#and then i lost the paper. alas. sorry i guess that was fated to never be. here's attempt 2.0 with months of hindsight

[averlym]

ghost story premiere day! check @melliotwrites for more info

[ghostburs-blue]

Peace Is Momentary

Summary: soulmate!au where your soulmate will appear to you in a time of need. Spencer’s gone 20 years without meeting his; so has y/n. What will happen when fate finally connects them together?

Warnings: angst if you squint, nothing else really

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this might become a series if people like it enough!! we’ll see ;)

Spencer knows there’s a chance he’ll never meet his soulmate. He knows the statistics, he’s done the research. Yet, he always feels a little bit better at the thought that someone was made just for him, someone who’ll stay with him through it all.

Of course, he assumed he would have found his soulmate much earlier in life. Most people found theirs when they were as young as 16, though always in the same fashion. Spencer was turning 22, 6 years older than the average age of finding your one true love.

Your soulmate would come to you in a time when you need them the most; when your soul calls out to its other half in a cry for help.

Every time Spencer broke down or cried, whether it be over a case at work, his mother’s condition, or quite literally anything else, he prayed that his soulmate would magically appear in front of him. Alas, the cards simply haven’t been in his favor.

Unknown to Reid, about 20 minutes away, you were in the exact same predicament. All of your life, you had waited to find your soulmate. When your parents passed in your high school years, there was a small part of you that was hoping you would find your soulmate right then and there. That... didn’t exactly work out.

You had moved in with your aunt and uncle in a different city and had turned into the epitome of a rebellious child. You wore clothes your modest family would have a heart attack upon seeing, listened to music the church choir you were a part of would scoff at. However, if there was one thing you were good at, it was school.

You didn’t have a ton of money growing up, so you worked harder than anyone you knew to get scholarships to college. You juggled a full time job at your local coffee shop while still in school to get your engineering degree, and boy was it tiring.

“Excuse me lady? I’ve been waiting for 10 fucking minutes. What have I got to do to get a coffee already?” A man with a thick (Boston?) accent leered at you. You groaned internally, proceeding to plaster a much too bright smile on your face in an attempt to hide your obvious disdain for him.

“So sorry sir! Your cold brew will be coming right up,” you exclaimed cheerily, though you felt anything but. Turning away from him, you let your hands fly over the coffee machine to make a drink you’ve made a thousand times over. Your mind starts to wander as you brew the espresso. Did you even have a soulmate? What if they hate you? What if they’re dead? What if-

Your thoughts were cut short as the espresso machine beeps, jolting you back to reality. You quickly finish off the cup, gratefully sliding it across the bar to the rude man waiting close by. You turned around and caught your coworker’s bemused expression; you were too tired to complain.

-

Spencer frowned as he gazed at the crime scene photos. What wasn’t clicking?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of Emily’s heels clacking on the linoleum floor. He turned with his chin resting on his hand to see her wearing a pitying look on her face. In one hand, she held a cup of coffee.

He reached out, pointing to the styrofoam cup. “Is that for me?” Spencer asked, secretly hoping it wasn’t so he could get some rest.

Thankfully, Emily shook her head. “No, Reid.” She sighed, looking back up at him sadly. “Listen, I know you really want to solve this case. Don’t get me wrong, we all do. But you’ve been awake for what? 30 hours straight? You might be a genius but even Einstein needed rest,” she finished. Before Reid could protest, she lifted a hand. “Go back to your hotel room and sleep. That’s a direct order from Hotch.”

Spencer frowned unhappily at the brunette in front of him, but he knew when the conversation was over. Grabbing some files he was fully planning to mull over on the comfort of his stiff hotel mattress, he brushed past Emily and headed towards his car.

-

After a long shift, you groaned as you pushed open the door to your tiny apartment. Immediately, you stripped off your clothes and headed straight for the shower in an attempt to scrub off the now nauseating scent of coffee.

Emerging 20 minutes later with bright red and freshly exfoliated skin, you felt like you were about to collapse at any second. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

-

Reid sat on the bed, papers and crime scene photos splayed out in front of him. The heels of his hands dug into his eyes as he tried to prevent tears from running down his unshaven cheeks.

-

You wake with a start, sweating slightly. Looking around, you frown. This isn’t your hotel room, you think to yourself, confused. You gasped when you noticed a man sitting on the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in months. His clothes were misshapen, hair messy and clearly not brushed. He was boyishly handsome, you decided with a satisfied nod.

The gasp you let out caused him to look up; you both realized what was happening at the same moment.

“You’re my soulmate,” Spencer breathed out, at the same time you muttered “Oh my fucking god.”

