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strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years ago

Text

Part Sixteen. Quackity’s Call and Karl’s Hoodie

warnings: swearing word count: 2.7k

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist bts is now on wattpad!

a/n: sorry it's been two weeks since the last update T-T I was just swamped with school but I'm back with regular updates babeyyyy!! hope you enjoy this chap!!

"What the hell did you just tweet?" Dream laughed from the other side of the FaceTime call and Y/n covered her face with her hands.

"Words," she replied vaguely.

She smiled at the unamused face he showed the camera before a smile fought his way to his lips. "You're so annoying."

"Take it back right now. I'll cry."

"I can't see you so I wouldn't know if you did, so doesn't really bother me," he joked. "Go cry to Quackity..."

"Hey, don't make me feel bad about still not showing my face. I told you not to expect anything," Y/n sighed out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I... sorry. I don't care if you show your face or not. Not like that! I mean, I would like you to because I think you're pretty... but I don't want you to think you have to! I just like spending time with you so whatever makes you feel comfortable is totally okay with me. As long as I get to talk to you and you aren't annoyed when I go on long tangents like this, geesh."

Y/n giggled and cuddled into her blanket. "You're cute when you ramble."

"It's cute that I make a fool out of myself?"

"Mhm."

"Thanks a lot," he said sarcastically before hitting his head on his desk.

"What was that sound?"

"Shame."

Y/n laughed and opened Discord as it made sounds at her. "Hold on a second," she requested before answering a call from Quackity.

"BUGSY!" he yelled with a laugh. "I'm live! I'm live!"

"Hello Quackity and his chat," she greeted.

"Quackity called you? Tell him to go away!" Dream begged from the FaceTime call, his face consuming the screen with a pout.

"Dream says hello too," she lied and Quackity laughed.

"Tell him I said you're hot."

"Shut up!"

Quackity cackled and Dream, who had pulled up Quackity's stream to hear both sides of the conversation, spoke up. "Tell him that I already know! I know! I want him to know that I know."

"Why is it such competition between you two?" Y/n rolled her eyes fondly.

Dream smiled at the camera. "Don't worry, there's no competition."

Y/n's face heated up and she shook her head.

"Just let me relish in the fact that I know something about you that he doesn't," Quackity said, not able to hear what Dream said.

"I'm telling him," Dream warned before pausing. "Are you okay if he knows I've seen you? Because his whole chat will too. I really wanna brag but I won't if it'll make you uncomfortable."

She quickly muted on Discord and nervously said, "I'd rather you didn't for now. You just saw a few days ago. I'm already overwhelmed, I don't want to see everyone freak out about it."

"Okay, I won't. I still wanna yell at him for hitting on you, though."

"What, why—?"

"Why is Dream calling me?" Quackity asked. "Dream, I'm live! I'm live! And talking to your girlfriend. What's up?"

Y/n unmuted on Discord as Dream joined the call. Chat was going to have a field day with what Quackity just called her.

"QUACKITY!!" Dream yelled.

"What?" he laughed.

"DON'T HIT ON BUG!"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, MOTHERFU—"

"YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO HIT ON HER. BACK OFF!"

Y/n laughed as the two went back and forth, insulting each other without getting too personal.

"Dream! Dream, you're just jealous— SHUT UP! You're just jealous because you don't know what she looks like! That's it! So admit defeat because I do and you don't and-and I win!"

"First of all, that doesn't matter!" Dream rushed out. Y/n watched him through FaceTime as he talked passionately to his computer screen, his hands flailing in the air. "It doesn't matter what she looks like because she's beautiful anyway but second of all..." he paused and put his face in his hands before pouting at the FaceTime screen. Y/n laughed at him and the corners of his mouth tugged upward.

"Second of all, what? What, Dream?" Quackity challenged.

Y/n could see it on Dream's face: he wanted to tell Quackity but he wasn't going to. Y/n loved seeing him get jealous but she also loved seeing him brag about anything having to do with her, whether it was him telling everyone how they were best friends or about how good she was at GeoGuessr. So she grabbed her phone and showed her face. He sat up a little taller and beamed now that he could see her. "Hi," he said softly to her.

Y/n nodded and he raised his eyebrows for clarification. "Tell him the second thing, Dream," she said. "Go ahead."

"Yeah, tell me!" Quackity taunted. "There's literally no way for you to win this unless you—"

"I'm literally FaceTiming her right now, Quackity," Dream said, not taking his eyes off of her smile.

"Yeah, but you guys said before you FaceTime without showing your faces."

"Nah, we are. I'm looking at her right now," he informed, his voice now laced with a dazed tone.

"W-well I still saw her first!"

He snapped back into his defensive need to prove he was closer to Y/n than Quackity was. "Because you visited KARL!"

"Oh my gosh, you both have seen me, so calm down!" Y/n laughed. "It's not a competition."

Quackity laughed abruptly and Dream smiled. "I definitely win this one, dude."

"Bugsy, run away with me," Quackity suggested and she shook her head.

"HAH! SHE'S SHAKING HER HEAD! SHE DOESN'T LOVE YOU, QUACKITY!"

"SHE DOESN'T LOVE YOU EITHER, DUMBASS!"

"Chat, this is what I have to deal with," she said to Quackity's chat as she pulled it up. "Multiple times a week. They're so annoying."

user53: pretty girl problems user42: do they want a tape measure to compare dick sizes like damn calm down guys user29: THIS IS SO FUNNY AND CUTE user72: BUGSYYYY user10: ARE WE IGNORING THE FACT THAT DREAM AND BUGSY FT user82: I KNEW he has seen her face user22: I mean they're def dating, ofc he's seen her??? user56: I want to have this type of problem user80: there should be a twitch section called "yelling about bugsy" because "just chatting" ain't cutting it user46: DREAM DESCRIBE HER PLS user39: "at least i got to hug her when i visited" "let's be clear, you did NOT hug me" she really isn't touchy huh user66: how is dream gonna have a non-touchy s/o that man exudes touchy energy

"Quackity, why did you call me in the first place?" Y/n asked, interrupting the new argument that had come up, which was about their heights of course.

"Oh!" He laughed. "Do you want to—Actually.... I should ask off stream. Chat, I'm going to mute for a few minutes. So hold on." He paused and laughed. "Okay, so... wait, Dream get out."

"What? No," Dream protested.

"GET OUT!"

"Why can't I listen??"

"It's a secret."

"That's not suspicious..." Dream scoffed sarcastically.

"It's not, just leave. Or deafen. Please."

"Please, Dream. Humor him," Y/n said.

"Fine! I'm deafening." He deafened and Quackity paused.

"Can he hear me on FaceTime?"

"I don't think so," Y/n said as she glanced at Dream's face on her phone.

"I'll test it. Bugsy, I'm in love with you!! Did his face change?"

"No," she laughed.

"Okay good. So," he started and she looked at his stream to see him with his hands pressed together like he was about to propose a business deal. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to read Bugity fanfiction together."

Y/n laughed abruptly and Dream looked up at her through the screen. She kept her words vague so he didn't know what Quackity had said. "Why on Earth?"

"For a stream, I mean! Not just us by ourselv—HAHA! It'll be funny!"

"I don't know..."

"You don't have to but I definitely think it'll be really fun. I've done a stream like that before and chat loves it. Also, it'll make Dream super jealous."

Y/n glanced at Quackity's chat to make sure they didn't hear what he was saying.

user39: CAN ANYONE READ LIPS?? user52: it looked like he said FANFICTION??? user68: DID HE SAY FANFIC?? PLEASE READ FANFIC TOGETHER user32: PLEASE HAHAH user51: as long as dream is there to yell at everyone user4: IN FRONT OF DREAM? QUACKITY IS BOLD AND FEARLESS user10: do you think he kicked dream out first because he looked like he was yelling when he first muted user72: not quackity forcing bugity to be real when we know dreamsy is

"What are you guys talking about, Bug?" Dream asked softly. "I'm bored."

"Hold on, Dream. Quackity, why would I want that?"

"Don't act like you don't want to make him jealous. You cannot fool me."

"Quackity!"

"Seriously, Bugsy! HAHA! Come on, it'll be so funny and he'll be so jealous and then one of you will have to admit to the other you like each other."

"That is not true."

"Bugsy..." Quackity said condescendingly. "I know. I know."

"You don't know anything," she told him.

"Fine. Then we'll do it to make chat entertained."

"As long as it's nothing sexual..."

"What are you talking about, Bug?!?!" Dream asked and she ignored him.

"Yeah, yeah, of course!" Quackity assured. "I'll make sure nothing is sexual or nsfw or bad in any way. Just the regular, like, regular ones."

"Then, yeah, sure. I don't see why not. When do you want to stream?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I can do that. It'll be fun."

"YES!"

user41: IF THEY ARE TALKING ABT FANFICS READ FOXTROT PLEASE HAHAHAA user57: most bugity fanfics are CURSED they're just crack fics user44: he's been muted why do you guys just assume that's what they're talking about geesh go touch grass chat user18: WHO SAID FOXTROT, NO DO NOT BRING THAT UP I WILL CRY IM STILL UPSET user99: "Poppies and Cornflowers" supremacy (dreamsy fanfic)

"Okay, I won't announce it until the stream starts so don't tell anyone. Especially Dream. I want him to be surprised too."

"You're obsessed with the idea of Dream and I being together."

"Bugsy, everyone is."

"Whatever..." she mumbled shyly.

"Okay, I'm unmuting stream so don't say anything. Tell Dream he can get back in here."

"Dream," Y/n said and he perked up. "You can undeafen."

"Thanks Bugsy, that's all. I'm going to end my stream now so I'm gonna leave but do you guys wanna do something after?"

"No, Bugsy and I are hanging out without you," Dream said.

"You know what? Just for that, I'm banning you so you can't watch my stream tomorrow."

"Like I want to anyway," Dream scoffed.

"You do. Bugsy will be there." He laughed mischievously.

"Bye, Quackity," Y/n said with a laugh. "Let me know what time tomorrow."

"Okay, okay, I'll make sure. Bye!"

He disconnected and Y/n looked to Dream, who was already looking at her. "Hi," she smiled. She disconnected from the Discord too, turning off her PC and focusing on the FaceTime call.

Dream stuck out his lower lip childishly. "What are you guys streaming tomorrow?"

"He told me not to tell you."

"And you're going to listen to him?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, it makes things interesting."

Dream paused and frowned deeper. "I'm jealous."

Y/n's heart quickened in her chest and she shook her head. "You have no reason to be jealous, bud."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

She set her phone up so it was leaning against her monitor and tucked her feet up on her chair. She nodded and rested her chin on her knees.

"Wait, what are you wearing?" Dream asked, squinting slightly and leaning towards his phone. "Is that a Mr. Beast hoodie?"

Y/n looked down. "Oh, yeah, it is! It's Karl's actually," she explained as she kicked away from her desk slightly, dropping her leg and raising her arms to show off the logo on the front.

"Oh."

"Oh? What's wrong with it?" she asked as she looked down at it and back at Dream. "You don't think it looks good on me?"

"No, it does." A mischievous smile pulled at Dream's lips before he said, "I just think you'd look better in one of my hoodies."

Y/n's hands immediately dropped to her collar, pulling it over her face to bury herself in it. Dream chuckled before whining lightly. "No, don't hide."

"You're annoying."

"Give me your address so I can send you one of mine."

"No, I have a perfectly good Karl nearby that I can steal hoodies from. He doesn't even notice," she dropped the soft material from her face. "The other day he asked where this one was while I was literally wearing it in front of him."

"Well, okay, but you'd look better in mine."

"Don't mess with my system."

"Bug," Dream pouted.

"Yours wouldn't even fit me! I bet they'd be too big."

"Only one way to find out..." he trailed off with a cheeky smile. Her silence prompted him to continue. "And if they are too big, it'll just be cuter. I don't see how this is a bad idea. Come on, let me send you some."

She deadpanned into the camera and he sighed.

"Fiiiine. Can I at least send you some of my merch?"

"Using me as free advertisement?"

"Yeah. That, and you apparently need other people's hoodies and I'd rather you have mine. But sure, we'll go with free advertisement."

"Well, I don't use face cam and I don't go outside so it's not really much advertisement."

"Then I'll send you some so I don't have to see you wearing Karl's hoodies?"

"Are you jealous of Karl?" Y/n teased lightly and Dream rolled his eyes.

"I'm not jealous of him."

"You so are! Dream is jealous, Dream is jealous!" she sang and his cheeks turned light red.

"I'm hanging up."

"Baby rage! Piss baby is baby raging."

"Y/n!" he protested with a laugh.

"Clay!" she countered. "It's okay if you're jealous of Karl. You know why?"

"Why?" he humored her with a fake disinterested voice.

"Because I'm jealous of Sapnap."

"What? Why?" he asked genuinely.

"He gets to see you baby rage in person."

He threw his head back. "Stop bullying me—"

"I'm kidding! He gets to cuddle with you anytime he wants," she said before she could think about her words.

Y/n's eyes locked onto Dream as he tried to contain his smile, but he lightly bit his bottom lip and shook his head as it spilled onto his face despite his best efforts. "You're such an idiot."

"I'm dead serious right now. I bet you give really good hugs."

"Stop it..." he whined as he rubbed his eyes.

"What? You can offer me your hoodies just so you can see me wearing your clothes but I can't say you look cuddly? That's some bullshit, dude."

"No, you just—you can't say things like that."

"Why not? Are you actually not a hugger? I thought you were touchy but maybe not. Guess I'll just have to cuddle with Sapnap when we visit—"

"No," he said suddenly. "No, no, no."

"So you do give good hugs? Looks like it. No one that attractive gives bad hugs."

"Y/n!" His blush only deepened and she laughed.

"What is wrong with you?"

"No, what is wrong with you? Why— when did you get so bold?"

"What do you mean?" She laughed again, marveling at the fact that he was hiding his face now. "Hey show me your pretty face. What did I do wrong?"

"Stop saying things like that," he laughed, his voice shaking lightly. "What do you mean what do I mean? You never flirt like that!" He lifted his head again and looked at her.

"Sure I do!"

"Not to my face!"

"What, so when I go to Florida I'm not allowed to flirt with you? Only on Twitter? That's stupid. I'll get bored so quick!"

He shook his head, a sly smile creeping into his lips. "No, we won't get bored. I'll make sure of it." His smile gave her the feeling that there was a double meaning in his words.

"Oh, now you're being bold," she mumbled to herself.

Dream paused before saying, "I'm actually very excited to see you, Bug."

"Me too."

"I've been tempted to just fly out to you now but Sapnap stops me every time. He says it'll be a waste since there's only, like, two weeks until you guys come here."

"That's rude of him. I don't think any time spent together is a waste."

Dream's smile consumed his entire face. "I agree. That's why you should hang out with me instead of being on Quackity's stream."

"Oh, no, the stream is happening."

"At least tell me what it's about."

"Nope!"

"Then I won't send you my hoodies."

"Your merch hoodies," she clarified. "I'll just buy them then."

"Ugh, fine, you got me. I'm still sending them."

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other a/n: in case you couldn’t tell, the title is things dream is jealous of this time lol

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fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

Note

modern AU levihan as kids: Kenny babysits Levi, and doesn't let him play with any kids after school bc he thinks all kids are brats, but he approves of Hange so he lets her come over to play with Levi. And Hange always brings dandelions that she picks from the ground for Kenny, Levi, and for Levi to give Kuchel whenever she comes home late from work

"I'm going out," Levi announced, coming downstairs already dressed and with his backpack on.

From his place on a sofa, Kenny put down his beer and raised an eyebrow.

"May I ask where are you going?"

"You may not," Levi retorted, his face dark. Kenny had to admit - for a little boy, his nephew had an impressively fierce glare. Even some adults found the kid to be unnerving. Not Kenny, though.

"Oi, brat, you better tell me where you're going. Or," he smirked. "I'm going to call your mother."

At that, Levi pouted and stomped his feet. He continued to glare at Kenny for a little longer, before surrendering with an irritated 'tsk'.

"I'm going out with Hange," he said with a sulky pout. Of course, it was Hange, Kenny had no doubt that Levi was meeting with the bespectacled kid from across the street. He asked him simply to see that awkward and constipated look on his nephew's face.

"Is your curiosity satisfied? May I go already?"

"You may not," seeing Levi's wide-eyed expression, Kenny felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Teasing the kid was so much fun. "Wait for a bit, until I get my shit. We'll go together."

"What? No!" Levi protested, clutching hands into fists. "I'm going with Hange! Not with you!"

"Your mother asked me to look after you," Kenny reminded, putting on his best ‘stern adult’ expression. "So I'm going to chaperone you and Hange. I'm sure she won't mind."

"I will mind," Levi grunted stubbornly.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Levi, stop with that tantrum. I'll drive you two to the park, get you some ice-cream, let you have some fun."

"While you keep watching us like a creep?"

"While I keep an eye on you two to make sure you won't get into trouble."

Crossing hands on his chest, Levi considered him. "You won't let me go without you, right?"

"Levi!" Kenny slapped him on a back with a loud chuckle. "And here I thought you aren't sharp!"

It earned him another glare from his dear nephew, but then Levi sighed, accepting his defeat.

"Hurry up, old man. Hange is probably waiting for me already."

"I'll be quick as lighting," Kenny winked and dashed to get his keys and wallet.

Once he was dressed and ready to go, Levi opened the front door. Hange was standing on their porch, her arm raised to the doorbell.

"Oh." She gingerly lowered her hand to the side. "Hi, Levi. I was just going to call you."

"Sorry, it took me so long. My uncle decided to go with us and I had to wait for him."

"Mr. Ackerman is going with us?" Hange's eyes widened. "Awesome!"

"See?" Kenny walked out, patting Hange's head with a smile. "I told you Hange wouldn't object."

"Of course, I wouldn't," she smiled. "You're so cool, Mr. Ackerman!"

"That I am," Kenny grinned, looking at Levi's disgruntled expression. "But please, Hange, we've talked about this. You can just call me uncle Kenny. Mr. Ackerman sounds like I'm an old man."

"You are an old man," Levi argued, scowling.

"No respect for his elders," Kenny shook his head, feigning disappointment. "C'mon, kids, let's get into the car."

Once Hange and Levi were seated at the back of his car and once Kenny made sure that they put on their seatbelts - Kuchel would have his head, if they didn't - there was only one thing left.

"So, Hange?" Kenny met her eyes in the rear mirror. "Where do you want to go?"

"Huh?" she bit her lip. "Why don't you ask Levi?"

"You know him,” Kenny said flippantly. “He'll go wherever you want. So. Have you decided?"

"Um," Hange glanced at Levi and leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. Levi gave her a small nod, and Hange smiled broadly, showing her still missing tooth. She turned to Kenny, giving him thumbs up. "We want to go to the park, uncle Kenny!"

"Your wish is my command," he winked, starting the car.

***

"Here you go," Kenny pushed two plates of ice-creams - mint chocolate chip for Hange and lemon for Levi - towards the kids.

Hange accepted hers with a loud and genuine 'thank you' while Levi just grunted something under his breath. Instantly, children dove into their desserts.

Sitting across from them, Kenny sipped on his coffee and watched them eat. It was quite fascinating - how different they were. Levi ate slowly and carefully, wiping his face with napkin whenever ice-cream got on his face. Meanwhile, Hange noshed enthusiastically and messily, her cheeks already stained.

As soon as he saw the state she was in, Levi paused and put the spoon down. With a barely audible sigh, he took the napkin and gripped Hange's chin between his fingers, making her look at him. Then he proceeded to thoroughly wipe her dirty face, cleaning the remnants of the ice-cream from her cheeks and nose.

"You're such a clean freak," Hange muttered when Levi was finished.

"It's not my fault you're such a pig, four-eyes," he shot back, making Hange throw her head and laugh.

Kenny watched their interaction with amused expression, regretting that his sister wasn't too busy with work to witness this.

He had a feeling, however, that she saw a fair share of this back at home.

***

Kenny put the hat lower, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. It was quite boring, just sitting there, but at least Levi had calmed down a bit. After they arrived at the park, Hange had dragged him out somewhere, claiming that she wanted Levi to see a pretty butterfly she found when she had visited the park with her parents.

Kenny wanted to follow, but one glare from his nephew, and he surrendered, taking refuge at one of the benches.

He let them go, because as much as he enjoyed giving Levi shit, Kenny knew that he was smart. Careful too. He was confident that Levi wouldn't get in any trouble. Besides, the kid deserved to have some fun with his best friend. It was the reason he brought them there in the first place.

He wished the kids would come back sooner, though. The heat and bright sun were making him quite drowsy.

Kenny looked around the park, and when he noticed that there was no sign of his nephew or his friend, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting them rest for a short moment.

***

"Uncle Kenny! Uncle Kenny! Look what I've made!"

"Oi, old man, wake up," Kenny felt a sharp poke into his side and groaned, waving his hand to get rid of the source of pain.

"Wake up." Levi repeated, poking him again. "Hange wants to show you something." That was followed by another pock.

"Stop it," Kenny hissed. "I woke up, woke up! Just stop pocking me!"

He opened his eyes and was greeted with the too familiar scene - his nephew, glaring at him with all the fierceness a six-year old boy could master. Once he took a good look at him, however, Kenny had to rub his eyes, because he could not believe it.

His gloomy and grumpy nephew was standing in front of him, holding a long wooden branch in his right hand. And on his head, he wore a flower crown, made of weeds and poppies. Kenny clasped a palm over his mouth, stifling his laughter. He cursed himself for not taking his phone with him. He should have taken a picture, Kuchel had to see this.

"Uncle Kenny!" Hange's loud voice attracted his attention. Kenny turned away from Levi, facing the other kid. She was wearing the same flower crown as Levi. In her hands she held another one - this one made of dandelions. Smiling from ear to ear, she handed it to Kenny.

"I made it for you!" she exclaimed, and something deep inside Kenny's chest warmed at the sight of her. "Would you like to wear it?"

"You better wear it." Levi threatened quietly, giving him another pock. "Four-eyes put a lot of effort into making it."

Kenny smiled, endeared by Levi's protectiveness.

"Of course, I'll wear it," he said. How could he say no these bright eyes? He took off his hat and lowered his head, letting Hange put a flower crown on top of it.

"Ah!" she clasped her hands. "You look so handsome, uncle Kenny! Just so you know," she leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "This flower crown is special."

"Oi!" Levi interfered, glaring at Hange. Despite his angry face, Kenny couldn't help but notice that Levi didn't pock her with his stick. Someone was clearly showing his favoritism. "You said that mine was special!"

"And yours is special!"

"A-ha," Levi shook his head. "There can't be two specials."

"Of course, there can be!" Hange flailed her arms around. "It's just different kinds of special! Your flower crown is a special best friend's crown, and your uncle has the coolest adult's crown!"

"He's not cool," Levi muttered, but he seemed to accept the explanation all the same.

"What's the stick for, kid?" Kenny asked, pointing at it with his chin.

"Levi was a knight!" Hange answered for him. "He was fighting a fierce dragon and to win this battle, he needed a magical weapon! It was forged by the forest gods!"

"A fight with a dragon?" Kenny whistled. "Were you s princess then, Hange?"

"Nope," she replied with a wide grin.

"She was a dragon," Levi muttered.

"Oh." Kenny should have anticipated something like that. "Did it mean that you lost, Levi?"

Instead of answering, Levi kicked him in the shin.

"We took a recess," Hange said, pushing the glasses up her nose. "The dragon was getting kinda tired."

"Right," Kenny looked up at the sky, the sun was already setting. "Let's go home then. Your mother is probably back from work by now."

"I have flowers for Mrs. Ackerman too!" Hange opened her backpack, showing a small bouquet of field flowers to Kenny. "You'll give them to her, right, uncle Kenny?"

"Why don't you give them yourself, Hange?" he offered. "You can join us for a dinner, I'm sure Kuchel won't mind."

"My mom's making pasta this evening," Levi added, looking a bit shy. "And if you want, we can watch cartoons after that. Have a sleepover."

"I would love that, Levi!" Hange pulled him into a hug. Levi made a face, but- didn't protest.

"Thanks for joining us today, uncle Kenny!" Hange told him after she let go of Levi. "It was the best day ever!"

"You're always welcome, my dear," Kenny's lips curled into a rare, sincere smile.

"Let's get back to the car," he said, standing up.

"The first one to they car chooses the cartoon!" Hange shouted and sprinted off. Levi rushed after her, but Kenny couldn't help but notice - his nephew was purposefully running slower than usual.

Soon Hange reached the car and started jump around in victory, while Levi made a show of looking defeated.

Kenny chuckled, watching them. It was good to know that his nephew had a friend like that, the one who made him so happy. It made Kenny happy too.

#felt kinda inspired by that ask so here you go :)#levihan

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dustedmagazine · 2 years ago

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Stud Count — S/T (Smartpunk)

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Philadelphia’s Stud Count come on like tuff punks, but at heart, the band may yearn to craft tuneful pop songs. On this self-titled debut LP, you can hear Stud Count working through some of the themes and gestures that have informed successful pop-punk acts like Pup or fellow Philadelphians Modern Baseball: big songs about bigger feelings, with intimations of teenage unhappiness (even trauma) at metaphorical arm’s length; flailing or failed attempts at romance are narrated with more immediate dramatics. All of those bummer sentiments get articulated alongside major chords and melodic structures with plenty of hooks and slick guitar lines. And Stud Count holds a couple of ace cards in Norelle Green’s pipes and presence. She’s a born frontwoman (person?), and she’s figuring out how to move through her intonations and vocal affects with increasing assurance. “Through my Window” is among the most emphatic examples of those dulcet ambitions. She’s breathy-confessional, bouncy-urgent, icy-indifferent, sometimes all in the same verse — she’s not Debbie Harry yet, but she’s working on it.

Like Blondie in late 1977, Stud Count can still crack wise and play dirty (and this reviewer prefers it when they do). “The Way I Walk” and “That’s How (I Get It)” both clock in way under two minutes and capture Philly’s grit and pace. In the refrain to “The Way I Walk,” Green shouts, “Dirt! Dirt! Gimme the dirt! / Put me to work!” She just about transforms her subjection to the city’s unforgiving demands into assertions of her own power, and it’s exciting to hear. She doesn’t have the same range in this declamatory style; like Eve Libertine or more recently Jackie from Material Support, Green compromises her vocal modulations in the shorter, punchier songs for force and legibility, so you can hear the words — and not everyone can sing like Penelope Houston. It’s also the case that lead guitarist Max D’ambra can’t resist including some glib soloing. Even when Stud Count is playing fast and hard, the band wants to demonstrate its glossy chops.

They may be at their best when they attempt to synthesize the record’s dominant modes, exploring the challenging space in which pop’s pleasures effortlessly emerge from punk’s menacing slouch. That’s a hard trick to pull off. The Ramones were past masters of the form, but they far more frequently expressed poppy delight and punky venom in separate statements; seamlessly integrated songs like “Beat on the Brat” and “You’re Gonna Kill that Girl” are transporting experiences, precisely because of their rarity. Stud Count approaches that sort of gloriously subverted anti-hit tune with “Pleasure Center.” The hard stuff and the shamelessly sugary occur in rapidly rotating sections of the song, but that seems like a calculated move, expressing shifting “pain” and “pleasure,” and a lover whose perfect fusion of those two feelings remains a mystery. The song is smartly organized and delivered with pitch-perfect intensity. Stud Count may be more drawn toward pop punk’s sensibility, but they can punch and snarl, too. It’s pretty great when they land a clean shot; when you’re face down in the dirt (gimme it), you remember that it has its own peculiar sweetness.

Jonathan Shaw

#stud count #smartpunk #jonathan shaw #albumreview #dusted magazine #punk #rock #philly #blondie #ramones

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remys-lucky-franc · 4 years ago

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Remy x MC (Queen of Thieves) - Kissing Prompt #14

This is the final ‘kiss prompt’ that I have on my request list. I’m sad 😔

I’ve really enjoyed working on these - this wee challenge got me back into the habit of writing regularly which is so nice as I’d been doing ‘sit and stare at a blank page’ thing for months, thank you for inviting me to join in folks.

Prompt #14 - a kiss so desperate that that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished - requested by lovely @mcira for lovely Remy

It’s a sort of a ‘good heist goes bad’ alt-version of the ‘first ever kiss on film’ heist from Remy’s S1. Also, I relocated it to Barcelona because Paris is too inland 😂

Written from MC POV.

Word count ~6100 (marked #long fic if anyone wants to filter it away - adding ‘read more’ isn’t reliable - don’t want to clog anyone’s dash x)

TW: drowning / broken bones

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[MORE]

[[MORE]]

—-

I curse, scrambling to keep my balance as the yacht lists suddenly to the right; my arms flailing, thrown backwards trying to grip at the doorway to stay upright. I collide with it and stretch my hands out to save myself as I hit the ground awkwardly: the crack from my arm makes me feel sick to my stomach. Furniture shifts. Decor clatters to the floor. Lights overhead flicker violently. What the hell was that noise? Something has gone very, very wrong.

