the sea is also you, the deep expanse of your arms and chest welcoming like that of a siren's song, while your eyes threaten to rob him of the lift in his wings.

He knows the League of Villains was a force to be reckoned with, but you are a whole new danger altogether.

It’s the first and last time Hawks would ever let you see him as… well, ‘vulnerable’ is what most people like to call it. ‘Less than best’ is what he tells himself instead.

He couldn’t call your relationship that of friends, since you’ve never had to speak to him more than the occasional small talk and necessary work matters. However, he couldn’t call you an acquaintance either, when he bumps into you in a convenience store one weekend and immediately watches your countenance brighten.

You greet him first with a sunny smile on your face, but he’s delighted to see that it came with a messy bun and sweatpants that signal you were in your most comfortable state. As he stands behind you in line as to not obscure your view of the signs overhead, displaying the prices for an ice cream cone, he’s locked onto the sight of your frame, the loose baby hairs sweeping across your nape, and he wonders how it’d feel to envelop that frame with his own, to let his own hair tickle that nape—

His silent beration of himself for having these thoughts come to a standstill when you move out of the periphery of his vision to let him make his purchases. Instantly, regret washes over him that you have to leave so soon, that the one time he’s managed to see you out of work you’re gone so quickly. So imagine his shock when he finds you waiting near the doors, your purchases in a bag on your arm while you hold two ice cream cones in hand.

He doesn’t know what good deeds he’d done to bring this on, but he’s not questioning this: walking side by side with you, ice cream cone in hand as you both make your way down the street towards the station. You apologize that you’d been presumptuous in getting him ice cream, and he’s taken with how the corners of your eyes crinkle in mirth when he dismisses it with a laugh. He's enjoying the ride home, even misses his own stop under the pretense of ensuring safe passage home to a well-meaning civilian. And when you reach the front door of your apartment, ice cream gone from your hand a long time ago, he wonders if you'll ask him to stay.

But you don't, instead thanking him and telling him to rest well and have a good evening, Hawks. And before he can stop himself, he utters, "Keigo. Keigo is fine."

A beat, then another. They're loud and thundering before he realizes that they're echoing through his eardrums. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to look up.

"Okay." Your voice lilts from the doorway, and—he really wants to know where you get all these dazzling grins from, so that he can bottle some up for a rainy day. "Have a good evening, Keigo."

Suits don’t suit him. Obviously they hinder his wings, but the stuffiness of wearing them often makes him wish he was on patrol instead, soaring through the sky while feeling the wind whip his clothes.

But here he is, in a tailored suit where the starch of his collar digs into his neck hard enough for him to consider laying off the chicken nuggets this month. Besides the stuffiness of the suit itself, the air where he’s at is downright suffocating, though the ceilings are high and the chandeliers glisten in magnificence above his head. He can feel the thin film of sweat forming across the skin beneath his tight, layered clothing, and he wonders how he hasn’t gotten used to this, after all the charity balls and hero galas he’s had to attend.

Perhaps today will be different, he thinks. Today is his agency’s tenth anniversary, and there’d been a function thrown together for it. Of course today is different, he realizes—you’ll be here. That fact is enough for him to inhale deeply and step into the grand ballroom, and really, it’s not hard to spot you.

There you are in the middle of the room next to the refreshments, a vision in your dress as you hold a flute of champagne between your fingers. It’s a stark contrast from how you hold your coffee cup on work mornings, and all of a sudden he realizes he’s been holding his breath. You’re talking wistfully to a bunch of colleagues at work, and your polished appearance makes him forget how much more frazzled you’ve looked the past few days while planning for this occasion with the rest of the events team. Where strands of your hair would have been sticking up in all directions sits an elegant braid pinned to your head, while the rest of your hair cascades past your bare shoulders like shimmering waterfalls. The demure smile on your face belies the pallor of your complexion where lack of sleep is evident, but you’re beautiful, even if in a vampire sort of way. Hell, you’re beautiful no matter what.

You’re absolutely magnetic, and he’s drawn into the whirlpool that is your presence as he takes a shaky step across the floor towards you. He’s all too aware of the rapidly pulsing heart inside his too-tight chest, the heart that holds a million wishes just for you.

But he's done wishing and wondering. He's done hearing the voices that tell him he's too fast, or not fast enough, or that he's in trouble. Your name leaves his lips like a prayer, a desire given form and shape for just having been spoken, and Hawks watches as you turn. He feels your face brighten before he sees it.

His heart alights when your mouth moves in tandem with the letters in his name, his first name, and he shifts his gaze to eyes that disarm him once more. Instantly he knows those eyes will disarm him as long as he lets them (as long as it’s you).

He’s falling, but god, has he ever felt so free—

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks drabbles #hawks fluff

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kitchenscene · 5 years ago

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austin’s 911 / buddie fic rec

[ long post, so all fics are under the cut ]

tags: @michaelgrantnash , @bisexualbuck , @terryjeffordss

﹂cause love is whatever we want it to be by wafflesofdoom

summary: "he and buck, there was a sort of an inevitability to their relationship that scared eddie to his core, sometimes – but more and more now, he was realising that his fear was holding him back from something amazing.he –well, eddie was going to sweep buck off his feet."

personal opinion: there’s this line – ‘falling for you just felt inevitable’ –that just stuck with me. this is one of those fics that i’ll probably still be thinking about years from now.

﹂the ivory keys by tkreyesevandiaz

summary: buck didn’t think he’d come back to this one thing again. as a kid, he’d crashed into the habit like a beautiful accident. he’d stumbled upon the old instrument in the guest house where his parents usually held brunches and parties for other aristocrats in their circles, at age eight. after hearing the reverberating sound from the keys, it became an obsession to learn.

personal opinion: very very very sweet. i literally had dreams about this fic after i read it.

﹂encore by pline

summary: “I’m going insane.”

“Did something happen?”

A dark, bitter laugh bubbles out of Buck – a mockery of joy.

“Everything keeps happening, and it’s still the same fucking day. It’s always the same and every time it’s different and I can’t do anything.”

Buck keeps reliving the same day, over and over again.

personal opinion: oh my GOD oh my god i love time loops. the angst !!! (make sure you read the tags though for tw)

﹂knocking on heaven’s door by MomentsOfWeakness

summary: buck isn’t sure where he is. the last thing he remembers was being out on a call. now he’s here, in a place he has never seen before surrounded by people he doesn't know. it's bright. that's all he can really tell.

based on a tumblr prompt where someone asked for buck and chris both ending up in purgatory at the same time before they ever met in life. buck has a ticket back to the living world but he gives it to chris who is supposed to die. an old man, seeing what buck did for chris, decides to give his own ticket for the living world to buck, because the world needs more people like him.

personal opinion: i included this on an old fic rec post and i’m linking it again because i love it. this is so poetic and lovely.

﹂eddie begins by malmal88

summary: these are words he’s never spoken out loud before. each experience that counts as proof has been folded up and carefully tucked away inside of himself. he spent all the time in between each one of the cornerstone moments trying to prove to himself, to his father, to anyone who was paying attention that it wasn’t true. he was almost successful at it. but there is only so long you can deny who you are.

personal opinion: this is part of a three fic series, and it’s one of my fav eddie centric fics. all three together are a masterpiece.

﹂i’ll see you in my dreams by talk_too_much

summary: in which buck finds himself inexplicably married to his best friend, but it’s fine, he’s figuring it out.

personal opinion: this is part one of a two fic series, definitely read both of them. not much i can say plot wise without spoiling it, but this is a fic that i come back too a lot.

﹂it wasn’t fate that led me to you by theskyisblue

summary: evan buckley was seven years old when his vision for the red string of fate came to life. his mother had talked with him for hours that day, explaining to him what he saw, why he saw what he saw, and how he should never breathe a word to a single soul about what he saw. he was still too young to understand that the red string of fate was more complicated than his seven-year-old mind made it out to be, that love was far more complex than a simple fated partner and a happily ever after.

personal opinion: oh it’s got a Moral at the end, which i like. happy ending, but not in the way you’d think.

﹂carnations by red_to_black

summary: evan buckley has never once been given flowers in his life. that is, until he mentions it in a fit of self-pity at the firehouse. then they're everywhere. what he can't work out is where they're coming from.

(or: buck mentions never getting flowers before, and a certain someone decides to remedy that.)

personal opinion: one of those fics where it’s so cute that i have to set my phone down for a sec and take a few breaths or else i’ll get overwhelmed. love love love.

﹂kiss me like you mean it by HaleyDingle

summary: 5 times eddie kisses buck + 1 time he really kisses him.

personal opinion: i think i’ve reread this like five times at least. very sweet.

﹂stick with you by soft_satan

summary: eddie licked his dry lips as he reached for his radio, trying to keep his movements slow and delicate to prevent any more damage to himself or buck.

“Diaz to Captain Nash.”

“Go for Nash,” came Bobby’s quick reply.

“You two okay? Where are you?”

“We’re in a bit of a sticky situation here…”

“We’re a shish kabob, Cap!” Buck chimed in. Eddie rolled his eyes.

personal opinion: oooh babey the angst. the self sacrificing bullshit. i love it.

﹂to glimpse red by tkreyesevandiaz

summary: red was the color of passion, of seduction, of happiness and prosperity. it was the color of danger, of fire, of violence, of blood. but in this moment, red was the color of pure terror.

personal opinion: oh im a slut for navy seals!buck and this delivers.

﹂the urgency of now by wayfarer

summary: buck is pretty sure the universe is actively trying to murder him at this point. there’s just no other explanation. in the last two years he has been blown up and subsequently crushed by a fire truck, suffered from a pulmonary embolism, nearly drowned in a tsunami and now this. how many times can he almost die before it stops being an accident and starts being some kind of cosmic hit put out on his life?

or, a building collapses on Buck and Eddie. confessions ensue.

personal opinion: i don’t usually cry when i read fics but this made me cry like a little baby.

﹂if i didn’t have you by rebeccaofsbfarm

summary: Eddie groans, but he gets down on his knee, setting their beers on the pavement. He works to unknot the laces, then ties them again. He goes to stand, but Buck stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie…” he looks up to see that Buck’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. He leans on his knee, trying to understand why Buck is so flustered, and then he hears the shutter of a camera. In his peripheral, he sees that a crowd has gathered around them, and half of the people have their phones out, recording.

Eddie’s eyes connect with Buck’s, and while he is panicked, Buck is trying so hard not to laugh that there are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. The crowd must see it and misread it as Buck being overcome with emotion, because they coo in response.

“Fuck,” Eddie curses under his breath, quiet enough that only Buck can hear him. “What do I do here?”

Buck snorts, “Sorry man, I think you’ve got to commit now.”

personal opinion: fuck dating we’re skipping straight to proposals.

﹂waves (it comes and goes) by SunSpell80

summary: evan buckley left his past behind when he left home for good at age 19. but an unexpected phone call on a quiet shift disrupts the life he's built for himself: forcing him to confront his past in order to build a new future.

personal opinion: make sure you read the tws but oooOOh the slowburn ? the family drama ? i live for it

﹂you’re gonna have a great time by waytotheend

summary: chris leaves a list of 20 things buck can do to cheer eddie up while he's at camp; somehow it turns into a 20 steps plan to woo eddie.

personal opinion: ‘i don’t know buck, i’m nine’ sends me every time.

#fic recs #911 fics #911 fox #fic rec #allie talks #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #this is much longer than i intended #and im sure im forgetting some #fics

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teamsarawatshusband · 4 years ago

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Word Of Honor - 1st watch insta thoughts - Episode 2

Here’s Episode 1

Okay, before I get started with the episode, thank you so much for your likes and kind words and explanations. Thanks @averageace for letting me know that ghosts aren't necessarily dead. And thanks @ pretty-much-obsessed for letting me know it's not xianxia but wuxia. K, no cultivators. Got it!

Oh, just for future reference: I love when you guys help me out in the comments with understanding stuff like this! As long as you don’t spoil the story, I'm super grateful for all the genre info and cultural insights <3

Anyway, here we go!

Episode 2:

Oooooh, it was smirky guy who stopped the whip. And everybody is watching. How embarrassing.

I kinda like purple girl. She's so feisty and sassy.

Ok, the kid wants to make friends with alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy. He's in town to buy pastries for his mom, that's so cute. I need a shorter name for alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy. Anyway, the kid gives him a bookmark like a key to where he lives. Alright.

So smirky guy really did recognize the fighting. Oh, Four Seasons Manor is a sect! Ok, ok. And that's their fighting style. Was smirky guy once a part of them? Still so mysterious.

The kids are singing about the 5 lakes. That seems to be important somehow.

K, alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy wants to hitch a boat ride. And the old man looks like the old guy who got the 7 nails last time, but he's probably not, i'm just bad with faces again.

Yooo, does alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy have so much silver? Yeah, I wouldn't trust him either, old man. Oh, smirky guy intervenes. And now the old boatman wants to do the ride.

Whoaaa, nice scenery with the water and the blossoms and the music. I wanna go there.

So, now he's at mirror lake manor. Was that the kid's place? I forgot.

Wow, that boatman is really something, shouting out his insults as alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy is simply standing on the dock. Can't he be a bit nicer? LOOOOOL, yeah, so now he really dashed without paying, that's what you get for being rude.

But shame on tragic hero lord guy.You should always pay your debts. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Whoaaaaa, the blossom trees. I'm in love. Tragic hero lord guy flies over them in slo-mo.

And when it's not snowing, it's raining petals. Why is there a boat on dry land? Is that gonna be important?

Ooooh, fan fight! Must be smirky guy. Yusss! And now they're dancing.

Oh, and now smirky guy is being poetic. Dude, you sound like you’re crushing on him hard, man. Alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy isn't having any of it, lol.