For a few more moments, both stared at each other, unsure how to act and what to do.

Reid made the first move, awkwardly scooting over slightly and clearing his throat, patting the now empty space next to him.

You quietly shuffled over, perching politely on the edge of the bed.

“So um... where are you right now?” You offered, genuinely curious as to why he was in a hotel room in seemingly the middle of nowhere.

Spencer laughed. “I uh- I guess it’s a long story,” his voice trailed off slightly as he noticed the look you gave him, the one that said Really?. “I guess that was a stupid thing to say,” he mumbled.

You laughed, hitting his arm gently. “Don’t worry about it. For now, we have all the time in the world.”

And so the night progressed; Reid told you all about working at the BAU and you told him all about, well, working at a coffee shop. You quickly found out Spencer was a literal genius, and you, completely serious of course, asked if he would do all your homework for you. (Spoiler alert: he said no because it “goes against his morals”. What does that even mean???)

You could feel yourself fading as Spencer got happier and happier. You both seemed to realize you didn’t have much time left. You grabbed his hand, staring deep into his eyes. You could feel yourself leaning in, Reid too-

“Wait!” You exclaimed, and the two of you jumped apart. “What’s your name?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh!” He replied, seemingly surprised that you two had never exchanged names. What he didn’t know, however, was that you were slipping away from him much faster than either of you could have realized. “It’s Sp-“

And just like that, you were gone. You woke up in your own bed to find it was morning, sunlight streaming through your windows. Racking your brain, you tried to remember what he said his name was. Unfortunately, all you could remember was the short 2 letters you heard before you vanished. He hadn’t even gotten your name! How was he supposed to find you now?

-

Across the country, Spencer woke up with his head pounding. Bleary eyed, he tried to make sense of what just happened. He met his soulmate, then lost her just as fast. He didn’t even get her name!, Reid kicked himself.

-

The next few days for the both of you seemed like hell. You found out it was practically impossible to find records of government employees, especially from divisions like the BAU. You grew increasingly frustrated while scouring through database after database.

Spencer had immediately called Garcia, but made her swear to keep it a secret. He attempted to give her an idea of what you looked like, only to hear the disappointed sound of Penelope’s voice letting him know that she had a list of about 10,000 people who fit the description. Of course, knowing Penelope, no secret ever stayed a secret for long. No more than a few hours later he was met with a chorus of congratulations from his fellow colleagues, including Morgan’s “I knew you had it in you!”, which was met with a sad frown as Spencer explained the unlucky situation.

Unfortunately, nothing much happened after that. You gave up your search on this mystery man, he did the same. Every day, however, you both woke up and hoped today would be that one special day where they found each other again. Every day, they were met with another heart wrenching disappointment, until one fateful afternoon.

Your back ached as you scrubbed down the counter for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It had been a few years since what you liked to call “the incident”, and you liked to keep it out of your head at this point. You were now in grad school, in a different city. You still worked at a coffee shop, though this one was much more busy and frankly much more stressful.

You stretched slightly, pulling your arms up in the air as you readjusted your torso. You turned when you heard your coworker call your name; he was going to take a break. You nodded at him, letting him know you would take over for him.

There was a lull in the customers in the shop, which made sense considering it was 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon.

You decided to make the most of the break and started to clean the espresso machine in front of you. As you grabbed a dish cloth from the sink, you heard bells in the doorway tinkle slightly as the door was pushed open.

You looked up with your customer service grin automatically painted on, ready to greet the customer. The welcome died on your lips, however, as you realized who it was. It was him.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized something else; he was kissing a girl who was definitely not you.

You forced yourself to walk over to the cash register, clearing your throat to break the intense lip-locking session apart. A faint look of annoyance crossed Spencer’s face as he looked up at who interrupted them.

His first reaction was exactly what you thought it would be. He froze slightly, then slowly walked up to the register with what looked like a death grip on his (girlfriend’s?) hand.

Though it was the girl who spoke, you found your attention kept flitting to the man next to her. You couldn’t tell if she was oblivious, or just didn’t care.

He had... changed to say the least. Stubble covered the bottom portion of his face, and his hair had grown out. His cheekbones looked more defined, and he walked with an aura of confidence that he didn’t have before. Still, you had to admit he looked very handsome.

You were shaken out of your stupor when you felt the gaze of the girl. She looked at you with, was that impatience? You asked for her payment and her name, Stacy, noting it down on both cups before you took her credit card.

You hurried around behind the bar in an attempt to give them the drinks as quickly as possible and get them to leave. How were you supposed to talk to him now? He literally has a girlfriend!