—-24 hours earlier —-

Remy and I have spent well over a month on this con now, establishing and ingratiating ourselves with the obnoxious specimen that is Parker Vos. Ugh, even his name makes my skin crawl. Tonight we’ve met up for some drinks: Parker’s idea. Remy’s positioned himself between Parker and I at the bar of the plush cocktail lounge and I watch on as Parker charges his glass again, loudly laughing, clapping his hand on Remy’s shoulder. Remy clinks glasses with him, smile jovial, eyes full of myrth; swallowing down the liquor to perfectly conceal the bile I know is steadily rising within his throat. If there is anyone who dislikes Parker Vos more than I do, it’s Remy Chevalier.

Watching Remy work a con has been quite an experience. He knows instinctively what people want to see and hear - oftentimes even before they know themselves. He reads their body language with practiced ease and plays his part to meet The Gilded Poppy’s ends: a master of assuaging insecurities or fuelling egos. And I have never known an ego like Parker’s. He’s spent half of the evening acting like Remy’s his long-lost best friend, and the other half undressing me - his buddy’s ‘wife’ - with cold, soulless eyes.

Parker’s on his feet, moving to refill my champagne flute but I move my hand to cover the top, opening my mouth in a half-protest.

He grins at me as I giggle, “I shouldn’t - I’ve had too much already-”

Tutting and moving my hand away from the opening of glass, he pours another generous serving of fizz. I make a big deal out of rolling my eyes at him and exclaiming that’s he’s ‘such a bad influence’. Inside I’m far from smiling - I hate guys who behave like this.

Parker doesn’t seem to want to let go of my hand, his fingertips trace my palm casually, an amused, self-satisfied grin spread over his face. I feel colour rising rapidly from my chest to the tips of my ears and Parker raises an eyebrow at me - clearly delighted that he’s gotten me flustered - but it’s not his touch or his gaze that’s set me alight. It’s the way that Remy’s eyes burn into me from the next seat, flecks of gold and green glitter like fire and the mask he wears is one that I can’t quite decipher, the only clue to his true feelings being the exaggerated bob of his throat as he continues to pretends he’s oblivious to the game Parker’s playing. I simper as I extract my hand from Parker’s to toast our glasses. I know Remy and I aren’t really married, but Parker doesn’t: this guy really has zero shame.

Remy’s seamlessly switched to wearing a playful smirk as he reaches across me, clinking all three of our glasses together, “Ma cherie, the bubbles are going to her head, Parker - look how flushed she is!”

His free hand reaches up affectionately cupping my cheek and I feel myself sink longingly into his gentle touch, his daring wink makes my heart stutter as Parker drones on, boasting about only ordering the very finest champagne for his friends.

A short time later, Remy excuses himself and he hasn’t even reached the bathroom before Parker has slid across to occupy his stool, angling himself into me just a little closer than could be considered appropriate. He’s such a snake, it takes all my energy to fix a sweet, naïve smile on my face when his hand comes to rest on my arm; the way his touch makes me feel compared to Remy’s is so stark in its contrast. He’s watching my face intently as he smirks at me - always bragging about his wealth and possessions, always looking for any sign that he’s impressing me.

He’s acting shocked that this is is the first time I’ve been to this particular bar, given that it’s one of Barcelona’s hot-spots, wondering out loud why my husband never brought me here before now. I sip daintily at my glass as I tell him this sort of place is generally outside of our budget, that it would only ever be somewhere that we’d come for a special occasion. As Parker nods, sacharrine-sweet condescension guising as sympathy, I think about how Remy was absolutely right when he told me he reckoned Parker gets a real kick out of feeling like the Alpha Male in any room and I lean into it. He’s back onto his favourite brand of champagne again - asking me if I ever tried it before tonight. I have, but I play along, feeding the narrative, telling him exactly what he wants to hear: Remy would be proud of me.

I shake my head wistfully, “It’s really delicious, it’s such a lovely treat to have something so decadent. I can understand it being your favourite, Parker - you have really good taste.”

He sighs, looking almost troubled, “You know it makes me sad that a girl like you can’t have everything her heart desires. I’ve got cases galore of the stuff on my yacht. I have it brought in directly from the vineyard just outside Epernay.” He pauses, quirking his head at me, “Say, have you ever been on a yacht?”

I think about what Remy’s always tells me about the best and most convincing cons: they stick as closely to the truth as possible. I feel a genuine smile blossom as I tell Parker about the little sailboat my grandfather had and how I loved spending time on it with him when I was a little girl. I can hear the warmth in my own voice and I know my eyes are sparkling as I think about those happy memories, but rather than ask me anything about my grandfather or my childhood, Parker patronises me and uses it as another opportunity to play ‘The Big I Am’. He chuckles as he tells me that wasn’t a real boat, then reels off what sounds like the manufacturer’s sales pitch for his top-of-the-range, fully customised yacht. Heaven knows, I really want to punch this guy but I nod, maintaining my rapt expression - all wide-eyed and utterly impressed. As he drones on, my brain wanders thinking how the same conversation would have gone sitting here with Remy instead.

Parker’s incessant boasting continues as he drawls about how much he would love to take me out on his yacht, “I think a girl like you would appreciate a boat like mine you know, and you’d look so good on it.”

Such. A. Creep.

I shoot him a rueful smile before biting my lip and looking down at the my hands. My fake wedding ring sparkles up at me under the low lights of the bar. I can feel Parker’s beady eyes on me watching my every move like I’m his prey. I fidget with the golden band and I know I’m working this con just right when he pushes my hair back from my face and tips my chin upward to look at him. A grin slithers across his face - poison hidden just behind the facade.

“Why don’t you come on the yacht with me this weekend, baby? You can have as much of this champagne as you like - I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated.”

I don’t have to fake being a little taken aback: I know it’s been our objective to get on that yacht, and I knew we were reeling him in, but the blatancy of his invite still knocks me off guard!

I glance towards the bathrooms and see that Remy’s making his way back across the bar. I use the shock of the invitation to my advantage, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth as I tell Parker, “Remy’s coming back.” I look up at him through my lashes and breathe, “Parker, I- I don’t know? It sounds amazing, but honestly, I’m not sure I should.”

Parker searches my dark eyes, voice smug, so confident that his charms have me falling for him; that he’s so irresistible I’d be ready to betray my husband with him, “I think you do know. You just don’t want to hurt Remy, because you’re a sweet girl. But I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll send you the directions to where she’s docked - and I’ll be there waiting. If you come...”, his thumb brushes across my lips and I draw in a sharp breath while my stomach lurches. His voice lowers as he stares at my mouth, “I’ll show you, I can give you everything you ever wanted and more besides.” Then he’s gone, quickly slithering back to his own bar stool, duplicitously clasping and shaking Remy’s hand as he returns, as though he didn’t just proposition his wife.

—-

Remy fumed about the audacity of Parker Vos the whole way back to the penthouse last night. And I thought he disliked the guy before... I’d hate to see how Remy would react if someone hit on his real wife because he is the most convincingly jealous fake-husband I’ve ever seen. And his attitude towards our mark got even worse when Parker text me with the coordinates for Port Vell Marina.

When we got back we debriefed Nikolai on all of the night’s events and came to the conclusion that me going to the yacht alone was not an option. I argued that I was more than capable of handling him but Remy was adamant that Parker was an entitled creep and it was too dangerous. Nikolai agreed with Remy, and when I huffed that he would trust Vivienne to fly solo, I have never seen him look more annoyed. He barked at me that he it was his decision, his responsibility and he refused to put any member of his team into that position alone, especially where there was no option for back up if things started to take a wrong turn. As much as I hated to back down, I knew from his tone that he was being completely honest and I should apologise and accept his decision. We spent the rest of the evening coming up with our next move - for Remy and I to arrive at Parker’s yacht together.

—-

We arrive at the beautiful Marina at Port Vell the following afternoon and I don’t have to feign how impressed I am. It is absolutely stunning - the sun dapples the turquoise blue waters while every gleaming yacht is sleeker and grander than the last.

Remy’s holds my hand firmly as we head towards Berth 26 where Parker’s imposing yacht is docked. Our play this afternoon is that I was heading out to meet Parker when Remy asked where I was going and I couldn’t think of any reason for him not to come along that didn’t seem strange or suspicious.

We reach the yacht and I see Parker. The irritate look on his face is replaced in an instant as he wraps us both in a friendly hug, before ushering us onboard. As he takes my hand to help me up the steps, he shoots me a look as though to enquire ‘why the hell aren’t we alone?’ and I drop my head like I’ve never been more deeply disappointed by anything in my life.

Remy has Parker chatting about the spec of the boat and I fear that he may never shut up about it. We spend at least fifteen minutes in the cockpit as Parker regales us with tales about how he got rid of his last captain, how he prefers to sail the yacht himself: bravado, bravado, bla bla bla. My cheeks hurt from the fake grin I have plastered across my face but I really lose the will to live as he places a captain’s hat on my head, cracking a joke to Remy about female drivers and saying that if I felt brave enough, he might even let me steer later. As we walk I ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ where appropriate, observing the ostentatious gold fixings and over-the-top ornate features and I conclude that no amount of money can buy you class.

When we eventually reach the sun deck, Remy raises an eyebrow at me, “Oh. Ma cherie, I think we may be intruding. Parker, were you expecting other company?”

I cringe as my eyes land on the biggest bunch of roses I’ve ever seen, sat next to a bottle of the same champagne we were drinking in the bar last night. I know Parker is a truly awful person, but I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. His cheeks colour lightly, clearly having forgotten that he paid someone to set this up for him and his mouth works hard at opening and closing for a few painful seconds before his brain catches up, “Oh! Those? A ‘friend’ of mine was supposed to join me a bit before you both arrived. Then I thought we could have some drinks together, all four of us.”

Remy nods, his expression neutral, but eyes sharp, “I see. And they’re running late?”

Parker shrugs, eyes flicking to look at me as he lies, “She cancelled at the last minute. Something else came up.”

Remy wraps his arm around me making a show of planting a soft kiss on my cheek, his sympathetic words juxtaposed to the smirk apparent in his tone, “How awful, cherie! Good old Parker’s been left in the lurch. And after going to all that trouble too!”

I grimace, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Parker.”

Parker clears his throat, snatching up the champagne bottle, “Yeah. I’ll grab us some glasses.”

As he heads inside, I dig Remy in the ribs with my elbow and hiss, “What the hell was that?!”

Remy grins, his face full of mischief, “It’s obvious that I suspect there’s ‘something going on’ here”, he gestures between me and the roses, “and if he knows I’m willing to fight for you mon couer, it makes you all the more attractive to him...”

Knowing he’s right, but hating it, I pull a face.

He winks at me, “Plus, your Remy wants to have a little fun making him squirm.”

—-

We set sail a little after two-thirty, and as the afternoon progresses, it’s not just Parker who Remy is making squirm. Aside from a variety of vaguely passive aggressive jokes about being stood up and dating disasters - at one point even suggesting that I set Parker up with one of my friends, Remy is possibly the most tactile he’s ever been with me during this con: his hand is either holding mine, on my knee, or touching my face at every given opportunity. And his strategy is working because every single time Remy’s hands are on me, Parker’s eyes follow.

I know it’s all for Parker’s benefit but I just can’t help the way my heart races when Remy touches me. I have to keep telling myself it’s just for the con - all a part of his strategy. I repeat it over and over like a mantra: ‘It’s just for the con. It’s not real. It’s just for the con.’ But it feels so good. So real. And I want him so badly my chest aches.

Part of my role on today’s outing is scouting out the location of the reel of film we’re trying to steal. We’ve long suspected that it’s somewhere on the boat. So while the men continue to drink and chatter, I excuse myself and head to the restroom, getting myself deliberately lost in the labyrinth below deck. I’m fascinated by the amount of cool and interesting stuff that Parker owns despite being an uncultured jerk. I wonder if he has any genuine interest in any of it at all, or if it’s entirely for bragging rights and to impress other people. The further I wander unrestricted, the more I marvel and get to wondering just how rich Parker actually is? It’s so unfair - he deserves pretty much nothing that’s aboard this floating treasure trove... Then I see it - a can of film inside a glass case! Surely that’s got to be it? I quickly check the case, it’s pretty secure and looks like it’s inbuilt to the wall cabinet?! That means... This must be it - the first kiss ever recorded... I beam from ear to ear as I think about how excited Remy is going to be when I tell him!!

Unbeknown to me, upstairs whilst Remy and Parker stand at the railing staring out into the glittering dark blue of the Med, Remy decides to lean a little further into his role of suspicious and jealous spouse. Remy subtly turns the conversation from small talk to a grilling before Parker even realises that he’s walking into a trap, “It’s a shame your friend couldn’t make it, Parker. It would have been lovely to meet the woman who’s caught your eye... You were hoping that the four of us could have drinks together, right?”

Parker nods, sipping at his glass.

“But you didn’t know I was coming?”

Parker laughs, deflecting, “Uh, yeah! I got that wrong, I thought you were otherwise engaged. I’m so glad you could make it, buddy! It’s always great to see you!”

Remy cocks his head to the side, face still open and neutral, like he’s trying to understand, ”Sure, I’m glad I could join. But I’m confused? You were planning on the four of us drinking that champagne, oui?”

Parker clears his throat, suddenly realising that Remy might actually not be as much of a mug as he’s taken him for.

Remy continues, face visibly hardening as he speaks, “From where I’m sitting, there’s no mystery lady, and no Remy? And - well - that just leaves you and my wife sailing around the Mediterranean with a bottle of champagne and a big bunch of roses, Parker.”

Parker waves his hands in the air defensively, “Wow, Remy!! Slow down - I don’t know where you think you’re going with this, but you’ve got it all wrong! You’re putting two and two together and getting five, my friend!”

Remy huffs a bitter laugh, his voice now dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, five? So, I have it all wrong that my wife was halfway out the door to come here, to be with you, alone? Seems convenient that your lady-friend mysteriously couldn’t make it at the last minute? The one I’ve never heard you mention before? Please, explain it to me, Parker. Because it looks to me like you’ve got designs on my wife.”

Parker stutters to find an answer for a second before the yacht jolts violent throwing both men to the ground.

—-

I cradle my arm to my chest and grit my teeth as I clamber back onto my feet, nausea washing over me as I try my best not to move it again. Safe to say I don’t need a medical degree to tell me I’ve broken something.

After that god-awful metallic grinding, groaning noise everything has gone quiet. Eerily quiet. The normal lighting has gone, but the emergency lighting has kicked in casting a sickly green hue all around. I need to get back up to deck, to see what the hell just happened, to make sure Remy is ok!

I move towards the stairwell door and as I wrench it towards me, I’m met with a rush of cold water that makes me gasp. Oh this is bad. This is really, really bad. I stare at the fast-moving seawater spilling in, swirling around my feet: I’m rooted to the spot as panic rises rapidly in my chest. I’m not sure how many seconds have ticked by when I hear the roar of my name. Remy. I can’t see him, but I scramble towards the sound of his voice and call out to him, “I’m down here! Remy! I’m here!”

Water is rapidly filling the space below deck as Remy throws open the door of the opposite stairwell. I lurch towards him, sloshing through it, my limbs twice as heavy and struggling to stay upright against the slippery surface.

Remy wades through the corridor to reach me, calling to me, “I’m coming, cherie, it’ll be ok!” As we meet somewhere near the middle his hands grasp my shoulders as he gives me a quick once over, brows knit together when he sees how I’m holding my quick-swelling arm, “Merde! Is that broken?!”

I wince, nodding. The pain radiates from my wrist making my fingers tingle and my head buzz. Remy’s got one arm around me and he’s gripping at the walls with his free hand, moving us steadily toward the stairwell he came down: the water’s around my waist now. He keeps repeating, ‘it’s ok, it’s going to be ok’, but his usually calm voice jitters and I’m not sure if he’s saying it for my benefit or if he’s trying to make himself believe it. We reach the stairwell and Remy ushers me through the door. The tilt of the yacht makes it hard to climb the steps, but we fight to ascend. Up. Up. Up. We’re around half-way when the yacht jolts unexpectedly again; Remy grabs for the wet handrail. Every muscle in his body strains to keep us in place, to somehow stop us from careering back down the staircase. I feel lightheaded from the way my damaged arm jerks as he catches us, but it’s better than the alternative of plunging back down into the murky water. We resume our climb and make it up the final steps together. Only at the top do I truly appreciate the incongruous angle the yacht lists to, and start to properly grasp just how deadly this situation could be. The sounds of straining metal and hissing water fill the space around us and I’m scared. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life.

 We scramble our way out across the badly-angled yacht, clinging to the side rails for purchase as we move: we need to get off this boat. It can’t end like this. In the time I’ve been below deck, dark clouds have rolled in and the rain pelts down on us. As we reach the side of the yacht, and I suck in a deep lungful of air trying to black out the pain radiating up and down my arm. Trying to steady my nerves, I tell myself, ‘We just need to get on the lifeboat, getting upstairs was the hardest part. Come on, you can do this - you can do this! We’re almost there, it’s going to be-’ But my silent pep talk is cut short and a sense of dread floods through me as I watch Remy surge around and around, a hand raking through his soaking hair as he yells,

“He’s gone! That bastard! He’s left us!”

Remy’s hanging over the side, trying to locate Parker, frantically yelling his name out into the dank, misty distance. But it’s useless - he’s long gone. Fresh panic rises as what that means sinks in: that snake abandoned us and the sinking ship. And he’s taken the only life vessel with him. A storm’s rolling in and visibility is poor. We’re miles from the coast without another boat in sight. The water this far out isn’t frigid but it’s still cool enough to catch hypothermia without the right clothing if you’re in it for a couple of hours - but we’re likely to end up in there because this yacht is going down. I’m not sure how long I could tread water for with a broken arm? I choke back my horror as I realise - I don’t think we can’t make it back. He’s left us out here to die.

Tears silently streak my face, mingling with saltwater and rain as I turn to Remy. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, but he’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him, his hands shake and he curses as he pulls useless items out of one of the inbuilt storage benches, tossing them onto the wet deck behind him. I tug at his sleeve and rasp, “There’s no way off, is there?”

He refuses to meet my gaze, yanking his arm away from me, rummaging deeper, muttering in frustration. But I refuse to be brushed off, not now. I pull on his sleeve again, “Remy! Just, stop.”

He whirls on me, his usually smiling eyes are wild as they meet mine. And before I know what’s happening, right there on the deck of the part-submerged yacht, Remy pulls my face to his, mouth crashing desperately into mine. I gasp at the sensation of him. Rough. Passion-filled. Real. His lips spill every frenzied confession I ever wanted to hear and I’m losing myself in him; rapt in every disclosure. The surge of emotion between us swells my pounding heart and fills my soul, a choir with one refrain: he loves me, he loves me, he loves me. My body breaks into song - lyrical, a groan against Remy’s supple lips: rejoicing, dancing, dopamine-high. A million melodies, harmonies, symphonies rush through us as we cling to each other against the stormy saltwater spray. His touch is electric, flesh warm against my skin, deft fingers knotted in my hair drawing me close. Closer. So close I feel two heartbeats pulse through me like an orchestra nearing crescendo. I’m soaked, hurt and terrified, but somehow I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now, exalted in his arms. My hand grazes over the stubble of his jaw, the high arc of his cheekbone: my fingertips trace every beautiful feature, mapping every crease, every dimple. If this is our coda, if this is how it all comes to an end, I want to succumb remembering every delicious second of this kiss - every sensation, every caress, every breath, every poetic unspoken word. I want my finale to be us.

Our kiss ends breathlessly, foreheads touching: both unwilling to part. Remy’s lips hover over mine like we’re magnetised. Green eyes search my own as I gaze upon the face I love through dark lashes, trembling. I cover his heart with my palm - I never want to let him go. Seconds tick past that feel like minutes until he finally breaks away and I gulp for air. Bereft, my body aches for him.

Remy’s rifling through the storage benches again, items shoved from side to side, thrown and discarded until he shouts triumphantly, flare gun in hand! Slick hands fumble to load the cartridge, then he steps away from me, pointing the gun above his head, firing high. We watch as a plume of intense fire illuminates the sky above us, a beautiful SOS, hanging in the air before slowing making its descent to the sea.

The stricken vessel below us strains and groans as Remy grips my hand in his, “We aren’t going out like this, cherie.” He says it with such conviction and determination that my heart stutters. My eyes widen as he brandishes a life buoy at me. “There’s only one.”

Why am I not even surprised that a jerk like Parker went for 24-Carat light fittings but scrimped on the most basic of safety features and maintenance? I shake my head at Remy, fear threatens to take over, “We’re not jumping?!”

Remy exclaims, “We have to! We can’t stay on ‘til it sinks, it’s too dangerous! We need to get as far away as we can. We jump together and I promise you - I won’t let go of your hand. Ever.”

A cacophony of glass cracks and metal tears. Engineering crumbles against a backdrop of smoky neon as we huddle together at the edge of semi-capsized yacht. The rain continues to drive against us, and I understand why we have to jump, but I hate that it’s the only option. My hand fits inside Remy’s and he squeezes it tightly, my pulse racing as we count down together from three, two, one...

As we hit the cool water I cry out, pain seers through my busted arm and makes the world seem dull and frayed around the edges. Everything under water is eerily dark and silence rings in my ears as I plunge beneath the surface. In those seconds it feels strangely peaceful. Serene. My mind, so busy moments before, is a blank. An instant sedation - each nerve numb: novocaine static. It’s not until I feel Remy jerk at my hand, still firmly clasped in his, that my brain reconnects. I kick my feet and follow Remy upwards, breaking the waves, choking and gasping for air.

Remy manoeuvres the life buoy between us, urging me to take hold, his hand cupping my cheek, pushing back my sodden hair, eyes raking over me, “Are you ok??”

I cough and splutter as I nod my head at him: I’m fine. Remy doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue with me either. He takes charge of getting us away from the yacht and I follow him blindly, feeling dazed, clinging to the buoy. Minutes later, the yacht goes under and the rapid movement of air and water sends pieces of debris swirling perilously to the surface. A watery scrapyard bobs around us.

I feel sick and dizzy and I’m so cold that my teeth chatter. Did anyone see the flare? Is help coming?

Remy repositions himself and wraps both arms around me as we float aimlessly together. I don’t know how long passes, but every so often he says my name and jolts me to keep me awake, and honestly, I’m trying, but it’s so hard to keep my eyes open. I tell him I’m trying, but I feel so weak. Remy says I’m in shock and I mumble, “That kiss was the best shock I ever had.”

I feel the rumble of his laugh roll through me, and then his lips meet mine again. Soft this time. Slow. Tender. His affection washing over me. I feebly smile and sigh into his kiss, his comforting warmth surrounds me. His touch is like a beacon in the bleak dark water, keeping me focussed, keeping me hanging on. The situation is desperate, but at least I’m with Remy.

As time swirls past us, I drift in and out of consciousness, pulled back a final time by Remy shaking me, “Listen!! Do you hear it??”

I startle and try my best to concentrate... Then I hear it, a horn blasting. Someone’s coming! They must have seen our distress signal. Remy’s swimming as fast as he can for both of us, moving our heavy, tired bodies in the direction of the sound until we finally see it. Remy yells until he’s hoarse, waving, whistling - anything to attract their attention. As the vessel approaches, I hear rough, deep voices yelling in Spanish but my head’s too fuzzy and it’s fast for me to understand. Remy is shouting back at them to take me on board first, and before I know what’s happening, I’m being lifted - strong hands grip under my arms as I cry out for Remy. They pay me no heed: saviours in oilskins wrap me in a foil blanket, checking me over, patting my cheek and trying to get me to focus. I struggle to evade them, “Where is Remy?? You have to help him!!”

They won’t let me stand up, won’t let me move! Agitated tears blur my vision - they need to get Remy out of the water. And then I hear his voice and relief consumes me. The fishermen part to let him reach me, he’s dripping all over their deck and he looks so pale, but he’s here and we’re together. He throws his arms around me, clutching me close, face buried in my neck. We cling together, exchanging sweet words, counting our blessings and relishing the feeling of each other. A tall, thin, official-looking man wraps a second blanket around Remy’s shoulders, talking into his ear. Remy nods to him and then suddenly we’re moving below deck, to somewhere warm and dry. My good arm is around Remy’s neck, the other gentleman walks slowly by my other side, hand hovering to support me as my legs wobble. They give me a towel for my hair and large hooded sweatshirt to change into - Remy helps me and the feeling of the clean, dry fabric against my skin makes me want to weep. I sit on a makeshift bed, exhausted and sore, my head buzzing. Remy hasn’t changed into the fresh clothes they’ve left for him yet, he shivers but refuses to let go of my hand - as though he believes I might evaporate if he does.

The sailors tell us the coastguard is on their way and it won’t be long til we’re back on dry land. I can’t wait for my feet to be firmly on the ground. Remy asks the sailors for something to drink, but they refuse telling us not until we’ve seen a doctor. But Remy insists and eventually they relent, giving us both a large brandy. I swallow it down, grimacing at the taste and the burning sensation in my throat. I lie on my side, cheek pressed against a soft cushion, still shivering. I cradle my swollen arm to my chest, rising and falling as I struggle to come to terms with everything that’s happened today. Remy’s finally in dry clothes, and has crawled into the space by my side on the bunk. It’s going to take a while to process all of this, but it feels so nice to lie here with Remy gazing into my eyes, bodies close, to see him smile at me. I feel drained, but calmer now I’m near to him. I reach out and trace his features, just as I did when we kissed on the yacht a short time before; his stubbled jaw, the curve of his cheek, the little dimple that appears when he grins at me. He catches my fingers in his, and presses gentle kisses to my knuckles, to my palm, his other hand smoothing out my damp hair, “I promised you I wouldn’t let you go. We’re safe now. Your Remy’s here, it’ll all be fine mon coeur. ”

—- 24 hours later —-

Leon pats my knee affectionately as I slide into the passenger seat, “Ready to go home?”

I nod and thank him, as Remy reaches over the headrest, squeezing Leon’s shoulder, “Merci, Leon. Thanks for coming back to drive us.”

Leon meets Remy’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, brows tight, looking perplexed, “It’s no problem. I still can’t believe Parker just... Left.”

Remy shrugs, “I can. Proves he was exactly the type of person we steal from.”

I sigh and scrub my hand across my face, “Except we didn’t steal anything from him, Remy. Everything’s gone. The film, lots of really amazing sculptures and artwork - all at the bottom of the sea...”

Remy shrugs, “But you and I aren’t at the bottom of the sea, and that’s what’s really important mon couer.”

And I know he’s right, but it just seems like such a terrible waste, that’s all. I suppose it might be better that no one has all of those treasures, than Parker hoarding them all and appreciating none of them. It was all just ‘stuff’ to him, for bragging rights, nothing more. Someone so shallow didn’t deserve any of-

Leon makes me jump, chuckling while reaching across me to clip my seatbelt in, exclaiming, “What’s this?!”

I glance down and see black Sharpie ink on my plaster cast. I lift my reset arm, and tilt my head to see it properly, there are two doodled little stick-people, one with my initials, one with ‘RC’, surrounded by sweet little hearts and the words ‘je t’aime, toujours ’ scrolled below. I feel my heart leap as I take it in. My cheeks start to colour as I stammer, “I don’t know- I- When-?”

Leon’s sporting a knowing smirk at Remy’s reflection, “To commemorate your fake marriage? Because there’s no need for you two to pretend anymore, right?”

I twist round in my seat to look at Remy who simply leans forward and cups my face in his palms. His eyes gaze into mine, face open and honest - no mask in sight. He meets my lips with a warm kiss as he confirms, “I’m done with pretending.”

#long fic #queen of thieves #remy chevalier #lovestruck #tw: drowning #tw: broken bones

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schraubd · 4 years ago

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Should I PlagueWatch It?: Series Finale!

In March 2020, I inaugurated on this blog what I said "may but hopefully won't(?) become an ongoing series": Should I PlagueWatch It? Basically, it took the thing Jill and I do best -- watch TV -- and offered our recommendations for what you should watch to get you through the pandemic.

Over a year later, Should I PlagueWatch It? did, indeed, become a series. In addition to the first entry -- HBO's Avenue 5 -- I also did entries on Gentleman Jack, Marvel's Runaways, Alpha House, Never Have I Ever, Jelle's Marble Runs, Making the Cut, and a "roundup" post that covered Billions, Insecure, Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Ultimate Tag, Titan Games, and Holey Moley.