There's two guys talking about war in the next scene. One of them is the dad and the other a son. Is that our kid from before? He seems older. I hate being bad with faces. Oh, he's not the kid. He's his older brother. And apparently there's one more brother even. I'm gonna get them all confused so much. Ugh

Tragic hero lord guy gets to stay in a woodshed. And likes it. I mean... whatever makes him happy, I guess.

Ooooh, back at the palace, I remember the helmets of the soldiers. And there's the guy who took tragic hero lord guy's job and... the other, like... boss guy. Maybe a king or an emperor. New at the job guy talks about... stuff. He's killed people. And seems proud of it. And now he's talking about a children's song. Oh wait, is that the song that alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy noticed earlier on? Oh, the song is connected to the glazed armor. Got it.

Ooooh, they sent a spy after tragic hero lord guy. So that's why he went into hiding.

Back in the woodshed, either the alcohol was bad, or tragic hero lord guy is having issues with the nails thing. His veins are moving and it looks disgusting tbh. And he's kinda... fuming. Literally. Looks like he's got a bad smell. And now he's... trying to meditate the smell away?

Oh, there's a fire outside.

Why?

Oh no, it's the red guys with the masks again. They're killing people.

Ooooh, tragic hero lord guy jumps into the fight, alright. OMG, I LOVE THAT TREE IN THE BACKGROUND!!! It's so pretty.

I want it.

Somebody is trying to sneak a kid out. Possibly our kid. Not sure. And the red guys are following them. Hmm.

Oh, a bird. Tragic hero lord guy calls it a sparrow and a spy from the window of heaven, which... okay, but it's definitely NOT a sparrow. Maybe it's just a not so good translation.

Aww man, and now my tree's on fire! :(((( Why can I never have nice things? :(

Now it's raining yellow paper thingies. They kinda look like those smiley potato chips thingies that you can get in the freezer section at the supermarket.

Oh, they're weapons from the red guys. And the guy who's trying to sneak the kid out... is that the boatman?

Oooh, tragic hero lord guy jumps in. If that WAS the boatman, then he's getting paid alright. Heh.

Ok, wth? Swords are not supposed to be that bendy. That does not look like a good sword. How are you gonna stab anybody with a wobbly, shaky weapon like that?

And smirky guy is sitting on the window sill watching the situation unfold like a supermodel waiting to be called onto the runway. Instead of... like... HELPING?! Wth?

And he's an alcoholic too? Hmm

K, that was a short stay, they're back on the boat

Eww, the red guys cut of somebody's arm. Wait, is that the dad from before? And the others are... the kid's brothers? Maybe? Oh, whoever they are, they're supposed to have the glazed armor, and the red masked guys want it. And they're gonna kill them all? That's brutal, man.

But if they ARE the kid’s brothers and they’re about to die, then at least I won’t get them confused, so there’s a plus side.

Anway, alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy, the boatman and the kid are in some dusty place. And the boatman is savage as fuck. He wants his money, lol. I like him.

Oh no, so much information. I'm so bad at this. So the kid is supposed to hide at 5 lakes, but doesn't want to. And somebody saved somebody, I have no idea. I wanna know if alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy is gonna go meditate again, because it looks like he wants to.

And now the potato smileys are flying in again. Great. I'm never gonna unsee the potato thing now.

Anyway, alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy who seriously NEEDS A NAME(!!!) is getting smelly again. And the kid wants to defend them all and instantly drops the sword. That does not look good.

So many red masked guys.

LOL, alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy needs 15 minutes. To smell better, maybe.

Wow, the old boatman is a good fighter, but he stands no chance. Are he and the kid really the ones supposed to fight, while tragic hero guy is being smelly and smirky guy is still chilling who knows where?

See the stinky fumes?

Whoa the kid is willing to sacrifice himself for alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy. Who is just as surprised as me. And if it weren't for somebody intervening, they'd both be dead. Who is it?

Yooooooooo, purple girl coming in to the rescue. Of course. Need a job well done, leave it to the woman.

Wow, she's so badass. And the kid and the boatman are helping too. Alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy went back to meditating.

:O There were two nuts!!! I saw them!!! Is nuts guy one of the red masked guys?

Oh, NOW alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy is starting to fight. Probably smelled the nuts and got into it.

LOL, wth? Now that he's done fighting, he faints? And THAT's when smirky guy shows up? To catch him? And alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy wakes up again instantly to fight.

Lololol, wth? Smirky guy is like "Heh, you cute, let me wrap your sword around us." ;)

Maybe the wobbly bendy sword is a flirting technique and actually does serve a purpose.

He has really long fingers too.

Just saying.

Aww, would have been a cute moment if the boatman weren't deadly hit. And now he's smelly too. Wait, do smelly fumes mean doomed to die?

Ohh, he's gonna make him adopt the kid, isn't he?

Alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy drops a name, and says he's Zhou Xu. Is that his real name? Feels like smirky guy would probably recognize him if he gave his real name. But also maybe not. I know nothing. And smirky guy is mysterious as fuck. But I’ll take the name,because it’s shorter than the one I gave him.

Boatman is still a bit rude, threatening to curse Zhou Xu’s ancestors if he doesn't take care of the kid. Aren't they cursed already? Anyway, boatman can't know that.

Ok, old boatman has died and the kid is adopted. Cool, cool.

Oh, some fighter guys in nicely pleated skirts... who are they? Are they the guards of the manor? Are they there to help the kid? Whoever they are, they came too late and they set off fireworks.

Ok, smirky guy introduces himself. Wen Ke Xing. Oh boy, I hope I can remember that name.

Why is the kid dizzy? Did he get hurt?

Now they're discussing about the bread and nobody's willing to eat first while the kid is empty handed and very clearly hungry as hell. I feel so bad for him.

Why does smirky guy come across so snobby? I wanna like him.

Wow, they finally give the kid some food and now HE's refusing to eat it as well.

Purple girl is the only person actually getting fed tonight.

I mean, she deserves it. She fought the hardest.

Oooooh, smirky Wen Ke Xing guy is onto Zhou Xu lord guy. First stares him up and down while he's resting (lusting much?) and then flat out asks if he's in disguise.

Oh and the kid IS hurt. And smirky Ke Xing is the only one to realize too. He's redeeming himself. A little.

Zhou Xu lord guy doesn't want him to touch the kid though. Why?

Oooh, they're dancing again.

LOL, purple girl gets it. I saw that smile. I bet she's a shipper. What is the ship name? KeXu? ZhouXing? I literally had to scroll up and reread the names. We should just call them smirklord.

Okay, end of episode.

What did I learn? Names were dropped. Zhou Xu lord guy has adopted the kid. Smirky guy is called Wen Ke Xing. He comes across a bit shady and pretentious and also flirty. Very flirty. But Purple girl is cool, and she trusts him so he must be kinda cool too. Still don't know who they really are and what they want. Like any of them. So far, I like the kid and purple girl best. I hope they all travel together to bring the kid to... wherever he's supposed to go.

Goals for future episodes: Find out who nut guy is. Learn the freaking names reliably. Find out people's connections to each other.

#word of honor #1st watch insta thoughts #word of honor ep 02

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luluwquidprocrow · 4 years ago

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and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones

originally posted: august 25th, 2019

word count: 13,060 words

rated: not rated

beatrice/bertrand/lemony

heavy angst, canon compliant, with enough canon divergence that makes the canon compliance worse, epistolary

summary:

and if you don’t love me, let me go.

[a much less than 200 pages break up letter.]

opening notes:

title from the engine driver by the decemberists

By the time you read this

I guess an at least interesting description of us could be like ships passing in the night

I think now is

I think now might be the time for us to

First of all, I have canceled my subscription to the Daily Punctilio, which was just a good move on my part to begin with, and second of all, I couldn’t believe all that anyway, but third of all, do you know, Lemony

You’ll think me such a damn hypocrite, won’t you.

Why now? Why would I

Why would you do this now?

My Heart and I

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colours could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend ;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.

How tired we feel, my heart and I !

We seem of no use in the world ;

Our fancies hang grey and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently ;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet :

What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;

I, smiling at him, shook my head :

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.

Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out :

Disdain them, break them, throw them by

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, — well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who knew what she was talking about

My Dearest Darling,

You call me a lot of things but, to be perfectly frank (not Ernest), Lemony, I think I’ve always liked that one the least. There was that summer where, among other things, Bertrand was trying to come up with nicknames for us in that charming way of his, and he came up with a real mess of awful nicknames and then I came up with the list we could Never Repeat In Public (capitals necessary) and then you said something very sweet to both of us, and anyway, we know what happened there, but the point of this is that you held us close and said, very seriously, that you would never ever ever ever ever (for the span of what I’d figure would be maybe two pages, short but evenly-spaced), no matter what happened, call Bertrand ‘Bert’ and that was damn good of you because Bertrand is not a Bert and never will be. We were right to veto Bertie, as well. He is a Bertrand, through and through. The other point was that you wound up calling us nicknames too but dearest darling was maybe the worst of all of them. Bea was my favorite. I liked the way you said it and I liked the way it sounded and I felt noble perfect unstoppable invincible worried fragile good when you said it. And that was good.

Speaking of, right now, Bertrand is with Kit, and don’t worry, they’re not talking about you (I know how you worry). They’re talking about boats and maps and cooking spices and Widdershins will probably come by later to give them both his version of A Stern Talking To (capitals debatable) about open water expeditions, which will probably be something like, ‘Fire this harpoon at anything suspicious! Aye! Shoot first and ask questions later! Aye!’ and it’s a real miracle that man doesn’t have a whole boatload of albatrosses hanging around somewhere. (Unless he does, and I just haven’t seen it.)

Bertrand and I—well, we’ve kept the house up. Even though he has that thing for natural light, you know what I mean. But we’ve managed to decorate it nicely. I got the Gothic Furniture (capitals required), he got his large windows, there is a last unopened root beer bottle in the fridge because every time we look at it both of us think about how you said it’s impolite to take the last one, and I thought, maybe I’d save it for when you came back but I don’t

The last thing I want is to

Bertrand and I, we’re going out to dinner tonight, because we’re still not all that comfortable with the kitchen yet. I mean, why did we get such a fancy kitchen? I’m sure one of these days I’ll come around to it and it’ll be fine but right now it’s, it seems a hassle, I guess. So we’re going out and I’ve already decided that I’m going to order this truly egregious amount of pasta and no one will stop me!

We don’t really have any plans for tomorrow. As it stands right now. We’ve both been sort of taking things as they come lately. Bertrand, Bertrand’s been very busy. Both of us have been busy, but I think he’s been trying to keep his mind occupied. A lot of us have. Even Hector looks more concerned than he usually does. I saw him the other day—not here, in town—and I didn’t think it was possible for Hector to look that harried. So much has been happening lately, I feel like even I haven’t had time to catch my breath, even in this part of the city. It’s like everything’s been going a mile a minute, taking me with it, and the moments where it stops, the moments where I have the time to think, are unbearably, agonizingly slow. But most of my life has been like that, you know.

And I know, I know you are too. Busy. And concerned.

I know.

When you

Did you

The last performance of our play was three days ago. Since the Daily Punctilio doesn’t have a theater section anymore, Bertrand and I haven’t been reading any rave reviews but we were rereading but, what can you do. Geraldine’s moved on to some other column now too, something about, I don’t even know, tax evasion? Shoes? I can never understand a single thing she writes. Even that ‘Secret Organizations You Should Know About’ thing didn’t even pan out, can you believe that? All she did was write about Esmé! All that trouble for

It looks like it’ll be the last play for a while. I know they wanted us to go on longer, but, well, that’s how it has to be. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without a script to lug around, but I’ll probably memorize something for kicks. Gilda Farrell’s lines, maybe, that’d be fun.

But it’d be better if you

This is really the first time I’ve had one of those unbearably slow moments in a while, and of course the first thing I think of is you. You and Bertrand have always filled those gaps for me, but now it’s different. It’s just

I saw Jacques the other day and he

Ramona’s the only one who hasn’t been so

I want to see you so much, Lemony. With everything I have, I want you with me, and I keep hoping that if I close my eyes, when I open them again, there you’ll be, alive and well and next to me and real. Or I’ll walk away from my desk and this letter and when I look back it’ll all have been a bad dream, the worst nightmare I keep stopping and hoping and when you’re not there and I’m still here I

I don’t know how to do this. I can’t

I didn’t want to do it like this.

I don’t want you to I’m, burying the lede, or doing any of this on purpose or anything, because by now you’ve definitely noticed how long this is (although, personally, I’m only at the beginning, but I have a feeling this is going to get long—I know I’ve said I could run laps around the city in the time it takes you to finish a single metaphor but between the two of us we both know I could go on for much longer and will), and you have a vague idea, or a concrete idea, or an idea you don’t want to think about, of where I’m going to go with this. If it was something simple it wouldn’t be like this. If I was just, telling you the news, I wouldn’t need so much time, and I need so much of it. I’m setting the stage trying to making sure I wanted to I can’t just

I am a weak woman, Lemony Snicket. And that is a complete lie, you and I know, but I am a weak woman and I don’t want to be but my hands are shaking.

You and I. You and I know so many things.