You finished making the two coffees and set them on the counter, calling out her name to let her know the drinks were ready.

“One nitro cold brew for you, and one iced vanilla latte for him,” you handed over the drinks directly to each of them, making a point to shift Spencer’s drink slightly, causing him to look down. He caught your drift as he noticed a little extra writing underneath Stacy’s name.

His girlfriend grabbed his hand, throwing a quick and insincere “thank you!” over her shoulder at you as they left the store. You slumped against the sink, grabbing the countertop with your hands. What in Gods’ green Earth was this?

-

Outside, Spencer finally got the chance to look at the cup. He smiled as he read what you had scribbled on there.

Underneath your phone number, you had written, “It’s a really long story but I hope you have the time. Let’s talk soon?”

-

It was nearing 9 pm when you were starting to lose all hope. What if you made a mistake, and that wasn’t actually your soulmate? You shoved a pillow over your face with irritation and groaned, collapsing onto the sofa next to your phone. As you lay in silence, you heard a noise. Your phone was vibrating.

Sitting up quickly, you picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You asked breathlessly.

A familiar amused chuckle rang on the other end of the line.

“Hi, soulmate.”

[wonderland-in-bloom]

if only

[malleus draconia x reader]

@geodraconia asked: Hey there ! Love your writing ~❤ Can you write a piece for Malleus and a s/o who dies protecting him? They both loved each other but never confessed it and were always struggling.

good angsty fics for a good rainy day. also i wrote the whole fic on paper cuz i didn’t feel like typing it out on my laptop. it just gives me different vibes lolol~

♡

THE grueling memories ate at him. it clawed at him. it hurt him, demanding to be felt. he would spend the cold, lonely nights leaned against the fence of the ramshackle dorm. the place where he and the love of his life first met. he reminisced on the bitter yet sweet memories of him and his love. why did he even go back to that broken down dorm even when he knew it was no longer abandoned? why did he even go back every night to meet the human who would soon steal his heart? why did he even help them when they were in need? why did he even fall in love..? his love’s soothing voice still rung in his ears. “malleus...” how his name would gracefully escape their lips and be heard as a blissful melody to his hears.

you were his world. and he was yours. he would give anything and everything he had to be able to have you be beside him once more. after all, he never got to say the three words to come out of his mouth. those three word beings a declaration of admiration and affection, “i love you”. tonight however, was different. tonight had been a night of dread. a night where he got reminded who’s fault it truly was that you were now gone. 

“malleus please listen to me! it’s all too suspicious! do you not see?” you pleaded him to stay. malleus had received a letter from an anonymous sender. the letter consisted of an invitation for him to meet this anonymous sender at 5 pm in an unknown location to malleus.  “(y/n), please. there’s a possibility it might be something important.” he replied. you didn’t agree with decision. you knew he practically had a target painted on his back. you knew the many enemies he had as it came with his infamous title. “it’s worrying! the letter told you not to take lilia, silver, or sebek with you! please! how does this not sound suspicious at all to you?!” you grabbed his hand, trying to pull him back and hopefully just make him listen to more of your words. he thrashed his hand and pulled it away from you.

“(y/n) why do you even bother?” although he didn’t raise his voice, you were able to tell from his tone that it was cold and menacing even. because i care about you, those words almost slipped out. “well...it’s because...” you really couldn’t answer. you really didn’t know what to answer. “if you don’t even have an answer then why should you bother?” malleus hissed as he left the room. tears pricked the corner of your eyes. your suspicions still stood and you took it upon yourself to run as fast as your feet could take you and chase after malleus. malleus stood there in an unfamiliar are which was a clearing surrounded by trees and a dark forest. he examined his surroundings while waiting for the anonymous sender to show up.

“draconia.” a hooded figure stepped out from the shadows and presented himself in front of malleus. he recognized him. of course he did. he would recognize that face anywhere. it was his fated enemy, a student from royal sword academy. “i want nothing to do with you.” he started to turn away before the figure cleared their throat. “this rivalry has to end.” malleus stopped in his tracks. “excuse me?” his rival stepped forward towards malleus. “this has gone on for far too long!” you popped your head out from the trees to be able to witness the scene unravel in front of your very eyes. “i propose peace. i want this rivalry to end. what good has this rivalry brought onto us? it has brought both our sides nothing but disaster. i want that to stop today. please. i don’t want to see anyone suffer.” 