But now, it feels we're finally closing the chapter on the pandemic. Jill and I are vaccinated, my parents came to visit this past weekend, we're seeing friends, the CDC says we can go unmasked. It seems, alas, that all good things must come to an end. And while the pandemic itself is certainly not a good thing, some of us may be feeling a bit bittersweet at the prospect of being expected to interact with other humans rather than sit around and watch Netflix all day.

So to wrap up the series, one more omnibus "quick hits" review of all the shows we PlagueWatched that haven't yet gotten their own entry.

* * * Mild spoilers * * *

Blown Away

Reality TV can be wonderful in its formulaicness. Take a random hobby, find ten people who are pretty good at it, dangle $50,000 in front of them, and bang, you've got a competition show. This one's about glass blowing. I know nothing about glass blowing, but the competitors seem pretty talented to me?

I was impressed at how versatile a medium glass is. I worried when I started the show that the challenges would end up being pretty one note (how many vases can one make?). But the competitors actually made a lot of really cool material!

There's a lot of running and swinging and flailing given that they're handling molten-hot material. It stressed me out. Also, apparently "glory holes" are an essential part of glass blowing, and nobody made a joke about it.

This show is definitely more in the "everyone likes and supports one another" mold of reality TV compared to the "constant cat fights and 'I'm not here to make friends'" mold. No judgment, just letting you know what to expect.

Sexify

A Netflix series about a young college student with no sexual experience who decides she needs to develop an app to optimize the female orgasm. It's not the most innovative concept, but it works well enough.

Of the core trio, my favorite character is Paulina -- the religious Catholic best-friend who is having (bad) sex with her fiancé and feels guilty about even that sin. She does a lot of great expressive work and has some superb character beats (her popcorn addiction -- just casually munching away while watching porn).

Speaking of Paulina, at the outset I told Jill she looked like someone and Jill's first guess was "a plainer Emily Blunt" (that's not an insult -- who isn't plainer than Emily Blunt?). It wasn't who I was thinking of, and soon I realized the answer was like six women I've known over the years. So maybe "plainer Emily Blunt" is a more common face than I realized?

The show is in Polish (with subtitles), and I'm very proud that I managed to identify the language as Polish right away (I do not speak a word of Polish).

The musical motif for the show combines one of the catchiest guitar riffs I've ever heard with a sample loop of a woman's sex moans. It fits the show perfectly, but it's a bit awkward to listen to on its own.

Wandavision

You shouldn't need me to tell you about this show. It's good, but my hottest take -- and I stand by it -- is that as an exploration of grief Never Have I Ever does it better and it's not close.

Can we concede that Wanda is the unambiguous villain of the show? With only the barest shift in perspective, Wanda could be the nemesis with an admittedly sympathetic motive. To some extent, I think the show was far too forgiving of her. Motives aside, how different is she from Kilgrave on Jessica Jones?

Poor Emma Caulfield. So much build-up for her character, and it's only a head-fake.

Space Force

I liked it. It's not in the most elite of the elite comedies, and maybe that's the standard when Steve Carrell is the lead, but it was quite funny. That said, I keep on almost forgetting that I watched it, and have no substantive commentary to offer. So take from that what you will.

AOC lookalike alert (the character even gets the nickname AYC -- "Angry Young Congresswoman")!

Mythic Quest

I love that Ubisoft is actually involved in the show (which is set at a game studio producing a popular massively multiplayer online RPG).

Surprisingly, given my love affair with Community, Danny Pudi is one of the least interesting characters on the show.

The actress who plays Poppy isn't the very strongest (though she's improving), but Poppy herself may be my favorite character. Of course, everyone knows I'm a sucker for an Australian accent.

The show has some great characters in side parts who don't get enough attention, like Sue the community manager and Carol the HR director. Also, Aparna Nancherla has a small recurring role in the first season and apparently doesn't come back for season two? I don't get why she keeps getting sidelined like this -- she's funnier than the rest of the cast put together.

Ted Lasso

Good, sweet, endearing, fun. British soccer comedies with heart are a winner for me (Bend It Like Beckham, anyone?).

Ted's estranged wife is played by the same actress who plays Linda in Better Off Ted. This was very strange, though admittedly I'm probably the only person who cared enough about Better Off Ted to notice or care.

Lupin

Dashing gentleman thief who's always a step ahead of his adversaries, except maybe the one nemesis who actually can match him step for step in a constant cat-and-mouse game? Look, it's a cliché for a reason. I'm not going to say Lupin breaks the mold, but it certainly is a well-crafted entry into the mold.

If there is anything innovative, it's how Lupin particularly leverages stereotypes about race and class to maneuver more freely in certain spaces (e.g., he can smuggle himself into prison because the guards can't tell him apart from another inmate -- sad commentary, but useful for Lupin!).

It did do something I hate, which is release "half a season" and just leave the audience hanging at the end. Maybe it was the pandemic's fault, but one could really feel its incompleteness.

Kim's Convenience

Of the Canadian shows I've been watching, I'd say Working Moms (not in this post because it is pre-pandemic) is the stronger of the two. But this is fun as well.

It just got cancelled, unfortunately depriving it of the chance to wrap up its single greatest storyline (that's been ongoing since season one). That's a real, real shame.

Simu Liu as Jung is the latest iteration of the Jason Mendoza trend of "dumb male Asian hottie leads". I guess it's a blow against stereotypes?

Pastor Nina also could be an AOC lookalike. I think the show struggled a bit to draw a bead on her character.

Legomasters

I actually mentioned this show in my post about Jelle's Marble Runs, but it is such a joy to watch. I can't wait for season two, which is dropping very soon. For pure, simple, uncomplicated happiness, Legomasters beats out everything on this list.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/3yamzYb

#reviews #television

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brindlestorm · 4 years ago

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My Truth or Yours?

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5

“I never thought I’d say this; but the best thing I can prescribe for you, Dustpaw, is more battle training!” Spottedleaf chuckled.

Dustpaw’s head shot up looking shocked, and Ravenpaw twitched his whiskers in amusement. Who ever heard of a medicine cat telling a cat to fight more often?

“You were definitely onto something when you told me that you sleep better after a battle training session than hunting. Poppy seeds can only do so much for growing pangs, what you really need is to stretch your muscles in different ways to keep you from getting stiff, hunting does the opposite of that.”

Redtail flicked his tail over his apprentice’s ears, “You’re almost bigger than me y’know. I’ve taught you how to be quick and clever in a fight because I thought you and your brother would end up the same size. I think it might be best to have Tigerclaw take over your training in that area, you’ll probably be as big as him!”

“Maybe even as big as Lionheart!” Ravenpaw teased as well.

Dustpaw flattened his ears and looked away, “No one could be as big as Lionheart,” he mumbled.

“Okay, as big as Whitestorm then.” Ravenpaw said, “Though I’m pretty sure they’re both smaller than they look, not by much, but have you seen how much fur they have? Without it they’d be tiny!”

“Are you looking to test that theory?” Growled a large yellow tom as he squeezed himself into the already crowded den. His voice sounded annoyed but one could still see the twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

Ravenpaw ducked his head in embarrassment, “N-no thanks! Sorry Lionheart!”

“Alright, the rest of you need to leave now so I can deal with Lionheart. Let me guess, you stepped on another thorn?” Spottedleaf said as she shooed the other three cats out of her den.

“Three actually, all on the same paw” Lionheart’s voice faded away as the three padded back into the clearing.

“It's been a long day for the both of you. You two can take the morning off and sleep in a bit, I’ll speak with Tigerclaw about a joint training session tomorrow. You did well, so rest up!” Redtail told the brothers, scanning the clearing for Tigerclaw.

“C’mon Ravenpaw!” Dustpaw chirped, “Do y’think Sandpaw wants to hear about how I caught that massive hawk?”

The pale molly’s head jerked up as she was leaving the nursery, “Hardly! You’ve been gloating all evening about it, why don’t you tell Graykit instead? I’m sure he’d love to hear about how the mighty Dustpaw saved the deputy from a hawk!”

Dustpaw’s face fell for a moment, but perked up at the thought of telling the kit about his heroic feat. He trotted into the nursery as Sandpaw left, not caring that Ravenpaw didn’t follow after him.

Ravenpaw instead followed after Sandpaw, trying not to let the fur on the back of his neck rise as he felt the deputy watching him from afar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tigerclaw narrowed his eyes as he watched his apprentice spar with his brother. Ravenpaw was being rather tight-lipped about what happened during his assessment a half moon ago and Tigerclaw feared the worst, his pacifistic apprentice attacked the deputy and got lucky when the hawk showed up.

Great Starclan though, if Dustpaw kept gloating about it he’d get more than a few clouts this session.

“And then I jumped up just like this!” Dustpaw said excitedly, rearing up on his hindlegs to come crashing down on his brother.

Unfortunately for Dustpaw, Ravenpaw was actually focusing during this session, and took the opportunity to swerve to the side and shove his brother over. Watching Dustpaw flail to the ground, Tigerclaw couldn’t help but share a chuckle with Redtail as Dustpaw shook the sand from his pelt and glared half-heartedly at Ravenpaw.

“No fair! I was showing you how to catch a hawk, you should be grateful I’m even trying to help you!” Dustpaw sniffed.

“I thought this session was about battle training, not hunting. Didn’t Spottedleaf tell you not to hunt too much this moon?” Ravenpaw teased back. “I think catching hawks counts as that, if you ask me.”

“I still can’t believe my sister told you that, and during leafbare as well.” Redtail muttered.

Tigerclaw rolled his eyes and padded over to the apprentices, nosing Dustpaw into a neater crouch than what he started with.

“Keep your paws tucked and in line with each other, Dustpaw. If that’s the stance you used to take on a hawk, I’m amazed that you even managed to keep it down.” Tigerclaw said gruffly.

Dustpaw nodded and shuffled his paws into place, checking for Tigerclaw’s reaction to make sure he had done it right. Tigerclaw schooled his expression to not give it away, Dustpaw would have to learn by instinct to fall into the correct position.

He flicked his tail signalling to Ravenpaw that he should return to the edge of the clearing. “Attack me.” Tigerclaw ordered simply.

“I thought I was fighting Ravenpaw?” Dustpaw asked, confused.

Tigerclaw gently swatted his paw over the apprentice’s ears, making him duck and jump back. “I said, attack me.”

This time Dustpaw reacted without hesitating, hurtling for Tigerclaw’s flank. The warrior easily sidestepped him just as Ravenpaw had, but this time he found the apprentice tangling himself in his paws, trying to trip him from beneath. Had he been any other warrior, that method would have worked immediately.

Unfortunately for Dustpaw, Tigerclaw was still much bigger than the other, and he swiftly dropped his weight onto the apprentice. Of course he held back enough to not smother him, but had it been a true battle he would not have received that mercy.

Dustpaw clawed his way out from under Tigerclaw, gasping for breath. He spun around on unsteady paws and tried to jump on Tigerclaw again, but the warrior just held a paw in his face to keep him from moving forward.

“You fight like a cat much smaller than how you’ll grow up to be, it's good to not rely on strength alone but you do still need to learn to use it to your advantage.”

“While we’re at it, how about I take Ravenpaw for some training as well?” Redtail suggested. “I can’t teach Dustpaw to fight like you can, Tigerclaw. But I imagine Ravenpaw can learn a thing or two from me.”

Tigerclaw eyed the deputy for a moment but nodded quickly, it wouldn’t do to deny the deputy such a logical request. As long as they stayed in the clearing it should be fine.

Redtail beckoned Ravenpaw to the other side and crouched. Tigerclaw caught the fearful expression on his apprentice’s face but forced himself to focus on Dustpaw. Surely Redtail wouldn’t try anything with two other cats to witness, right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A moon had passed and the weather had turned worse, they had already lost Poppydawn, a death Longtail seemed to be taking personally, and Tigerclaw feared that his grandfather Adderfang may be next to go.

“We should take a patrol past our borders,” Tigerclaw suggested. “Not too far, but enough to scout out possible hunting spots. Perhaps upriver along the Riverclan border?”

Bluestar nodded slowly, exhaustion making her eyes appear dull. Like many leaders before her, she had refused to eat until everyone else in the clan had a chance to have at least a mouthful of what little prey there was to go around, even the warriors and apprentices came before her. Spottedleaf found herself jumping constantly between her leader and her former mentor who was sick with greencough after taking care of all the patients himself.

“That may be for the best, Tigerclaw. How about you lead the patrol since it was your idea? Take the three fittest cats you can and catch whatever you can find on the way back.” The blue leader rasped, fluffing up her pelt in the cold.

Somehow, it only made her appear smaller.

Tigerclaw considered his options, Darkstripe and Longtail seemed to have enough energy most days, and it wouldn’t hurt to take Thistleclaw as well. Maybe he’d be a little less tense if he could do something worthwhile for the clan, for all his faults, he knew his old mentor couldn’t stand by and watch the clan starve.

“Tigerclaw if you don’t mind, I’d like to take Ravenpaw hunting with me today. You can have Dustpaw tag along with your patrol, it’ll be a good experience for him.”

“What do you want my apprentice for?” Tigerclaw asked, genuinely confused. After a whole moon of joint sessions, Tigerclaw assumed that Redtail had no interest in Ravenpaw beyond training, but why would the deputy want to take him out alone?

“He has a peculiar method in hunting, he hardly touched the ground during his assessment. I doubt he learned that from you, Tigerclaw, no offense. If he’s that good at tree hunting, we may be able to track down some squirrel nests higher up.”

Bluestar answered for him, “That sounds like a good idea Redtail, but I don’t want you hunting any of the squirrels you two may find.”

“I thought the whole idea was finding more prey for the clan?” Redtail asked, perplexed.

“When I was an apprentice, my sister came up with the idea of baiting the mice with cobnuts. Ravenpaw seems to have a similar mindset, I heard him earlier talking to himself about leaving nuts near prey-holes to feed them. It's an odd idea, but if we make sure the prey in our territory can survive Leafbare, we’re sure to have a good supply of food by newleaf.”

Tigerclaw blinked, he never would have thought of that himself. It still sounded like an inane idea to him, feeding the prey that’s meant to feed the clan, but the surety of having food when the cold passed sounded too good to pass up.

Redtail stood up, “I’ll take Mousefur and Runningwind, they’re not the best climbers but they can scout the tree roots for other prey-dens. If we both leave now, we may be done by sun-down, there’s no time to lose!”

Bluestar flicked her tail in dismissal, closing her eyes tiredly. The two warriors got to their paws, leaving their leader to rest.

Tigerclaw hurried to the apprentices den, asking Redtail to summon the warriors while he gathered their apprentices.

“Dustpaw, Ravenpaw! You two are on patrol, Ravenpaw you’ll be with Mousefur, Runningwind, and Redtail. He’ll explain along the way, Dustpaw you’ll be with me and a few other warriors as hunting scouts. We’re going beyond our borders today so be on your guard.”

The pair hurried out of their nests where they had been sheltering from the worst of the cold. Sandpaw was out doing some light hunting with Whitestorm, finally able to start training again. A good thing too, Spottedleaf was adamant that Dustpaw be relieved from hunting duties until his growth spurt hit. Tigerclaw couldn’t remember getting special treatment like that when he was an apprentice, but there was no arguing with a medicine cat, and Sandpaw could more than make up for Dustpaw’s absence on patrols.

Thistleclaw scowled as he trudged out of his den, Mousefur, Darkstripe, Longtail, and Runningwind blinking wearily as they trailed behind.

“What’s this about scouting?” Thistleclaw growled to Redtail. “I suppose Bluestar’s perfect deputy will be leading?”

“Actually, I am.” Tigerclaw mewed smoothly, guiding the cantankerous senior warrior aside, flicking his tail to let Darkstripe and Longtail know that they had to follow as well.

“Redtail will be leading a patrol to scout for prey-dens to leave nuts and seeds for, we’ll be going beyond our borders to bring back food for the clan.” He explained.

Thistleclaw let out a hearty chuckle, “They’re off to feed our prey? Who’s hare-brained idea was that! Bluestar must be about to lose her mind with this next life if she supported something as stupid as that. Must run in the family.”

Tigerclaw had to keep himself from biting back with more than just words, “It was my apprentice’s idea, and it’s hardly hare-brained. Didn’t your mate, Bluestar’s sister, have a similar idea in your youth? Are you calling Snowfur hare-brained as well?”

Thistleclaw flinched at the sound of his late mate’s name, baring his teeth as he remembered how she died. Tigerclaw knew it was a low blow, those types of old wounds never heal well. But Thistleclaw seemed to get the message he was trying to get across and kept quiet as the patrol continued on it’s way towards the border.

Tigerclaw opened his jaw to take in the scents and grunted. “We may as well mark the border while we’re here. Spread out, Darkstripe and Longtail can see to the border from the twoleg-bridge to Four-Trees. Thistleclaw will take Sunning Rocks. Dustpaw and I will continue making our way up-river, I expect to see you all by Sunhigh at the furthest reaches of our border.”

“Isn’t that near Twolegplace?” Darkstripe sneered.

“There are woods still left on our side of the fence, that’s where we’ll be going.” Tigerclaw replied shortly. “Go, now.” he ordered.

The three warriors nodded and sped off, there was a gleam in Thistleclaw’s eyes that Tigerclaw didn’t like, but there was nothing he could do but keep going forward with Dustpaw.

“I don’t care what Spottedleaf says, if you spot any prey while we’re moving, I expect you to at least try and catch it. Understood?”

“Yes Tigerclaw.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ravenpaw was shaking in his paws as he followed Redtail to the Great Sycamore tree.

Mousefur and Runningwind were already given their orders, gone to collect seeds and any nuts they could find that weren’t needed by Spottedleaf and leave them in front of prey-holes or common foraging spots in the forest.

“Let’s see how high you can climb, Ravenpaw.” Redtail said, tail curled over his paws as he watched the apprentice with glittering eyes. “Stop when you hit a branch that you feel is connected to a neighboring tree and I’ll come join you.”

Ravenpaw nodded, stomach churning at the thought of what Redtail would do when he got up beside him. Would he be pushed from his perch? If he went too high he could snap his neck on one of the branches on the way down, he’d have to make sure that that couldn’t happen.

But then, it wasn’t called the Great Sycamore for nothing.

Nervously, Ravenpaw began to scale the great tree, not daring to look down at what Redtail might be doing below. Once he reached a branch that looked to be almost interwoven with a tree nearby, he called down to Redtail to report it.

In a few heartbeats, Redtail was next to him, peering around to get a good look. “Good work Ravenpaw, I don’t see any bird nests up here but there could be a few squirrel-holes nearby. Let’s get moving, be on the lookout for any nuts you can grab along the way.”

And so on they went, deputy and apprentice, balancing along the branches scouring the trees for anything prey-related. They stocked a few empty bird nests with seeds for when the birds returned and startled quite a few squirrels that were sleeping in their dens. Had Ravenpaw not been so nervous being next to Redtail, he would have been tempted to at least catch some of the older squirrels. But Bluestar’s orders rang in his mind so he held back.

It wasn’t until the scent of pines hit his nose that Ravenpaw realized something might be wrong.

“Stop.” Redtail ordered suddenly.

“Why are we at the border?” Ravenpaw breathed, fur bristling as he recognized the clearing below as the place he had so foolishly challenged the deputy not too long ago.

“I have some business to attend to, and you’re going to help.” Redtail replied simply, nosing the apprentices towards the trunk of the tree.

“You... what? You think I’m going to help you betray our clan even more? That’s insane, I won’t-”

“Yes you will, and when we’re done I promise everything will make sense.”

“I’ll run!” Ravenpaw threatened. “I- I’ll run and tell Bluestar right away what you’re doing, she’ll banish you forever!”

“If you were going to tell, you would have done it already. Now be quiet and do as you’re told. They’re here.”

And just as Redtail said it, a huge white tom with jet-black paws emerged from the bushes, followed by two brown tabbies.

“Hello again, old friend.” Blackfoot purred, padding up to the Thunderclan deputy with confidence. “Is this the little helper you promised?”

“Yes Blackfoot, I’m sure he’ll be of great use today.”

Ravenpaw gulped as he took in the three Shadowclan warriors before him. He would have to play along with whatever Redtail had planned, one claw out of line and he’d lose more than just his pelt before sun-down.

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The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when Tigerclaw, Longtail, Darkstripe, and Dustpaw returned to their own territory. Thistleclaw never showed up, though Longtail said Thistleclaw was going to try hunting at the base of the rocks. Tigerclaw could only shrug as he was focused on catching a pheasant a few fox-lengths ahead. Dustpaw had managed to catch a mouse but preferred to softly call out prey locations and give directions on how to catch them.

Darkstripe almost shredded the apprentice who had unknowingly given orders to warriors his senior. Tigerclaw stopped him though and told the pair to listen to whatever Dustpaw said, if the apprentice wanted to feel like he was in charge then Tigerclaw would treat it as another assessment. It would be good to know if the tabby’s ego matched his actual abilities, and being able to lead a patrol was one of them.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly to some, Dustpaw did well and the patrol managed to return home with three mice, a squirrel, and one fat pheasant for the elders to share. Dustpaw even made sure to let Tigerclaw know where he had spotted a few burrows that could be rabbit warrens. Longtail had wanted to check them out until Tigerclaw pointed out that they could just as easily be fox-dens.

As they were walking beside the river, Darkstripe’s head shot up. “I hear fighting! It sounds like it’s coming from Sunning Rocks!”

Tigerclaw froze, wracking his mind to remember the border patrol schedule for the day. Redtail had set dawn and dusk patrols to do the full route each to make room for more hunting patrols. Which meant....

“Thistleclaw must be fighting them alone.” Tigerclaw breathed, eyes wide with worry.

“He doesn’t really think he can reclaim the rocks on his own, does he?” Dustpaw asked, ears flattened.

“Of course not! The patrol probably attacked him because he was alone.” Tigerclaw scoffed, though in his mind he had to wonder the same thing.

Tigerclaw shook his head and pelted downriver, his patrol following close behind, but what they saw shocked them all.

Crookedstar stood on the Thunderclan side of the border, his jaws clamped around Thistleclaw’s neck as his eyes burned with hatred. Oakheart, the Riverclan deputy, was trying to soothe a soaked young apprentice who looked to be in shock. Blood dripped into her eye as she sat there shaking, a paw occasionally coming up to touch her neck. It didn’t look to be bleeding, but the poor molly could barely sit up straight without the help of her deputy.

“What happened here?” Tigerclaw snarled, leaping down mouse-lengths in front of the Riverclan leader.

Crookedstar dropped Thistleclaw like a stone, his broken jaw agape for a moment when he saw the patrol behind him that were inching around to close off their access to the river.

“He attacked my daughter.” Crookedstar defended. “She’s barely nine moons and he attacked her, tried to hold her underwater until she drowned.”

“I thought you fish-faces could hold your breath long enough, you lot never hesitate to try that with our warriors.” Tigerclaw replied coolly.

He bent low to press an ear to Thistleclaw’s chest, though he already knew what he would find. No pulse, his eyes were already as dull and clouded as his mother’s were not too long ago.

Is that why you felt the need to fight? Tigerclaw wondered to himself. Did I miss you hurting, hiding it away only to reopen the wound myself when I brought up Snowfur? Forgive me old friend, you will be missed.

“And he is dead.” Tigerclaw said flatly. “I was taught that an honorable warrior doesn’t need to kill to win a battle unless in self-defence”

“I know the code!” Crookedstar snapped. “Perhaps he was the one who didn’t know it, he tried to kill her!”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Tigerclaw shook his head. “Longtail, Darkstripe. Let them pass and help me get Thistleclaw onto my back. You three will have to carry the prey yourselves.”

Crookedstar blinked, “You’re letting us go?”

“He was fighting to take back the rocks on his own, wasn’t he?”

Oakheart nodded as he helped the apprentice to her paws.

“Bluestar wouldn’t have supported this, though I doubt she’d support the death of a clanmate as well. We’ll report this to Bluestar, and if she decides to start a war over it at least there’ll be a more equal battle when the time comes.”

Longtail moved aside reluctantly, but Darkstripe stood where was, leveling a glare with the three trespassers and spitting at Crookedstar’s feet as he passed.

Dustpaw just sat crouched where he was, shaking. It was then that Tigerclaw noticed the pool of blood forming at his paws, it was almost never-ending. He may not have felt too squeamish about it, but he understood that the apprentice would be. Silently, Tigerclaw went over to the nearest tree root and clawed off some moss to stuff into the wound. It wouldn’t last for long but hopefully it would stay until they reached the camp again.

Dustpaw took the mice and went ahead, stuttering that he would inform the elders to and Spottedleaf to prepare them while Tigerclaw and the others took a slower pace so as not to let Thistleclaw’s body slip off his back.

By the time they reached the gorse tunnel, Redtail and Ravenpaw were just returning looking disheveled.

“What happened?” Redtail mewed in shock.

Longtail, who had been carrying the pheasant, stopped to explain the situation quietly. Redtail’s gaze darkened when he heard the news, looking as outraged as Tigerclaw wished he felt.

But instead he just felt empty, hollow.

He trudged forward, not looking at Ravenpaw as he went past. Heading straight to the clearing where the elders were waiting to help get Thistleclaw down. Spottedleaf was nearby with lavender and more moss.

While she attended to the body, Tigerclaw went to Bluestar’s den only to be called back down by Spottedleaf.

“Best not to go in there, Bluestar is sick and it might be whitecough. I don’t need it spreading around the camp.” She told him quietly.

Tigerclaw stared blankly at her but nodded. Instead he went to take the mice to the queens. Goldenflower and Willowpelt must be hungry, he could tell them what happened while he was there.

He had barely taken two steps into the warm den when he saw the look on Goldenflower’s face. It was full of heart-wrenching sympathy and part of Tigerclaw wanted to turn away, deny the comfort she was ready to offer him.

But he couldn’t.

He sank down next to her, not letting his legs buckle until he knew he wasn’t about to fall on top of her. She would be kitting soon and he didn’t want to hurt her. Instead he just let himself lay beside her with closed eyes as she gently washed his flank, cleaning off the blood that had stained it from carrying Thistleclaw by himself for so long.

Just for a moment, he told himself as he let himself be lulled to sleep. Just for a moment he’d let himself forget about the worries and troubles of his clan while he silently grieved for his mentor. When the sun had fully set, he would go out and grieve with everyone else, but for now he would stay with his, hopefully soon to be mate, friend and listen to the oblivious chatter made by Graykit as he bounced around the den.

Maybe, if he had stayed in the clearing, he would have heard Ravenpaw speaking in hushed whispers with Redtail, eyes gleaming as they spoke of their day.

Maybe, he would have noticed how his apprentice was drenched in the scent of ferns attempting to hide the stench of marshes.

But he didn’t, he was spending some much needed time with Goldenflower after the shock of finding his mentor dead in the jaws of the Riverclan leader.

For now, Tigerclaw let himself believe that one day the sun would shine a little brighter on his clan, and that was enough to bring him peace for the night.

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE

Also, please let me know if you feel this fic is starting to cross a line! I want to explore an au where Tigerclaw was still in the wrong but his backstory is more than just Ambitious Brown Tabby Who Is Strong And Wants More Power.

But like, not at the expense of offending others, y’know?

Hope you all enjoyed!

#warriors #my truth or yours #chapter four #tigerclaw #ravenpaw #redtail #darkstripe #longtail #dustpaw #thistleclaw

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abloomntime · 4 years ago

Text

A Bloom In Time Ch8 Discovery P2

(Warning: Death Scene ahead. The third floor is the same cut third floor in the video here and all the things described are here as well. Only behind the door is something different for the story. And Snatcher's dialogue came from the video of the cut content as well. )

The guards marched the poor woman now panicking in their grip flailing about, trying to get out of their grip like a fly in a cold spiderweb to no avail. The two giant guards marched noisily towards somewhere unknown as the third floor rooms and hallways passed them as they marched with seemingly no regard for the woman yelling and pulling between them. Eventually marching down one hallways in particular with a double door room at the end of it, heavy and thick with chains and locks fit for a dungeon instead of a bed room. The two guards went right up to it and before Poppy could even yell out peck again- She was tossed in rather hard. She landed with a giant thud sound and yelped out as her body landed with the freezing cold floor. And it only began to get colder and COLDER!! Poppy groaned from the pain but those blue eyes snapped open at the sudden noise of doors slamming behind her. Panic and adrenaline pumping through her veins and she stumbled to her feet as fast as she could. The rattling of chains and clicking of heavy locks made her fear spike worse and she went to it as fast as she could grabbing the door knob and pushing.