So why should we

We both know how to make Ramona laugh, and the right amount of sugar for Olivia’s tea, and where Jacques will be on Tuesdays even though he pretends he doesn’t keep a regular schedule, and where Monty has his keys stashed in his garden, and everything possible about Bertrand, including what book he’s reading right now even though you haven’t been home in two months (it’s still that cat book because he says he wants to see the look on your face when he reads it out loud after dinner) (it’s still that cat book), and what kind of records Kit wants for her birthday even though she never has the time to play them, and even what Esmé is going to eat tomorrow because would you believe that herring is still in, to her continued consternation. She can talk all she wants about how good herring is but I still see that look on her face when she eats it! Every meal, Lemony! I’m giggling as we speak and I wish you could see her because it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE

Maybe those things are superficial, but they’re things we know about people, about ourselves, and that counts, doesn’t it? And—and I know what you look like when you wake up and I know what you look like when you’re fixing your typewriter and I have to help and I know what you look like when you think I’m not looking at you, and there was a time where that meant you didn’t look like everyone you knew had just died. You know what I look like at my worst, the worst I ever let you see. You knew it anyway. You It was enough.

And Bertrand. I know I’ve said it before but, you and I were so lucky. Lots of good things came from of this, right? The three of us, you and me and Bertrand. Our apartment and that wallpaper we took down in Bertrand’s when he moved out of his, with those horrendous yellow stripes. The cat we pretended to have and the elaborate medical history we made for it so we’d all have an excuse to go home early. (That poor cat, though. I don’t think it would’ve been possible for it to really survive like that. We should be better to our imaginary pets next time in the future.) Watching Bertrand dance to my records, which was terrible because we hadn’t taught him to dance yet. Trying out those new recipes. Keeping the windows open in the summer. The diner down the street, the ice cream shop on the corner, that night it rained and we all stayed outside and got soaking wet because why not? Bertrand making that excessive amount of soup the next day. You telling us we were the only things that mattered. Bertrand would push your hair out of your face when you were sleeping and I wanted to watch that for the rest of my life. I wanted it to be the last thing I ever saw.

Those moments, every moment. Reading in the dark, losing my glasses, you stopped dead the first time we were out with Bertrand and he was under a streetlamp and you both looked so beautiful and you kissed him for the first time and you didn’t even remember to be nervous.

And those million citations Jacques didn’t give us for public indecency during that spring he was disguised as a police officer. (He was definitely kidding when he brought it up. There was no way he could’ve seen us.)

It makes me so happy, to think about all that. I love you and Bertrand so much. I

Oh Lemony. I don’t think I can do any of this.

-------

In other better happier general news, Gustav let Bertrand and me see the pictures from the wedding, and then he archived them, because we agreed that was for the best, and Bertrand figured you’d probably say the same. I look absolutely stunning, and Bertrand looks incredibly handsome even though he finally admitted he agrees with you, that hat was not his style, and you, Lemony, in that white suit that matched Bertrand’s with those peach-colored flowers because peach is a better color than I ever gave it credit for and it looked so good in the spring because it was the color the wall in the living room turned when the afternoon sun hit, you look

It was such a beautiful day. Still spring, and right after Bertrand’s birthday. Us, Kit, Jacques, Ramona, Olivia, Dewey, Hector. Jerome was invited—or he was supposed to be, who knows what happened there. We barely saw Gustav the whole time too, since he kept climbing up into trees for better angles. The smallest place we could find that would hold all of us and be so out of the way. The cake Kit made, against everyone’s expectations. Ramona cried, because of course she did. All those flowers, no one could move the whole time for walking into at least six bees, but no one minded. So much love. It was palpable, and my whole body was alive with it, with such a soft warmth I could barely breathe. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, not while dancing or singing or kicking my shoes off because such mortal trappings cannot contain me, or when you and Bertrand danced and you cried, or when a crow flew overhead and we all stopped, just for a single second, before every one of us decided not to care. For a few hours one glorious afternoon.

You look happier than I’ve ever seen you before and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you like that again or forever and I’m sorry, I was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this

-------

I’ve taken a few deep breaths and I’m ready to

Oh who am I KIDDING

Lemony I love you so much and I need you so much my heart is going to break with it

justice does not need eyes to see,

but truth built himself eyes

in the porcelain patterns of his world

and let them do the talking

in the skies he

so kindly

let them see,

with the eyes he gave them,

one after another

after another

i was something else

but i lived so close beside

that they could not accuse me

of being blind

but i could’ve seen everything

if i could see with every eye,

one after another

after another

after another,

every eye

a certainty,

every eye

the truth,

every eye

mine alone.

You told me when we were younger that I should give rhyming verse a try and, well, Lemony, not everything you said was good advice.

-------

I do, though. I love you a great deal. I think it confuses people. Besides the fact that some of them never understood our relationship with Bertrand (cowards), I get the impression some of our associates don’t know why I love you. Which is just stupid of them, and I don’t owe them anything, none of them are going to read this. It’s not their business why I love you, it’s ours. And I love you because

How can you explain why you love someone? Someone can say ‘they make me laugh’ as much as they want and sure it’s true but is that really why? Can you ever really say why? Isn’t it enough to love somebody, with everything you have? To say, that’s the one I want, for the rest of my life? Who could I possibly need to defend myself to?

I love you because I love you, because I look at you and think I love you, because I inhale and exhale that I love you, because every part of me only feels right with you.

I love you because you embarrassed me but I thought you were kind. I love you because I didn’t ever have to explain anything. I love you because you always came back to me. I love you because you made me happy. I love you because you didn’t let anything stop you from loving me. I love you because you loved me. I love you because when you took my hand I thought I could do anything with that love.

I love you because you were mine. I love you because you looked at me. And I love you because it was more than that, it always was.

I love you because of the records you played. I love you because of the time we taught Bertrand to make root beer floats. I love you because you’d rehearse our lines with us even though you can’t act. I love you because of the way you would stand in the kitchen and wonder what you should make for dinner. I love you because you said you’d plant strawberry bushes in the backyard. I love you because you could never stand Geraldine Julienne. I love you because we would all sit around the table in my apartment and critique the newspaper articles together. I love you because you’d never take the train. I love you because Bertrand and I found every shortcut in the city for you. I love you because you and Bertrand would knit me the ugliest sweaters on purpose. I love you because you would take care of the bats for me and you were terrible at it.

I love you because you were wonderful where it counted. I love you because we’d stay up late and watch movies. I love you because you would hold Bertrand like it was the most important thing in the world. I love you because you would furrow your brow when you read something you didn’t like. I love you because you’d take me to the beach when it was cold. I love you because we went on picnics in the summer. I love you because when I walked into our apartment and then when I walked into our house it always felt like home. I love you because we made up that cat. I love you because you’d sing with me. I love you because Bertrand would take us bird-watching and name the birds with us. I love you because you bought me flowers.

I love you because you told me what happened. I love you because we went back there with you. I love you because I went into the lighthouse. I love you because I wasn’t going to not go. I love you because no one else would’ve gone. I love you because we let you walk out the door there and I knew you would come back.

I love you because we used to make out in the back of the movie theater and we’d take turns with Bertrand and then try to piece together what even happened in the movie when we got home. I love you because you used to sit in dark rooms with me and pretend we were ghosts and scare the other volunteers. I love you because we could just read for hours and not say a word. I love you because you let me cry in the bathroom. I love you because you would make up songs on the accordion when I was upset. I love you because I would whistle along when you did songs I knew. I love you because you would go out of your way to buy crackers. I love you because you would say things like “when we first met, you were pretty, and I was lonely” and you let me laugh. I love you because you would write me notes during class. I love you because you looked the same way I did the first time we saw Bertrand—shocked, and then a little impressed, and then irritated, because who did he think he was? I love you because who did any of us think we were, really. I love you because we grew to not care. I love you because we became people I was proud of.

I love you because you would feed that cat in the back alley on your way home and I would watch you from the window. I love you because that cat followed us to our house and then we had a real live legitimate cat until someone across the street put out better cat food. I love you because of the way you would read out loud, because you couldn’t act but when you read it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. I love you because the one thing you did that was better than Bertrand was make tea. I love you because you taught me all your cookie recipes. I love you because we got you to sleep in the middle so we could protect you. I love you because they couldn’t take that away from me.

I love you because I’m here in an otherwise empty house, some boxes still unpacked, letting the dust settle, pouring my heart out when I don’t want to, because I do love you with everything I have, every part of me, every bone and every sigh and every drop of blood, and that’s the end of that. That’s all there is, I love you. That’s what it comes down to, I love you. That’s the only thing I want to say, I love you.

I do, I do love you. Lemony, please believe me.

-------

I know Bertrand has his own thoughts, his own opinions. He doesn’t want to admit that he does, but he gets this, look, on his face. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s lost something special but it was there a moment ago, wasn’t it. He thinks I haven’t noticed. After all this time, he thinks he’s not supposed to be here, and you it hurts, is all.

And as much as Bertrand is a part of us, indelibly, forever, just as you are, both of you so a part of me that I ache with it, this letter is between you and me. Not because it was the two of us first. But because you know, for as much as I don’t want to, I’ll say the things Bertrand won’t.

That’s how this has to be.

-------

So.

Olaf’s started talking to me again, which I didn’t think would happen in a million years. Although maybe I shouldn’t call it talking? More like, he sort of shows up if he knows I’m at headquarters (which is far and few between anyway so, really, what the hell?) and lounges in doorways with these big smiles and says these dramatic things at me instead of to me, which he can’t possibly expect me to believe. How stupid does he think I am? Because I’m not. He keeps going, hey Beatrice, have you read the Daily Punctilio? And I don’t say anything to him, even though yes, I’ve read the Daily Punctilio, dammit.

You and I both know what’s in the Daily Punctilio, and for a while I thought, maybe you were writing those articles yourself, part of another fragmentary plot, and that you’d tell me about it later, and you’d explain it to me, even though I wouldn’t need it to be explained, not really. But you didn’t. Not that you didn’t explain, you just, you just didn’t tell me anything. And you were gone and I couldn’t even see you anyway and that was what really made it hard? It wasn’t like I doubted you. I didn’t. I didn’t doubt you. I knew you wouldn’t do any of those things.

But everyone looked at me and they looked so damn pitying, like, oh it happens to the best of us, only he’s not the best of us. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, well you know what he’s like, as if nothing had ever happened? As if we hadn’t grown up together? As if we wouldn’t have followed you to the ends of the earth because we believed in you? It’s not everyone, but it’s enough. Like some of them don’t owe you their lives.

Bertrand says that people deal with things in different ways, and saying those things about you is probably just another way they’re dealing with everything. Don’t you think it’s harder, it’s gotten harder, as we’ve gotten older? But they don’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. They don’t have to vilify you to make themselves feel better. They don’t have to look me in the eye like that, like I’m some, some poor miserable thing, or like I have to be protected, or like I don’t know what I’m doing, or like they can’t even trust me.

But what does that make me?

And Olaf would grin at me and I would hold my head high and look him back and spit in his face. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. It had only been a month. How long is a month, in the grand scheme of things? What does a month matter, against the beginning of a lifetime? And when a month became two, what did that matter?

-------

I wouldn’t say that Hector and I were ever particularly close, but I’ve actually seen a lot of him lately. We meet up for tea because he keeps saying there’s something he wants to talk to me about but mostly he sits there and looks at his tea and I pretend I’m not super uncomfortable. And then he insists on paying the check, in exact change.

When I see Hector, I think about Haruki. I know how close they were. And Haruki respected you so much, more than anyone else. As in, he respected you more than he respected any of our other friends, but also more than maybe anyone else respected you, because that was how Haruki was. Loyal, the best of the best, and so fierce about it. I wanted him there at our wedding.

Haruki was really the first person we lost, I guess. And I hate how we’re never going to know how it happened, because they say no one else was there, and the one person we do know was there, he’s never going to say a damn thing about it, and we all know that for sure. But I remember everyone gathering around to write Haruki’s obituary and how little we had to say. Not because we didn’t know him. But because, what were we going to say? What did we have left to say, who did Haruki have left, besides us? And what were we?

Hector looks at me and I don’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I’m terrified he’s going to tell me I should’ve known better too because then I won’t be able to stand it. But he just looks at me and I try not to cry and I’m trying not to cry now because he’s feeling it too, this awful business of feeling like things are starting to break. Sometimes I feel Hector is going to disappear, too.

--------

I guess the question I started to think was, how long was I going to wait. Bertrand and I had waited for longer, and then there were times where we never waited, and hadn’t we reached a point where we weren’t supposed to, anymore? But then, when you’re married, aren’t you supposed to do whatever you have to?

But doesn’t it go both ways? One half can do their part but doesn’t the other half have to do something too and how much is it before you’re asking too much but how long is it before you’re not doing enough and when you’re married aren’t you supposed to know the answers to all the questions, the right and the wrong ones, you’re not supposed to care and you’re supposed to be there and it’s all is supposed to be okay, and

We never did do anything traditionally, though, did we?

-------

I saved the article. I didn’t save all of them, but I saved this one.

-------

UNIDENTIFIED BODY IDENTIFIED

The unidentified body recently pulled from the downtown river has been identified as local ex-theater critic and renowned person of interest, Lemony Snicket, who was last seen surveying the river and saying, “How deep do you think it really is?”

“For the record,” said the local police, who preferred to remain nameless and sent in their response by postcard from three towns over, “it was three feet.”

Mr. Snicket was identified by a source who was also unidentified, but proved their credentials by singing a variety of showtunes for the newspaper staff, to great applause.

“Yes, I suppose that’s him,” said the source, when asked to identify the photo of the river, which was presented to them while they were drinking a glass of water, because they were parched after the showtunes. When the glass of water spilled on the photograph, the source went on to say, “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

The body in question disappeared as soon as it was found, but the police have no reason to suspect foul play, as no livestock was found at the scene, the morgue, or the local bakery, and neither does our source.

“Can I leave now?” asked the source. “I need to go pick up my glasses.”

Mr. Snicket has recently been the suspect in a number of crimes, including arson, lockpicking, theft, and jaywalking without a license. He has been described as “that’s not what I would call a grey suit, it leaned closer to charcoal.” There is no planned funeral service at this time.