the first thing that came up in malleus’s mind was you. he could imagine the smile on your face when he’d tell you how the rivalry had stopped. how happy you would be. now he felt guilty for treating you the way he did earlier. “so, what do you say? allies?” malleus hesitated. no matter how much he hated him, he wanted to do this for you. his precious (y/n). oh how you’ve made his heart gone soft. he turned around to gaze into his rival’s eyes. you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. finally, the day arrived the stupid rivalry between the two of them was about to stop. while lost in your own thoughts, you could hear a click coming from a nearby distance to where you were standing. you were aghast to see the sight of many students from royal sword academy wielding crossbows with a red liquid coating the sharp edge of the arrow. you learnt well enough from professor crewel’s alchemy class, that the red liquid was one of the deadliest poisons which was able to kill anything, no matter how strong they were. an agonizing, painful death. 

your breath hitched as your body was filled with the rush of adrenaline. you realized that the signal was going to be when malleus and his rival would shake hands..! malleus had already extended his hand to shake hands. you took off running in their direction as fast as you can. however it was too late. the arrows were released and you didn’t have enough time to warn him. “malleus..!” you stepped behind him, shielding him from the incoming arrows. your back faced the tree-line as you slowly started to feel a sharp, hot, piercing sensation on your back. he failed to comprehend what was going on as when he turned around, your back was covered with arrows, piercing through your skin and coated you in a layer of dark red. “(y/n)!” he caught you in his arms. blood trickled from your mouth but alas you kept a smile. “b-before...i do ha..have an answer....for you.” it was hard for you to breathe, let alone talk. 

“i bo...bother...because...i...i care...about you, m..malleus!” it pained him to hear your words as you struggled to engulf large amounts of air as you could. it pained him to hear your usual sweet, alluring voice become so hoarse and lifeless. it pained him to hear you like this. a lump formed on the back of his throat, suffocating him. “no..no..! (y/n)! stay with me! please...” you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker, slipping away from life’s grasp by the second. “malleus...” with your weak, blood stained hands, you reached out to touch his face, for the last time. “i...i...i lo--” your eyes were struck with lifelessness as your hand grew limp, falling out of malleus’s reach and onto the ground. your final breath left your pale lips. you were gone. physically there but in all other aspects, missing. malleus had just witnessed his whole world crumble. tears streamed down his face. this couldn’t be real! this must be a nightmare! malleus held you close to his chest, sobs erupting from him. 

all those who wielded the crossbows retreated, afraid what would happen to them. malleus growled as his eyes glowed a dangerous green laced with malicious intent. “some alliance..!” green flames erupted and burnt everything around him, getting rid of his rival and al his goons in the process. there was no end to this flame, there was no end to this pain. there was no end to this grief. there was no pain to this guilt. lilia, sebek, and silver arrived moments too late as the three saw his suffering figure which cradled your dead body in his arms. if only he had just listened. if only he didn’t let himself but so full of himself. if only he was able to admit to you and himself that he truly cared about you. it’s all my fault. if i just listened to you, none of this would have happened. (y/n)...i’m so sorry my love. 

you were always ravishing in his eyes. both in life and in death. your body was encased in a glass coffin adorned with an array of flowers. malleus had cast a spell to prevent your body from ever decaying. even in your state, you still had a smile visible on your face. that was the same smile which you had when you parted with your love. malleus stood in front of your coffin placed in the middle of a secret garden he built just for you. in the past, he hoped that one day the two of you would spend time with each other in this secret garden of his, but now the circumstances were different. now one was lost in the depths of death while the other was roaming the living world however not feeling alive. “(y/n) my love...i’m so so so sorry.” he placed a blood red rose on top of your glass coffin. he bent down and kissed the coffin. “i’m so sorry. if only i wasn’t so dense. so stupid. so full of myself.”

“if only i realized sooner....things would’ve been different. if only i was able to tell you how much i love you. if only...”

♡

ok that was a tad bit angsty ehehehe. all that aside, i miss the comfort of writing in a proper notebook lol. i’ll make the drafts for all these fics in my book first i guess eheh

love, a♕

[what-ever-happened-to-chip]