"HEY!! WHAT THE PECK!? LET ME OUT!!" The heavy doors creaked from her pushing and pulling and desperately turning the knob. The floor shaking lightly with the heavy footsteps of the guards walking away. The realization of them walking away made her more desperate to get out, and she now went to banging on the door. "H-HEY!! DO YOU LUGNUTS HEAR ME?! I SAID I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING OK?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT IM SORRY OK!! PLEASE!! LET ME GO!! I SWEAR TO YOU I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING THAT CRAZY SHADOW LADY SAID!!"

She got no reply and could hear them getting and farther away, panicking she tore herself away from the door. Heart hammering in her ears and eyes scrambling around the dark room for any signs of escape to no avail. No windows. No other doors. Nothing. The coldness was starting to creep in now and the shadows of the room got closer....and closer...... Her panting became faster and in a moment of desperation, she backed all the way to the other side of the empty room and looked at the door. Bracing herself, she ran as fast as she could across the room and rammed her shoulder as hard as she could into the heavy duty door. A thud rang out but there wasn't even a dent in the thick would. Leaving her only falling to the ground and reaching up to rub her sore shoulder from the ramming. The cold slowly creeped closer and closer and the shadows swallowed her whole until her world fell into a black slumber for a thousand years. ....... ............. ................................

Until her awakening years later.

The silence of the frost was an almost empty numb feeling until that jolt of energy shot through, and their was a gasp of air sucked into those newly awakened lungs that coughed and sucked in breaths. Like she had been under water for such a long time. It was dark. And it was cold. And she was scared. But the energy.....It was so big. And so bright light energy. It seemed to chase the darkness away. The sore, numb, stiff limbs moved in what seemed like forever. It was so hard and she shivered from the cold she still felt. Where was she?.....What happened?.....What was that bright light?

Poppy weakly managed to move her sore, cold body into pushing her front half up and looking around the room....She was...She was still in this prison? What happened? All she remembered was a crazy snow storm, and guards, and the last thing she remembered just being thrown inside here. In the dark her slow blinking eyes could vaguely make out the door. She...She must've knocked herself out from ramming into the door. Gotta admit not her most proudest moment or best idea. How long was she even out?...Didn't matter. All she knew was that she was still stuck in that room and needed to get out before that crazy shadow lady or guards decided to come back. And get away from this frozen wasteland as fast as possible. Willing herself onto her hands and knees, and crawled to the door and began weakly pushing and banging on it. Maybe someone would come and hear her out about her story.

And someone came.

***********************************************************************************************

Out of all the parts of the mansion she'd been in, the third floor was by fair the most creepy and she REALLY doubted anyone other than her and Snatcher had ever gotten this far up in the manor before and escaped Vanessa's wrath. The mafia men. Snatcher's subjects. Those Explorer guys. Rough Patch. That weird....ghost thing?? That one image made her shiver, but at least they were far away from this place now. But still. This place was creepy with a capital C. She was SURE she'd rather fight a hundred Snatcher's with an army of ghost behind him rather than explore one room of this third floor. Her ghostly friend wasn't kidding when he said Vanessa went off her deep end. The entire third floor was just COVERED wall to wall in literal newspapers. Very, VERY old timey newspapers where each one had to be hand written with an ink and pen, and copy machines weren't even a thought. She tried reading one before but found she couldn't make anything out other than maybe one or two old faded words. Some had old pictures but those were too faded to be made out too. But what she could read was Vanessa's crazy black paint scribbles painted throughout the entire place. Most were 'PRINCE', 'PRINCESS', 'QUEEN', 'KINGDOM', and VERY scarily 'HAPPILY EVER AFTER'. Along with multiple drawings of a crown here and there. But those weren't the only writings on the walls. She guessed Vanessa had at least a bit of sanity left before she lost it all because she found some full blown sentences and pictures around the place when she first explored it too. Some very weird things. In one room with a clawed chair she found a blue and green picture of a moon she guessed with an annoyed red face and a yellow crown on it's head. Not too sure what that was all about. Then there was another drawing of the moon phases over a curved line and under it looked like two eyes and a monicule similar to Moonjumper's but she didn't wanna think about that. Then there was the spooky eye and solor system diagram. And then there was the weird mural thing, looked like someone just spray painted a basic green land, blue sky, and bright sun or moon in the same colors used to draw that weird frowning moon picture. Vanessa must've been REALLY off her rocker, but what spooked her the most weren't the pictures or newspapers, but the very strange three fancy cursive writing sentences she found among them all. She still remembered them.

"The Prince loves the moon so much MAYBE HE SHOULD MARRY IT THEN MAYBE HE CAN GIVE ME MORE ATTENTION!!" She remembered Snatcher and Moonjumper saying he loved to watch the moon and stars when he was alive. So she guessed Vanessa was jealous of him loving the moon and stars as a hobby just as much as when she was Jealous over bacon. "My prince Im sorry what happened to your home I just didn't like to see you go It's alright now you can't miss it and neither will I." Hattie felt even MORE sorry for the two ghosts when she read that. They never had a chance. "I know it was weird how I said it! I just didn't want you to get unbound. All I want was for you to never leave this house." YEP!! REALLY WEIRD AND VERY OBSESSIVE!!!

She still crept forward keeping her umbrella handy and looking left and right throughout the dark. Yeah, Vanessa was still unconscious, human, and trapped inside a bathroom with no escape, but that still didn't help Hattie feel better. I mean any second she was expecting to see or her stupid, scary ghost self pop up around a corner or coming out of one of the rooms. THAT LADY WAS NUTS!!! The small creaking sounds of banging continued up ahead and the child pointed the umbrella forward, ready to blast anything at a moment's notice. She wondered for a moment if Snatcher had been right, and there really was no one up there, that it was all just the wind. Though she never heard anything like that before, she also never saw anyone frozen so maybe he was right....But that didn't sound like wind. As she tiptoed by she saw an old camera and remembered Snatcher's interference with her trying to get the time piece from the attic. Who knew he could shapeshift to look just herself. She still remembered it like it was yesterday, a camera flash then came the noodle she knew and loved to mess with. He didn't like her winning too much.

"Hey, hey now! No reason to throw a fist at your old buddy! Ha ha ha ha! What are you doing up here?" Then he appeared in the light from the camera "Don't you know she'll go mental if she catches you?" NNnnnooo. Really? She would've thought Vanessa was just chasing her to come and eat cookies like she said, not definitely turn her into an ice statue. So she asked him what he was doing there interfering with the contract they had. "What me? Im just looking for some dirt on my old friend the Moonjumper. Poor fellow. Doesn't even know he used to live here." She SEVERELY doubted that. When she first met Moonjumper he seemed super aware of the fact Vanessa was his ex lover and Hattie suspected that Snatcher was just mocking him which confirmed her suspicions with the next sentence. "Eeeeevery time I bring him something from this place he almost wets his bed in fear. Ha ha ha ha!" YEP! Moonjumper def knew who Vanessa was. "Subcon Forest isn't big enough for the two of us you know. And now you, a little girl, is trying to enter the fight for the forest as well? My, my. That won't do. You need to go or else she'll come up here and find you, right? I guess it would be a terrible misfortune if the key disappeared. Ha ha ha ha!" Oh yes. The good mindset he had that everyone was trying to take his forest and admitted at first he thought she was trying t invade his forest since he heard a lot about alien invasions. Then she had to go around chasing him while dodging Vanessa when he stole the key to the attic from her. "Ha Ha! It's mine! What are you gonna do?Don't you know you can't hurt a shadow?" .....Yeah. She got it back, but he was a sore loser as always. "You want the key? Take it! It's yours! I don't need it anyway and you won't be needing it either when she catches you! Ha ha ha!!" Jokes on him! She never will and he always lost to her!

But right now she'd give anything to hear that loud mouth yell at her, or the sweet voice of Moonjumper. But instead she heard nothing but the sounds of the smaller banging like the wind hitting the roof over and over again, but it didn't come from above. It came from right in front of her. She crept forward ever so slowly, the lightning lighting up the room every few moments as the child tip toed her way down the hall and towards the noise until it lead her face to face down a long stretch of hallway. It was dark and lead all the way down to that weird heavily locked door she had scene when she first got here. At first she thought it was the attic but the key Snatcher stole from her way back when didn't fit, so she just assumed it was more of Vanessa's crazy stuff. But the noises.....they were coming from the inside of the door. The chains were swaying lightly with each small bang from what she could see from the lightning. The rusty chains and locks shone in the light as well as the giant signs painted on it that read "STAY OUT" and "NEVER OPEN" and "TURN AROUND". Since when did she listen to signs, she slowly inched forward and brandished her umbrella in front of her just in case. But now this begged the questions. Why was the door making the weird noise? Was someone locked inside the room? How did they get in there? Were they a bad guy? The floor bourds creaked with her footsteps as she approached and after a second the noises completely stopped-.......Which confused the child into raising an eyebrow and walking over to the door. Gazing across the many things holding it shut before gaining up the courage to ask a question.

"Hello?"

There was silence for a good long moment. Tho Hattie couldn't see it, the woman on the other side of the door felt like she was about to cry from relief and happily answered back after another few short seconds.

"H-Hello?"

Hattie obviously jumped at the sudden raspy woman's voice coming from the other side of the door, but after a brief moment she realized with relief it wasn't Vanessa's voice. Then who was it? Another prisoner? She stood on her tip toes ad if trying to peer through the key hole under the doorknob. "Who are you?"

Her. THROAT. WAS. DRIER THAN A SANDSTORM!! It felt like she hadn't drank any water in a hundred years, but she was SO happy someone was even talking to her. This might be the hope she was looking for. The other's voice was clearly female and Poppy wondered old she was. She sounded quite young. "M-My name is Poppy. P-Please let me out *cough cough* I swear I d-d-didn't do anything wrong!"

"How did you get in there? Did Vanessa freeze you too?"

Vanessa? Who's Vanessa? The only Vanessa she knew was the Queen, but despite the Queen's strange behaviors and laws, from the few times she'd seen her in the village she seemed like a lovely lady and the children loved her so much. "I-I d-don't know who Vanessa y-you're referring to, but some crazy *cough* shadow lady made two iron giants kidnapped me and locked me in here. I-I think I've been in here for a couple hours, b-but I assure you I NEVER committed treason against the Queen."

So Vanessa locked her up and froze her too? That sounded like something the crazy old coot would do after all. "Don't worry! Im going to get you out like everyone else!"

Poppy felt her face smile for the first time in hours since she got there. "T-Thank you! B-But hurry! Im not sure when the guards or that shadow lady's going to come back!"

Hattie looked up and around at the old locks and chains all keeping it together. Ok. She didn't have the key and didn't know where it was, probably only Vanessa knew and she wasn't about to go asking the crazy lady for a key, and she probably wasn't physically strong enough to pull them from the door even if they were old and rusty. Snatcher was definitely no use, he'd just flop over like a helpless teddy bear.......But there was one way she could think of.

"Can you walk?"

Poppy blinked at the question. "What?"

"Can you walk? You need to back off the door!"

"Why?"

"Because Im going to blast it open."

Blast it?! Did this child have dynamite?! Or a canon?! Or did she know some magic? Either way she was not about to get caught in the crossfires of this, so willing her sore and numb body, she dragged herself away from the door to the opposite wall. Her lower half felt like a bowling ball. it hurt. It was like pins and needles on steroids and her legs were really sore and she barely got out of the way before a loud BOOM! was set off behind her that knocked her down face first onto the floor and on instinct her hands slammed down on her head to protect her from the flying splinters of wood and metal that shot out into the room. The blast seemed to have shaken the entire third floor and their was probably no doubt anyone in the entire manor could've heard the blast. Hattie stared at the remains of the doors that remained on the hinges and hummed. Maybe she should've tried picking the lock first just oh well. She just hoped that blast didn't wake up ms goldie crazy locks downstairs. Still brandishing the umbrella, she crept forward towards the door and peeked inside the room once she got close enough hearing movement inside. Inside was a.....woman? A lady with long braided red hair and a face of matching freckles was sitting on her knees staring back at the little girl. Her hands in a position that made Hattie think she must've been dusting debris from the blast off of her and the two stared at each other for a moment before Hattie finally spoke.

"Who are you?"

Poppy stared at her for a moment before blinking and replying. "I could ask you the same thing. .....But to answer your question. My name is Poppy. Poppy Rose Bloomington. What's yours, little girl?"

She blinked. "Hattie." She finally lowered her umbrella a little bit and watched as Poppy struggled to her feet leaning against the wall. She certainly didn't look very threatening, and she didn't get any dangerous vibes off her. Her vibes were more like DJ Grooves only less fun. So she decided to repeat her question to her once she saw Poppy's wobbling legs. "Can you walk?"

Poppy nodded leaning against the wall, her legs felt heavy and like jello, but she HAD to get outta there. "I have no choice! We have to get the peck outta here before someone comes and does something worse than lock us inside a room." She gave another look around at the mess. "....But it looks like you can take care of yourself fine, Little witch."

Hattie smiled. "Im not a witch. I just used the magic badge thingy on my umbrella." She swayed her umbrella and followed as Poppy made her way towards the door. "But maybe I am. That could be why Snatcher used to call me a little witch. Can you be a space travelling witch?"

Poppy barely paid attention to the little girl but absolutely froze at the sight of the horrifying ruined third floor walls, and the darkness covering them all. ........This wasn- Lightning struck outside the windows and lit up the whole third floor for a minute, revealing the faded papers and words painted all over them. Wha-...What HAPPENED HEAR!? It didn't look like this when she was dragged up here a couple hours ago. There was still snow and the chilly freeze she surely remembered, but the horror tale was new.

"W-What happened here?"

Hattie bounded up next to her confused. "What are you talking about? It's always been this creepy. At least that's what Snatcher told me. He used to steal things and scare Uncle Moon with them." She gave the still frozen older lady a look over.....Did she..look familiar somehow? Nah. But that begs the question. What was she going to do now that she found her? Snatcher already told one of his helpers to take everyone to his tree house, and she didn't know any long ways around. Plus judging by Poppy's current state, she didn't think she'd be able to jump over the bridge. She'd just fall into the ravene. ........Well, it seemed like there was only one way to quickly get her out safely before she put the time piece back together was to take her back to her ship, at least until she cleaned up Snatcher's mess. Then she'll take her to Mafia town or something. Hattie grabbed the woman's hand, who flinched at her touch and started pulling her along down the hallway, but stopped when she felt Poppy stumble and almost fall over. "...Are you ok?"

Poppy Nodded. "Uh..Yeah. B-But maybe don't move so fast ok?"

Hattie nodded and eagerly began pulling her along down the wall and again Poppy began to glance around in horror around her. ....It surely wasn't this dark when she was first taken up here. How could so much change have happened within just a few hours of her knocking herself out ramming into the door? Things only got worse when the child slowly lead her down the stairs towards the second floor. Poppy vaugly remembering it as she was brought up and thrown in there, but she didn't expect there to be so many claw marks lining the walls, it was much better looking than the third floor for sure and at least with this floor there was candles lit so she could see but that still didn't calm her nerves. Who made these marks? The crazy shadow lady or something else? The creaking of their footsteps echoing throughout the halls, she hoped no one heard them-

"KIDDO!! YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLAINATION FOR WHATEVER I HEARD UPSTAIRS, YOUNG LADY!!" "PECK IT, SNATCHER!! SHUT UP WILL YOU!?" "HEY!! IM NOT THE ONE WHO MADE AN EXPLOSION GO OFF!!" "WELL IF VANESSA ISNT AWAKE SHE IS NOW!!"

The loud voices made Poppy jump and release herself from the child's grip as she snapped her head wide eyed towards the direction of the voices she had just heard. One sorta distorted and raspy and the other like a proper city gentlemen yelling. The child however just smiled and began bounding her way over to an open door near the front of the hallway and stuck her head in. When Hattie looked inside she saw the two ghosts stuck together already looking in her direction, Snatcher making them scowl at her. She noticed the two had somehow taken the red blanket off the bed and threw it over their shoulders while she was gone. Messing up the bed but at least having something to keep them warm in the meantime. The book opened to page '23'. Snatcher was always a fast reader.

"Hi! Yeah, it was me."

"What the absolute PECK were you doing?! Trying to set the building to the ground?!," Snatcher demanded of her. Both Moonboy and himself had noticed the loud BAM noise from somewhere above them. It sounded like a cannon was shot through the side of the building above them shaking the whole house and if it weren't for their current state, Snatcher would've immediately ran up there and seen what had happened for himself, but unfortunately he couldn't without falling flat on their face and had to wait for approaching footsteps to know she was alright. But now she might be in trouble by the ghost. "Are you TRYING to wake the crazy pecker up?! I'd rather NOT have any crazy women screaming their head off about 'her prince' until Im back to normal!...What the PECK even happened?!"

"I found a lady!"

He rose a brow. "You found a what?"

Hattie jabbed a thumb behind her at the still frozen and confused Poppy. "I found a lady locked in that room upstairs. The one with all those scary locks, she's wearing a funny apron."

Snatcher was silent for a moment processing what he had just heard. A woman was inside the locked room upstairs? Who? Moonjumper thought of a possible solution really quick. "An apron you say?" Hattie nodded. "Hm. Sounds like one of the old cleaning maids." "Heh. Vanessa would be crazy enough to lock away a cleaning lady in a room with a ton of locks. But what was that noise?"

The child held up her umbrella. "The locks wouldn't unlock. So I blasted it to bits!"

"You blasted down doors to free a cleaning lady?"

''Hey! I said everyone gets to be free! And It's not like Vanessa can sue me. She's more empty headed than those no-headed statues outside."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" That got a round of laughter from Snatcher that made Poppy flinch outside. From her spot she couldn't see anything inside the room. Not that she wanted too, but now they were smiling. "That's the truest thing you've ever said, Kid!"

"Uh huh! Also, Ill be right back! I gotta take her to my ship!"

"What? You're leaving me again?!" "Us you creton. But you're leaving after just coming back?"

"Im just gonna take her to my ship so she's not turned back into another human-ice statue. And I won't really go back myself." She waved her umbrella at them. "Ill just use this to take her back outside, and come right back! Promise."

They stared at her for a moment, before she heard Snatcher grumble and turn back around down to their book. "Make. It. VERY. QUICK!! Ok? We can't just keep delaying this, Kid. I want OUT of this thing as soon as possible!! And that means NOW!!"

"It won't take long! Promise." She turned back away from the door smiling and ran back up to Poppy. The woman blinked and looked down at the little girl that grabbed her hand and started tugging her along again. "Come on! Don't step on any glass on the floor. I still have to fix it!"

Poppy didn't say anything but she allowed herself to still be dragged away by the child. Hattie lead her around the glass pieces and down to the next flight of stairs waiting to take them to the first floor, footsteps echoing around them. Poppy blinked and couldn't help but look over to the open door as they passed, Snatcher had already turned back to the book with a sour expression and didn't see who Hattie was dragging past the door, though Poppy had see someone wrapped in a blanket and a bit of brown hair sticking out of the blanket. Blinking she turned back to the small child still dragging her away and soon they decended down the second flight of stairs.

"Who w-was that exactly?"

"Oh! That's Snatcher. He's my dad. Don't worry about him being scary, he's just a big soon-da-rey." She giggled a little bit confusing the woman a little more. She had no idea what a soon-da-rey was.

The first floor wasn't as better from the first. Still cold. Still spooky looking. Still had random claw marks everywhere and she was still looking around in fright. Was that shadow monster going to pop out any moment? Where were the guards? In fact, where was everyone? She hadn't seen a single servant, guard, or even the Queen since she was broken out. Oh she hoped they were ok, she'd hate to know what would've happened if worse case scenario. And on that note of questions, who was this child? How did she and her father get in without getting hurt? Was she a little witch? She sure seemed like it with the blast she just performed. And where was she taking her? Outside hopefully, she'd rather be outside than inside this creepy prison. She glanced down as they passed by the painting Snatcher smashed and winced, Poppy did NOT want to stick around long enough for whoever did all this to come out. SO she rather take her chances with a little witch than a crazy shadow ghost. Hattie didn't stop even as she lead Poppy past the doors which made her turn in their direction and point.

"Where are we going? The front doors are right over there."

"I know but they're blocked up by this use snow pile and there's this headless statues that are REALLY creepy and they try to grab you. And I don't think Snatcher would like it if I blasted another door. We have to go this way!" She pointed ahead of them to yet ANOTHER flight of stairs that looked like it lead into the basement.

It gave Poppy an off feeling but she still didn't stop the child from pulling her towards it with their footsteps echoing behind them until they decended into the darkness of the stairs. It was overwhelming dark for a moment, before there was a splash and her whole foot suddenly felt wet and cold. One or two candles along the wall lit up the broken down walls and to Poppy's shock, there was water EVERYWHERE on the ground, must've been at least five or six inches deep because as she still allowed her shocked self to be lead through. Her Shoes and ankles getting absolutely cold and soaked, she hoped she wouldn't get sick from the cold. The cold stung herself and she looked around, their watery footsteps echoing around the home and she shivered at a pair of chains lightly clacking against the walls from the breeze coming from yet ANOTHER pair of stairs up ahead and they could see light at the end of the tunnel. As Poppy was lead up the stairs she blinked back away from the sudden cold that blasted her face and crept through her simple dress. As they reached the top of that stairway, blinding white caused her to blink and reach her hands up away from Hattie's grip to rub at her eyes. The storm and cold winds were still blowing, and as Hattie looked around she hummed. No foot prints left by the others, so she had no idea where they went and she'd have to stick to the original 'take lady to my ship' plan, luckily the dome's top let in the moonlight and a surefire way to let them get there. She'd get back by having Snatcher teleport her or using the time piece to teleport her back there, right now she had to hurry and get back to fix said time piece.

"This way quick!" Poppy stumbled as the child regrabbed her hand and pulled her forward almost making her fall flat on her face into the snow. The cold winds made their hair blow around with the snowflakes and the cold felt worse, especially on her wet feet and legs as they trudged through the snow at the insistence of the child until they were a couple yards away from one of the icy dome walls and far from the back of the manor. Hattie seemed pleased as she turned around and smiled at Poppy. Taking the hand she was holding and forcing the umbrella she was holding into it.Poppy blinked confused at the little girl making her hold the umbrella as she lifted it up to inspect it....before looking back to her.

"Sugarcube, I don't think this little thing is gonna be enough shelter from the wind."

"It's not for the snow! It's to take you to my ship! Here" She reached up and grabbed the umbrella, fiddling with something Poppy couldn't see because of the wind whipping her hand and snowflakes around herself before she released the umbrella again. "There! Now hold on tight and point it at the moon."

"Why?"

"Please just do it!"

Poppy sighed and looked up towards the moon through the snow and wind. Well, if this little girl really was a witch and trying to help her, maybe this was some kind of teleporting spell? If so she wasn't complaining about escaping the cold, so holding up a shivering arm, she pointed the umbrella up towards the mo- In a flash of blue-white light, Poppy vanished. In her place, a beam of that light shot up towards the sky and Hattie nodded. The umbrella successfully connected with one of the telescopes and she would be safe abourd her ship while she fixed this mess, which is what she seemed to do best around here anyways. Quickly turning back around, she sprinted back towards the manor. She had fixing to do. Poppy meanwhile was experiencing a whole new term to sea sickness, if she was really being teleported to a ship that is. The light and speed made her slam her eyes shut and her stomach sick. She felt like her whole body was being contricted into a thing twig and her knuckles turned white from gripping the handle so hard. She wished this would STOP- And it did. With a giant thud sound she was sent crashlanding to the carpeted floor of a child's bedroom where Bow was reading, worriedly waiting for her friend to come back but jumped and dropped the book at the sudden sight of a red headed lady suddenly crashlanding in their bedroom. The landy tumbled head over feet a few times before landing face first into the mountain of pillows the umbrella landing beside her feet. A few pillows were scattered with her collison and after a couple moments of silence......The woman groaned and weakly reached over to flip her onto her back. .....OK!! That was the LAST and ONLY time she was going to let herself be teleported by a little witch. Still laying on her back she slowly blinked her eyes open and was met with the face of another child with black curly hair. The two stared at each other for a moment before Bow spoke.

"Are you ok?...Who are you?"

#flowercrown #a bloom in time #snatcher x florist #Florist x snatcher #florist #The Florist #Snatcher #a hat in time snatcher #a hat in time florist

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ladyseaheart1668 · 4 years ago

Text

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 50)

Description: Tahira awakens! And she has a plan.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 50: Between the Cracks

Tahira

I can't breathe...I can't breathe! I push against the Endless' grip, trying to reach the surface, but she only holds me tighter.

“It's all right, Tahira. It's all right. Just watch.”

The images are still coming. Quinn Kelly, motionless on a bed her hands folded in a funereal pose atop a large, shining stone. She turns into Alodia, clutching the Prism Crystal, but she's no longer lying in repose. Her face is twisted with fury, her eyes gleaming fuschia with the Crystal's power as she attacks an unseen opponent. I can't breathe. I want to get out. Someone get me out of here! I flail, pounding the Endless' arms feebly with my fists. I can't perceive the images anymore. There's only a vague itch at the edge of my mind, telling me that I know something that I didn't know before.

“Tahira...?” I don't recognize the voice at first, but everything around me is fading. The images. The Endless. The ocean. Then, as I finally draw in a desperate breath, I feel something warm and soft on my cheek. “Tahira, baby, can you hear me?”

“...Mom...?” I realize that I have my eyes closed. I open them carefully, squinting against a sudden assault of florescent light. A figure, blurry but definitely my mother, hovers over me. I hear her choke on a sob as she strokes and kisses my face.

“Oh, baby, thank God!”

I become aware of a pressure on my hand, and turn to see Grayson perched on the edge of my bed, holding my hand. His clothes and hair are rumpled, and there's a layer of fuzz on his face like he hasn't shaved in a day or two.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks anxiously.

“Got stabbed,” I mumble. My mind feels surprisingly clear, but it's taking my body a bit to catch up, I think, because my tongue feels heavy.

“Yeah. The surgery went well, but you took awhile to wake up afterwards. You had us worried. How are you feeling now?”

“Fine,” I answer without really taking stock. As soon as I say it, I realize that my side still feels like it's on fire. But I feel fairly confident I'll heal quickly now that I'm awake. “...Alodia...she was abducted...”

Mom and Grayson exchange a look of mild surprise.

“...Yeah...” Grayson confirms. “And Diego. How did...?”

“Crystal stuff. I'll explain later. ...I gotta talk to the Catalysts. I think I might have an idea about finding her.”

* * *

“You want to...use the Prism Crystal to find Alodia?”

It feels risky to be on a video call with all the Catalysts plus my team while I'm still in my hospital room, but I've got Grayson standing guard, ready to signal me if any staff get too close.

“Hear me out here. Quinn, when you were...possessed by Vaanu, you could feel the Island's Heart, right? You could feel where it was?”

“Vaguely,” Quinn confirms. “I could feel it pulling me toward the other half.”

“And there were other instances of the crystals leading you places, right?”

“Quarr'tel,” Jake says, nodding. “They slipped a crystal into Raj's pocket and it lit up like a firefly when we were headed in the right direction.”

“And when we had three of them staked together, they literally just showed us the path when we looked through them.”

“The Prism Crystal is specifically Alodia's life essence. But it didn't react until I came in contact with it as her blood relative. Maybe that connection will help me use it to track her.”

“I believe your idea could work in theory,” Varyyn says cautiously. “...I would be extremely hopeful, if not for the fact that her abductors have managed to block her psychic link with me. Suppose they have figured out a way to block any link with her that the Prism Crystal might give to you? What if that was a function of the poison you were dosed with?”

“It might well be,” I admit. “But what do we have to lose by trying?”

“Nothing,” Jake says. “If anything, we'd be failing Alodia and Diego by not trying. If there's even a chance it could get them back sooner...”

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Jake,” Dax chimes in, “But there are a few logistical problems to consider. For one thing, Tahira, you're still in the hospital with an abdomen full of stitches. Even with your enhanced healing, it's going to be a process. You won't do anyone any good if you tear out your stitches and bleed out searching for Alodia and Diego. Two, this isn't La Huerta, where you guys were on your own with only Vaanti authority to deal with. If this works, how do we explain it? How do we explain Dragonness disappearing after these two people she presumably has no connection to, and how do we explain how she found them without giving away too much?”

I wave a hand impatiently. “We'll chalk it up to a mystery of the Prism Crystal and assure the public that we're looking into why the Crystal led me to these people. The public have been remarkably accepting of the idea that the Prism Crystal turned people into superheroes.”

“But why Alodia and Diego in particular? Why not any of the other thousands of missing persons in the US? Why would the Prism Crystal choose two people who went missing in California when it's on the East Coast?”

“You're overthinking this,” Jake says. “Look, my sister's a cop. People go missing every day, and most of them don't get half the attention Alodia and Diego have gotten. The only reason they're getting as much media attention as they are is because they were on the La Huerta trip, and the fact that Alodia's pregnant makes people more sympathetic. Once they're safe home, the media and the cops ain't gonna care too much about how they got there.”