-------

Bertrand and I laughed a lot, because it was the most outrageous article we’d ever read, and we kept talking about what sort of bakery would even allow livestock inside, and of course we knew it was about you, but of course it wasn’t you, because we didn’t know where you were but we knew you were alive. You were alive, so no matter what we read or what anyone told us, no matter who wanted to believe what, we knew the truth.

And, again, Lemony, it wasn’t that I needed you to explain. It was that I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to let me in on it. I wanted you to call or come by and tell us, your husband and your wife, hey no big deal but I’m gonna fake my death for the foreseeable future, is that okay? And instead I have to find out from Olaf waving it in my face? I have to find out from some absurd article I shouldn’t have even looked twice at? I have to find out from people I thought were my friends telling me I should have known better?

I sure don’t need to tell you, but, we just got married, Lemony! And we had a house and a life and plans and no matter what happened, no matter what else we had to do, because there was no way we were ever going to give this up and we knew that, we were going to stay together, we were going to do this, what we promised, not to other people but to ourselves, and each other, and

Sometimes I want to think that you planned it like that, that you sat down and thought to yourself about the best worst way to do it and you thought, leaving us alone like this and faking your death and not saying a single word was the greatest way to break our hearts, especially after marrying us, that would hurt the most, you wanted to do it so you did it and you got away from us for good like you always wanted because you were never going to stay and you knew it, because then I can hate you like I’m supposed to and stop thinking of the way you smile at me

I hate that you aren’t a cruel person, I hate that you didn’t do it on purpose, I hate that the real true human tradition is that people are human and nothing else

How am I supposed to do this?

a bird up in her chamber

eats love for breakfast lunch and dinner

and steadily gets thinner

sings songs she won’t forget,

in the darkness by the lamps

says the shapes of lonely words

said by lonely people

in lonely rooms

to feel better about

being

what is a life with this alone

what is a life

like this?

“when we grab you by the ankle, where your life is ours to take

you’ll soon be doing wicked things, they’ll keep you long awake

when your whole life is a secret then you’ll be a volunteer

and you’ll scream a long time later, for

the world was never quiet here.”

-------

Bertrand has been making lists. You know his tendency to organize, but the funny thing is he just keeps leaving them places. I’m sitting on like, three of them.

To Do

-Check maps

-Apologize to D

-Extra key

-Secure boat

-Study family trees

To Buy

-Thick, sturdy rope

-Do they make portable record players?

-Paintbrushes (for then and now, so get extra)

-White curtains? Will they match? Check ‘To Think’

-Extra wires, no candles!

To Think

-Ask Kit about Bernadette

-Examine garden for hiding spots

-Turtles or foxes?

-What if it turns out to be true?

-Or birds??

Definitely not birds.

-------

You know, I haven’t seen Jerome in a while. Maybe it’s also been two months, I’m not sure. I feel like, even before the wedding, we weren’t seeing much of him—although it wasn’t like Jacques paraded him around or anything in the first place—but since then, I don’t think Jacques has even talked about him.

This means Jacques’s Tuesdays are open now, although you’d never know it. He still only shows up when he wants to. And if he doesn’t want to, then you have as much luck finding him as finding a grammar rule Jo doesn’t know. It must run in the family. I hate to

I had Kit get ahold of him for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to say to Kit anymore, which is unsettling, but Kit acts like she always does. She comes over and makes herself at home and talks to both of us like this is average everyday Kit business for her. I don’t know if I admire her tenacity or if it’s going to be something else I can’t stand down the line. I don’t know yet. She hugged me when she left, though. That’s just how Kit is. And I don’t really want to lose that.

I wasn’t sure if Kit would know, the thing I wanted to ask Jacques. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she did, but when I saw her I thought, maybe she didn’t know. She didn’t talk about you at all. And it wasn’t the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I’m Being Purposefully Vague For Reasons, Now Deal With It’ sort of silence, it was the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I Refuse to Admit I Don’t Know This Piece of Information, So I’m Going to Rearrange Your Bookshelves’ sort of silence. Still don’t know where she put T.S. Eliot. I think she took it with her.

Jacques didn’t want to talk to me. He’s too polite to say it, but I could tell. He kept making excuses, and by the time we finally got him to come here, he was uncomfortable and I was on edge. He came right out and said he couldn’t stay long. He knew why I wanted to talk to him and he told me straightforward that he couldn’t tell me.

I’m not proud of what I said to him.

-------

If it was the last day, but it probably was but Lemony, I don’t I sure didn’t know.

I will remember every second until the day I die.

We waited until after the wedding to move into the house, especially because the only honeymoon we wanted was for the three of us to be there together, alone, for a little while. It was on the outskirts of the city, away from everything else, and we barely told anyone. We didn’t even tell everyone from the wedding.

I watched the sunrise, the soft shadows sliding along the sheets on the bed, catching on the suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked all the way, you and Bertrand warm beside me, and I didn’t want to get up. We put the best bed in the whole world in our room, and rightly so. High bed posts but no canopy because Bertrand was worried about dust. Crisp white sheets and I was so excited to look when we finally got up and see the wrinkles mashed down in them from where we slept because that meant it was ours for real. That rich wine comforter that it was too hot to use the first night so we still had it folded up at the foot of the bed, but you had this look in your eyes when we spread it out like you couldn’t wait for winter and when we’d be squished up against each other underneath it for warmth.

That morning, I just wanted to lay there and savor it. It wasn’t like we’d never been in the same bed before, or that we even needed to be married, but! To know I could hold it in my hands, that’s what it was.

And then Bertrand rolled over and got an elbow into my side somehow and you mumbled something about Wedding Pancakes (capitals implied) and then we had to eat breakfast.

I checked. The wrinkles were all there.

-------

Bertrand and I.

We haven’t

We’ve been

We’ve been angry at each other.

And you know Bertrand, he doesn’t get angry, really, he gets, more disappointed than anything, but he’s. He’s been angry. At me. I know.

I get scared, because I don’t know what to do, so I, I can’t hold a conversation without yelling at somebody, and it’s usually Bertrand, and I hate yelling at him and sometimes he starts to yell back.

We’re not. Okay. Right now.

We weren’t supposed to do this without you and I don’t want to find out that we can’t, Lemony. And I know we can but I know it’s also not a matter of doing it with or without you, because that’s awful, I just keep wondering what if you were what held us all together and if you’re not here how are Bertrand and I supposed to go on like this. Saying the wrong things, avoiding each other, not coming home. I guess that’s how we’re ‘dealing’ with it but that’s sure some sick way to do it.

I don’t want to lose anybody and fighting for them means that I want to keep screaming until everything stops.

-------

Jacques said you’d be back soon enough.

I told him I needed to know how soon was soon.

He said soon enough.

I said that wasn’t enough.

I never though of Jacques as one to yell. And he didn’t really yell, he mostly raised his voice, like I couldn’t hear him. I mean I was definitely talking over him but it was because I could hear him and I didn’t want to.

No one can tell me anything I don’t know. I know they think I haven’t felt the same worries as everyone else but that’s because I never wanted them to think that I did. And I did too good a job, apparently. I know we live hard lives, Jacques. I know it requires sacrifices, Jacques. I know there’s no guarantee, Jacques. I know there’s things you have to give up. I know you can’t be childish or selfish in this business. I know we knew what would happen. I know sometimes no matter how hard you try, you’re just going to fail.

He told me to wait for you.

-------

After breakfast, we organized the library, because we still had so many things in boxes but we agreed we had to get that done. We put everything in, every repeat copy and every notebook because we actually had room for everything instead of trying to cram it all into smaller bookshelves. The library was the biggest room in the house and had that beautiful windowseat. (It still does. We’re still in this house, after all, but this moment, this day, just isn’t right now.) I’ll admit I spent more time lounging on it than I did organizing books, but, you sat on that windowseat with me, you knew how comfortable it was. I loved those windows and how bright the sun was (really.) and how good I knew it was going to look when it was raining. And you agreed, and Bertrand rolled his eyes at us, and I told him, he got his natural light, what more did he want?

For two people to stop lazing around and figure out if we were going in alphabetical order or by genre or by which ones most recently made us cry over lunch, Bertrand said.

It was alphabetical, of course.

We forgot about lunch, because we put the record player in the library until we could find another place for it and started playing our favorites. Bertrand could dance by then, obviously, we wouldn’t have married him if he couldn’t. We were very good at dancing together, after practicing for so long. No one was ever going to do a better three-way tango and we all knew it.

We picked through the fridge and some of the wedding gifts, once we got hungry and tired of dancing. We found out Jerome somehow still sent us at least thirty coasters, and learned that he apparently wildly overestimates our social life, because there was no way we were going to be inviting thirty people at a time over anymore, or at least, not for a while. You and Bertrand stacked them in the dining room in a cabinet, and those you organized by color. Then we stood at the window there and looked out into the garden (the best view of it was from the dining room) and talked about the flowers we were going to plant, and how Ramona was going to send us (express) a clipping from one of the rosebushes in her garden, the ones we’d look at during her family’s masked balls.

We went to the corner store down the street and you and Bertrand pretended to fuss over tomatoes while I was looking at loaves of bread and when I turned around you were buying flowers for me, red and bright and beautiful. We put them in the kitchen while we all made dinner (salmon, with cherry tomatoes). Somehow I found the time to make sorbet for dessert and it was only then we realized how late it was and we laughed a lot that day and laughed a lot then because we didn’t need to care about things like that. Our house was barely put together and we tried to find a way to use every single coaster from Jerome and we hadn’t had words with the city about the electricity yet because there was so much we’d had to do beforehand that we had to use candles. We all had matches, and we weren’t naive enough to think we wouldn’t have them.

I can’t tell you how powerful I felt, lighting those candles, because I know you and Bertrand felt it too. This was our doing and ours alone. This space was ours. We looked at each other over the candles, the shadows on our faces, and we’d never looked clearer.

We could’ve lived forever, in that moment.

-------

I called your brother a coward and I told him that whatever happened to Jerome now that he wouldn’t protect him was his fault and his alone and if he could live with himself that’s fine but I couldn’t if I didn’t try to do this and if he didn’t tell me where you were I was going to kill him where he stood and he shouldn’t even think for one second that I wasn’t capable of doing what had to be done and if that meant I had to kill for what I wanted then I would.

-------

You kissed us in the morning. You smiled. You walked out the door and then came back because you forgot your hat and Bertrand and I were still laughing even as the door shut behind you.

And then you were gone.

-------

Kit came by again, after.

We sat in that silence.

She told me that it was the one thing they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t known, until I asked Jacques. We don’t have anywhere else to go, she said, in a moment of unprecedented candidness. So we always come back.

“I underestimated him,” she said.

I told her she could keep The Wasteland, since it was practically hers because it had been yours. Kit smiled. She didn’t say much else.

-------

Bertrand and I aren’t the only ones losing someone here and I forgot that.

Jacques and I looked at each other for a long time. I tried to apologize and he kept shaking his head. He told me where you were. He told me he didn’t know when you’d be back—or if you would at all. He told me he was the one writing the articles in the Daily Punctilio. He turned away from me. Then he gave me his handkerchief, and put his hand on mine, and got up and left.

-------

What it feels like, Lemony, is like you

It feels like you picked

It feels like we didn’t matter and

And it’s not like we could ever choose or have one or the other I know I know I know but

We’re never going to be without it but I thought that

WE GOT MARRIED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, LEMONY SNICKET

You picked an idea of nobility that you spent the past ten years struggling with and denouncing and promising you’d never

It wasn’t like we ever set out to save you anyway I

At the end of the day, that’s it. You picked the organization over us. And I didn’t think we were going to have to draw lines like that. At least not now. At least not right now. Because that means I have to make a decision. Because it means I can’t only think about me. Because it means I can’t keep waiting. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.

-------

I found out the other day.

I had a feeling, though. You just, you either have the feeling or you don’t, right? And I did. And I keep thinking about what your reaction would be. What you’d say. I keep thinking about your eyes, bluer than blue. I keep thinking about the world we said we were going to make when we were kids, the people we said we’d be. We were tiny and young and idealistic and you’re really only that way once in your whole life and when you’re not anymore, you can’t go back.

-------

We can’t go on like this.

stripped off my dress like a skin,

peeled

so you could see everything

not only then,

but always.

didn’t know i was doing it,

guess i never really ran out of clothes.

you took off you shirt

and I was jealous.

you only needed to do it once and there you were.

I thought.

but now I keep finding shirts

in the places where I found you

and I can’t

find anything

that was mine

to put back on

I really can’t do anything

-------

Enclosed you’ll find the ring. I know it’s not just the ring I married you with, but the ring I married Bertrand with, but whenever we look at it we think of you and I’m the one who has to wear it all the time and I can’t.

But I don’t want to give it back because what if it’s the only thing I get to keep of you? But it wasn’t ever mine anyway, or yours, and who knows, maybe Ramona will marry Olivia with it someday, and maybe you’ll be there, only you wouldn’t be if you got the ring back, you’d never show your face again.

And that’s not what I want, I don’t want you out of my life, Lemony, but if I give it back then maybe I do. Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I never want to see you again like this.

-------

Okay, I have to ask. I have to, because Jacques kept his mouth shut about this.

The last time you saw us. Not the day, but the morning, walking out the front door. Did you know you weren’t coming back? You just left like you always did, to go to the newspaper, before Bertrand and I went to the theater, and as far as leaving someone for good goes that’s so

Did you meet up with Jacques, or Hector, or Jo, or even Kit, and did they tell you? Did headquarters address you personally? Did you take an assignment from someone else? Did someone corner you and were you trying to protect us? Was that the only way you could do it, going into hiding and faking your death? Who else was involved, besides Jacques? How long was it going to go on for? Did they expect you to do it by yourself? Did you have a plan, did any of them have a plan? What fragmentary plot was it even a part of? Did you know you weren’t coming back? Could you even come back? Did it even happen right away? Did it start out as some mediocre assignment you were going to tell us about later and then what happened so that I was reading the paper and there you were being accused of things I knew you’d never do? Why didn’t they ask me? Why didn’t they ask Bertrand? Why didn’t they ask us? You knew we’d do it together, we swore we’d do it together, why didn’t you tell us? What made it so that you couldn’t?