The Adventures of Squall

Squall's observations. Hmm. I don't know what Rinoa wants me to do. I guess I'll ask Eli for his notes and just give them to her. *knock knock* "Cheerio good boy, may  I help you with anything?" "Do you have notes on that thing Christian was talking about?" "Ahh you've came to the right residence, just let me....hold on just a moment..." He began digging through piles of loose paper, flipping through notebooks, all whilst mumbling to himself. "Alas! Here is one of my more rudimentary charts, but it shall accomplish what you're intial questions preface." It was hard to concentrate, he was talking very fast and using a lot of words that I didn't know. Akio says because of my ASD I sometimes get what he calls "verbal dyslexia" and it's hard for me to comprehend what other people are saying, especially if they talk different from me. I'll have to concentrate very hard if I don't want Rinoa mad at me again. "But see this is where it gets confusing, we have many great forces here, coincidence? Doubtfully so, but these overlapping characteristics I believe have come here for a reason. Many of our members, including myself, have had interactions with Christos, Christian you call him, and I can't imagine why he would let so many familar faces corner him in the same scenario, unless of course he had a plan for each individual. See, I believe..." He pulled out a chair for me that I sat in. I took out my notebook so I could remember what to tell Rinoa. "If you look here on this chart.." he pulled out a large beige canvas with several pictures pinned to it, threads of twine connecting different ones. "First you see here that Christos comes to my noble world and plants himself as Cyrus, the destroyer of worlds. He taints Noah and I am his right hand man. He tells me a great many things, we can go into later. Do realize this isn't in chronilogical order, I have no way of telling yet the timeline of all our respective worlds. "Next he plants himself as an alien, "Jenova" he calls it on Gaia and and infects the whole planet. The only one to save it was Aerith who possesses extrodainary spiritual powers. She was the last chance tho and aside from her sacrifice Geostigma went on beyond her time..." "His next target, alas, Thomas. A young, troubled boy whom Christian fictionalized a companion for. An alter ego of sorts and made thomas believe it was himself. I believe he might have been weak and needed a human body to recover on. At some point Christian went to Aiden and found him by the Sanguis River, which is the border between our world and ubi requiescit dolor or "where sorrow rests. I haven't been able to spot where he showed up in Harry's world, but I do know he was there at some point. He likely was only a death eater of no great importance. Same with Roxas, Christian probably took the form of a nobody, which of course begs the question...." It was really hard for me to take notes as fast as he talked. I was really tryign to spell words better to get in the habit of it. Reading was easy for me, but writing made me nervous. I'll just get the names and maybe i'll remember. "can one become a nobody without having a form first? Perhaps that's it. He was a formed human on one planet and when he was almost destroyed at some theroetical part, he latched onto Thomas but only came back as a nobody which of course is an allusion. Details, details, but where were we? Oh yes, next on his infamous walk through time was of course Aangs world where he brought the powers of darkness to a seemingly balanced world, probably dating back to around...." I needed to yawn, but it seemed rude. I wonder how he knew all of this. He seemed confused himself. Maybe I should talk to some other people. Rinoa will be mad if I only talk to him. I should have gotten more information earlier.

“And of course Akio’s unfortunate fate with him, presenting himself as illusions to drive the man mad I’m sure. I do believe he could do that, his evil seems endless.” He paused and looked around at all his charts and papers. this will be a good time to excuse myself. "I have to use the restroom, excuse me" He didn't seem to notice me leave, he kept talking and looking at his papers. While I was walking I saw Harry with a plastic cup pressed up to a door. As I walked closer to him he dropped the cup and ran. I went to the kitchen. "Hey Zack" He was drinking really fast out of a big water bottle. Some of it was spilling on his black shirt. "Heya buddy, I broke 20 in 80, my new personal best. Gotta love the summer time." "What?" "Oh 20 miles in an hour and 20, a 4 minute average." "...." "So do you know anything about why we had to go to Camp A and Camp B?" "Ulquiorra seemed pretty on edge, everyone getting riled up like that. Maybe it's time for the old man to retire!" "What about the dark world place?" "I don't know much about that, but I tell you I sure don't know want to get to know it better if you know what I mean. Anyways bud, lactic acid builds on stiff muscles, gotta do my cool down." He then clapped me a little hard on the back, it was sort of uncomfortable, then left the room. I continued walking around looking for someone else to talk to. Rikku is on the couch watching a cartoon called the Powerpuff Girls. She is flossing on the couch? Why isn't she in the bathroom. I'll wait until she's done. I'll wait around the corner so she doesn't know I saw her doing it. After about 70 second she dropped the floss on the ground. There was a garbage can right on the table, but I guess she didn't see it.