“I can't say that I completely agree,” Poppy says. “I know I'm only a fashion journalist, but that doesn't mean I don't know how the media works. Alodia and Diego are still high-profile people, and there are high-profile people involved in their kidnapping. Dax is right. If this does work like we want it to, we do need to consider how we're going to spin it so that the attention doesn't go anywhere we don't want it to.”

“Let's not get too far ahead of the game,” Michelle cautions. “Dax is also right that Tahira needs a little time to recover before she's fit to go chasing anyone down.”

“Simple solution to that,” Jake declares. “If she gets a lead off the Prism Crystal, I'm going with her.”

I try not to grimace outwardly. I should have seen this coming. “Jake...you know I'll be faster on my own. Considering that I can fly without a plane.”

“Not while you've still got a hole in your gut. If this is gonna work, we don't have a lot of time for you to be on bed-rest here. We got a small window, and it's closing fast.”

Michelle nods. “Jake is right. Whether we find her or the authorities do, we really don't have time to just wait if we're going to take any action. She's due in a matter of weeks, and we can't assume she won't go into labor early. At the same time, Tahira, you can't just go on your own in your present condition. Apart from the stab wound, we don't know if that poison is fully out of your system. So, I'll come too.”

“Can the hospital spare you?”

“I've still technically got a week and change of vacation I haven't used, and I haven't officially put myself back on the schedule yet.”

“Well, you know I'm not letting you go without me,” Sean says firmly, taking his wife's hand. “I can't. Not just now.”

“I expected as much, and I won't argue.”

“I will go as well,” Varyyn declares. “Not least because my partner is among the missing, but also because if Alodia or I somehow managed to break through the barrier they've put on our psychic link, it would not do for me to be miles away.”

I sigh. This is kinda turning into a plan for the world's most batcrap-crazy road trip, but I honestly can't say that I mind. In fact, I feel a wry smile tugging at my mouth. “...Anyone else want to join in?”

“You know Kenji and I are at your disposal,” Eva says, winking. But I shake my head at that suggestion.

“No, not you two. Someone needs to stay to protect Northbridge. We can't just leave DA Katsaros completely high and dry and expect to stay on her good side, especially given the situation with Caleb and the kids.”

“I'll come instead,” Estela says. “In case you need another fighter.”

“I'm rather handy with a fencing sword,” Aleister offers a bit reluctantly. But his sister shakes her head.

“Stay with your wife and son. There will be enough lonely doves among the Catalysts as is, and you and Zahra need to look after the company and field any questions from the authorities.”

“Besides that, we should keep our numbers as small as possible,” I point out. “Even if I can't go on my own, we will go faster the fewer we are.”

“In the meantime, what should the rest of us be doing?” Raj asks. “I mean, I'm good to stay in California if that's where I'm most needed...”

“We'd appreciate that,” Jake agrees. “Keep looking after our folks for us. I'll see if I can send Rebecca back with our parents, but it's possible they won't be willing to leave me alone unless I bring her with me.”

“Well...I guess we're mostly settled then. We can work out the necessary details once I'm discharged.”

“That's assuming this really works...” Aleister says soberly. “We've begun speaking of it as a certainty...”

For a moment, no one says anything. I hear myself speak first. “We'll know that as soon as I'm discharged, too.”

Jake

I'm not surprised when my parents are reluctant to let me go to Northbridge without them. I'm an adult, they say, and they can't stop me, but they do their best to discourage it. I don't hold it against them. I've disappeared on them too many times for them not to be nervous, even after I promise to check in with them. As I predicted, it's Rebecca's promise to go with me and keep an eye on me that finally convinces them to go back to California and look after Alodia's parents. I vow to go back there myself if Tahira's idea with the Crystal doesn't pan out, though of course I don't say that to my parents. I need them to think my visit to Northbridge is open-ended.

The meager bags Mike and I packed for what we expected to be a night or two away from home were retrieved from the motel we were staying at the night before our abduction. By now, I've been discharged and Mike's finally in recovery after surgery, so I bring him his bag as an excuse to visit before I take off. I wouldn't normally think I needed an excuse to visit, but the hospital staff are still hovering like flies, and the pretense of dropping off the bag gets me access to his parents, who manage to finagle a few minutes for Mike and me to talk privately.

He turns his head toward me as I slip into the room and smiles wanly. He looks pale and exhausted, and he's still got an IV in the crook of his arm, but he's awake and propped up on his pillows. Still, the sheet below his thighs is flat over the mattress. I pull up a chair beside him.

“How're you feeling, kid?”

“...You know those old clothes press things that they used to feed clothes through after they were washed to get all the water out? In the olden days before washers and dryers?”

“I think I know what you mean. I think they were called 'mangles'.”

“Appropriate name. Anyway, I feel like I've gone through one of those.”

I cover his hand with mine and nod down at the flat sheet beneath his thighs. “No new legs yet?”

“Apparently they gotta let the nerves heal or something first. I dunno. They got some metal things on the stumps to keep 'em fresh or whatever. The science blinded me a little. All I really know is they hurt like a bitch.”

“Fuck.” I squeeze his hand. “Sure feels like a shit time for me to be taking off...”

“Where are you heading?”

“Northbridge. ...It's not looking like Alodia and Diego were on the island. But Tahira has an idea to track Alodia using the Prism Crystal. Hopefully it works, and hopefully where we find Alodia, we find Diego.”

“No question you gotta go, then. Not like you'd be doing much good bumming around the hospital with me.”

“Probably not. ...Don't know how much good I'll be doing following Tahira around, either. But if there's even a chance of finding her...”

“You don't have to explain. We both know where you're most needed right now.” He turns his hand over to grip mine, his eyes finding my gaze and holding it. “Find your wife. Bring her home.”

* * *

Rebecca, Varyyn, and I get a private flight to Northbridge, compliments of Aleister and Estela, of course. I'm glad not to be in the pilot's chair on this one. I'm probably still not totally clear to operate heavy machinery after that blow to the head, and I'm not sure I could concentrate, even if I were. Problem is that I can't really sit still, either. I know I shouldn't be wandering more than necessary while the plane's in the air, but I feel like I'm gonna lose my shit if I try to stay seated too long. Predictably, Varyyn is perfectly still—almost stoic. Though I know him better than to assume he's not just as much of a hot mess as I am right now.

“...How're you holding up, Varyyn?” I ask, as much to distract myself as to check in.

“As well as you, I expect,” he sighs. “...I am afraid. I am afraid this will not work. I am afraid of what they might be suffering right now. ...I am afraid that if this does work, we will find Alodia alone and have nothing left to lead us to Diego.”

I grit my teeth, shaking my head hard. “Won't be like that, Varyyn. Don't think like that. They're together. They gotta be together.”

“...We don't know that,” he says softly. “We hope it. But do we really have any evidence that it is true?”

“Why else would they have taken Diego?” I demand. “They weren't together at the time of the abduction, so it wasn't just convenience like with Sean and Michelle. No offense to Diego, but I don't think Rourke really has much use for him in this timeline. He probably doesn't have much use for any of the Catalysts besides Alodia anymore, except to control her. And maybe Diego is useful if he wanted to bait you for some reason, but even then, wouldn't it still make more sense to keep them together, since you could track her if they hadn't blocked it somehow...”

“...It all makes sense...” he admits. “...I just...I can't help but fear...”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. “Of course not. I won't lie, it scares me, too. ...But it makes more sense that they're together. Remember that.”

He nods. “...I feel powerless. I should be able to reach them. I should at least be able to speak to her and confirm that they are unharmed...”

“We all feel powerless here,” Rebecca says. “I'm a detective. I should be able to track and investigate. But because it's a member of my own family, I'm not allowed to help...” She trails off, and the silence that follows is heavy. I think we all want to try and say something comforting or optimistic here, but there's not really anything to say that we haven't already said. We all feel powerless. There's a chance that when we get to Northbridge, we'll have our path made clear for us, but there aren't any guarantees. If this doesn't work...what next?

Grayson

“Are you sure you're up for this, Tahira? You only got out of the hospital yesterday...”

Tahira grits her teeth as she carefully makes her way to her dresser, using crutches to support most of her weight and to keep her stitches from tearing. She's healing fast. Fast enough that eyebrows were raised at the hospital. But not fast enough to have her in fighting shape yet, and she's clearly still in pain. Michelle has cautioned her against heavy lifting, even with her super strength. The only way we were able to confirm that her strength was still intact was by having her bend an iron bar that Dax brought over from the lab. Flying, too, is out right now, though she is still capable of it.

“If this works,” Michelle said last night, “You're basically going to be our tracker, at least for a few days. Let the rest of us do most of the work until I give you the all-clear.”

I cautiously place my hand between her shoulderblades and let my palm move in slow, gentle circles. When she doesn't pull away, I increase the pressure just a little.

“When a person goes missing, the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial,” she says lowly. “...That window has already closed. There's no more time to waste. What we have is already borrowed.”

She pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from her drawer, and maneuvers herself to take off her pajama top. I sigh.

“Here, let me help you with that. I can't really help with the rescue mission, but I can help you get dressed for it.”

“I think providing us with travel vehicles is extremely helpful,” she says, smiling a little as she carefully raises her arms over her head to let me take her shirt off. I help her on with her clothes, finishing just as the buzzer to her apartment door sounds.

“Tahira? It's Eva and Kenji!” I go to let them in as Tahira settles herself down on the couch. Kenji grins at her as they walk in.

“How's our fearless leader doing? You look like you'll be ready to kick ass again in no time.”

“With any luck, I will at least be ready to do my part when we finally track down Alodia and Diego. Do you have the Crystal, Eva?”

“Haven't let it outta my sight since Caleb tipped us off it they were going after it,” she replies with a mischievous smile, trailing a finger over the chain around her neck. My eyes follow her finger down to where her low-cut top clearly reveals that the pendant on the end is nestled between her breasts. Tahira makes a face as Eva draws the Prism Crystal out of her cleavage.

“That cannot be comfortable...”

Eva shrugs. “You get used to it. Besides....” She grins, waggling her eyebrows. “No way anyone gets to it without me noticing.”

“Yeah, but have you been, like, showering with it in there? Sleeping?”

“Not like water will hurt it. And like I said, you get used to it.”

Tahira rolls her eyes, smirking a little. “Still...maybe I should ask you to wipe off the boob sweat before I try to do anything with it.”

“Tahira, I'm insulted. The very suggestion that I would ever break a sweat...” But she does grab a washcloth out of the basket of clean laundry beside the dresser and rub it over the crystal before handing it to Tahira. “So...what are you going to do with it exactly?”

“I'll start with holding it. Then...I guess I'll think about Alodia...” She shakes her head with a frustrated sigh. “...I'm flying mostly blind here...”

As she closes her hand around the Crystal, we fall silent, not wanting to risk disrupting her concentration. How long will it take, I wonder, before we know if anything is going to happen? I don't have to wonder long. In fact, the thought is barely out of my head before the crystal begins to glow brighter. I hold my breath. For a moment, everything is still except for the bright purple flame dancing beneath the Crystal's surface. Then Tahira's eyes fly open and she gasps softly. I instinctively rush to her side.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“I'm okay...” she replies dazedly. “...I...think...”

“Did you see anything?” Eva asks. “Do you know where Alodia is?”

“Not exactly, but...” She looks down at the Crystal balanced on her palm, softly pulsing with fuschia light. “I did see her. In flashes. And...I think...”

She stands up and turns a slow circle, keeping her eye on the Crystal. I watch it carefully. It takes a few more circles before I realize what's actually happening, but when I do notice, I feel my heart skip a beat.

“Tahira! The light!”

“Yes!” Tahira cries eagerly, a grin splitting her face! “It dims, except when I start facing this direction! ...What direction am I facing?”

“Northwest-ish,” Kenji says. “Which probably means she isn't on the island...”

Tahira nods. “...If she's even what the Crystal is pointing toward. ...Either way, it's our best lead so far.

* * *

A few more little experiments prove that using the Crystal as a tracking device is a viable option. Although it goes dull when I touch it, Kenji and Eva can both make it react—as can Varyyn and any Catalysts who come in contact with it. And the pulsing light consistently gleams when the one holding it is facing northwest, dimming as they turn south. As soon as is humanly possible, Tahira and her team gather with me and a handful of the Catalysts in the empty executive level of the Prescott Industries parking garage. Two seven-seater SUVs that I rented are the only two vehicles in the place.

“They're both fueled up,” I assure Tahira. “Tire pressure has been checked and there are spares, jacks, and tire irons under the floors.”

“There are also pillows and blankets so you can sleep and drive in shifts and not have to stop as often,” Dax says. “I've also fitted the cars with adaptable communicators so you can communicate through the radios, just in case everyone's cell phones die at the same time. Do you know who's going to be in what car?”

“I'll be with Sean, Tahira, and Jake,” Michelle says. “Since Tahira and Jake aren't cleared to drive just yet, Sean will take the first shift, and Tahira will hold the Crystal to navigate.”

“And Varyyn, Rebecca, and I will follow in the vehicle behind,” Estela adds.

Michelle nods. “I've also got a medical tote stocked. No one mess with that, please. It's not your standard first aid kit. I've also got some sterile towels and blankets double-wrapped in plastic, so hands off those, too. If we find Alodia close to giving birth, we'll need clean towels to lay down for her and something to wrap the baby in.”

“There are also coolers of water, fruit, sandwiches, and about twenty pounds of trail mix,” Quinn adds. “It's not Raj's cooking, and it obviously won't last, but it should mean you don't have to stop for food for a handful of days.”

“I guess we're all set then,” Tahira says. “There's no time to lose. Everyone pile in.”

“Wait...” I catch her hand as she turns toward the car, and pull her in for a kiss, holding her mouth with mine as if I can store up enough of her taste on my lips to tide me over until she gets back. I break away reluctantly and press my forehead to hers. “Good luck. I love you.”

Eva

Kenji and I meet at his apartment that evening. We don't exactly feel safe going back to the clocktower right now, but we don't have a new base of operations yet, either.

“...How much does Caleb actually know now?” I ask him over a cup of heavily-sugared coffee.

“Almost everything. He knows our powers are connected to our DNA, which is connected to the island of La Huerta and a crystal alien that crash-landed here however many billion years ago. He knows that Alodia is that alien's daughter and that Tahira is Alodia's cousin. ...I also basically confirmed that most of what Rourke told him in those interviews is true.”

“And...where is he now?”

Kenji shrugs, talking a long swallow from his coffee mug. “Processing, I guess. He says he can't go back to Gigi anymore. And based on the way their last encounter went, I'm not surprised.”

“And you don't have any reason to think it might be a trick?”

“Just doesn't add up to a trick,” he admits. “He told me he'd originally told Gigi he was going to try to get in good with us to get information out of us, which I know was true. ...But if he was never actually going to turn on her, he probably would have done something to keep us from securing the Prism Crystal once he realized we knew she was going after it. Plus, she was angry enough to try and frame him for burning down the priest's house.”

“...He's out of the hospital, by the way. Don't know where he's living with his house burned out, though.”

“No sign of the kids, either. ...Maybe he's gone after them.”

“Quite honestly, I hope he has. Scoundrel he may be, but I think his intentions towards the kids are good. At least good enough that I'd rather they have him in their corner than be wandering around out there alone. Especially given what's going on now.”

Kenji smiles wryly. “They will have to come back eventually, won't they? Since you still have their dog.”

I snort. “Good luck making me give up that puppy. I think we've bonded.”

“You'll give her up the moment one of those sweet little kids flashes sad doe eyes at you.”

“...Yeah, probably,” I admit. “My cold heart has been defrosting lately. Maybe proof that there's hope for Caleb.”

“There had better be. ...Because if we can't actually trust him, we might be screwed.”

Estela

I am in the office with Aleister and Zahra when the phone on the desk rings. It just barely registers at first, like an acquaintance I give a nod to as I pass on the street. Aleister picks it up.

“Aleister Rourke speaking,” he mutters absently. Then his posture changes. I take notice as he sits up a little straighter. “Raj, hello. Has there been any news.”

My heart wedges in my throat as I sit up to attention. Zahra visibly stiffens as well, her eyebrows knitting as she meets my gaze with anxiety flickering in her dark eyes. Aleister's eyes widen.

“What? Are they sure it's the same one?...” His shoulders sag slightly as he listens to Raj's extended reply. “...Dammit. Does Jake know? ...What are they planning to do?”

There's a longer pause now. Aleister's expression is difficult to read. Zahra stands up from her desk, then awkwardly hovers there as if she's not sure she should come closer.

“...I expect that is the wisest course of action. If the Crystal can track Alodia directly, it would be a waste of time to chase down a lead like that. ...I see. ...Of course. I'll make sure everyone is updated. Thank you. ...I will. ...Goodbye.” He replaces the receiver on the cradle and looks up at me and Zahra in turn. “...That was Raj. The police believe they have found the stolen ambulance that Alodia and Diego were transported in, but it has since been abandoned. They were able to determine that a helicopter took off nearby and they believe Alodia and Diego were on board, but from there, they're having difficulty picking up the trail.”

Zahra and I exchange anxious glances. “...Where was the ambulance found?”

“Cascade mountain range in Oregon. Near Crater Lake.”

“Oregon!” Zahra gasps. “They drove a stolen ambulance from southern California to the Cascade mountains in Oregon and no one noticed until now?!”

“Raj tells me the region around Crater Lake is fairly remote.”

“Maybe, but...” Zahra is already tapping furiously on her phone. After a moment, she turns the screen toward us. “Look, the fastest path to Crater Lake from Riverside is about a twelve-hour drive, straight up through California.”

“They were driving an ambulance,” I point out. “If they had the lights and sirens going, they would have been able to speed and run red lights with impunity. Few people are going to want to impede an ambulance that they think is on the way to save someone's life. Even with the authorities knowing they were likely in a stolen ambulance, I can believe they got as far as Oregon without anyone wanting to risk stopping them. Especially if they swapped the license plate.”

“They still would have needed to stop for gas at some point. And twelve hours trapped in a vehicle can't be good for a pregnant woman. We're still operating under the assumption that Rourke wants Alodia and her baby alive, right?”

“It makes the most sense,” Aleister confirms. “If he just wanted her dead, there are easier ways than kidnapping.”

“What else do we actually know? They found the stolen ambulance, but are they sure Alodia and Diego were inside?”

“They found more than a few hairs inside the vehicle. They matched DNA samples from both Alodia and Diego.”

I nod. “...From what I overheard, I'm guessing Jake and the others aren't going to try to find them in Oregon.”

He shakes his head. “It would be a waste of time, driving some place they have already been removed from when they believe the Prism Crystal can lead them to where Alodia is currently.”

“Why Oregon, though? Why not the island? Why was the Crystal leading them northwest instead of toward the island?”

“...I don't know, Estela. The truth is that we don't know for sure that they don't mean for her to eventually wind up on the island. Maybe the plan is to throw us off the trail.”

I sit back with a frustrated sigh. “...It always feels like our dear father is ten steps ahead of us. The only person who has ever really managed to get the better of him was Alodia when she chose to sacrifice herself for the world.”

“Not entirely true,” Zahra mutters. “...I shot him in at least one timeline.”

“He is a genius and a master manipulator, but he is still human,” Aleister says firmly. “And humans are flawed enough to be outsmarted. Sooner or later, he will make a mistake. I am sure of it.”

Alodia

Something doesn't feel right here. I'm in Elyys'tel. The armor of Andromeda encases my body and gleams gold in the Caribbean sunset. Beneath it, I am wearing my Vaanti warrior's attire. In my hands, I clutch the mask I won in the Valinorim. One hand drifts towards my chest, and my fingers brush the cold metal dogtags that hang on a ball-chain around my neck. My chest is tight, and my head throbs with grief, but I don't cry. I can't cry.

“This isn't going to help, Alodia,” Aleister says solemnly from behind me.

“...They're all dead, Aleister,” I hear myself reply coldly. “He killed them all. Maybe not directly, but he's responsible for all of their deaths.”

“I don't disagree. But killing him won't bring them back.”

I turn to face him, fully prepared to chew him out for his platitudes when he should want his father dead as much as I do. But then I realize what is actually happening.

“...You're going to say that if I insist on joining the battle, you're going to come with me.”

“Of course I am. We're the last Catalysts left. I'm not going to abandon you.”

“...No. You're not. You didn't even betray us this time. You played your father as a double agent. ...When Zahra blew up the MASADA complex, Jake tried to save me. But he was killed in the process and you got me out instead.”

Aleister doesn't seem put off by my explaining what must be recent history to him. “I'm going to die in the coming battle. I have learned that you're the one my father needs to complete his Janus Project. I don't know why yet, but I know that much. I die to keep you from falling into his hands.”

“...And then I bury the last of my family. And I die...and the timeline resets because I can't let it end like this...I can't let any of you die...”

Aleister reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder. “You can't change what's already happened, Alodia.”

“...I don't want to watch it happen again...”

“You don't have to. You know that.” His eyes flick downward. “Don't waste your time on a battle that's already been fought when you have a much more important one to worry about in the here and now.”

I follow his gaze downward, and dark static floods my vision.

The soft flutter of tiny limbs inside me brings me back to consciousness. The pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I push back the itchy blanket that barely keeps out the cold and struggle off the cheap cot I fell asleep on. The thin plastic mattress creaks as I get to my feet, and I hear a gasp and small movement from the cot beside me.

“Allie...?” Diego's voice is anxious, but still clumsy with sleep.

“I'm okay,” I call back. “I just need to pee.”

I make my way to the corner. We've been moved again. There's no en suite toilet in this concrete basement we've been stuck in this time. Only a plastic toddler toilet—the kind Jake and I will be buying in another year or two. ...That is...if I ever see him again... If we ever get to go back to our home in California and lay our daughter in her crib in her jungle-themed nursery...

Lowering myself onto the seat is an arduous and undignified process. I feel tears on my cheeks by the time I manage to relieve myself, and my hand trembles as I wipe with a cheap, rough paper towel—the only thing we've been provided with. By the time I have gotten through the equally undignified process of standing back up and dragging my gray sweatpants back up over my bulging waistline, I am sobbing. I only get a few steps closer to my cot before Diego takes me in his arms and gently draws me against him. I bury my face in his shoulder. When he leans his head against mine, I feel the subtle prickle of facial hair where his cheek briefly brushes my ear.

He doesn't say anything. Our supply of comforting words has all but dried up. Escape seems impossible with me as I am, especially when we don't have any idea how many of them are actually guarding us or how far we are from civilization. We've all but admitted aloud that rescue is our only hope.

I don't want to obey them. I want to defy them. I want to fight them tooth and nail. But I can't fight them while I am sheltering a child within me. And disobedience only gets Diego hurt. So far, the damage has not been permanent. But I don't know if I can keep him safe indefinitely, even if I kill any will to fight that might be left in me.

It's only a matter of time. If help doesn't come for us, it's only a matter of time before they break me.

Diego

I wish I had access to a razor. Or some scissors. The scissors more than the razor, I think. I don't really mind the growth of hair over my face as much as the hair on my head, which is shaggy enough now to get into my eyes, but not long enough to hook behind my ears. It's funny the things I think about when I'm trying not to break apart.

I'm scared. I'm really scared. I'm scared for Allie. I'm scared for her baby. I'm scared for myself. I'm scared of the fact that I can't rely on Allie right now like I almost always could before. It's not her fault, of course. She just needs me to be the brave one right now, and that terrifies me. But damned if I'm not going to do it. Damned if I'm not going to swallow my fear and hold her hand to get her through this nightmare. Damned if I'm not going to look for an opportunity to escape at every new prison they move us to. I know our best option is probably going to be to wait for someone to find us. But I have to keep watching. It helps me keep it together.

We're bound and blindfolded every time they move us. Sometimes we travel by chopper, sometimes by car or van or whatever they're driving. Maybe an ambulance again. We're not long in the concrete basement prison, which I appreciate, because it's really freaking uncomfortable. It's some kind of van that moves us this time. At least we're actually seated and buckled in this time, even if our hands end up tied to what I think must be the handles of the hooks a lot of cars have on the ceiling for hanging up dress clothes.

“Hey, Allie...” I say lightly, turning my head vaguely toward the weight on the seat beside me. “Is there a name for these things we're tied up to?”

I don't know if there's a partition between us and the drivers. I don't know if they can hear us. I am guessing there aren't any windows to either side of us since two people blindfolded in the back seat with their hands tied to the ceiling would probably be conspicuous. But if the driver can hear us, I don't want them to hear us scared.

“I...I don't know,” she replies. Her voice shakes a little, but she's trying to sound nonchalant, so it seems she's picked up what I'm putting down here. “Dress hooks, I guess? Handles? Before cars had seatbelts, some of them had handles for passengers to hold onto, but I don't think there was any special name for them.”

“Where do you think we're going this time? Another nice farmhouse?”

“I hope so. The farmhouse has definitely been my favorite on this vacation. The last place was shit, though.”

“Total shit,” I agree.

We let our conversation be sparse after that, and when we do speak, it's about silly memories from our childhood. We try to remember the rules to a game our first grade P.E. teacher had taught to the class that was like a slightly more complicated version of group tag, except it involved us all playing characters from Star Wars. We try to name all the seasons of Power Rangers that we grew up with. We try to recite the poems we had to memorize for our last literature class in high school.

Allie is nearly through Rudyard Kipling when the van stops and the engine turns off. Although my adrenaline spikes, I can't help but feel a little relieved, too. My hands are starting to go numb. I'm cut loose and I flex my fingers a few times, hissing softly as the feeling floods back into them. I don't resist as they hustle me out of the van and into whatever prison awaits us now. The air outside is bitingly cold, and the ground beneath my feet is hard. The sound my shoes make slapping against it makes me think pavement. Then, the cold air is replaced by surprisingly pleasant warmth. Central heating. A good sign. A less good sign is the way the soles of my shoes are squeaking and sticking against the floor now. I'm thinking this is tile I'm walking on.

We are finally allowed to stop, and my blindfold is removed. The florescent light might as well be sunlight for a moment, but when my eyes start to adjust, a deep, cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

The windowless room we're in resembles a doctor's office, with an exam table, cabinets, a sink, and medical instruments hanging from the wall. There are no decorations, though. Nothing to make it welcoming. Which makes the woman standing beside the exam table in full surgical gear—including goggles—all the more ominous. I can't really see anything about what she looks like. I mean, I can tell she's white, and her eyes look brown behind the goggles, but the blue surgical cap isn't giving me a good look at her hair color, and average height aside, I can't tell anything about her build under the shapeless surgical gown.

I don't like where this is going one bit. Neither does Allie judging by her sharp gasp as she takes in the scene. I press close to her, putting my arms protectively around her.

“What is this?!” I demand. “What are you doing?! Who is she?!”

The strange woman spreads her hands, taking a cautious step toward us. “Calm down, Alodia. I am not here to hurt you. I only want to give you a proper exam.”

Allie grips my arm. “Bullshit,” she hisses.

“Watch it, brat!” Fiddler snaps. “Unless you want your friend to suffer for your rudeness.”

“Stay your hand, Jeanine,” the surgeon-woman says mildly. “Just this once, let's try to work with Alodia instead of against her. I am sure she can be made to see reason here without resorting to violence against Diego.”

I can't figure out what it is, but there is something about her voice. My anxiety is ebbing away as I rack my brain trying to place it, but I'm still alert enough to keep my arms firmly around Allie, who glares at the woman.

“Don't touch me!” she snarls.

“I will not touch you if you don't want me to,” the woman promises. “But it would be in your best interests and your baby's best interests to let me give you an examination. Why don't we make a deal, hmm? Jeanine and her soldiers wait outside. Diego can stay in here with you. And you and I can figure out from there how close you want me to get. Sound good?”

“Hardly!” Fiddler scoffs before Allie can answer. “Leave these two alone in here with you? With no one to make sure they don't stab you with your own scalpel?”

“I don't have a scalpel in here, Jeanine,” the woman replies, sounding amused. “And killing me would hardly do them any good with you and your troops standing outside the only exit. Lock the door if it makes you feel better. I will knock when we're finished. ...What do you say to that, Alodia?”

Allie hesitates, looking uncertainly at me. I shrug helplessly. This is crazy. This is totally crazy. Somehow, Rourke has hired an evil obstetrician who is apparently totally okay with the fact that Fiddler and her goons have kidnapped a pregnant woman, but still wants to act like a not-evil doctor by respecting patient boundaries? I can't even comprehend the level of insane that is happening in front of me right now, and I once fought an actual three-headed sea monster. But what kind of choice do we actually have here? This weird woman's offer certainly sounds preferable to any possible alternative. Allie seems to agree, because she slowly nods.