Or did you really decide for yourself that that was it?

I don’t want to believe that. I don’t, Lemony. I want to believe that it was one thing and then another but do you know why I can’t, why I keep asking? Do you understand why I need to know the truth? Why I need to be able to put it together? Why waiting and trusting isn’t enough anymore?

--------

No one could ever extinguish my love, Lemony, no one, nothing, not a single solitary thing ever, nothing could do it, but my trust is a different matter. Loving someone and trusting someone are two different things and I know you know that as much as I do. You. Knew. All. Of. This.

-------

You know. If it had ended at the article. I might’ve been okay with it. I might have. Not making any promises, because we both know better than that. But I might’ve. I could’ve.

It didn’t end with the article.

Olivia had a short-lived assignment working the telegrams recently. She gave Ramona a very specific telegram. Olivia was honestly surprised it had come through at all. That something like that would be sent over such an insecure line. And of course she showed Ramona. They didn’t show it to anyone else. Which was lucky, because you know Olivia. She wanted to do whatever she could.

Ramona sent it to me. Right away. I got it yesterday. She said she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She said she was sorry. She’s the only one who didn’t sound patronizing about it.

J.S.,

AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED STOP GOING ON FULL STOP

M.K.

I never liked Monty Kensicle all that much as a name either.

-------

Lemony I can’t help but think that you’re sick of me, sick with me

It wasn’t like I ever—like I did it to be similar, I would NEVER, because both of us had our reasons for why we did what we did, you on that train, me and Bertrand at the opera. We knew what we were doing. Did we regret it? Enough for it to hurt, on the wrong days. Not enough for it to matter, in the long run. But enough for it to stop me every once in a while, in the way I know it stopped you.

But, but did you think, you couldn’t love someone who

Which would be, extraordinarily hypocritical of you, not to mention

I know you still think about it and I know how much it

I paid my price for what I did, Lemony, and so did you, and I didn’t

Is that how it works? Is that what happens? Is this what else I have to give up, for some shred of nobility, is my life going to be one mistake after another because I followed an order and I though they were right enough? Not even right, right enough, how stupid—is everything that happens to me going to be because of that? Am I losing you because it’s what I deserve?

Don’t I deserve good things? Don’t I still deserve happiness, and stability, and love, and a family, and all those things I worked so hard for? Because nobility wasn’t the end of it for me, this was what we wanted, something better, something for us, something we deserved, and this can’t be it, this can’t be the only thing we get for all of that, there has to be something else! And if I lose everyone close to me because of this organization Lemony I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind like this

--------

I think of you out there, alone, and probably cold because you never bring a damn jacket with you anywhere. It’s summer but I’m imagining you as being cold, but I think that’s just because it’s sort of what you do when anyone thinks of someone as being anywhere alone.

Or, I’m just—I’m thinking of you out there, alone, for sure. I’m doing that. I’m thinking. About you. Alone.

I’m

thinking.

I think of you. Out there. Letting Jacques know, letting Olivia know, because you had to know who was working the telegram, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent it, I think of you going out of your way to tell your brother and not me and Bertrand and maybe you thought they’d tell me anyway but I had to pull teeth to get it from Jacques and if it had been anyone else! No one but Olivia would have said! You got lucky! But not enough! Because you still didn’t tell us! You went out of your way to not!! You! I think of you! Doing that instead of having the nerve! The decency! To tell us first! You!

How could you

-------

I think of you, out there—hiding in the middle of nowhere with only the occasional newspaper for company, which, let me tell you, Lemony, is a very frustrating existence. You know what? I keep wanting to hope that you are dead because somehow that would make this easier, I can be angry at a dead man. But I can be angry at anyone, can’t I. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. I can be angry.

I want to hope that you never sleep comfortably again. I want to hope that every sea is too uneven and every desert is too hot and every mountain is too cold and everywhere you go it’s too much. I want to hope that you try and come back and see how good and happy Bertrand and I are without you and you have to realize, you really did mess up. I want to hope that your boat goes down in the middle of the ocean and I know for sure! I want to think that you’ll be so miserable without us and it’ll never have been worth it!!

You’re out there, without us. Without me.

I hope it was worth it.

-------

What am I going to do?

I’m not picking. It’s not—I’m not capable of that, picking between you two, and I know you both had this ridiculous fear that I was going to, but I wasn’t, and I’m still not. I am selfish and clingy and I know what I want and I love what I have, and I love both of you and Bertrand loves both of us and I was ready to stake my life on the fact that you loved both of us too.

And I hate that I have to say it! Because I do! Apparently I do have to, Lemony! If it comes down to, who would I rather do this with, who would I raise a family with, who would I trust more than anything, and you made me make this choice, I’m sorry it can’t be the man who ran away from me! And part of me keeps thinking I’m not even me for saying that, I’m not, I’m not the Beatrice that was going to tear a room apart with her bare hands to get what she wanted, who would scale walls and climb buildings and shoot a gun and could ski and fence by fourteen, I’m not, taking risks, I’m not doing whatever I have to, and that everyone who told me Bertrand was boring (because there were people!!!) and safe and uncomplicated was right and that I’m betraying some fundamental aspect of myself by not even trying, and that I’m hurting Bertrand especially for making him a damn pawn in what I think my life is

But it’s not like I never did! It’s not like I didn’t spend years and years of my life trying to be a good person, trying to create the life I wanted, all of this is me, every ugly thought and every bad decision and every unfinished book and every theater script I keep leaving around places and every single page of this as I try to figure out where I want to go from here! And it just comes back to one thing, Lemony, just one thing! That we can’t do this! That I can’t have you in my life like this! That I didn’t believe it would happen but here it is, it’s happening!! I can’t avoid it! You walked away from me and expected me to be okay with it! You expected me to wait! You expected me to do it! You expected EVERYTHING from me and I only have so much to give, I’m only so much, I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING

And do you know what I am? Do you know what I am, really, when I get right down to it?? I am this, this awful woman with blood on my hands asking you for something that even I could never give anybody, not you or Bertrand or myself and I’m so sick of everything, I’m so sick of myself, I hate everyone and myself most of all, for being like this, for turning into this person, I hate hate hate hate hate all of this and how we were raised and what our future is going to be and what I’ve done and what is it going to take, for things to be better, for me to be better, for—what is it going to take, Lemony, for you to walk back through that door again and not do it over and over and over and I can’t keep letting you do this, I can’t, not to me or to Bertrand, I can’t keep hoping you’ll be there when I wake up and I can’t keep dreaming we’re going to die and I can’t keep pretending that anything about us has ever been okay or ever will be okay! Nothing about this is okay and how am I only realizing it now? How long have we been fooling ourselves into thinking that we could do this? How long do I have to be kind about this? How long do I have to play nice about you and this?

I’m UPSET and I’m ALLOWED TO BE and I

don’t

know

can

forgive

you

I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I can look at you anymore.

I don’t know.

Do you know how it was, Lemony? It was us first. You and me. From the second we saw each other in that green-walled room, it was you and me. Lemony and Beatrice. Root beer floats and being purposely mysterious to each other when we talked and being too clever. And I thought that meant we could do anything. We could die and I’d be happy because I was with you. As long as I had you.

And then there was Bertrand. And life felt different. Bertrand made it different, Bertrand made life different, he made it worth something else. And the bond that you and I had? Irreplaceable. And what we created with him only made it better. We had room in what we had for something so good. It really was Bertrand. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for him. And I saw that in you, too. You thought it too.

That was when I worried. When I started dreaming about terrible things happening to us. To you. I kept running from it because I didn’t know what else to do. I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose.

I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared to be wrong. I’m scared to know anything else.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t think you are.

I’m not sorry.

-------

Here are some questions. Here are some facts. Here are some things.

1 – I’m tired.

2 – I can’t even wonder if we should have done things differently anymore, right after that moment we met. In that room, I never imagined any of this.

3 – Sometimes I do think you lied all along. And that’s not a reflection on our associates or anything but just, see question/statement 1.

4 – You had to have thought about what would happen.

5 – How could we have a family like this?

6 – Did you think you could run all your life? Did you think that would work out? That Bertrand and I would be satisfied with that?

7 – Did you want me like that?

8 – What am I supposed to do?

9 – How long did you think we could keep this up?

10 – Was I wrong?

11 – What did you want?

12 – I know you’d thought about what a family with us would look like and I didn’t think you’d let anything stand in the way of that and maybe that was where I was naive.

13 – What would you say if I asked you this in person?

-------

After all this, I—

Bertrand has asked me if I have any spare pens.

-------

Lemony—

A long time ago, I sat in the diner near your apartment. We’d all known each other for a while, and you and Bea were very much together, and I didn’t quite feel like a third wheel anymore but I also didn’t feel like I was a part of everything yet. We were still dancing around each other, and I was doing it truly, incredibly badly.

I was in the habit of meeting Jo on weekends, when we would go over our reports together because we worked in similar places. We’d meet in the diner. I would arrive early and take a seat near the door. It had the best view of your window. You never turned the lights on, but I would look at it and think about you and—I’m completely serious—write the worst poetry ever to exist. You and Bea have always been much better at it. Jo would take it upon herself to help and suddenly they were these grammar-specific poems, which meant I definitely was not going to send them. Jo is many things; Jo is just not particularly a writer of romance.

I never told you or Bea, because it didn’t seem noteworthy, once we were together. But, things happen in your life and you wish you’d been able to say so much more than you did. I wanted to tell you about the face Bea makes when you aren’t there. She bites her lip and frowns around the kitchen when there’s a lull in the conversation in the spots you would usually say something clever. I wanted to tell you how the bed doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t in it. Bea says the wrinkles don’t set the same, and I feel like it’s emptier without you. I wanted to tell you that the hottest summer days—and I feel like there have been an endless amount of them so far this summer, humid and muggy and not the least bit sultry—even they feel cold when we can’t see you. I wanted to tell you that every time I do the laundry, I remember how you can’t fold socks. I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped folding socks altogether, which has become quite the problem. Bea and I have stacks of socks in the bedroom now, which is just silly. I wanted to tell you that I love watching you put your hat by the door when you come home, resting it on the table as gently as possible, giving such a small gesture has such a big importance.

I took those things for granted. So much of my life, I’ve thought that loving things so fiercely and so determinedly could be enough, and I’ve relied on that love to get me through what we had to do. Even when the three of us weren’t together, I think I would’ve been happy to stay that way, because I could still love both of you regardless, and just that would’ve been enough. Just to be able to love you, and have your companionship. I would have cherished that always.

I’m the one who’s been so lucky, Lemony. When we all got together, I felt like my life began. I felt like you and Bea pulled me along into something beautiful and breathtaking and nothing would ever compare. I felt like it would always be there, for the rest of my life.

And I’m—

I don’t hate you. I could never. You need to know, that no matter what happens, I will never hate you. I can’t promise to not be upset with you, because I am, and a little angry, and a little disappointed, and a lot sad. But I don’t hate you.

You and Bea have such beautiful ways to say things, and I’ve always been so jealous of the way you two write. You told me that both of you were jealous of my tendency to be a little more forthright, at least when I got down to it, because let’s not forget, I did spend two months coming up with nicknames for all of us instead of just telling you how much you meant to me. But I don’t have lengthy or passionate ways to say certain things, is what it is. Actions, definitely. But when I have to say it, it comes out.

I love you.

And I wish you were here.

I never wanted to think about it, I guess. I’ve done a very good job of not thinking of things I didn’t want to think about. We do difficult things and live difficult lives. It takes its toll, and I’ve watched it happen. I thought if I held on tight enough—to you, to Bea, to myself—that we could escape some of it, no matter what we’ve done. And we’ve done a lot. We’ve been kept up in turn by sleepless nights and bad dreams and wondering too much. We’re not going to leave—not for good, and each of us know that—but it could be more manageable, together. We would figure it out, when we needed to. Perhaps I was a bit too optimistic about how well I could do it.

I hate to think it was something we did, or something we didn’t see. I hate to think that you gave up on yourself or on us. I hate to think I didn’t do enough. I know it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault. I know Bea keeps telling me I’m too kind for my own good, and I think it’s because I’m afraid to really feel anything. Feeling it makes it too real, something I have to actually contend with, and I don’t want to. I really don’t.

I want to say—I don’t want to tell you, I just want to say it—that I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been, and I don’t feel like I belong here without you, and that I think, you didn’t want to do it, but you knew what you were doing, and you did it because some things just sound easier, or hurt more but hurt less than others, and that I despise the people that we’ve become. I despise the things that we’ve been made into, and I don’t know how much of it we did to ourselves. I don’t know how much I can change.

I won’t lie, Lemony, because I’ve never been much of a liar. It’s been hard without you. Bea and I haven’t been talking very much, and we get into arguments when we do. We’ve been avoiding each other. It’s hard to avoid someone you live with, for a lot of reasons. But we’ve been managing to do it. I’ve been hiding at the Denouement. Absolutely, definitely hiding. Dewey’s not pleased but he doesn’t say no to the help organizing the archives. Bea’s been going to the theater, even though she’s technically off-duty for the next seven months (it was self-imposed off-duty, which I’ll admit was surprising). When we do talk to each other, Bea has a tendency to raise her voice, which I don’t mind, necessarily, because I understand why she keeps doing it. I have a tendency of late to do the same, which I’m not proud of. Taking it out on each other isn’t good or responsible of us, but it’s where we are right now. It is a miserable place to be.