"Hey" "Uhhh hey..." Her eyes never left the screen. "Do you know anything about the dark spirit place Christian was talking about?" "Hmmm, there was this one story Buddy used to tell us to scare us, it seems like the same thing and i don't know with all this world collide bs i wouldn't surprised if it's the same. "Do you know the story?" "I don't know ask Buddy, i'm busy." "..." Okay I wonder where Buddy is. I heard a basketball hit the basket outside. Sometimes we play basketball together. "Yo, yo, yo man 3 on 3, pussy slayers vs bitch playas." "AW SHIT" "wooof woof woof" "Which ones which?" asked Aang. "My brutha you knows yous a slaya!" on that they bumped their fists together. "I guess that means i'm with you guys" Tifa said and smiled. That means I'm on Adam's and Riku's team. I played basketball up to 21 points. My team lost. I'm good at making baskets, but not as much at passing and working with my team. "Aight, aight, how bout a smoke break and then maybe we'll give ya'll a rematch." As they all began to disperse, I walked up to Buddy. "Rikku said you could tell me a story about the dark place." "Rikku tol you that?" "Yes. The one you use to tell her." He looked both ways and then straight at me. "I don know nuthin about no story." "Okay, sorry." I guess I better ask someone else. I was getting tired. I should have done this earlier, but I see  Rinoa tomorrow. I think it would be a good idea to ask Thomas. I'll see if he's in his room. *knock knock* He opened the door slow, but wide and stared at me. "Can you tell me anything about the dark place." He looked surprised and happy. Akio tells me sometimes people's facial expressions don't always show what they mean, but it's a good indicator if I'm confused. I think he wants me to come in. He was sitting in his computer chair and he had clothes folded on his bed so I don't want to sit there and get them dirty. "I find it rather odd you're the one asking me this question. Eli wasn't surprising one bit, but it's not like he'd listen if I did tell him anything." "So you don't know anything?" "Don't know anything? Yeah right. I know everything that I need to. And ultimately however this goes, there's nothing left for me to lose." "...." "I must admit it does get rather boring having to hold back such genius in my mind. Feigning ignorance on all matters that go on here just to be able to thrive. This truly is the best case scenario for me and I know i'm not alone." He was frowning now. I didn't say anything so I know he probably isn't mad at me. I've learned that most people just keep talking if you say nothing. It helps a lot because I usually have nothing to say. "Are you looking for the nitty gritty, the gory details, or simple how're you're involved?" "Rinoa wanted to me to ask people about it. She thinks we're being lied to." "HAH. Just now she thinks she's been lied to?? Foolish girl." "Rinoa is smart." "Perhaps she is, all the same it's all clouded by her ego." "....." "So rinoa wants to know about the dark world they've after all this time brought up. You have to know though, Simon wouldn't have brought it up if there wasn't some gain to him, some strategic reason for his timing. He's a puppet master, he probably knew you would be here talking to me. It's all going just to his plan.....or perhaps he thought I would kick you out and that would keep him advantageous. But he knew that i'd knew that he was planning that." I was getting pretty confused. "Who's Simon?"

He frowned at me. "He's Christian." "Okay." "That's right "Christian" has had many names, many forms. He's wormed his way into many of lives and took everything they had with them. A leech. Of course a leech needs to eat too." I had been in his room almost 15 minutes. It was probably time to talk to someone else. "The dark world, purgatory, the eternal space, the fog, every world has a different name for it. Some are ignorant, but most know that not everyone gets the "good death". It's origin is beyond me, but I know what it is now. And I know he wants to go there. He's looking for something. Or maybe he's helping someone else." "I have to go now." "Then go, i'm not keeping you if that's what you thought" Thomas sneered at me. "..." *door shuts* As I left Thomas's room, Zidane came in really quickly from the front door. He looked really skinny these days. He pulled off his knapsack and begin looking for something deep within it. I don't know why he still uses his old knapsack, a good messenger bag would look a lot nicer and be a lot less stressful on his shoulders. "OKAY DADDY'S HOME, who wants to party???" As people began pouring into the dining room, they gathered around as he poured a large bag of cocaine out onto the clean glass table top. I remembered when I went fishing the other day how when I dropped bread crumbs in little fish would swarm to all try and get the food at once. It reminded me of that. I used to do cocaine sometimes with Irvine and his friends, but Akio says that it might make my OCD and ASD worse. I didn't want to mess with it, I had already had a stressful day. That's good enough for now. I'll just go to bed and maybe in the morning someone will talk about it and I won't have to ask. I did my bedtime rituals in the normal order, brush teeth, clean face, comb hair, change out of all clothes into two pairs of fresh underwear, socks, and pajamas. It was nice tonight I could turn off the air conditioner. I rested my head on the pillow. The cocaine was making everyone rowdy and I could hear it. Great I could hear Aiden yelling from his room that was right next to mine, on the side my bed was pushed against. I've asked Garnet multiple times if he could switch rooms, but she says no one wants his room cause it smells like blood and has a bunch of holes in the walls. And I was definitely not going to switch my room, everyone was right in it, it didn't need to change. I don't want to spy on people, but last time I said I wouldn't do what Rinoa wanted she threatened to not talk to me for a month. Instead, she talked, or more so bitched, the entire month at me, never letting me have some peace and quiet. I don't want that again.