“Excellent. It's decided then. Jeanine, if you would be so kind as to clear out and give the patient a little privacy?”

Fiddler looks like she's going to argue at first, but then she purses her lips, turns on her heel, and stalks out with her goons following behind her. The woman goes to shoo them out, and that's when I see it: a barely detectable green shimmer at the edge of her mask.

Before I can quite process what I've just seen, I hear the door lock from the outside, and the woman turns back to us.

“All right. Now that we have a little privacy...”

The woman touches the stud sparkling in her earlobe, and her white skin dissolves into green as her holographic disguise melts away. She pulls off her surgical cap, revealing her hair underneath—half-lavender and half-bubblegum pink—swept back into a french braid. Now I know why her voice sounded so familiar.

“...Clockmaker...?!”

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happymetalgirl · 4 years ago

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The 15 Worst Metal Albums of 2020

This list might have been shorter if not for my running into a few awful albums at the end of the year that I had been avoiding wisely up until that point. My morbid curiosity got the best of me, and what’s done is done. I’m paying the price for it by going back over the worst albums I heard all year. Let’s get this over with.

15. Ghøstkid - Ghøstkid

This was the debut solo album from the former singer of Eskimo Callboy, who had a pretty decent backing of hype heading into this release under the Ghøstkid moniker, but with the namesake frontman putting in no more than the standard performance on a bunch of poorly assembled tracks in an unappealing and dated poppy metalcore style, ultimately the eponymous album wound up disappointing me pretty substantially.

14. Powerman 5000 - The Noble Rot

Powerman 5000 are just such a low-rate band that even one of their more okay albums makes it here. While not as astoundingly, mind-numbingly basic as their worst material, The Noble Rot is still some of the most unevolved, underwritten, and forgettable electro rock and industrial metal I’ve heard from a big name artist. This is some eighth grade level songwriting here, and that’s a fuckin’ feat for a band that’s been around longer than any eighth grader has.

13. Corey Taylor - CMFT

There was a lot of hype around Corey Taylor finally coming out with a solo project, and it was pretty damn disappointing to hear a bunch of uninteresting classic rock too tacky for Stone Sour. CMFT focuses on the fun side that has made its creator such an enigmatic figurehead in the metal press, but its one-note approach does little more than highlight Corey Taylor’s songwriting deficiencies. I really could have seen this album turning out better too, with just some more time and care put into it, if a fun time of an album is what Taylor was going for. Unfortunately Taylor tried to make a party album and a grand ceremonial tribute to his greatness at the same time, and ego-petting and partying don’t really go hand in hand.

12. Evildead - United States of Anarchy

It has some good bones underneath it, but Evildead’s long overdue (if anyone was asking for it) third album wears out its welcome so quickly with some of the most adolescent thrash I’ve heard in a while. The band gets some good rhythms going and the vocals aren’t terrible either, fitting the older thrash style pretty well. But the band’s predictable formula tires out very quickly, and the political commentary of the lyrics is too cheesy and cringeworthy to ignore. It seems every year we get a handful of these kinds of albums that try to get into the simmering thrash revival with some ultra retro approach, and a good portion of those albums are from long-defunct bands who figure their primitive old-school approach might be a selling point despite their sounds often being even more juvenile against the backdrop of today’s metal landscape. So it’s not a huge surprise or anything to hear an album as ham-fisted and corny as United States of Anarchy; this year it just happened to be Evildead.

11. Five Finger Death Punch - F8

They may not always place highest in this list, but they always manage to make it here, and this was actually an improvement on the last album, not that that’s saying all that much. In fact, I’d say this is the only time in the band’s history that they actually shifted their trajectory upwards. But while the band’s ugly continual creative decay has been a hard thing to watch and made them the five finger punching bag of the metal world, there seems to be a large enough swath of mouthbreathing chuds who love their incoherent derivative shit and flock to their shows enough to put them in lucrative headlining slots and on top of the metal world. Goddamn that sure sounds a lot like someone else we all know doesn’t it. I’ve criticized them plenty in the past, and while indeed an improvement, F8 only mildly remedies the numerous problems with Five Finger Death Punch. Still septic to the system are the predictably formulaic and tiresome songwriting, the stale production, the corny butt rock choruses, the shitty bootlicking worldview that bleeds into Ivan Moody’s douchey and faux-deep lyrics, the contrived ballads and country-dabbling. Even with an improvement in the flow of the track listing and a few more bangers that somewhat hearken back to their first album, F8 is still an over-thought and overly calculated batch of Sirius XM fodder that’s trying to please everyone in some superficial way. I’ll grant that it seems as though the band realized they had been giving the more metal-immersed side of their fanbase that has been with them the longest smaller and smaller crumbs with each new album. I’m not gonna hold my breath for this being anything more than placating for the time being; I’m sure the next album will find the band back on whatever bullshit they feel (or their execs feel) they need to be on to pull enough streams from inattentive radio metal bros. I always end with the disclaimer that I still steadfastly stand by the band’s first two albums, and even American Capitalist to a degree, and that I totally acknowledge the immense potential for greatness this band could seemingly at any time decide to fulfill. Ivan Moody is a talented vocalist with a lot of star power and they really could have been the second coming of Pantera or singlehandedly ignited a new wave of American groove metal and metalcore or carried it on their own. But instead the band have followed the money on the path of least resistance to fast-track their way to the top of festival tickets, which I’m sure affords them quite enough luxury and comfort in life, more than most bands these days get, but it doesn’t exempt them from criticism, and unfortunately I think their legacy will show that they were a lowest common denominator kind of band at the end of the day when they could have been, again, like a second Pantera or something.

10. Anvil - Legal at Last

Another year, another album of Anvil unable to evolve past their prototypic thrash of their forty-year-old origins. Though as tacky as ever, Anvil actually also managed to make a mild improvement on their last album on the musical front at least. The songs are a little more energetic and easier to get through, if not for the lyricism though. Anvil lyrics are never anything beyond a fourth-grader’s poetry assignment for their English class, but some of the Facebook boomer lyrics here are fucking cringy dude. A quick look at the track listing will let you know exactly where you’re gonna find the juiciest cringe, but honestly, even as far as cringe goes it’s nothing comedically special and cringe culture in general is played out anyway. So do yourself a favor and just ignore Anvil the way they deserve to be ignored.

9. Halestorm - Reimagined

It feels a little harsh to place an EP here, especially for a band whose album back in 2018 was one of the best things I have heard to come out of hard rock in a long time. But these stripped back covers and revisions of songs from the band’s catalog just suck all the oomph out of them, perhaps making the case by contrast for the importance of the role the rest of the band behind the indeed charismatic powerhouse frontwoman Lzzy Hale play in making their sound what it is. It’s unlikely this points to any kind of new direction for them, so I’m not particularly worried about them running into this problem again. Plus, I don’t think Halestorm and Lzzy Hale are like fundamentally incompatible with more ballad-y rock music, this forced balladization of older songs just did not work, and it makes perfect sense as to why.

8. Gama Bomb - Sea Savage

The fact that this album is only number 8 on this list is just depressing for its reminder of just how much shittier it got this year. The fact that there are seven albums from this yet worse than Sea Savage, goddamn. With one exception, this was maybe the stupidest album I heard all year, at least in the thrash department it was. God this thing is a sugar high mess. I feel like a toddler on an entire bag of Halloween candy or an elementary schooler on a 2-liter of Mountain Dew sat at a computer to program a thrash album would’ve probably come up with something like this. The erratic operatic highs and dumbass lyrics, it all just embodies everything that ever made thrash look bad. It’s like that drunk guy at a party who’s hyper as shit and doing a bunch of crazy stunts for attention because he thinks it’ll make the people there like him more, but really he’s just embarrassing himself. Yeah, definitely the worst thrash metal album I heard all year, and one I wish I could unhear.

7. Amaranthe - Manifest

One of the albums I was avoiding but reviewed late out of my own weird sense of obligation that I wasn’t surprised to find only validated my reasons for avoiding it in the first place. The weird combo of dancy pop music and power metal isn’t as crazy of an idea as it might seem at first thought. In fact, that’s basically in part what Babymetal are doing, and actually getting better and better at. But Amaranthe get the worst of both worlds with Manifest, unsavory pop melodies and utterly generic symphonic metal to make for something I’m not at all surprised I was so repulsed by.

6. Trapt - Shadow Work

Yep, I listened to it. God, no wonder this band is flailing in irrelevance with aggressive MAGA nonsense being their only audible desperate plea for attention. The album, thank fuck, isn’t steeped in the same bitch boy tantrum that the band’s singer has engaged in all year to the point of getting his band’s Facebook page banned for hate speech, and the music isn’t like offensively poorly made or anything like that either. There’s clearly a conscious meeting of the baseline requirements for the type of music they make, but holy fuck it’s so damn flavorless and predictable. It’d be one thing if this was the trendy thing to be doing, but this diet hard rock for people who think Three Days Grace is too wild has been out of fashion for over a decade. And Trapt are just recycling the same dumb formula that overstayed it’s welcome in the early 2000’s. Yeah, I’m not surprised at all, but god, it’s the kind of thing that has to be apparent to the band themselves too unless they’re lacking of any and all self-awareness. Trapt have thrown themselves to the forefront of the online metal world’s discourse by being an annoying, toxic, and childish presence all year; the silver lining being the unity among metalheads in roasting their laughable posturing about their Pandora numbers and the juicy memes about their one hit “Headstrong” that rile the snowflake singer up without fail. And this shit album is just another reason to laugh at them and more fuel to roast their crybaby Trumper frontman with. Go back into your hole, Trapt. 3/10

5. Unleash the Archers - Abyss

I talked about it in my review, but there really is only one simple thing that sinks this album so low. And that is just how incredibly low-effort and lifeless it is with a genre that’s supposed to be so life-affirming. Power metal isn’t the most highly revered genre in metal, but that’s just for its cheesiness. I love it; when it’s at its best, it’s some of the most inspiring metal music out there and I genuinely wish there was a bigger demand across the board for it. But Unleash the Archers just sound so flat and unenthusiastic in this album, and, sorry, in power metal, unabashed enthusiasm is just nonnegotiable. The guitar parts are phoned in and lacking in imagination, and the vocals especially are so narrow-range, it’s all so antithetical to the ethos of power metal and it doesn’t make a strong case for itself. I’ll leave it there; this album is lazy and lifeless so I feel no need to waste any of my time and work on it.

4. Burzum - Thûlean Mysteries

Ol’ Varg must’ve needed a new wizard hat or camouflage pants or whatever goofy shit he’s been doing since retiring the Burzum name to focus on his racism and LARPing because I thought Burzum was supposed to be finished. I thought you were done with Burzum, Varg. Apparently not too done to not dump an hour and a half of embarrassingly half-baked ambient dungeon synth song fragments that sound, so many of them, quite obviously unfinished. Varg Vikernes has been a washed-up shell of the musical god the various weirdos who idolize him make him out to be for a long time now, and it has shown in the gradually degrading work he had put out after his release from prison. Yet after clearly not caring about creating music in any meaningful way for a long time, Varg drops this heap of shit in his fans’ laps. I suppose they deserve it, but I’m sure some of them are delusional enough to lap it up with a smile on their face while still believing their white nationalist idol to be a musical genius. Again, it’s entirely dull ambient music, not metal at all, but it deserves to be shit upon for its astounding laziness and purposelessness.

3. Asking Alexandria - Like a House on Fire

Doubling down on exactly the unflattering crossover of pop music with their significantly sanitized butt rock in their apparent quest for arena glory that started with their self-titled album back in 2017, Asking Alexandria’s bid for the big spotlight that Imagine Dragons occupies didn’t get any stronger this year with Like a House on Fire. After three or four years of aiming for this style, the band still aren’t even all that competent with the basics of fucking pop rock, which is pretty downright laughable. Honestly, for an album so high up here on my shit list, my feelings on it are more or less just that of unsurprised disappointment; as soon as I got a feel for what the band were doing with the album, I knew it was going to be a mess of predictable results. And lo and behold. This was just such a wholly inexcusably floppy paper towel of an album, and one more Asking Alexandria release I know I won’t be returning to ever again.

2. Hollywood Undead - New Empire, Vol. 2

Coming on at the last minute to get on the scoreboard, reliably, is Hollywood Undead. When I reviewed both volumes of this project earlier, I referred to them as “corporate Linkin Park”, and I stand by that 100%. This album especially showcases nothing but what an incoherent, vapid, clout-chasing act they are, with such a corny, focus-grouped sound that sounds like it was made in a lab by a bunch of out-of-touch boomers. God, they could’ve been safe too if they had left it with the more tolerable first volume back in January, but this follow-up sequel from just this month was exactly why I had avoided listening to the first installment in the first place. And I should’ve never played this second one either. The album opener, “Medicate”, is probably the worst song I sat through in my own volition this year, and the rest of the album doesn’t get much better. It’s nothing new for Hollywood Undead after I gave their 2017 album my award for least favorite album of that year: more unfitting interplay between machismo posturing Eminem-cosplay and the sappiest, wimpiest radio rock and pop choruses; more cringy tough-guy struggle bars; more forgettable-at-best instrumentals. Congrats again, Hollywood Undead, you made one of the worst albums of the year once again.

But even worse than Hollywood Undead is an album that I feel like is already so legendarily bad, that there is no other album that could’ve been sat here. It had to be this one.

1. Six Feet Under - Nightmares of the Decomposed

Shitty metal bands everywhere can breathe a sigh of relief any year Six Feet Under decide to put out new music because any album they release is just about bound to end up as everyone’s #1 worst album of the year, and boy is that guarantee becoming more and more airtight with each successive release. It’s truly astounding too how Six Feet Under manages to outdo themselves every time. I don’t even want to think about what could possibly come after Nightmares of the Decomposed; we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But for now, holy fermented shit, this thing is not just bad, it’s like the holy grail of terrible TERRIBLE albums and I don’t want to know what kind of apocalyptically despicable album Chris Barnes and company could possibly conjure to outdo this one. And make no mistake, it’s still Chris Barnes dragging this band down. I gave this album a 1/10 instead of a 0/10 because there was at least a sliver of salvageable instrumentation on it, as thin of a sliver as it was, a few halfway decent musical ideas of you squinted hard enough. The instrumentalists are checked out and clearly just participating for the paycheck, but I can’t even imagine what kind of professional instrumental performance could possibly overshadow the embarrassment that Chris Barnes put to tape in the studio here. Maybe that says it, because it honestly sounds utterly unprofessional. It’s baffling how this got through management and sound engineering to be released to the public because I don’t think I’ve ever even heard any amateur high school band’s vocalist sound this bad. Vocal ingenuity is generally something to be applauded in the metal world, and pioneers like Randy Blythe, Dani Filth, and Travis Ryan deserve all the praise they get for their innovation with dirty metal vocals, yet what Chris Barnes has “invented” here on Nightmares of the Decomposed to compensate for his continually-deteriorating vocals is just sad. The man simply cannot perform highs anymore, clearly, and the alternative is this fucking comical, cartoonish squealing that sounds more like a bratty toddler gargling their own snot than it does anything fitting for a death metal record, even a death metal record at stupid and cheesy as Nightmares of the Decomposed. Chris Barnes should be thankful that metal is not a sport and that there’s not nearly as much of an abundance of performance statistics to point to and analyze to see what kind of records are broken in a legendarily awful performance. I feel like if there were any kind of performance stats to pull up, this album would have to break some kinds of records. Like this is worse than that 7-1 Germany-Brazil World Cup game, this would be like if the Brazilian team all got unholy levels of blazed and repeatedly scored on themselves because they kept going the wrong way and kicking the ball into their own net, and then pissing their fucking shorts. Even in 7-1 defeat, Brazil had more dignity than Chris Barnes here. Six Feet Under and their label have to know they are a laughing stock and that people will listen to them at this point for the sheer entertainment value of how mind-blowingly awful they sound. It’s not an illegitimate marketing tactic, and it’s the only explanation I can come up with for how this passed inspection. If that’s their mission, to be a spectacle and instill cringe in death metal fans in a regular ritual of comically stupid performances across every successive album, they’re sure doing it, and I guess this baffling headache-trophy is their well-earned prize. Congratulations Six Feet Under, you did it again! Worst metal album of the year.

#metal #heavy metal #worst albums of 2020 #hard rock #thrash metal #groove metal #alternative metal #butt rock #acoustic rock #power metal #dungeon synth #ambient #ambient music #metalcore #arena rock #pop rock #alternative rock #death metal

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anarchist-puppet-on-strings · 5 years ago

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On a Roll

SUMMARY: Jackie drags Henrik out to a roller rink for their next date. Henrik finds he doesn’t hate it as much as he previously thought.

TAGS: @taikeero-lecoredier, @chocoships (DM/ask if you’d like to be added or removed!)

*****

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Henrik asked, glancing over at the other man in the passenger seat.

“Nope!” Jackie said cheerily. “It’s a surprise!”

He sighed as he was given the command to turn left.

The other fiddled with the radio dial, switching channels every few seconds when the music didn’t fit his tastes. Finally he gave up on trying to find a good station and instead let whatever was being sung play out.

Henrik drummed his fingers along to the beat of some poppy, upbeat song that the radio played. He couldn’t help but laugh at Jackie when he saw him wriggling in his seat to the music.

“You remind me of the wiggly worms,” he said, earning a laugh from Jackie.

“Wiggle wiggle wiggle!” He sang, wiggling in his seat happily. It’s quite cute. How could someone be so energetic after fighting crime all night?

Jackie soon got distracted from the music. “Oh! Lookit that car! It’s pink!”

The doctor blinked owlishly in surprise, turning his head to glance at it. “Why would someone color their car like that? Is so bright.”

Jackie shrugged. “It’s different.”

He hummed. Different didn’t always equal bad. It’s just… jarring. He stayed silent as he pondered the thought.

*****

The rest of the car ride to the unknown location was full of Jackie singing to cheesy pop songs and brief conversations. Reaching the location however...

Henrik knit his eyebrows together. “A roller... rink? Jackie, I cannot skate.”

“Then I’ll teach you! C’mon!” The hero said, shoving open the car door and hopping out before slamming it shut.

He’s cautious about the whole idea of skating, but then again the coffee shop had been his idea of a date last time. Well, date is a strong word for whatever the hell that had been.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d never do this for anyone else—maybe Chase or his children. He just didn't want to disappoint Jackie. He’s so excited about this date that Henrik thinks it might actually tear his heart in two to refuse him. He normally put his foot down with other partners’ ideas of dates. What is wrong with him?

*****

After entering and getting admitted to enter the rink by a woman at the front desk (who knew Jackie somehow), they went to get their skates. If he hadn’t been wary already, the nightmare of trying to figure out his skate size was enough to heighten it. He had to try three pairs!

Henrik sat down at the small booth Jackie had commandeered and pulled a foot up to slip them into a skate. He laced up his roller skates tight with shaking fingers and double knotted them.

“Why are we strapping tiny wheels to our feet? It’s counterproductive!” He complained.

“Because it’s fun! C’mon, give it a try! Pleeeeeeeease?” His date pulled the puppy dog eyes. Oh dear, anything but the puppy eyes.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, fine, fine!”

The excited smile lit up Jackie’s whole face. Nobody had a right to be that adorable.

He set his feet down on the checkerboard tiles, watching the wheels immediately try to slip out from under him. He gripped the table and dragged himself up, steadying himself when he slid.

Skates are deceptively heavy. They’re tighter than normal shoes and the bulky wheels make moving difficult.

He attempted to lift a foot. Henrik quickly decided it’s a bad idea and put it back down.

“Uh... how do I…” he muttered under his breath, staring at his shoes. He tried to shift his feet forward. “Oh, oh, Jackie! Help,” he squawked as he pitched forward.

The other caught him. “We’re not even in the rink yet!” He laughed.

He could feel his cheeks heat up. He hid his face in one of his hands.

“Here, I’ll help you to the rink.”

He’d be more embarrassed about needing help but Henrik had already decided he quite liked the way their fingers linked together. Unfortunately the thought made his face hot.

Ugh, I am like a hormonal teenager.

Skates clattered against the hardwood rink, sending Henrik flailing in a panic, arms pinwheeling. For a heart lurching moment, he thought he was going to fall back until Jackie grabbed his shoulders, righting his posture.

“Careful there—it hurts to fall,” he warned.

Henrik flushed. “How can I be careful with my shoes trying to sabotage me!?”

His outburst only made Jackie laugh. He reached over to swat at the other only to slip and nearly fall, clutching onto the stone wall for dear life. His face felt hotter than before.

Jackie laughed harder.

“C’mon, Hen. I’ll help you out,” Jackie offered, extending his hand.

Henrik grabbed onto his hand and squeezed it fearfully. “Please, don’t let me fall.” The mischief in the hero’s eyes didn’t soothe his worries.

“Here, I’ll go slow. Watch my feet and try—”

Henrik swore—quite loudly—as he fell. At least the shorter man had the decency to wince.

Falling didn’t hurt as much as he originally thought but he still didn’t like it. He’d landed on his knees and the impact zone and all around it throbbed. It’s more surprising and embarrassing than painful.

“You good?”

“I… I think so?”

Jackie hauled him up with ease and steadied him as his legs shook. He gave him a moment to shake off his surprise before slowly continuing around the rink.

“Watch my feet and copy the movements.”

The doctor couldn’t help but notice how one foot went outwards and then the other. That must be how he gained speed. He furrowed his brow and tried to mimic the motion. He ended up in a half split with one leg behind him and on a knee. Henrik let out a pained wheeze.

“Hol-holy shit,” Jackie choked out, shoulders shaking.

“Stop! Shut it!” He snapped, face red. He tried to get up but his foot slid out again. Henrik gripped Jackie’s upper arms in a death grip as he dragged himself up. Jackie made it seem so graceful, but when he attempted it he looked like a drunk moose.

After another four humiliating minutes, they finally made it around the rink once. The second lap went about as poorly as the first. The third lap is when there was change.

“Here—try this one on your own.” Henrik opened his mouth to protest but Jackie cut him off. “I’ll be right behind you—don’t worry.” The hands on his arms disappeared and Jackie stopped. “Go on.”

He held onto the wall and scooted along cautiously. Sneaking a peek back, he saw Jackie snickering. He glared before turning back to his task.

It was slow. Every ten or so seconds, he’d nearly fall, and every few minutes he'd fall and earn a couple new bruises if Jackie couldn't catch him in time. Eventually he'd made his way around the rink a couple of times with Jackie lingering beside him.

“See? You're doing pretty well!”

It’s clear it’s not true but he preened a bit at the praise anyway.

Then the lights turned off.

He jolted and yelped, skates rolling and sending him falling. Jackie's hand was on his wrist and his potentially painful tumble is halted when he's pulled up.

“Woah, that could've been bad.”

Heart in his throat, Henrik can only nod.

The music came to a halt and a voice came over the PA system. “Alrighty everyone, it’s time for couples skating. Get out on the rink and skate to some romantic slow songs.”

The music started up again but this time it’s some cheesy slow song Henrik didn’t recognize.

Jackie made an exaggerated bow and offered his hand. “May I?”

He snorted and took it. “Dummkopf.”

“I don’t know what that means but I’ll take it,” the hero said. Henrik laughed.

The two stayed hand in hand for a while, skating slowly and chatting.

“So… what d’ya think of skating?” Jackie tried.

He paused. “It’s… interesting. I prefer walking but is not so bad after the first thirty minutes. I’d be willing to try it again.”

Jackie grinned. “I toldja it’s fun.”

He chose to ignore that statement, making Jackie snort.

“The lady at the front desk seems to know you pretty well. Do you skate here often?” He asked after a brief moment of silence.

“Yeah, I used to come here a few times a week before Marv moved in with me. I come here less but I’m still on the team.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Team?”

“Yeah, there’s both a women’s and men’s derby team in town. I’m the pivot on the team.” He seemed proud of the statement.

“Ah,” he said, realizing what team Jackie was talking about. “Pivot is leader, yes?”

“Yeah, basically! I get to call plays and stuff! You only know ‘cause of Chase, right?”

He nodded. “He may miss a lot of practices and games but he really likes playing.”

Jackie nods, opens his mouth to say something but—

The next things happen in quick succession.

Jackie slips, pulling Henrik down with him. The other—not strong enough to keep Jackie from falling—falls on top of Jackie. He practically combusts in embarrassment at their position. Their faces are too close for comfort. One of his legs is between Jackie’s and his arms on either side of his head are the only thing keeping him from kissing him.

Wait, what?

And yet, Jackie takes it all in stride and laughs breathlessly. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he replies, dumbstruck by the other's utter disregard of the situation.

Now that he's so close to Jackie, he can properly see him. His eyes seem to glow in the dark and they’re shockingly—almost inhumanly—blue. (Like the electric kind, his mind supplies unhelpfully.) He has this bright grin on his face and he looks so damn happy, still giggling at their fall. He can't help but let his eyes flick down to his lips and wonder what it'd be like to kiss him.

“Hey, Earth to Henrik. Are we gonna get up or…?”

Henrik snaps back to reality, meeting Jackie's eyes.

“Ah, yes, just let me—”

He really wanted to kiss him before he got back up—a peck on the lips would do. He stifles the urge, and he crawls off Jackie, struggling to get to his feet.

“Are you hungry?” Jackie asked suddenly. “They have the best food here!”

Any trace of awkwardness the scenario caused vanished.

Henrik smiled. “I could eat.”

He found himself hoping that this kind of thing would happen often. Specifically the part of seeing Jackie laugh and smile without a care in the world.

The lights turn on before he can begin to wonder what that thought meant.

#anarchist tries to write #let me help pick up the pieces #ego shipping #herodoc #romance #fluff #/its been so long since ive posted for this series adjslgjadsklg/

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poppibranchlover · 5 years ago

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Nine Lives, One Fight - Part 6

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

You already seen what had happened in Part 5. Now get ready for Part 6!:

An hour later, Branch woke up, groaning in pain. He shook his head and got up suddenly, noticing what was happening.

“Huh?!”

Branch gasped in horror and realized that he was now locked up inside an animal-sized prison cell! Freaking out, he approached the bars and clawed them helplessly, muttering “No, no, no, no! No no no no! NO!!!”

Branch was now getting more afraid as he flailed his paws at the cage bars. Then he tried breaking them with his strong jaws of cat. “Rrrrrrrrgh, rrrrrrmmff!!”

After a moment, he ended up giving up. He was going to finish with a broken tooth. Two choices were presented to him:

1) He would stay like that while waiting to know what was going to eventually happen, keeping his identity hidden from the Animal Control officers.

2) He should have stayed in bed instead of going out of the bunker and risk for harvesting that Archaeo morphisis mushroom in the first place.

Deciding immediately, Branch chose the first option. He got along the cold floor, folding his tail around his hind legs to warm up.

Suddenly, the door of the animal pound opened. Branch gasped when he saw Garth approaching the cage and crouched back in fear. He shivered. He was not supposed to show that he was mad at him for locking him up in here, mistaking him for a stray.

Garth stared at him through the bars of the cage. Then he opened it with a key and threw a piece of meat that he was holding next to Branch, who meowed and staggered backwards.

“Here. It’s your lunch.”

Branch crept towards the meal and sniffed it with disgust. But he nudged the steak away and shook his head.

“No! I would not eat that!” he tried to say. But what came out of his mouth was complained meowing.

“Hey, what’s the matter?!” Garth demanded. “You’re supposed to eat it.”

“Meow! Meow!” Branch meowed, displaying a worried look on his face.

“Come on. Don’t starve, little one,” Garth told him in a calmer voice. “You’re hungry. I am just going to take care of you.”

But Branch turned to look at the opened cage door the green Troll had unlocked for him and saw his chance to escape. He made a leap for freedom but...

CLANG!!!

The cage door quickly slammed shut, making Branch hit the bars and fall backwards. Garth had locked it with a key in order to prevent him from escaping.

Branch frantically clawed at the lock, attempting to open it. But it was no use. Now he had to stay in here for the rest of his life, with no way out.

“Sorry, kid,” said Garth after putting his key back into his pocket. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m only here to offer you something to eat, not setting you free!”

Branch meowed in his best, pleading tone “Meow! Meow! Meeeow! Meow!”

“Whatever am I going to do with you? I’m an officer for the animal shelter, not some animal-lover!” Garth growled. “No one will ever help you in here.”

“No, please! You must understand me!” Branch cried in his own language. “How could you do this to me? I’m a Troll! I am not a stray animal! You can’t put me here!”

Unfortunately, Garth was unable to understand what Branch was trying to say, due to him being a cat. All that he can hear was cute sad meowing. “Meow! Meow! Meeeeow! Meow! Meeeeeow!!”

“I’m truly sorry. You can’t be released until we decide what to do with you,” said Garth, putting his hand to the cage. “Please be patient until I will tell you so, and also finish your food.”