Bea assumes I’m upset with her, but I’m not. I’m upset with myself, mostly. I keep thinking that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t here, that I made things worse. If you and Bea had just gone on by yourselves, maybe there would be so much less unhappiness. Maybe I was what made it hard for you to stay. Maybe I pressured you, maybe I pressured myself. Maybe this is my lot in life. They’re awful things to think, but I’m thinking them. That’s what people do, when upsetting things happen. We try to figure out where we went wrong. We don’t come up with any answers, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, which we do enough of too. I know eventually we’ll stop hurting each other, Bea and I. It just feels a long way away right now. A lot of things feel that way. You, myself, my friends, anything I thought I knew or had.

I’m being very unkind, to myself. That’s not your fault. It’s just something I’m realizing now. I’ve spent a lot of my life being unkind to myself. I don’t know how not to be. There are many things I don’t believe that I deserve, a sentiment I know you understand. It’s hard to feel like we deserve anything, even what we love. The more I think about it, the more I think, maybe that was why. And that breaks my heart and scares me so much, Lemony, that we—you—are capable of feeling such sadness.

Honestly, part of me wants to keep waiting. The part of me that is a fairly patient person is probably willing to do so. But the other part of me that is less patient and a husband to both of you is the part that hurts, and the part that reminds me that I am allowed to say that there is only so much I can take. I want you here more than anything, but I know for sure none of this is ever going to be that simple again.

But going forward from this, I want to feel like I deserve things. There’s only so much time I can spend regretting, or hating myself, or wishing that I had done something different. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that, and I think I still will be, for a while. I think I’m going to keep thinking miserable things for some time to come. But on the other side of that is something else. Not necessarily a happiness, or a satisfaction, but a certain kind of existence. Or, I guess, a kindness.

I love you very much, Lemony, and I can’t imagine doing this without you. I still don’t want to.

But if you have to—Bea and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here. I can’t promise in what way, but we’ll be here, if or when or anything at all. I hope you can meet us in that something else one day.

Until then, with all my love,

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

to give your heart a song to sing,

and then a kiss, but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July, a lemonade

to cool you in some leafy glade,

I wish you health,

and more than wealth,

I wish you love.

My breaking heart and I agree

that you and I could never be,

so with my best,

my very best,

I set you free.

I wish you shelter from the storm,

a cozy fire to keep you warm,

but most of all,

when snowflakes fall,

I wish you love.

Bertrand

face the sun

in the night,

find it in the night

in the pieces,

dig for it,

dig it out with my hands alone.

yes.

what I left –

fragments,

every last eye,

unwelcome.

piling it back in.

new sunlight.

-------

So—the sad truth is that the truth is sad. The real truth is that I never wanted to believe you were right about that. I thought I could get by on good looks and sheer force and well-hidden optimism and believing I was right. I was wrong. We were all wrong, some of us more wrong than others.

Where you went wrong is thinking that we—that I—would be okay with this. And that was where I went wrong too, I admit. The blame could be with all of us.

What I do know is that we can’t be together like this. Not like this. This is where it ends.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t know what Bertrand and I will do. And the two of us—Bertrand and I—can figure that out. In whatever way that is. Whatever you’re doing, I leave you to it.

You will—always, always, always—be (somewhere) in my mind, and (deep) in my heart, and wherever (wherever.) (parenthetical required.) you are. Be it a boat, or a cave, or the city, or a grave, true or false. That’s the way you want it. That’s the way I will accept it. Good luck.

Beatrice

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #426

“insatiable furnace, burning up our surplus / watching all essential life become another servant”

Are you a brunette? Yep. It is way past due time that I get it dyed... What is your favorite channel on TV? I don't really watch TV, but if I did, I'm pretty sure it'd probably be Discovery. Have you ever been to Chicago, IL? Yes!! It's my only experience with a truly BIG city, and though I'm not a city person, the experience was pretty magical. It was something I wasn't even remotely used to. Just so much life and business and energy to feel there. Who was your first friend? Brianna. She was the sister of my older sister's best friend. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas. :') Do you regret your last kiss? Nope. Have you ever taken a karate class? No. Who was the last person to tell you ‘I love you’? My mom. Have you ever been to the Statue of Liberty? No. Do you live on your own? Noooo. I don't think I ever could. I would have to stay VERY busy, or else the loneliness would kill me. Hell, even if I was very active in stuff, I still don't know if I could. With how bad my depression is capable of being, it doesn't sound smart at all for me to move out unless it was with somebody. Are your the oldest child? No, I'm the middle kid. How many X-rays have you had in the last 2 years? Two, maybe? One for my legs and the other for my teeth. Are you on good terms with your last ex? Yeah, we're best friends. Do you have scars you don’t like to talk about? Nah. Do you freak out if a bee/wasp flies near you? ... yes lol. What subjects in history interest you most? The Holocaust. It's just so... shocking and extreme that it's oddly fascinating, but of course horribly sad. Are you superstitious in any way? Nah. How do you get rid of anxiety? Do what? Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? Yeah, my two rings, my lip piercing, and tragus piercing. Has a song ever made you cry before? There are many. ^If so, what about it brought you to tears? Again, I said "many," so this would be a horribly long list. There are four though - "Eternally Yours" and "Another Life" by Motionless in White, "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin, and "The Mortician's Daughter" by Black Veil Brides - that I really, really try to avoid, because I WILL cry. They're all associated with Jason for one reason or another. "Stairway to Heaven," especially, is absolutely forbidden for me to listen to. Would you consider yourself open-minded? Very, honestly. Have you ever met someone online that you wanted to meet in real life? I've met Sara! :') There are a handful of others I'd love to meet, too. Tell me about the last thing that made you laugh until it hurt. Wow, I have no idea. I don't remember the last time I laughed THAT hard. When you graduate, what color will your gown be? Ugh, it was this insufferable red. We got to vote on it, and I really wanted navy instead, as it looks more formal and not as obnoxious to me, but red won. Do you own a gun? No. My household legally can't because of my suicidal history. What color of shirt are you wearing? It's a black tank top. Do you use any acne medication? Nah, I don't really get acne anymore. Are you emotional or very stoic? I'm emotional as shit. Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? A few. There's Fullmetal Alchemist (as well as the Brotherhood expansion), Deadman Wonderland, and Ginga Densetsu Weed. I've seen bits of others. Which baby animal is your favorite? MEERKATS!!!!!! :') Once they reach three/four weeks, they're fucking precious. I also really like kittens. Do you like jam on your toast and biscuits? Sometimes. Have you ever reread a book? It is very, VERY rare I do this. The only cases I remember are for Because of Winn-Dixie and Meerkat Manor: Flower of the Kalahari. Do you have any religious symbols in your home? I think Mom has some religious quotes on the walls? What religion do you identify with, if any? None. What is you favorite flavor of pudding and/or yogurt? I love chocolate pudding, but I'm not very big on yogurt because of the sourness. I can sometimes eat a cookies 'n cream one, but occasionally I'm like "ew." We’re going to the best amusement park ever, first ride you choose is? One of those water rides where you go down a big slope. Did you have intense night terrors as a child? No. Know anybody who works in a tattoo parlor? No. That'd be dope. Have you ever had a piercing get infected? Ugh, yes. Worst was the first time I got my tongue pierced. It was early into infection though, thank God; I ended up having to take it out and get it re-pierced later. Have you ever shoplifted? No. Do you hate when people say, "Everything’s going to be fine,“ when it’s not? Sometimes. It can feel kinda dismissive of your extreme situation, and sometimes, things simply won't be okay. Like, you can't tell that to someone on their death bed. Do you check your fire alarms when you’re supposed to? No, oops. Are you a shorts-wearing kind of person? Absolutely not. Nobody wants to see my legs, not even me. Is your grandparents’ house obsessively tidy? My grandma's sure as hell was. She was very old-fashioned and "proper" and took cleanliness and manners very seriously. Do you know how to jumpstart a car? Nope. Would you date someone 8 years older than you? Probably. What did you do today? I WENT TO THE GYM AND DID A FULL HOUR OF EXERCISE!!!!! :') For once I am SO fucking proud of myself. I left drenched in sweat, but I also left with a feeling of great accomplishment. I'm going to be going twice a week now with a personal trainer. (: Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Sara. Have you ever punched a hole in the wall? No. People doing that shit terrifies me. Have you ever felt replaced? Sure have. Have you ever kissed someone who was high? No. If you caught your significant other cheating on you what would you do? I don't have a partner, but hypothetically, leave their ass in a blink. I don't fuck with those kind of people. Do you know who Jeffree Star is? Well, yes. I watch him on YT sometimes and (astonishingly) love his music, and I find his work ethic extremely inspiring. That man knows how to hustle. What’s your favourite alcoholic beverage? Probably sangrias. When was the last time you saw a photo of your ex? "The" ex, it's been years. I've removed all pictures I have of him, irl and digitally, because it's triggering for me. How many push-ups can you do? Probably zero. Do you play any games on your phone? There's Pokemon GO, DragonVale, and Dragons of Atlantis that I play semi-regularly. Have you ever received a compliment from a stranger? Yes. Have you ever shaved your face? Just my upper lip to avoid the lady stache, ha ha. What colour is your front door? It’s white. Do you take the stairs or the elevator? If an elevator is available, I will ALWAYS use that. I have an extreeeemely hard time getting up stairs because of having just about no leg muscle. Do you get motion sickness? No. When was the last time you went to your favourite restaurant? Oh man, it's been forever. :/ Olive Garden sounds soooo good right now. Do either of your parents have any tattoos or piercings? No. Well, Mom has her earlobes pierced once, but that's it. Are you desperate for anyone’s approval, in particular? It's funny, even though he hasn't been a part of my life for years, I still desperately crave what I think would make Jason proud. There have been many times where my mind has wondered to what he would think of me now... and I know it's not good. Are there any activities you enjoy doing, but can only do for a short amount of time before you get bored or tired of them? Reading. When was the last time you felt hopeful, and why? Today, after finishing my workout at the gym. I think, finally, that I may be taking another stride forward in life. Do you find yourself asking for the same things for your birthdays and for holidays? Ha, yup: a new tattoo, 100%. What is something someone recommended to you that you disliked/hated? Girt's recommended some music to me before. He loves sharing songs he likes with me. Of course I didn't tell him it sucked, ha ha. What’s a fact about the last person you kissed? She is very passionate about animals, reptiles in particular, and is simply amazing with them. If you had a child, would you rather have a girl or a boy? A girl for sure. Has anybody ever accused you of doing drugs? No. Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Honestly, do you think that you will wanna settle down in the same town you’re currently residing in? HELL no. I hate this place. Does anyone call you darling? If so who? Sara does sometimes. Are you close to any of your cousins? No. Are you a romantic person? I think I am. What’s the coolest thing you’ve seen out the window of an airplane? Mountains. Have you ever been in the mountains when the moon and stars were up? NO BUT FUCK I WANT THAT. Just lay in a grassy spot with some s'mores or something and just ~vibe~. Do people like your hair? I get complimented on it a bit. Have you ever held birdseed and a bird came and ate out of your hand? Yeah, at a bird sanctuary. Could you ever live in Alaska? Hell yeah, I'd enjoy that. On the main page on YouTube, what’re the three recommended videos? There's one by a WoW gold maker, a song by 3TEETH, and a video of bullsnakes hatching. Do you really care how many friends you or anyone else has on Myspace/Facebook? Couldn't care less. I only "friend" people I know and care about. Does your significant other have any piercings? I'm single. Do you ever get bored of yourself? Oh, all the time. I feel like I'm extremely dull and plain and, well, boring. How many band shirts do you own? Which? Oh goodness, I have no idea. I own a lot. Do you go to shows mostly for the music, the moshing, or the merchandise? I go for the music. It's nice to buy merch, but it's SO expensive that it's dumb. Moshing, I think is just stupid. Have you ever had anything pierced that you don’t have now? Many places, actually. So many holes closed because piercings had to be taken out when I was in the psych hospital. I was so annoyed. Who were you with the first time you watched the last movie you watched? I was alone. Do you have any twins/multiples in your family? Are they identical or fraternal? No. What is the highest number of jobs you’ve had at one time? One. Is your mom a good mom? She is the actual best. Last thing you threw in the garbage? The crust of some leftover pizza I had this morning. I generally eat the crust, but this time it was WAY too hard.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''altaer" by 3teeth

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thingwithfeathers · 3 years ago

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tag 9 people to learn more about their interests

tagged by: @enniomorricone :)

MUSIC

fave genre? indie/alternative rock, and pop but not really current pop more like 80s/90s.

fave artist? bastille, twenty one pilots, fleetwood mac, the clash, the smiths, abba, probably a lot more i can’t think of right now.

fave song? my joint favourite songs are ‘with or without you — u2′ and ‘landslide — fleetwood mac’

most listened song recently? 'song for zula — phosphorescent’ it’s become one of my favoure songs ever.

song currently stuck in your head? any abba song because i was listening to them a lot earlier.

5 fave lyrics?

“It’s a hell of a long way to fall just to learn to get up” — the mess, the naked and famous.

“But now it’s just another show / and you leave them laughing when you go / and if you care, don’t let them know / don’t give yourself away / i’ve looked at love from both sides now / from give and take and still somehow / it’s loves illusions that i recall / i really don’t know love at all.” — both sides now, joni mitchell (this entire song though! really hard to choose lyrically because it’s a masterpiece).