I took out my nightly form to see how I’’m doing and filled it out.

Anxiety: 8/10

Mood: 6/10

Insomnia: 2/10

OCD: 7/10

Triggers: Talking to people, missing lunch because no one would leave the kitchen, having to ask questions, shoe lace breaking and not having a replacement.

Medication issues: None

Overall: 6/10

He kept yelling, but I could hear another voice too. He often talked to himself so at least when someone else was there, it was only half yelling. I really didn’t want to do it, but I felt Rinoa demanding me why I didn’t. I didn’t like lying to her.

   I remembered Harry earlier. I poured my water cup out and pressed my ear against the bottom of it. "Denny if that's the case, what do you have to lose?" "EVERYTHING. DON'T YOU GET IT!!! I've been waiting too long for you to FUCK things up." "Well I do admire your dilligence Denny, you truly never give up." "I will never give up, I will never stop until things are right." "Being when you have Jenn back?" "NO SHIT. All you are is a pawn. There is no other reason you're here." "The life of a king or the life of a pawn, really only is affected by perspective. I take my place with pride and am grateful for whatever else life I get to cherish." "I've waited long enough, i'll wait forever, but I sure as fuck don't want to." "Aside from your said goals, I am curious, did J really return from there?" "Fuck if I know. It has nothing to do with me." "There feels as if there is things you aren't telling me Denny." "WELL HOW THE FUCK DID IT GO LAST TIME I DID." "Please.....I want to help." "As long as Christian holds up his end of the deal, I won't need to use you. And he has the same goal." "I get the feeling you two are not alone in your quest. Are there others?" "Yeah but they're not important really. Just gotta an eye on them." "Even more useless than I?" "No one could be more useless than you." "Ahh how appropriate I and Lana are spending our time in this waiting room together, both readily discardable part of the larger schemes of the world. I've never felt quite so zen  before." "haha maybe they should bring Liza around and see how well you two get along." "I believe they would get along splendidly. they like the same music, both androgenous yet stunningly feminine, thrill seeking." "Ur forgetting one thing, cock makes bitches crazy, look at Jenn and Yuna. They'd be the best friends in the world if Yuna hadn't sucked my dick." "And by Jenn, you mean that girl masaqurading as your girlfriend?" "Watch it fucker." "I'm only stating your sentiment seems strangely misplaced seeing Yuna is in real danger whereas "Jenn" is only what you make her to  be" "I don't think anything has to happen to her, but if it does she knew what she was getting into." "Yes, but that was a long time ago. A long time before now I would have sacrificed myself for your well being, do you think things are the same now?" ".......what do you mean..? but you....just said...WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN??????!!!!!!!" "I was only teasing Denny, of course I'm here at your service, seeing of course you are the sole reason I am here. I don't think it's wise to betray our gods." "Heh yeah right, I'm your fucking god." "Indeed I am in religious awe." "heh yeah sure. So fucker whatchu got in the briefcase." "Zidane went and filled my reservoirs, I'm back in business" "Hook it up bitch." "I wouldn't have it any other way." After that they started talking quieter in a way that didn't bother me, Finally I can go to sleep.

[royalstorm]

✨ chara. study #1 — keqing & her first kiss .

Keqing had her first and only kiss when she was fourteen.

Picture this: it was a Tuesday night. Her father was out, meeting with Snezhnayan financiers to take shots and talk business. Her mother was two rooms over, gossiping with the wife of another businessman hailing from another prestigious Liyuean family. Based on previous findings — all garnered by way of prompting and eavesdropping — this family was successful, second only to her own flesh and blood. It was likely that her parents wished to forge some sort of partnership with them, hence their rapidly increasing visitations. But for once in her life, Keqing couldn’t care less about that.

What she cared about was soft, sincere — blue-eyed and brown-skinned, ringlets of blonde hair enshrouding her like a waterfall ... or perhaps a halo. She couldn’t help but stare every time they were in each other’s company. It didn’t matter what they were doing, either. Whether it be folding clothes or spinning fabric or destemming flower bouquets, the focal point of Keqing’s attention remained there and true.