“Meow!!” pleaded Branch, as if saying “But...sir-”.

Garth pointed at the piece of meat and ordered firmly “Eat!”

“Meow! Meow! Meow, meow! Meow!” Branch kept moaning. But there was nothing he can do right now. Garth just turned and headed for the door, ignoring his constant pleas.

As soon as he was gone, Branch looked down at the floor and sighed. He was left alone in the cage, still locked up and helpless.

What have I done? he thought, thinking this was all his fault for leaving the bunker behind. Suddenly, his pointed cat ears above his head pricked up to hear the voices of Garth and his Animal Control partner, Clayton, from outside the pound.

Branch walked closely to the corner of the cage so he can clearly hear what they’re saying. According to these two Trolls, they were discussing some plans on what are they going to do with him!

“So, are you telling me he does not eat?” asked Clayton from outside the door.

“Exactly, Clayton,” Garth said to his friend. “I gave him raw steak but he refuses to eat. I wonder what’s the matter with him?”

“Anyway, tomorrow we will take care of him. I think he looks really sick. If he refuses to eat, it’s his fault.”

These words suddenly hit Branch like an incoming rock. His tail and back fur straightened with extreme horror. He knew exactly what that meant. All animals did. He didn’t know what to say.

Tomorrow, they will take care of ME?! He started to panic. He had to get out of here, and quickly! He began to claw on the bars again, yelling as loudly as he could “Help!! HELP!!! Someone get me out of here!! I can’t take it anymore!!!”

That did it. Garth opened the door, having heard the sound of loud yowling. He approached Branch’s cage and asked worriedly “What’s going on here?! I heard screeching and yowling! Is everything okay?”

“Meeeow!!!” Branch meowed. He walked slowly to the cage bars and gave him an extremely upsetting look.

Garth immediately went closer to the cage and banged the bars angrily, clearly noticing that Branch have not touched the steak yet.

CLANG! CLANG!!

Branch nervously slumped down to the floor at the hardening sound of the metal bars. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You don’t want to starve?” Garth grimly said, narrowing his eyes at the sad little cat. He pointed to the steak again and said “Eat!”

“Meow!” Branch tried to get his attention but Garth had left the room once again. He looked down at his uneaten meal. He was not sick, and he hated eating meat and wanted to confirm that he was a vegetarian, but he has nothing else right now. He was now trapped in this tiny little cage because the Animal Control found him running around without a domesticated pet collar. There has to be a way to escape this awful nightmare, so he can go home safely.

Branch struggled to open the cage with his claws, but the door still wouldn’t budge.

“I had to get out of here somehow!” he told himself as he looked around his prison cell. He tried banging the door with his head and his Troll hair but it didn’t even work.

Branch grabbed the bars with his teeth and pulled with all his strength. He bit through the metal furiously when he stopped and heard sad meowing in the distance. He gasped. From his cage, he saw another cat, helplessly shivering in its own cage. It meowed miserably and pointed to a carved message from its prison wall.

There was no escape in here. This pound was to die for.

Branch can’t believe his eyes. This cat wrote this message with its claws to warn the other trapped animals in the pound. This meant if the animals can’t escape any longer without finding an owner, it’s the end of the line for them.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “Those poor creatures. I hope I have some other way to save you...if only I can get out of here.”

He gulped and crouched backwards, shaking and looking around at the sad trapped pound animals. That cat was right. There is no way to get out, and all strays have to be locked up in here against their will...unless a certain Troll of their interest would adopt them.

Branch dropped to a corner of his cage with a sigh, feeling hopeless and having no urge on what to do next. He stared at the piece of meat beside him, trying to ignore the complaints of his stomach.

Finally, he closed his eyes, hoping to wish the day away as soon as Poppy would find him here and bring him home. His stomach kept on growling as Branch drifted off to sleep for the evening.

Meanwhile, in the village, Poppy was walking when she stumbled on a branch, giving her an immediate idea of what to do to change her mind! She got up, and went to the grumpy Troll bunker, shouting his name.

“Hey, Branch?” she called. “It’s your friend, Poppy! Are you home? I need to get something from you!”

She stood and waited for a response. But...there was no answer. Confused, Poppy knocked on the bunker hard and shouted even louder “Branch?! BRANCH?!”

Unfortunately, Branch didn’t seem to be at home. Poppy sighed and went back to the village. She thinks he must have been in the forest, doing his daily routine of survivalist chores such as picking up sticks and gathering more rations.

Poppy was calling out for Branch around the town until she found Biggie, one of her best Troll friends who always carries a cute yellow worm called Mr. Dinkles everywhere he goes, walking from some shrubs nearby.

“Hi, Poppy!” Biggie greeted her happily. But then he looked concerned when he asked her “What is going on? You seem worried.”

“I was,” said Poppy. “Have you seen Branch? I thought he was at home tonight or he must have gone out to collect rations.”

Biggie looked around the silent night, checking for any signs. But to him, everything looked normal. He simply answered to her “Um, I think he might be sleeping right now because it’s getting late. Perhaps he finished his chores earlier. Calm down, Poppy. Everything is okay.”

“Thank goodness, you gave me such a panic attack!” Poppy giggled, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you understood that much as I do. Anyway, what are you up to in the middle of the night?”

“I’m on my way to the animal shelter to give Mr. Dinkles a shot,” Biggie explained, snuggling his pet worm close to his face. “I think he’s prone to having a flu from the rain yesterday!”

“Mew!” Mr. Dinkles squeaked and shivered. Poppy cocked her head in confusion.

“I think he seems okay since you were at home with him,” she told Biggie.

“Yes. But apparently I’m concerned if would hear him sneeze through the night.”

“Oh, I see that,” Poppy said in concern, nodding. “Can I come with you to help comfort your pet?” She put a hand to Biggie, and he felt touched by her words. The big chubby Troll smiled at her.

“Why, sure!” he answered proudly. “As long as he’s gonna be okay from being vaccinated!”

“Yep!” Poppy agreed. “It’ll be fine, Biggie!” Then she made a dramatic pose pointing to which direction was the animal shelter and proudly remarked “Come on! The shelter is this way!”

Just like that, Biggie followed Poppy towards the direction where she was pointing, hoping to find some other way to cure Mr. Dinkles.

To Be Continued...

Stay tuned for Part 7!

#dreamworks trolls #branch #cat #cat branch #branch the cat #animal control #garth #poppy #biggie #mr dinkles #cat branch story #nine lives one fight #fanfiction

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mosylufanfic · 7 years ago

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And Sings the Tune Without the Words

Killervibe Fanfiction Week: Friends to Lovers

@killervibedaily

Title from Emily Dickinson's "Hope is the thing with feathers" because I fuckin' love that poem. The jerky bakery customer is dedicated to my dearest @hedgiwithapen who’s been listening to me flail about these different stories for a month.

And Sings the Tune Without the Words

When she looked through the window and saw them putting out the new tray of cheese buns, Caitlin ducked into the bakery and got right in line. They were the best cheese buns in the city and you could almost never get them because they sold out so fast.

"Four to a customer," the baker repeated to the person in front of her, who'd asked for the entire tray. "No. Four."

She pulled out her phone and took a picture of the tray, sending it to Cisco without context.

The person in front of her had just finished threatening to smear the bakery's name all over Yelp - "Go ahead," the baker said, unruffled, "I'm the owner and I will ban your ass," - when the bell over the door jingled. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Cisco.

"Oh my god," he murmured, getting in line behind her. "Is it my birthday?"

"The limit is four," she murmured back.

"Roger that."

The first customer stomped past Caitlin with a giant pout and no cheese buns, and she stepped up, smiling brightly. "Four, please," she said, credit card already ready.

When Cisco had received his own brown paper bag of hot, puffy, aromatic cheese buns, he paused to stare down at Caitlin as she perched on the window ledge outside the bakery, savoring her first bun.

"Really?" he said. "You're going to sit here and eat them?"

She licked a smear of melted butter off her thumb. "Let me put it to you this way. Really? You're going to take your fresh, delicious, four-and-only-four-to-a-customer cheese buns from Cameron's, back to Star Labs? Where there are currently two speedsters with insatiable appetites, plus Ralph?"

He contemplated that. "You're right. Move over." He sat hip-to-hip with her and fished his first bun out of the bag. "Mmmmm," he groaned when he bit in.

"I know," she sighed, wiping her mouth and diving back into her own bag for her second. "How do they do it?"

"Wishcraf'," he said, voice muffled through his mouthful.

She nodded. Magic had to be the only explanation.

Cisco finished his first bun and sighed with pleasure. "What is Ralph still doing here, anyway?"

"I genuinely don't know," she said. "Wasn't he moving to Iowa?"

"I thought so. Guess he changed his mind." He reached for the next bun in his bag.

When they'd finished two each, he said, "Thanks for texting me."

"Of course." She rested her bag of buns on her knee, looking out at the day. The summer sun beamed down out of a deep blue sky, surrounded by puffy white clouds. In the park across the street, people were picnicking on the grass, a couple of kids were playing frisbee with a golden retriever, and a soft breeze rustled the green leaves on the trees. "This is nice."

He licked his fingers. "Best cheese buns in the city."

"That, but - this too. Just taking a break and enjoying the moment. Not because we beat somebody or rescued somebody or won at something. Just because the moment's here. When was the last time any of us did that?"

"Long time," he said. "Seems like we've been careening from disaster to disaster for - wow. God. Years."

"That's what it feels like."

"When was the last time we had a movie night, even?"

"Oh, that's been a long time," she said. "Since before Killer Frost." Before Cynthia, she wanted to say, but didn't. They hadn't talked about his breakup very much even though it had been nearly four months now.

She thought he was doing better lately. But he was good at putting on a face, and the events of the past year or so had put a distance between them that made her distrust her own ability to see under it.

"We should do that again," he said. "Movie night."

"Mmmm," she said, ducking her head under the guise of rooting around for the next bun in her bag.

He'd been making noises like that lately. Let's hang out, let's get a drink, wanna catch that movie together? Like he was trying to rebuild the way things used to be with them.

But she wasn't sure she wanted to go back to their previous dynamic.

Not that she didn't want to spend time with him. There was a reason she'd texted him and not anybody else when she'd seen the cheese buns come out.

But she wasn't sure she wanted to hang out with him as just friends.

Scratch that.

She knew she didn't want to be just friends. She wanted to be more.

It had been laying in her heart like an egg for so long she didn't know when it had arrived. She'd kept it in a corner, trying to ignore it, telling herself that between Killer Frost and Cynthia Reynolds, she'd lost her chance.

But when he'd broken up with Cynthia, the shell had cracked. Over the past months, something soft and wet and new had pushed its way out, and had shown itself unwilling to pushed off to the side. It cheeped and pecked at the inside of her chest every time she saw him now.

She'd seen the icons for dating apps on his phone, so he was at least thinking about getting out there again. But swiping right on an app and trying on a relationship with someone he'd known as long as she and Cisco had known each other - well. Those were different things.

He didn't pursue the idea, instead singing along with a snatch of a poppy summer hit blaring from a car sitting at the light. When it moved on, he said, "Have you seen the video for that?"

"No," she said, although she had. "Show me?"

The video was as cute and bouncy-fun as the song, and she smiled over it, leaning into his shoulder as he angled his phone so she could see. They swiped through a few other videos, finishing up the cheese buns.

When they were both done, he held out his hand for her paper bag. She crumpled it up and handed it to him, then got up, swiping dust off her rear as he went down the street a few steps to chuck the bags into a handy trash bin.

When he came back, he said, "You want a ride back?" He flared his fingers in a breaching motion.

"Well," she said. "I was thinking I'd walk, actually. It's not too far." She'd been walking around the city a lot lately. She told the others that it was because she needed the exercise, but the truth was, she needed the quiet thinking time that belonged only to her.

He looked around. "We could do that."

"You don't have to," she said, feeling a flush of pleasure in her stomach. "Just because I am."

"I know," he said. "Shall we?"

They matched strides, talking about the videos they'd watched, about summer movies coming out, about the food festival that would be held in the park over the weekend. Anything besides all the work waiting for them back at Star Labs. Not that today was particularly wild, comparatively speaking. But it felt like they were stealing this time for themselves.

Or maybe Caitlin just felt that way.

Halfway back, the clouds started to move in over the sun. Caitlin glanced up. "Was that a sprinkle?"

Cisco held up his hand flat. "Yep. Hey, I wonder if I could maybe make a breach right over our heads to catch the rain - "

She rooted around in her purse. "Or we could use this," she said, coming up with an umbrella.

"Well, sure, if you want to be normal about it," he said. But he ducked under the umbrella's shelter as drops began to patter against the floral design.

It was the best kind of summer shower, soft and bath-warm, with a light breeze and no hint of lightning or thunder. Snuggled up close under the umbrella, they had to walk slower so as not to trip each other. When they kept bumping elbows, he hooked his arm through hers, and they walked on, connected.

Conversation fell away, and Caitlin listened to the drum of raindrops over their heads. This close, she could smell Cisco's scent, the clean smell of his shampoo and the earthy tone of his soap and something else that was just him. She caught his eye, and he turned his head and smiled at her.

She smiled back.

All too soon, they walked up the front path to Star Labs. Under the overhang in front of the entrance, Caitlin shook her umbrella free of loose water droplets and collapsed it.

"Hey," he said. "Earlier? You didn't really say anything about movie night. When I mentioned it."

"Didn't I?" she said airily. "It's a good idea. Boost team morale. Do you still have that projector? We could set it up in the cortex, get pizza for everyone - lots of pizza - "

"That'd be fun, sure," he said. "But I meant just us."

"Oh," she said, her heart fluttering like frantic wings. Maybe just friends would be enough. Maybe if they spent enough time together as friends, she could work out if he was open to more, or maybe she'd find out that his friendship was what she'd been wanting and missing, not -

He swallowed. "Just friends if you want," he said. "But actually I've been thinking lately. What if we tried being more?"

She thought Say something, Caitlin, you idiot.

When her idiot self did not say anything, he looked away, shrugging a little as if to indicate that it was all the same to him. "Or not. Hey, I know it's a crazy time. You're still trying to figure out the Killer Frost thing, and we're all trying to fix Nora's screw-up, so if you want we can, like, table this discussion until things settle down and - "

"No," she finally managed to say, and he turned back to her quickly. "No, let's not table that discussion - I - " She fumbled. He looked like he didn't know whether to downcast or excited. "Cisco, I would like us to be more. I would. Now."

His face relaxed. "You sure? I mean, it’s so crazy right now."

She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Then she leaned forward, and kissed him.

He caught his breath against her lips - she felt it. Then his hand came up and pressed against her hair, and he kissed her back.

He smiled at her when they pulled apart, eyes alight. "So that's a yes, you're sure."

She smiled back. "I think if I had waited for things to be not crazy, we wouldn't have had cheese buns and a walk in the rain just now," she said. "I think we have to start taking the time for ourselves, and not waiting for it to free up."

"I think you could be right," he said.

She kissed him one last time before they had to go inside. In her heart, wings spread wide.

FINIS

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #killervibefanficweek18 #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #fluff #the flash

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insomniac-arrest · 7 years ago

Text

Little Lights

genre: original, sci-fi, wlw

words: 7k

summary: a girl on a floating continent communicates with a girl on the ground through floating lanterns

they try to reach each other

The first one appeared on my 7th birthday, I had seen them before but hadn’t been allowed to join the procession until that year.

My hair was tied back in complex knots and I pulled on them regularly, trying to dislodge the tight coils and chew on the ends. It was a bad habit, my mom had been trying to cut the habit out of me for years (at nine she would threaten me with a spritz bottle).

I tugged on my hair coils and stared up the night sky as my mother fiddled with her high-tech camera, she had wanted to be a photographer at one point when she was younger. My father was still trying to find the ‘perfect’ patch of grass for us to settle on.

I held my mother’s skirts as I stared up at the approaching mass in the sky, dark and shimmering as it hefted across the sky like a rolling tangible storm. I was aware of the floating continents at that point, but it was still making me suck in my breath.

I sucked on my bottom lip instead of my hair and try to keep my eyes fixated on the glowing jagged shapes miles away. I had some eminent sense that if I blinked the whole thing would fall from the sky or disappear altogether.

My sister called me a fanciful girl at that age, but that was one of the nicest things she called me overall.

I kept my hand latched onto my mother’s skirt, her fingers ticking over the different filters on her camera and cursing softly, not loud enough for me to overhear, but I filled in the gaps. My sister was with her first boyfriend that year, somewhere high up, close enough she said to almost touch the bottom of it.

I doubted that. I didn’t believe anything could reach that high, my mouth falls open as the rumbling machine gently glides closer and closer. I had always known about floating continents, I see the lights first.

Honey yellow, glacial blue, cherry lipstick red, tangerine orange, all the crayon colors I could think of and more, they lit up one by one as hovering fairy lights against the dark. It was a dream of a dream and my eyes itched as I refused to look away.

The continent was poised against the last last tendrils of the setting sun and I could see buildings and trees outlined in a fantastical twisting design. And the lights.

My mother told me this happened every nine months or so, but I wasn’t listening, the fairy lights, lanterns, gently, slowly, were released from the darkness, lights carried on the breeze.

My eyes trace dipping patterns of glowing paper as they glide soundlessly out, cheering erupts around me as people whoop and clap for the release.

My eyes are drawn to a light pink one, pansy pink, kissed sunset pale pink, pink like my little fairy princess set.

“Mommy!” I say shrilly, hotly, “that one’s for me.” My mother sticks her bottom lip out, “Winnie-” She warns.

I release her skirts, “I have to go get it!”

“Winnie!” She grabs for the back of my green hood, “you’ll miss the paper airplanes, don’t you want to see-” They told me I was too young for a paper airplane anyway, I block out the rest of what she says, which was probably a deep groan as I dart into the cheering crowd.

Skirts and rustling coat tails flow around my small head and I ignore them, I had to keep my eyes on the light pink lantern, it was twisting gently in the sky with all the others

“Winnie!”

I duck my head under a low fence and feel the grass on my knees as I run away from the glow of the festival. “Come here little light!”

I almost scrape the palms of my hands as I scramble up and start sprinting up the side of the hill where only a smattering of people had perched, but my pink lantern was floating down slowly, slower than the others. Just gasping over the ground. I hear cries as people start to catch them.

“Here!” I reach my little arms in the air and flail them back and forth; the pink was far above my head. I run around in large circles as I try to guess where it is going to drop. I start to whine as it picks up and floats far above the others. Almost gone.

“Please,” I plead with it, “don’t be difficult.” That’s a phrase my grandma was always using, I reach up on my tiptoes. The pink lantern falls, my fingers curl around the sun panel on the very bottom

My entire face lights up, heart soaring, fingers clasping around the cool panel that held the lantern up. I tumble backward onto my backside as I grab the sides and fall back down to the earth

“Yes!” I can feel the grass staining the back of my light green fancy jacket. My heart is pounding in my chest, the lantern was pink poppies, sweet jam, I can see the little note inside.

“RELEASE!” I hear the cannon shot, I just catch the end of the ceremony, the little metro area launching thousands of colorful paper airplanes back at the floating cloud city. I hear cheering as people up there must be trying to catch them too.

I can’t stop smiling, “hello little light.” I reach inside, avoiding the tinted LED light bulb and curiously taking out a piece of paper.

The piece of paper wasn’t the point of the exercise for me, but I squint at it anyway. I knew some people sent things down with their light.

Dear anyone,

It was written with curling alternating colors, like a rainbow with each letter delicately formed and chosen. I was impressed.

I hope you get this!!! My name is Iris, this is my lanturn :) It’s the same color as my play kit and I piked it out myself.

I have 2 parents and 1 cat. He is a fat cat named Marshmellow and I wished he would have kittens, mommy says he can’t. I feel very sorry for him when he mews to go outside and we don’t let him outside

I would want to go outside if I was a cat- even if I couldn’t swim or pet dogs.

I go to scool every day and want to be an artist or detektiv one day, I have a magnifying glass and 2 crimes already

One is who stole Stacy’s bike (not me) and the second is who nocked over the grass hut I built

Here some of the grass I found at the scene!

Pleese enjoy my lanturn, my mom says this is a very specile time of year and I really really want someone to find it and keep it like in the movies

PS- do you have a cat? Has it had kittens?

PSS- do you think breakfast cereal is okay to eat out of a big cup? I think it’s a weird but okay

PSSS- please be careful with my lite! I spend very time on it and I hope you love it too :D

I held the note to my chest as I lie on my back and watch the last of the lanterns and paper airplanes fall to earth. The music is already increasing behind me as the rest of the night heats up with noise and clattering feat.

My dad wanted to show me how to do a cartwheel.

Instead I start to wonder how I was going to tell Iris that I got her lantern.

------

I was grounded for two weeks after I ran away during the festival and stained my nice clothes. I don’t mind being grounded because it just means I don’t go outside and can’t use the internet.

I can still use my toys and paint programs on my computer systems and mommy doesn’t take down my fort, so I’m okay. She doesn’t know why I like my fortress so much anyway. I didn’t stop crying for a week after they took it down the first time, so I can keep it in the corner of my room as long as I don’t try and bring it to the living room again.

I prefer having it in the living room since the couch holds the blankets up better, but the lamp in my room works pretty good anyway as long as no one runs into it.

I crawl inside the soft insides of my fort and I start writing back to Iris immediately.

Dear Iris,

I sit for a very long time as I excitedly go over what I want to tell her. I have my sister check all the spelling before I try and write it out sentence by sentence.

I found your lamp!! It is the best color, I love pink, it’s my favorite color. How old are you? You sound like you’re about my age. That’s good, I don’t have a lot of kids my own age.

That wasn’t exactly true, but it was true enough. I didn’t consider myself part of the ‘losers’ but I knew people didn’t think I was very popular. I didn’t have a group, sometimes I really really wished I had ‘a group.’

I keep writing to Iris.

I don’t have a cat, my mommy is allergic and sneezes a bunch when she gets near one. It’s bad. There aren’t too many pets down here, how many pets are there up there??

Do you really eat clouds up there? (my sister told me not to ask this but she doesn’t know more than me. She only gets normal points, I get lots of class points for my group (which is green banana))

Do you like living up there? Is it windy?

I sometimes eat cereal out of the big mugs when everyone forgets to do dishes and I don’t say anything since sometimes I’m the reason no one did dishes. I eat out of big mugs then, I don’t think it’s weird. Mine has scooby doo on it! Do you like scooby doo? You like detective stuff, so I hope so.

Tell me what happens with your crime!!! I sniffed the grass but couldn’t find any clues.

Please write back soon!

My name is Winifred, which isn’t a good name, and my mommy calls me Winnie and my uncle calls me Freddi for fun. But I want to be ‘Lumin’ since it means light and my favorite God (Apollo!!) is the light God. I like mythology and magic and shows about animals a whole lot, I like your light!!

I hope I hear from you soon.

-Winnie

My sister says it’s too long and rambling, but I don’t know what rambling exactly means so I just ignore her. She says I need to make real friends and I tell her that Iris is my friend.

I was eight that year.

I was going to find Iris.

---------

I didn’t find Iris. It turned out there were a lot of Iris’s on the continent of Tritos, I told my mom I was going to write all of them and she told me I could try. If I did my homework first.

They want me to a lot more testing, a lot more than the other kids. I notice, I’m not sure if they want me to notice or not, I don’t think it’s a secret.

Ms. Kamau keeps me after school sometimes and has me take these quizzes that ask me things like which graphs make sense and what kind of money I would make. I like the part where I make stuff up like money, I’m little sick of telling them that their graphs suck though.

I don’t really want to be in the ‘separate’ class by myself, I had always been in the separate class and it was little jarring to be more separate than even the separate class.

It makes it hard to go to the library after school and look up the names of all the people in the cloud cities. There were a lot of cloud cities at this point, and even more Iris’s.

My dad asks me why I have a giant book on my lap, typing emails in from the directory and looking up the different names. I tell him that Iris needs to know, she needs to know someone found her lantern like she wanted.

I write a second letter in only pink pen.

Dear Iris, I get sad sometimes, do you get sad? Please tell me what your favorite music is. I like the ones where it’s quiet and you can’t always understand the words.

It’s pretty dark tonight, another continent is coming overhead, but they aren’t our sister. That’s what my mother said, so there are no lanterns. Just night. It’s kind of sad because I can’t imagine what you’re up to, like waking up in the morning and eating cereal and putting your hair up. My mom makes me put my hair up now. Do you have uniforms up there in sky cities?

Please tell me if you have any more mysteries to solve.

From,

Winnie.

-------

It takes three years before I get in contact with Iris again, I had twelve letters at the time, some were better than others. I settle on three and a picture of our home and my family, I hoped she would like those (and she wasn’t a creep).

I got to put my hair up myself that year, the lantern festival was back, the year before that I had been sick during the night and the year before that I couldn’t find her lantern. I checked every pink one in the area, but maybe she changed colors.

I was ten.

Instead, this year I was going to send up the brightest airplane in the night sky, I had been working on the motor for months now. I was in the separate separate class of just sometimes just me, sometimes they let me join just the one separate class. But not always

They let me work on whatever project I want in there, so I decided I wanted to create a tiny motor for my airplane, so it would stand out.

It says Iris in giant purple letters on top, the paper itself is a vibrant pink, just the same hue as hers. I know on some level I should be ‘moving on’ as my sister insisted, but some things are worth seeing to the end. That’s what my dad said, my mom just nodded at him. They were getting a stipend now to have me do the extra classes.

They always want little scientists, that’s who made the floating continents in the first place and solved overpopulation and the poison in the dirt. Some of the dirt is poisoned but the dirt up there isn’t now, so it solved a couple problems.

I’m not sure how I feel about all the science, but I feel like I can warm up to all the numbers when they leave me alone with them. They’re simple, like a game I can solve. This was another problem I could solve.

The motor came out of that, numbers and drawings and a puzzle I can solve. I tell Iris all this in my third letter, that I still like my classes but I wish they let me do more stories about Apollo. I send her one of my short stories about him and Helios, they both want to ride the sun across the sky but can’t. I ask her about Marshmallow and what she did all day up there.

I make sure to put a streamer on the back of my airplane, everyone loved the ones with streamers.

I make it to the festival early and avoid anyone trying to get my attention and ask me when I was going to take the PISA and get placed. I told them I didn’t want to do either, The Qualifier could wait.

I find a spot on the grass behind my older sister and her new boyfriend as we stare up at the sky. Titros rolls through the sky, the hover panels reflect off the ground and glow softly, the lights of the city are turned off one by one.

“They do that for us,” Bee’s boyfriend says sweetly and tucks my sister’s hair behind her ear. “They want us to see the lights.” I try not to look down at my sister and her boyfriend, my face is already hot from seeing my sister even giggle at one of his dumb jokes. At least this boy is sweet.

My mom is taking pictures again, standing at the very top of a craggy peak, we’re waving at her as she stands with a giant smile on her face. I loved seeing her like that.

I wave until my arm is tired and she still doesn’t see me, that was okay, Titros is almost at our doorstep, I hold my breath as the lantern lights are turned on one by one.

“Here it comes!” I sing over the noise and my sister glances over her shoulder with pursed lips at me, she was doing that a lot more now, pursed lips like a coin purse locking. I almost miss the yelling.

“Are you going to catch another one this year Winnie?” Chege asks me politely.

I just nod fervently, “I’ll try.” The lights come down like falling stars one by one, little tear drops from the darkness, slowly at first until they were a cascade of color and light. People down below are wagging their hands above them frantically as they try to catch a good luck lantern.

Most of them had special patterns and little words of encouragement and phrases, many had letters within. Some letters were greetings or wishes and secrets they couldn’t tell anyone else or even class assignments they wanted to get rid of. Some unlucky person sometimes got a prank lantern, but I preferred not to think about those- the fake ones.

I try to survey the sky for pink ones, but my hopes were a little down, there was a high chance she would switch patterns by now. She didn’t even know I existed in the first place, my heart sinks at that thought and I bite my lip.

I still liked to chew on things, but it’s mostly gum and toothpicks now, my sister assures me neither of those things are cool.

I sit a little numbly as people reach and reach toward the lanterns and catch them in a flurry of limbs and laughter, cheering. I watch as Chege jogs purposefully to bright red one, a heart in the very center, my sister squeals as he presents the heart-lantern to her. I have to look away again.

I watch as the lanterns dangle and dip, this isn’t what I was waiting for though, I hold my breath again as I hear the second little jingle of silver noise, a blast. Windchimes and a cannon release.

“There it goes!” I jump to my feet to watch as my sister was busy embracing her boyfriend, I run to get the best view as the blast fills the air. The stream of little paper planes arches just high enough to reach the floating continent, more whooping follows.