“See, honey, i saw love / you see it came to me / it put it’s face up to my face so i could see / yeah then i saw love, disfugure me / into something i am not recognising / see the cage, it called, i said come on in / i will not open myself up this way again / but my heart is wild and my bones are steel / and i could kill you with my bare hands if i was free.” — song for zula, phosphorescent.

"Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? / can the child within my heart rise above? / can i sail through the changing ocean tides? / can i handle the seasons of my life? / well, i’ve been afraid of changing / ‘cause i’ve built my life around you / but time makes you bolder / even children get older / and i’m getting older too.” — landslide, fleetwood mac.

“And then you put your hand in mine / and pulled me back from things divine / stop looking up for heaven / waiting to be buried / and all their words for glory / they always sounded empty / when we’re looking up for heaven.” — bastille, glory.

BOOKS

fav book genre? just fiction in general. i’ve kind of grown out of young adult so i don’t really read a lot of that, and have been reading classics lately. just any books that make you really think and are written so beautifully that you can highlight quote after quote. i’ve also been reading a lot of non fiction spiritual books lately.

fav writer? recently, taylor jenkins reid. i’ve read two of her books and they’re incredibly gripping. love the simplicity and warmth of benjamin alire saenz as well, the care that ari & dante was written with. and also emily dickinson, especially her letters in particular to susan are just gorgeous.

fav book? aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe, wuthering heights, little women, a little life, and recently the seven husbands of evelyn hugo.

fav book series? i don’t really read book series, so the only thing coming to mind is harry potter which i only read for the first time about five years ago now.

comfort book? little women and aristotle & dante.

perfect book to read on a rainy day? any easy read, probably several i listed above.

fave characters? aristotle & dante, jo & beth march (little women), mina murray (dracula).

5 quotes from your fave books that you know by heart?

“You teach me now how cruel you’ve been — cruel and false. why did you despise me? why did you betray your own heart, cathy? i have not one word of comfort. you deserve this. you have killed yourself. yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they’ll blight you — they’ll damn you. you loved me — what right had you to leave me? what right — answer me — for the poor fancy you felt for linton? because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that god or satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. i have not broken your heart — you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. so much the worse for me that i am strong. do i want to live? what kind of living will it be when you — oh god! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?” — wuthering heights, emily bronte (i could choose so many from this book but this is the most underrated one in my opinion and deserves more recognition).

“I will love you forever, whatever happens. ‘til i die and after i die, and when i find my way out of the land of the dead i’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, ‘till i find you again. i’ll be looking for you, will, every moment, evert single moment. and when we do find each other again we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. every atom of me and every atom of you... we’ll live in the birds and the flowers, and the dragonflies and pine trees, and in the clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams... and when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight...” — his dark materials (amber spyglass), philip pullman. (don’t talk to me, this quote makes me actually ache)

“I wanted to tell them that i’d never had a friend, not ever, not a real one. until dante. i wanted to tell them that i never knew that people like dante existed in the world, people who looked at the stars, and knew the mysteries of water, and knew enough to know that birds belonged to the heavens and weren’t meant to be shot down from their graceful flights by mean and stupid boys. i wanted to tell them that he had changed my life and that i would never be the same, not ever. and that somehow it felt like it was dante who had saved my life and not the other way around. i wanted to tell them that he was the first human being aside from my mother who had ever made me want to talk about the things that scared me. i wanted to tell them so many things and yet i didn’t have the words. so, i just stupidly repeated myself, “dante’s my friend.”” — aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe, benjamin alire saenz.

“There are many beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.”— little women, louisa may alcott.

“And so i try to be kind to everything i see and in everything i see, i see him.”— a little life, hanya yanagihara.

hardcover or paperback (paperback for general reading and hardback for special editions!) | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature (i love nature and want to be able to read outside but i cannot be in nature without being hypervigilent of bugs so wouldn’t be able to concentrate) | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending (i also used to read the last line of a book first for a long time but i started to piss myself off when it wasn’t vague enough) | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS | judging by the covers or by the summary (i can’t help it, i love pretty covers) | rereading or reading just once.

TV AND MOVIES

fave tv/movie genre? disaster/post apocalyptic, drama, sci-fi, documentary, occasional fantasy. i’m pretty on board with most things, other than horror but even that has some exceptions.

fave movie? titanic, shaun of the dead, little women (1994), eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, wuthering heights (2009 tv movie), portrait of a lady on fire, practical magic, the greatest showman, finding nemo, the grinch (2000).

comfort movie? finding nemo, little women (1994), shaun of the dead, all my favourite christmas movies which are too many to list.

fave tv show? friends, charmed, golden girls, gilmore girls, the walking dead, new girl. currently: 911.

most rewatched tv show? friends. i watch it almost every day and it would be impossible for me to count just how many times i’ve watched it from start to finish.

5 fave characters? all the friends on friends, piper halliwell (charmed), tara chambler (twd), glenn rhee (twd), maddie buckley (911).

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging (i’m conflicted because i miss the event of catching a show every week but at the same time once you binge watch you can’t go back) | one season or multiple seasons (but shows need to know when to stop) | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes (depends on my mood) | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once.

tagging: @bettyhofstadtdraper / @kubrickking / @koningen / @urispatty / @marmaladepotion / @mixye + anyone else that wants to do this, feel free to tag me to read :) !

#thank you for tagging me in this! it was really fun #i enjoyed reading your answers as well #:) <3 #enniomorricone #;

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myaekingheart · 4 years ago

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142. The Nightmare at Ressha Junction

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

Not so much a TW as just a general CW for attempted kidnapping and some violence/combat.

Rei was, admittedly, not a fan of vacations. Traveling itself was a chore and there was truly nothing enjoyable about leaving the comfort of her own home—especially in her current state. The prospect of Kakashi’s top-secret trip had left her skeptical at best, but he seemed so enthusiastic about it and she didn’t want to disappoint him. After all, he did have a point: creating distance between themselves and their everyday lives would allow them the time and space to sort through their chaos and ultimately recharge. She knew she would just have to trust him.

If only trusting him was easier.

Kakashi had been adamant about keeping his plans a secret, even in spite of the additional stress it was causing Rei. Have faith in him, she told herself. After all, Kakashi knew her better than anyone else. If he was confident in what he was plotting, she had to trust that. As optimistic as she had tried to remain, however, standing now on the platform at Ressha Junction left a sour, anxious taste in her mouth.

Ressha Junction was the only train station within a five mile radius that actually ventured beyond Konoha’s outskirts. The halfway town was renowned for it’s high crime rates and dizzying state of disrepair. Rumor had it that many rogue shinobi set up camp within the abandoned apartment complexes littering the town, fighting for dominance and killing anyone who got in their way. This made traveling particularly dangerous, so much so that Lady Tsunade had deemed the area a no-go zone once upon a time. Evidently, that meant nothing now.

Paint chipped off the exterior of the ticket office, the inside of which was deadly hot. Rei fanned herself liberally as she trudged toward the counter behind Kakashi and hoped that she would not pass out. A small child wailed behind them, an old man teetered on his heels in front. All the while, somewhere, a pair of phantom eyes bore holes into her back—supervised.

“Can you please tell me where we’re going now?” Rei whispered, nudging Kakashi on the arm. She held her luggage close as if at any moment, a bandit would leap out of the shadows and try to mug her.

“Just wait a little bit longer” Kakashi whispered with a masked smirk. “I’ll tell you once we get our tickets.”

While that wasn’t the answer that Rei was hoping for, at least it was something. She could stand to wait a few more minutes. As they shuffled forward, Rei clung to Kakashi and surveyed the station. She had only been to Ressha Junction a handful of times previous, most of which involved helping her father pick up new shipments for the store. They never stayed long enough for the reality of the place to really sink in, nor was it ever as bad then as it seemed now. Rei remained constantly aware of the kunai tucked safely away in her bag, of her exposed skin and the wandering eyes of strange men in the distance. Men who appeared ready and willing to hurt her if given the chance. A shiver ran down her spine and she pressed her free hand firmly to her stomach.

She shouldn’t have been so scared. She was an ANBU captain, for heaven’s sake. She had proven herself capable and strong and skilled. This baby, however, changed everything. She was carrying precious cargo and therefore there was a limit to what she was not only able to do but allowed to do. In the back of her mind, all she saw was that poster in the doctor’s office, the threatening skull and crossbones signifying that her rank was a danger to their child. That she was a danger. If anything was to happen to her now, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. Not anymore. Not like she used to. The reality of these new circumstances seemed to somehow sap her of her capabilities. She was vulnerable now, helpless. She tightened her grip on Kakashi’s forearm and prayed that they would stay safe.

And then they finally reached the ticket counter. Kakashi did all of the talking, polite and accommodating as usual. The man behind the counter was senile and crabby but when faced with the young couple, he managed to appear lighter somehow. The slightest smile flickered across his face when he noticed Rei’s hand pressed to her stomach. The suddenness of being known sent a shock wave through her veins, but the man was luckily not unkind. Rather, he murmured a quiet congratulations and sent them on their way.

“I take it you want me to tell you where we’re going now” Kakashi said as they stood on the platform. The train would arrive any minute.

“That would be ideal, yeah” Rei replied. She brushed her bangs out of her face and leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the train barrelling down the tracks.

Kakashi handed her her ticket and tried to fight the smile creeping across his masked lips. Rei took it gingerly, squinting at the smeared typography. Once she recognized the destination name, however, a look of delighted shock spread across her face. Shizukana Springs.

Shizukana Springs were roughly two hours away from Konoha, known for their healing hot springs, beautiful foliage, and quiet rurality. It was the Land of Fire’s hidden gem, the kind of place that only true locals knew about and cherished deeply. To transform Shizukana into a tourist trap would be to betray the well-deserved respite of the entire land’s citizens, especially the shinobi. After all, they deserved something exclusively for themselves, didn’t they?

Rei clapped a hand over her mouth as tears brimmed at her eyes. She didn’t expect to be so emotionally taken, but perhaps she had been more stressed than she thought. The pregnancy hormones certainly did not help her case. “K-Kakashi, how did you…?” she whispered.

“I have my ways” Kakashi smiled. Without another moment of hesitation, Rei whipped around to embrace him in a tight, desperate hug.

“Thank you, Kakashi” she whispered into his chest. “It’s perfect.”

Kakashi ran his fingers through her hair, kissed her forehead sweetly through his mask. “I’m glad” he whispered back. “I hoped it would be.”

The train slowed to a screeching halt then and the old man from behind the counter came to open the doors. Ressha Junction was primarily a cargo stop now, so their single passenger train was extremely old and outdated. Rei swallowed back her concern about travelling in something so questionable and focused instead on the antique charm. Kakashi helped her up into the car and, with a hand on her shoulder, guided her toward their seats.

The seats themselves were hard and small but Kakashi and Rei were able to claim a spot right by the window. Lining the top perimeter of the car was a long yellow cord, dingy with years of use—the emergency brake. Fortunately, it’s presence, though obstructing a portion of the window, did not take away from the view. And perhaps the only appeal to Ressha Junction at all was the view. Beyond the station, there was nothing but rolling fields leading to large, snow-capped peaks in the distance. From where they settled on the train, they had a perfect view of the landscape. Rei drew her bag up into her lap and stared out across the vast expanse with captivated awe. It was truly beautiful. The sight of it only further cemented in the pit of her chest the feeling that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Maybe their trip would amount to something good, and all of her worries were unfounded. The promise of something wonderful.

Shizukana Springs was the very last stop on the line, so Kakashi and Rei knew they would be on the train for quite a while. They got comfortable as the train began to crawl forward, with Rei snuggling up close with a comfy travel pillow and her copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. She figured if she was going to have plenty of free time, she might as well study. Kakashi, likewise, had packed multiple books including Icha Icha but this time, he reached instead for another pregnancy manual. A soft smile touched his lips as he caught Rei’s surprised gaze, explaining, “I might as well get an education, too, shouldn’t I?”

It made her almost even proud to see Kakashi taking the initiatitive to learn more about what was happening to her body. She knew there were some women who weren’t quite so lucky. A soft, satisfied smile touched her lips as she nestled close and propped her book open with her free hand. This was all that was important right now: this moment, sitting next to him, the countryside blurring past their window. The sleepy, somber solitude of their journey, the early morning and the silence and the closeness between two lovers. The way she settled her head on his shoulder, and how every so often his lips would brush against her forehead. All that mattered was him and her and the little life that they were creating. The promise of their future and a relaxing weekend alone.

Rei was unsure how much time had passed when she started to grow uncomfortable. Her butt numbed from the hard train seat and the words on the page began to blur until she couldn’t retain anything. She reread the same paragraph over and over again, then the same sentence, until finally she became stuck on a single word. She stared at it until it became foreign to her, until everything around her felt foreign, and a strange, disconnected sensation took root in her chest. She closed her book slowly, gazed out the window, and tried to steady her thoughts but all she could feel now was the pounding in her head and the mismatched depth perception in her eyes and the way her stomach seemed to flip inside out. Perhaps reading in a moving vehicle wasn’t such a smart move, after all.

Kakashi looked up from his book as Rei set her pillow aside and began squeezing her way out of the booth. “Are you okay?” he asked, setting down his copy of A Father’s Guide to Pregnancy and Parenting. The pallor of her face, the urgency in her movements, made him anxious.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom” Rei murmured.

Kakashi reached out and took her hand in his, halting her for only a second. There was a deep concern in his one exposed eye. “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you feel sick?” he asked. Perhaps his own studying had left him a little too paranoid, coupled with the fear of their trip causing her additional stress. He should have thought of this beforehand. He should have considered whether train travel was even suitable for a pregnant woman.

Rei squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance before breaking free of his grip, assuring him, “I’m fine.” The long aisle toward the back of the passenger car seemed to sway and warp as she rushed to the bathroom. And all the while, she couldn’t shake the unnerving feeing that she was being…watched.