I run, chasing the arch as long as a snaking river, I spot the white of my streamer just in time: Iris! It says, Iris!

I can only pray she sees it, the people are just waving outlines above us, wiggling stick figures with one voice and one gasping mob. I couldn’t even imagine what Iris looked like, what she saw in the morning, what she thought about when she went to bed.

I watch as outstretched fingers I can’t see start to catch the little planes one by one.

Catch it.

I pray to something indistinct and nameless, something that must make the lanterns float in the first place.

Please catch it.

I chase the planes until I am breathless and sweating out of every pour, my chest heaves try to see something that isn’t there. I imagine her ripping her airplane open to see my letters snugly placed there, I imagine she is relieved- someone had got her lantern all that time ago.

I pray.

----

I am eleven, I get the first best surprise I could ever wish for. An IM.

The tests are coming fast and furious now, for the first time I am struggling in school and wish I was outside doing anything else.

My sister is listening to happy music and my mom is developing more photos, she got one of the festival where the lights were reflecting off a toddler's cheek as they shrieked at their first Lantern Celebration. I don’t know what she sees in it, but she keeps looking.

My father is trying to get a hot tub for the backyard, it’s a very long process that I think it taking more time than strictly necessary. The hot tub was being bought from my stipends.

They aren’t talking to me like they used to, I wished terribly to talk to somebody but I feel like my tongue is made of moonrock even when I’m around the other kids. There was too much competition, too many points and tally’s and names written in line on the board.

My name is always at the top.

I close my eyes every night and try to think about what Iris is doing, what I tell her if we ever talk. I might lie a little bit, I won’t tell her my ranking.

It’s a nice fantasy.

That’s why I almost leap out of my skin when I see a new IM on the family computer locked into the living room wall. It pings brightly with little white notification in the corner and I pass in front of it before I head off to school.

I assume it’s for my sister, for some assignment from a classmate or some friend that wants to go to the mall. Maybe a boy she turned away.

The day goes by like every other day: they let me do independent study for an hour, always building something. I like building things but the joy of it kind of soured after my motor didn’t seem to make a difference last festival.

I have no idea if I actually did anything or not.

I poke and prod at the electronic bits of a cube that can tell you the weather at any place in the world. It was pretty as it was superfluous.

I see another ping on my handheld phone at school.

I blink a couple times at that, a family IM was one thing, I blink again, but this meant it was for me. I sit up straight in my chair and make sure no one is paying attention to me. Ash seems to be consumed in her robotics project and the teacher is helping Tumanai.

I quickly poked at the ping to see where the message was from, my eyes go wide. IW. IW from international satellite coordinated in the middle of the Pacific.

My heart leaps into my throat, that had to be a floating continent. It had to be her.

I thrust my hand in the air.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” I almost shout it at the top of my lungs, the class looks at me but I stopped caring what I thought after the day they threw all my pencils out the window on SAT day last year.

My teacher adjusts her glasses, “What’s that Miss Otiena?” I scrunch my nose up, “I need to go home.” “You just said bathroom,” Ash hisses at me, I make a face at her.

“I feel awful.” I slump down on my desk, my teacher adjusts her glasses again.

Brief haggling follows, but I had never asked to be excused before, never asked for any favors. She had no choice but to believe me, she didn’t even bother calling my parents, I was eleven now. And separate.

I run home with my pulse throbbing in my wrist and eyes wide, it could be a false call, it could be a prank, it could be that I had finally lost it.

I run home and put up a pile of blankets between the chair and the couch. An impromptu fort.

The little light glows in my face, I wipe my sweaty palms down, my finger trembles as I push down on the answer button.

A message dings up immediately.

“Hello!” My computer offers to read it out loud for me, I decline. “This is Iris.” I close the program immediately, taking deep heaving breaths.

“She’s here,” I bury my smiling face in my hand, “She’s here, she’s here!” I couldn’t help it, I had been waiting. Iris. Iris Wegener it said.

I bite my lip and wish I had something to chew through, I had her name, her whole name. And she knew I was someone.

I almost start to dance, she had gotten my plane! The world is somehow bright and larger than it ever had been before.

It takes several more minutes before I can even think about opening the IM again. My whole body was tensing, I remember about reading an article about expectations. Some part of me hadn’t thought this would ever work.

What would I fantasize about after this? What if I made it bad?

I take deep rattling breaths, I had worked for this. I couldn’t keep Iris waiting, not anymore. I open her messages again.

IW: hello Winnie!

There were less exclamations points now.

IW: I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, I had to go through a couple of bargaining chips to get my parents to believe this is real.

IW: but… it feels real.

IW: you were seven when you got my lantern? That’s so embarrassing, I barely remember what I wrote. But… thank you. I was pretty excited when I saw an entire plane with my name on it. I almost lost it!

IW: I don’t know what I’m writing, I’m sorry.

IW: anyway, my name is Iris Wegener. I’m thirteen this week :), Marshmallow passed when I was nine sadly :(, I like horses though I’ve never seen one. I don’t like Game Shows since they seem so fake, I don’t really want to be a detective now.

IW: I’m sorry you feel sad sometimes.

My mouth is fully open now, Iris had responded. Iris had responded a lot, she was almost my age. She liked horses, she didn’t game shows! She was a real person, not something I just made up.

I close my computer and lie on my back, I trace the lines I remember of Tritos with my fingers on the bedsheet above my head. The outline of the continent stands out in my mind’s eye.

“Iris,” I mouth the word. I don’t know what to say back.

----

I don’t know to say back, I figure it would come to me, so I sleep on it. But it doesn’t come, not the next day or the day after that.

Iris keeps messaging me.

IW: hey, I’m sorry if I said anything weird

IW: I hope I got the right number, maybe you lost your phone or your parents took it when they ground you :(

IW: that sometimes happens to me, my mom calls me a troublemaker. I’m locked up in my room right now, I don’t know what her problem is >:(

IW: I don’t feel like a troublemaker, but it’s always this or that, detention for talking in class, detention for running in the halls, detention for writing my essay with The Truth

IW: I mean, everyone knows the The Fifth War was started by a systematic flaws of any era built on blood and exploitation

IW: It’s not news!

IW: anyway… I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you

IW: I think

IW: I think the plane is the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me.

That was the first day, I read it over breaks, over dinner, smiling it down on my lap as my father tries to ask me about my studies and my sister rolls her eyes. I read it before bed, first once, and then what felt like twenty times.

I liked Iris Wegener.

I need to say something cool to her.

IW: Day three!

IW: I’m still freaking grounded, it sucks so hard

IW: do you ever get grounded? I hope you are right now

IW: oh dang, that sounds bad, I just mean I hope you message me, the computer says this is the right address

IW: who do you think was the most handsome member of the Imperialist Russian dynasty? I’m doing a project

IW: the headline is ‘Hottie or Romin-notty?’ It’s a thinkpiece

I didn’t get any more messages until the next day.

IW: I got double grounded!! My mother must not agree that Ivan the Terrible was a notty

IW: This is probably why you aren’t IMing back lol

My heart fell at that, I needed to say something. I need something, I need to tell her that I think she’s funny and that I think we’d have fun if we went to school together. My head falls, I wished so bad for a moment we went to school together.

My thoughts go blank as I try to make the first move, to say anything. It doesn’t come to me that whole week.

Iris keeps going.

IW: here’s a picture of a dog: [FILE PICTURE]

IW: does this make me normal? I honestly don’t want you to think I’m that weird

IW: here’s a list of my favorite members of V-W in order of best hair to worst personality:

Iris was bored and interesting, and I was interested and boring. I couldn’t figure out when any of these lines could be intersected.

It would be three months until the next Festival.

Iris kept writing.

----

Iris liked boy bands, she owned 27 arm bands, she wrote papers that made her teachers angry, she wanted to study zoology sometimes, and sometimes she wants to be a bakery chef.

She was in the normal class.

She hated asparagus and loved salty things ranging from fried chips to plain peanuts out of a jar. She loved the color grey now, the type that was almost silver, she wanted to paint her room that color and carpets, but her mom wouldn’t let her.

She didn’t have any siblings, but her friend Holly was almost there she argued.

Her parents circled her like a vulture sniffing for problems.

It was a month before the next festival, I was working harder than I ever worked before. I had my new project. Iris was telling me something else now.

It was 2 in the morning, I was still looking at phone, going over numbers in my head, going over the test scores. My parents would get more stipends the higher I reached. And then the next step, The Qualifier.

I didn’t want to think about The Qualifier.

My phone pinged, I turn my phone over as quickly as I can.

IW: sometimes I feel like nothing I do is good enough for her

IW: I couldn’t buy birthday flowers for her, she’s ‘allergic’

IW: it doesn’t matter if I try

IW: none of it makes her happy, do you ever worry about that Winnie? IW: that you’ll never be good enough

IW: Winnie?

I hold the phone close to my chest and imagine the next words I would write back if I could.

WO: I feel that sometimes Iris, I think it’s normal. WO: I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, please don’t think that of yourself. You don’t have to be good enough

WO: everything about you

WO: is good

I wrap my fingers around the little box, right up against my thumping heart, and fall asleep like that.

-----

Iris goes slightly quiet the couple days before the festival, I try not to let it bother me, I was busy enough as it was. This had to be perfect.

I had all my responses from the last couple months saved up.

The first was an apology, it was on flower paper and a little crying laughing face.

The paper reads briefly:

Hey Iris,

I wanted to say something cool! But I wait too long and the pressure kept building up! I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t cool either.

-Winnie

If Iris stopped messaging me after that then that’s how it would be, but I had to clear the air. I had to try again.

I’m sweating in the dead of summer as our sister continent came sweeping across the horizon, bleeding into the night and showing itself just as the sun went down. My mouth is dry and tasteless, I would be fourteen that year.

It felt so strangely routine compared to the wonder of being seven and struggling for the single light in the sky. It had felt like it had to happen at the time, that it was always going to, but here I was, a mess in all regards. Not messaging back.

I am in the launch prep room right up to the final bell, tinkering, adjusting, trying to figure out what to really say.

There are five letters stuffed into the fat airplane this time, I hope they stay fixed in there after everything. My jaw hurts from clenching when I go to the Festival Master and give her my plane, she examines it skeptically for a moment.

The little motor and basket on it’s back are both off model, she shrugs anyway, almost smiling in a knowing way. She places my plane right next to all the others.

I exhale.

My phone trembles in my hand, waiting. The lanterns had already fallen, only the planes were left. I run outside and I’m typing as fast as I can, before my thoughts catch up to me.

WO: Iris, look up!

I don’t know where I get the courage, but my fingers are flying over the letters.

WO: Please look up!

The blast of air tickles my neck, a twinkle of wind chimes fills the air as thousands of little airplanes are pushed high into the sky. Shot toward the continent and waiting crowds.

My plane is slightly higher than the others, I see the mechanisms clicking in my mind’s eye, igniting the tails of the string. Lighting up the little plane as it let out the series of purple sparks. The sparks fizzle and boom, twisting into large colorful letters.

Iris!

It wrote the letters in curling, carving sparkles that filled the sky. I wished I had more to say but the white and glowing Iris hangs in the air with a rainbow of color and series of pops.

I exhale again, hoping the rest of the plane makes it there after the fireworks were released. I hope she looked up.

I take a moment to lie down and feel the crowds churning around me, my mother was nowhere to be seen, my father was putting together our new hover car somewhere. My sister was eating ice cream with her friends over her friend’s latest breakup.

I was lying on my back, looking up, panting, phone clutched in my fingers as I wait.

I told myself I didn’t care if she messages back after that, but my phone hangs empty and quite next to me. I feel pinpricks on the edges of my eyes, I strangle the feeling as it rises up.

She had every right to be mad, I hold the phone harder. I tell myself she never has to talk to me again, my cheeks are flushed and wet.

Ping

I let the stress tears roll out before wiping at them, before rolling over frantically to open up the IM.

IW: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh

IW: I DIDN’T KNOW YOU GOT MY MESSAGES

IW: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

I can’t stop smiling.

WO: don’t worry about it

WO: hi my name is Winifred Otiena, I am almost fourteen, I still like the color pink and think that your detective business would have been wonderful

WO: I’ve seen a horse, but think they’re little too big

WO: and thank you

WO: thank you so much for messaging me

IW: you’ve been reading this crap??

WO: please don’t stop

WO: I’m not great with words but I liked yours

IW: you’re great with fireworks apparently tho!! :D

WO: I wanted to say something great back, I knew I had to say something great

IW: Well...hi

WO: hello

We started to talk back and forth, at last. It was touch and go at first, I still had to hide my face sometimes and Iris filled the gaps with her chatter.

It was okay. In fact, Winnie grinned, it was great.

-------

I was fifteen, I was messaging a girl on a floating island. The girl on the floating island was messaging back.

She sent me a lantern that year with wings on it, wings and floating clouds around it. It held all of the Odyssey released in bits of scrap paper into the air as it descended. I caught it and took a selfie with the clouds and Apollo lantern.

We talk for the whole night.

-------

I am sixteen and I am messaging Iris every night, Iris is on her third suspension and I was spending less and less time at home. We had a new home, we celebrated my sister leaving for college.

I missed her terribly.

My parents are just glad she didn’t stay for her boyfriend Chege that she was on-again-off-again for all these years.

I am more grateful than ever for someone to talk to.

Iris sends me lantern with moving kittens on the side and chocolates that taste like bourbon and sugar. She says she wants to taste real bourbon one day and thinks I look like I’d make a cute kitten. I say we all would.

I go through my second growth spurt and am still barely reaching 5’4.

I send Iris an airplane with flowers from the ground, iris’s and poppies. She says there aren’t poppies up there.

The Qualifier preppers are at my door almost every night. I gulp and sometimes shake my head, I had more questions than answers.

------

I am seventeen, the air is thick with summer.

Iris sent me a lantern that is red and silk, an outside made of slick flowery material and smells like her perfume. I blush and send her a plane with a bright pink ribbon on top. I tell her to wear it.

I am tired all the time, numbers and figures float through my head.

I keep getting the same message from her.

IW: where do you go after you ‘qualify’ ?

WO: I don’t know

IW: find out!

WO: that’s classified, the WG only shows you the paycheck

IW: :/

What do you qualify for she asked.

-------

I am eighteen.

I feel the age creeping up on me like a battered old woman about to curse my soul and suck it out of my body with a straw. That’s an image Iris suggests to me, she is already nineteen, she’s got a temporary job at a shoe store.

I don’t know what to tell her, she sends me snaps of her DnD games and I show her my tired puffy face.

I took the test, it took me five hours and my hand almost blistering into nervous hives as I finish. I wished I had failed.

The conversation from before ringing through my ears

IW: botch the test

WO: I can’t, they’ll know, they already know what I can do

IW: … don’t go.

WO: you can’t say that

IW: don’t go! You don’t know where they’re taking you

WO: humanities brightest, they’re gathering us

WO: it’s how we got the floating cities… the World Government, everything

IW: THey don’t need you!!! Not all of you

WO: :

IW: for me

I start shaking, did I really want to go? My parents barely spoke in the sprawling house we were provided, my sister was trying not to fail out gracefully from of one of the top schools in the country (she was doing her best). I had nightmares of hands and timers every night.

For her.

I start sneaking into my old school again, into the old building room.

I would solve all of humanity's problems, somewhere I didn’t know. Somewhere they didn’t let people come back from.

She sends me the article.

IW: READ. THIS.

[LINK RECEIVED]

IW: they did this on purpose, they do it all on purpose

I’m not sure I want to know, I click on it anyway, stomach sinking.

Our Smartest Children: Isolated, for a Reason?

Does competition and strategic pushing help young minds bloom? One investigation says that the next crisis will be averted through grooming the next generation.

But at what cost?

Teachers are said to be taught to pick out the brightest and set the rest of-

I close the article at that, I had seen enough. I go back to my workshop, I start building, I start bleeding my fingers on nuts and bolts. It starts to look like something from a fairy tale.

I break into our hover car and take out the resisters.

I borrow the reflectors from my neighbor’s tool house, the boards they used on the continents, to reflect. To blend in.

I stop going to class, I had already qualified.

The days tick by like maple syrup, dripping and slow. Sticky.

Iris facetimes me. Her face is round and bright and dark as the sister earth that left our soil all those years ago from the mountain.

I pet it slowly and she grins back at me, “so,” she makes a hiccup of noise, “where is my postcard from earth?” I smile back, “wait for it.” I’m almost done.

-------

The night beats on my brow like a violent slap, making me shake. I didn’t know if they were watching, maybe they’ll think I’m going to fail anyway.

I knew the reflectors would only last a couple minutes, I knew the hover material may barely hold me up. I worried she might not want to see me anymore after the first day passes.

I knew I would miss my parents, but I wouldn’t miss the tests and the headache and the burden. There were other ways to save humanity.

I perch on the edge of the gulch where it looks out on the planes. Where they had scooped out the earth, purified it, made it wholesome and able to plant trees again. Then the made it float, build, grow.

Trees were starting here again now too, but they came from the floating cities first.

I reach up and close my eyes, breathing in deeply as the shallow breeze licks my neck. It felt forever ago I stood there and chased a small pink lantern.

I shake, my eyes open just as the first little colors of glowing light come softly floating down from Titros.

I engage the thrusters of my machine, clenching around my shoulders and humming against my spine.

“Iris,” I try to make her out in the crowd on the land above, I can’t. “Iris.” I pray again, my shoulders tensing as my feet lightly, slowly, stop bearing my weight, I feel a smile grow across my mouth as I begin to ease off the ground. The motor I had been developing since I was nine pressed against my back, I took the next leap.

My hover wings hold me up, I go hurdling toward Titros, to the dirt and the earth and away from the eyes of the World Government. Titros was its own.

I reach my hands out, temples pounding, a blur of light and sound as I become a weightless leaf in the wind, I rise.

“Iris!” My voice is hoarse and almost gone, I’m afraid I will be shot down. That I will be chased and punished and told I have failed them. All of them.

I see the edge of the continent like a guillotine’s blade, I reach for the very bottom of the first panel, “please.” I gasp and I hear the voices from below for the first time.

“Who is that?” “What is she doing…” “What’s that on her back?” “She’s going to fall!” The ignition stutters, a coughing choking sound that sparked fear deep in my gut. A sputter comes from my home-made wings and the world is popping and whirring all around me. The air rushes through my ears, through my hair, I gape. No.

My fingers grasp at nothing and I begin to fall. “Winnie!” A hand is surging toward me, wrapping around my wrist, pulling me.

My face splits into a smile, heat surges throughout my whole body from where she touched me. “There you are.”

I don’t know who says it, I am pulled up into Titros, a hole in the sky that sucked me in as she yanked on my hands. She wraps around me like a light and I fall into the depths of the continent, with her.

The voices are still calling out, the hatch closes behind us and we collide in the way universe’s come together. It steals my breath away and chases every thought I ever had away.

“You made it,” she laughs against me, “took you long enough.” All I could do is nod, “I suppose I couldn’t stay away.” She shakes her head, we kiss for the first time in the last moment. I hold her close and my whole body feels light, powerful.

We watch the last of the lanterns fall and she squeezes my hand, “This is my favorite one.” We come together again.

#original story #science fiction #wlw #sapphic #original writing

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thelifepartners · 6 years ago

Text

Cheyenne Morse

Small Ghosts

Photo by Patty Sue O’Hair-Vicknair

Nathan cried when the witch caught him burying his cat in her backyard. It was late evening and he had hoped to quietly rebury his friend there because he thought Smokey would be happier. Smokey had been grey and mottled black and had been Nathan’s friend the whole ten years of his life. The two weeks since Smokey had passed had been hard on Nathan. He was quiet and didn’t talk much to the other kids at school. He felt very alone.

Nathan could still hear Smokey crying to be let into his room at night. There was a familiar scratching at his windows. Lost cat cries would wake him from sleep. Try as he might he couldn’t see Smokey, didn’t know how to help him. Nathan wasn’t sure if Smokey was alone and scared or if he was just trying to stay with him.

He got in trouble with his mother when she found him outside at two o’clock in the morning calling for Smokey. She demanded he come inside at once. There was no explaining to her that he could still hear his friend out in the dark.

“Smokey is dead,” she’d said, harsh enough that she felt the need to apologize for it in the morning. Her nerves still sizzling from finding her son’s bed empty in the middle of the night. So his thoughts had turned to Ms. Agatha. That was what the neighborhood called her. There were many theories as to whether she was good or bad witch but there weren’t a lot of facts. People mostly left her alone and she returned the favor.

Nathan overheard a girl in his class telling her friends that all witches could see ghosts and he thought perhaps she could comfort Smokey. He didn’t know much about witches but he knew they were supposed to like cats. It seemed like an easy solution. He dug the shoe box Smokey was buried in out of his own back yard and carried it wrapped in an old bed sheet two blocks over to Ms. Agatha’s house. He hadn’t asked her permission because he’d been too afraid to ring her doorbell. Even if she liked cats that was no guarantee that she would like little boys.

Nathan stayed at the very edge of her property, back where it ran into the woods, in the hopes that he would remain unseen. He almost had the hole dug deep enough for the shoebox when she found him. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight. She wore no shoes and a long night shirt the color of an old bruise.

“You sure are working hard out here.” Her voice was calm but her sudden appearance frightened Nathan badly. His explanation caught in his throat. If she was a good witch he didn’t know how to explain what he was doing and if she was a bad witch she would surely curse him. Nathan stared at her in mute horror and then burst into tears.

“There is no need to be afraid.” She said as she knelt next to the dirt pile he’d been shoveling. She rested a hand on the shoe box. “You may bury Smokey here but only because he says you were always kind to him.” Nathan rubbed his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I know I should have asked. I’m really sorry.”

“Can you still see Smokey?” Ms. Agatha ran her other hand through the grass.

“No, but I can hear him.”

“That’s something special. You must have loved him very much. Would you like me to teach you to see him?” She asked. The question surprised Nathan and he nodded before he remembered how afraid he’d been of her only a moment before.

“If you want to learn come back tomorrow. I should warn you that Smokey won’t be the only thing you will see. There are a lot of little ghosts in this world. They will become your responsibility. Little ghosts don’t have very many caretakers.” Agatha did not wait for him to reply. She patted his shoulder and then turned and walked back toward her house.

Nathan stared after her until she was out of sight in the semidarkness. Then he set about burying his friend.

The next day Nathan told his mother he'd promised Ms. Agatha that he would help her rake her yard. His mother looked surprised but allowed him to go over after he finished his math homework. He felt guilty about lying to his mother, he just didn't know what to say. Nathan felt so bad that the first words out of his mouth to Ms. Agatha after hello were asking if he could rake her yard. She nodded. She had two rakes and they worked on the yard together. While they worked they spoke.

"Most people only see what is right in front of them," Agatha explained. "But some things can only be seen out of the corner of your eye." She held open a large black garbage bag and he scooped armfuls of leaves into it.

"So I have to learn to see out of the corner of my eye with my whole eye?"

"Yes, I suppose that is about the trick of it." She smiled at him. After they finished raking the front yard they went inside for lemon poppy seed cookies and tea. Then they practiced finding ghosts. Nathan spent most of the rest of the afternoon frustrated but trying not to show it. Standing and squinting in her kitchen. It was hard to look at something without really looking at it.

Nathan was near to giving up when he saw Smokey’s tail disappear around a corner.

“I saw him! I saw him!” Nathan shouted. He scampered after the cat into the other room, hoping to get a better look. The living room was neat and organized and Smokey was nowhere to be seen. Nathan let out a disappointed breath. Agatha came out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t we stop here for tonight? You’ve made good progress but I’m sure your mother will want you home soon. I’m very proud of you. Smokey will be here tomorrow. If you are still interested.”

“Yes!” Nathan turned. “Yes, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Agatha wrapped up some cookie for him to take home to his parents. She stood in the doorway and waved him goodbye until he turned a corner and vanished from sight.

He did come back the next day and the day after. Once they finished raking the yard they moved on to organizing the attic and preparing the garden for winter. It went on like that for weeks. He would come over and they would work a project with Agatha and she would teach him her secrets.

One morning Agatha was kneading bread while Nathan poured a thin glaze over the cookies they’d made. The morning had been mostly quiet, rather than a whole army of small questions Nathan had been pondering a large question that he’d had for some time.

“Why do little ghosts stay? Why did Smokey stay? Is he stuck?” Nathan paused and look over at his cat curled on one of the kitchen chairs. “Does he need help to move on?” This last question was much quieter than the others. Agatha smiled and paused what she was doing.

“Little ghosts are like any other spirit. They stay when they feel there is something left to do. Sometimes it’s because they are holding on so tightly to that last desperate moment of trying to stay alive, they don’t realize they’re already lost. Those are the ones who need help. Smokey isn’t like that. When you were born you were small and made noises like a kitten. Smokey promised to protect you all the days of your life. When you pass on, so will Smokey.”

“Oh,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard. Nathan wept quietly to himself as he continued to work. Agatha didn’t say anything more, she knew by now that he liked time to himself when he needed to cry. She gave him some time alone with his Smokey while she went to prepare him something hot to drink. He was mostly silent for the rest of the day but before he left he hugged her. Something he had never done before. She rocked him back and forth as she embraced him. After that he always hugged her goodbye.

Every day he got better at seeing Smokey. By the time spring came Smokey and Nathan were constant companions again.

The first ghost he saw besides Smokey was a baby bird. It had fallen out of its nest. It had happened some time ago. It was late spring but the nest was long abandoned. A mess of sticks and bits of cotton wood who had drifted on the wind until they had stuck fast on a sharp twig. All that remained of the chick was a pile of small white bones almost lost among the tree roots. Like with Smokey he’d heard it before he saw it. A quiet chirping.

He looked at the small ghost for a short while, uncertain of what to do. Smokey just acted like Smokey but this was different. It cried out to him in a small voice.

“What do you need?” He asked. Only chirping in response. He wasn’t sure what he expected. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to fall away from home and never be able to get it back. It was a scary thought and if something like that happened to him all he would want would be to go home.

So he knelt and gently gathered the bones in one hand, the pale image of the chick looked like it was nestled in the cup of his palm. He climbed one handed as best he could. It was slow going but he set his feet carefully and was able to make it up the tree without dropping the bones and with only a few scrapes.

When he set the bones in the nest the chick chirped again, this time a lighter happier sound. Nathan smiled at the bird even as it began to vanish. All of its restlessness done. The climb down went much faster now that he could use two hands. By the time his feet his the grass he couldn’t hear the chirping any longer.

Nathan got better at finding little ghosts and he continued to care for them as promised. He set free the ghost of a spider that had drown in a broken flower pot. The motion of it flailing legs caught his eye. Pale and translucent it was hardly there at all but its panic was real. Nathan didn’t care much for spiders and the idea of ghost spiders made his skin crawl but he couldn’t leave it there.

He carefully tipped the pot over and it crawled free. He wiped his hands nervously on his pants and smiled in relief when the spider vanished.

Nathan was often seen picking up litter along the back road and burying small animal that had been caught by a passing vehicle.

Over the next few years Angela taught him how to fix all the different parts of her house. They studied together, baked together, worked together. Though he was careful never to forget his smaller charges it wasn’t unusual to see him helping people as well.

Nathan still kept mostly to himself and sometimes people would ask for his help but usually he was there to fix it before people realized anything was broken. Mrs. Bloom had the phone in her hand to call a plumber to fix her leaking sink when there was a knock at the door. Nathan was standing there holding a tool set his parents had given him as a graduation present. He mended the Johnson’s fence. He often happened to be nearby when the widower Mr. Heath needed help carrying his groceries.

As he got older he wasn’t able to spend as much time with Agatha but he visited as often as he could, to fix a broken shingle, to help plant herbs in her garden, or just to have tea and poppy seed cookies.

As Agatha got older he started to visit her more frequently to help care for her and the house. Every so often she would have him walk her around the city. Carefully holding his arm for support so she could tend to the protective spells she had set up around town. Smokey darting around their legs chasing after bugs and dust motes. No one questioned whether she was a good witch anymore.

“Let me tend these for you,” he always told her.

“I only have a little time left. I’d like to do what I can while I can.”

Nathan was with her when she died. He could feel it coming. He left work early and spent the rest of the day by her side.

“What can I do, what can I do?” He asked her.

“Just be here.” She squeezed his hand. It’s the little things that matter most. Just be here.”

She left him her house when she passed on. Her spirit lingered a while. All the folks around town all thought they saw her. Sometimes walking in the woods but most often sitting on her porch, a cat in her lap. Nathan heard the creak of the floorboards as she walked through the house. He always made her a cup of tea and set it by her old chair so she would know he was thinking of her.

There was talk around town wondering if he was or was not a witch but everyone agreed that whatever he was, he was good.

#thelifepartners #short story #ghost

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