She slammed the door shut and flicked the lock, pressing her back against the wall and attemping to steady her breathing. It didn’t help that the bathroom itself was so small, she could barely even stretch her arms out on either side of her body. But the size of the room was the least of her concerns. Something lurched in the pit of her stomach and she immediately fell to her knees, gripping the edge of the toilet seat. Rei squeezed her eyes shut tight, sucked in deep, desperate breaths, and prayed for just one weekend where she would not be deathly ill. Just a few days of relief. That was all she was asking for.

And then the nausea slowly subsided like the tide ebbing from the shore. Rei sighed in relief, slowly leaning back against the wall and running her hand through her long bangs. She pressed her opposite hand to her stomach, shook her head as she gazed down at her abdomen. “You’re really giving me a run for my money, huh?” she whispered. She knew deep down that the baby probably couldn’t hear her—did the baby even have ears yet? She didn’t know. And yet she felt compelled to acknowledge it anyway, as if it was aware of the world outside of the womb. A soft smile flickered on Rei’s face for only a moment then as she hoisted herself to her feet, splashed water on her face, and finally emerged.

She had thought, perhaps stupidly so, that once the nausea had subsided, then so too would the mounting paranoia. As she made her way cautiously down the aisle, however, that harrowing feeling of surveillance only seemed to grow stronger. Rei glanced around the cabin discretely, trying to discern the source of the feeling. Kakashi had delved back into his book, the other few passengers were all either asleep or occupied or distracted with the view. And then she saw it: a pair of big blue eyes staring at her over the back of a chair. Rei paused for a moment, the world seeming to suddenly move in slow motion, as the little girl poked her head up over the chair with a look of desperate hope. The man whose lap she was seated in quickly glared at Rei over his shoulder, then instructed the young girl to sit down with a sharp tug of her sleeve. Something in Rei’s chest faltered.

Kakashi could sense something different in her now as she sunk back down in her seat. She stared straight ahead, brows furrowed and lips taut. “What? What is it?” he asked.

“Hey, Kakashi…do you remember that fugitive that got put in the bingo book a few weeks ago? The one accused of serial kidnapping?” Rei asked slowly, quietly. She did not shift her gaze as she spoke, but rather wrung her hands together nervously.

Kakashi blinked, furrowing his brows. Now was really not the time to bring up work. They were supposed to be on vacation, weren’t they? “I think so. But I don’t really think that’s—” he started, but Rei immediately whipped a hand out to shush him.

“That doesn’t matter, Kakashi” she snapped.

Taken aback, Kakashi slowly lowered Rei’s sharp gestured hand and asked, “Why? What’s going on?”

Swallowing hard, Rei gripped Kakashi’s wrist tightly and whispered, “I think I just found him.” She shot her gaze toward the man in question, inviting Kakashi to look for himself. Then sucking in a shaky breath, she added, “And he’s got cargo.”

Immediately, Kakashi understood the situation at hand. He locked eyes for only a moment with the young girl in the fugitive’s lap, her body nearly trembling with fear at what was to become of her. His heart broke at the sight of her. Rei rested a hand on her stomach, thought of their baby, of danger, of responsibility. She and Kakashi locked eyes for only a moment and automatically, they both knew what needed to be done.

But these things needed to be handled delicately. There was no room for error. There was no room to be hasty and sloppy. Rei and Kakashi kept their hands in their laps, communicating discretely with the same sign language they had used together in the black ops. Anything to keep their plans a secret. All the while, that feeling of being watched only mounted.

The fugitive glanced back at them, sucking his teeth. The man beside him, his accomplice, growled in displeasure. “What do you suppose we should do?” the accomplice asked. He hugged a briefcase to his chest, his foot twitching at the edge of the aisle.

The fugitive smirked and rolled his shoulders, loosening himself up for the impending altercation. “There’s only one thing we can do” he replied. Then, without another moment of hesitation, he reached his arm up over his head and tugged hard on the emergency brake.

The train came to a screeching halt, luggage tumbling from overhead compartments and passengers stirred from their daze. “Fuck” Rei muttered under her breath. A jolt of adrenaline rushed through her veins, sending her hands trembling. She met Kakashi’s equally frantic gaze for only a moment, both knowing full well that things were about to get interesting.

With a chakra-infused fist, the fugitive punched out the window. Glass shattered across the passenger seat with a high-pitched crackle. Holding the little girl close, the man leapt to his feet and launched himself out of the train car.

“Don’t lose him!” Rei shouted, shoving Kakashi out of their seat. Her heart was racing and her body was vibrating with a familiar sense of urgency. For the first time in months, she was beginning to feel like herself again.

Kakashi gave a single nod as he crossed the car and followed the fugitive’s path out the window, fishing a chain from his back pouch and aiming for the legs so as to slow the man down. Meanwhile, Rei rushed to the car’s entrance and kicked down the door, skirting around from the other side. The chain whipped around the man’s legs, stinging his calves and sending him tumbling. The little girl shrieked and covered her eyes but rather than connect with the ground, she found herself instead in the arms of someone else: Rei.

“It’s alright, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you” Rei assured her. The fugitive glared up at her and growled, aiming a kunai for Rei’s head. She whipped her forearm up to shield her face and the child’s, not even caring if she got stabbed herself. The man’s aim was less than perfect, however, and the flat side of the blade deflected off her arm and fell to the ground. Rei smirked in triumph as Kakashi tightened the chains and shoved his knee between the man’s shoulder blades.

“Rei, run!” he insisted. “I’ll take care of him.” With a single nod, Rei skirted around the train car with the little girl in tow. She buried her face in the crook of Rei’s neck and began to sob, her hot tears dampening Rei’s shirt. Rei’s heart broke for this little girl, for the thought of everything she may have been through and everything they were saving her from.

Once she was sure they were safe, Rei knelt down and fished around her own back pouch for a lightning barrel—the ANBU had specific ones that released red flares like fireworks so that in times of utmost danger, the black ops could respond to their comrades in a timely manner. And this was certainly a job for the black ops. As Rei fished the flare from her pouch and straightened it in her grasp, however, the fugitive’s accomplice appeared before them with a vengeance. He gritted his teeth as he rushed forward and kicked the flare out of Rei’s hands, sending it tumbling down toward the edge of the forest. It slammed against a tree trunk and a few sparks spiralled up into the sky with a high-pitched hiss. The others lit the tree fiercely ablaze.

“You thought you could get away with this, huh, girl?” the accomplice laughed, reaching for Rei’s shirt collar. The little girl in Rei’s grasp whimpered and clung to Rei’s shirt. Before the man could take hold of her, Rei reached out to take his wrist with an iron grip, tugged him forward, and kneed him in the crotch. As he whined and slowly fell to his knees, Rei whipped around and elbowed him in the nose with a deafening crack. Blood pooled down his upper lip as his face turned pale.

Once he was effectively on the ground, Rei narrowed her eyes and fished a strong rope out from her back pouch. She kicked the man over onto his stomach, yelled profanities at him as she forced his hands to his back, and hog-tied him with one hand, all while still cradling the little girl at her hip. She knew keeping her close was a liability—she didn’t want to put her in harms way or limit her own capabilities by having one hand constantly occupied, but at the same time she refused to let her out of her sight. Not when there were criminals after her. Not when any single person in the area could be a third accomplice just waiting to swoop in and steal her away.

The man squirmed on the ground and screamed profanities back at Rei, his violent nature enough to spook the little girl into a new level of hysterics. Rei tightened her hold on the child and pursed her lips. Deep down, a strong, squealing hunger took root in the pit of her chest. She loomed over the man, her face dark and ominous, and cast a cold smile down upon him. “You’re so pathetic” she cooed, soft as a lullaby. Then, without another moment of hesitation, she kicked him hard on the side of his head, effectively knocking him out. “And that’s for extra security, you sick bastard” she growled. From the other side of the train, another flare of red sparks ignited into the sky—Kakashi.

The Konoha ANBU arrived moments later, rushing out of the woods at top speed. Rei held the little girl close and tried to calm her as Kakashi explained the circumstances. Even the train conductor listened in, completely oblivious to what all had just occurred on his vessel.

While Kakashi outlined the fight, the fugitives unconscious and piled atop one another at his feet, Rei settled into a shady spot beside the halted train with the little girl in her lap. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay now” she assured her, rubbing her back softly. Her little body heaved and trembled with the magnitude of her sobs, far greater than anyone so tiny should bear. The little girl rubbed her face against Rei’s shoulder, her snot smearing across the sleeve, and whimpered something incomprehensible. Even though Rei couldn’t understand her, that didn’t matter. “I know” she whispered, “but I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I promise.” She brushed the child’s mahogany hair out of her face, caught the glint of something tied around her neck in the sunlight. Rei carefully took it between her thumb and forefinger, a little tag, and read the name inscribed. Ran. A soft smile touched Rei’s lips as she tilted her head to better view the little girl’s face. “Ran. Is that your name?” she asked softly. Sniffling, the little girl nodded and slowly met Rei’s gaze. “I think that’s a very pretty name. Perfect for a brave little girl like you.” Ran sobbed through a bittersweet smile as she tightened her grip on Rei, so overwhelmed with the day’s events. All Rei could do was hold her close, cradling her in her lap and petting her long, dark hair in comfort.

And then, as the other ANBU hoisted the criminals over their shoulders for transport, another masked man approached. “We’ll take the kid” he said, voice gruff and cold. While Rei knew that was part of the job description, and she was sure she recognized the ANBU in question anyway, the blunt nature of his tone filled Rei with a newfound sense of defense. After all, this was a child. Could they not be a little more welcoming? What level of safety was a traumatized kid supposed to feel in the hands of someone so stoic? Rei glared up at the man, protective, as Ran burrowed deeper into Rei’s embrace.

“I-I don’t want to go” the little girl whispered. “Please don’t make me go with them.”

“It’s okay” Rei whispered, rubbing Ran’s shoulder in reassurance. “They’re not going to hurt you, I promise. They’re good guys.” Ran peeked up at the masked man and a shiver ran down her spine. He was so foreboding, so terrifying. His bird-beaked mask, with it’s hollowed eyes and sharp shadows, was the stuff of nightmares. Rei pursed her lips, sensing the ANBU’s growing impatience. If she was going to convince Ran to trust him, she would have to do something extraordinary.

“Ran, let me show you something” Rei said, shifting in her seat. She motioned for the ANBU to come nearer. He did so reluctantly. Rei reached out, took hold of his wrist, and shifted his arm to better view his tattoo. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the frustration of his required patience. If Rei hadn’t any sense of restraint left, she would slap him right across the face. Instead, she pointed to the swirling mark on his shoulder. “See that mark on his arm? That means he’s a super talented ninja. Isn’t that cool?” Ran nodded slowly, uncertainly. “And here’s something even cooler” Rei then said, shifting so as to roll her short sleeve up. She flashed her own ANBU tattoo, letting Ran reach out to trace the shape of it with her tiny finger. “See? I have the same one. We’re all part of the same group. You don’t have to be afraid. They’re going to take good care of you, Ran. I promise. I wouldn’t let them take you if I didn’t trust them, too. Do you understand?” Ran nodded slowly, but still hesitated to climb out of Rei’s lap. The ANBU dropped his shoulders and held out his hand for her, forcing a smile behind his mask even though he knew the little girl wouldn’t be able to see it. Perhaps she could at least sense it. As Ran began to warm up to him, however, she turned around and quickly wrapped her little arms around Rei one last time.

“Thank you, pretty lady” she whispered. “I’ll miss you.”

Rei swallowed back tears as she watched Ran cautiously take the ANBU’s hand and walk off alongside him. She hoisted herself up off the ground, clutched her hand to her chest. Kakashi approached her and rested a hand on the small of her back. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Nodding, Rei lied, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” Her voice was so tight and strained, however, it was obvious that she was emotional.

A soft smile touched Kakashi’s masked face as he wrapped an arm around his fiancée and pulled her close, pressed his lips to her temple. “You did amazing, Rei. That little girl is safe and sound now because of you.”

A sob caught in Rei’s throat as she pressed her palm to her mouth and nodded. “I know” she whimpered. “I just hope she’s going to be okay.”

“She will be” Kakashi assured her. “She’ll be taken care of.”

Just then, the conductor shouted across the field for everyone returning aboard to come aboard. After all, he was behind schedule now and clearly growing rather antsy. (“Passenger trains”, he murmured, “There’s always something.”)

“I guess we better get back” Rei said, sniffling and motioning her head toward the train.

“You still want to do this, right?” Kakashi asked. He knew she had had her reservations about the trip. He had tried so hard to convince her to trust him, but now, after all of this, he didn’t think he could bring himself to push the idea on her any longer. It was clear she was tired, her body sore and her heart aching. He feared the chaos of their journey thus far would not bode well for the rest of the weekend.

Rei, however, nodded and took his hand in hers. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we need to do this” she replied, guiding him back onto the train. “Besides, after all of this, I think we both need a breather.” Kakashi chuckled, knowing he couldn’t argue with logic like that.

As they settled back into their seats and the train jolted forward yet again, Rei rested her head against the window and sighed wistfully. She caressed her stomach and thought of their child, of danger, of responsibility. Even she was shocked with the way she had handled this unexpected turn of events. It was as if something feral had automatically taken over her, something that she realized with a punch of immediacy must have been motherhood. That maternal instinct to protect your own at all costs, to step in and defend the weak and the vulnerable and the needy. A sob lodged itself in her throat as she gazed down at her stomach, fighting tears. Her reservations about motherhood slowly began to melt away. In their stead, they were replaced with a newfound strength and confidence. An understanding that she was instinctually, unmistakably capable.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #kakashi x oc #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction

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