On that day, they were seated beside one another facing a too-big desk in Keqing’s too-big bedroom. Cradled in each of their arms was a book detailing Liyue’s social customs, namely the Flower Ball. Both sets of parents had suggested they study its contents together. “After all, it’s befitting for a proper woman to be versed in social etiquette,” Keqing’s mother had perked up, much to her chagrin. She would much rather be reading about Roald the Adventurer, or perhaps about the ruins scattered across their country ... something more becoming than the proper way to smile and wave before casting a glorified paper weight off a cliff.

So, naturally, Keqing had untrained her eyes from the book and, instead, kept them trained on the subject of her care. It was strangely calming to observe her leaf through page after page, forehead crinkling in concentration as she attempted to make sense of every word.

She pursed her lips. Keqing made note of how plump they were.

“Jia.” Despite the intensity of her stare, she addressed the other girl plainly. And although it took a moment, Jia eventually acknowledged her companion, closing her book and gingerly placing it on the desk. 

“Hey, thanks for that,” she chirped. Her plump lips fixed themselves into a smile. Something tightened in Keqing’s chest. It was the same way a clenched fist felt but somehow ... different. Somehow ... better. 

“Did you lose track of time again?” Keqing moved to discard of her own book. She then extended both of her arms upward in a lazy stretch. “You tend to do that ... not that there’s anything wrong with it. Diligence is a good trait to have.” 

Jia let out a laugh. “Okay, okay! If you say so!” She mimicked Keqing’s pose, allowing her legs to go slack, as well. “I liked what was in that book, though. I felt all grown-up reading about what it means to be a lady.” 

“Is that so?” Keqing lowered her arms, opting to fold them over her chest. “I guess I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention.” 

Another laugh. That tight sensation seized Keqing’s chest again. “Hehe! It’s okay. I can give you notes! That way, you don’t get in trouble with your parents.” 

At that point, Keqing swore her heart would explode. Aside from just looking nice, Jia also always did nice things for her: drawing her pictures, picking flowers for her, and of course, handwriting study notes for her. She couldn’t help but wonder what drove Jia to act in such a way and so constantly at that. Was this behavior reminiscent of something relayed to them in that book? Or perhaps the other books she refused to touch?

“No, it’s alright,” Keqing dismissed with a wave of her hand. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Jia nodded, adjusting her posture so that her heels were planted on the seat of her chair, her lean brown arms hugging her legs to her chest. A few beats of silence swept over both girls. Truth be told, Keqing imagined that the other would revert to continue reading her book, seeing as she enjoyed it so much...

...Until —

“Keqing, how do you feel about love?”

Had she actually obeyed her parents and done her share of reading, the question wouldn’t have jostled her as much as it did, but alas ... there Keqing sat in stupefied ignorance, chills coursing down her spine and chest tormented with the prospect of a heart palpitation.

“Like —” Jia continued. Looks like Keqing had been unresponsive for too long. “ — What are your thoughts on kissing?” She rocked back and forth all the while, forearms flushing a pale red thanks to the friction of her movements. Keqing found herself wanting to run her fingers through those very spots — to gently quell the reddening flesh.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought much of it,” she finally chose to answer, if to just distract her wayfaring mind. Violet eyes dropped to behold the suddenly interesting marble tile of her floor. She then pretended to be captivated by her own hands, twiddling her thumbs in vain. “How about you?”

Ever oblivious, Jia giggled. “I guess I’m the same way ... but you know what my mommy said? She said that you only kiss someone you really like ...” Keqing considered that, mid-thumb twiddle. “ ...And the book said that, too! When the bride and groom make their vows and swear to live happily ever after, they seal the deal by smooching!”

Keqing considered that, too, humming in thought. On the other hand, her parents had taught her that marriages were but a strategic maneuver — orchestrated like some grand scheme for the sake of maintaining power and financial prosperity. They were transactional arrangements, not arrangements founded in an intimate respect and understanding of each other. 

So, naturally, Keqing was speechless. And she remained that way — quiet, contemplative — for a moment before she at last dared her eyes to glaze over and meet Jia’s.

“Well ... ” she simpered. “Isn’t that nice?”

The pair then spent the next half hour or so in an amiable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Jia unsurprisingly continued to read her book. Keqing, on the other hand, was thinking up a storm. 

As their time bordered an hour, they transitioned from sitting casually a few inches from each other, to Jia scooting her chair closer to Keqing’s, to Jia laying her head on Keqing’s lap, to a beet red Keqing resting her legs on Jia’s lap. They stayed like that for ... archons know how long. It was a miracle that it hadn’t been time for Jia and her family to leave yet.

By this point, exactly one hour and fifty-five minutes had passed. Jia’s book now lay abandoned at the foot of her chair. She instead intertwined her fingers with Keqing’s, whose head was perched comfortably on the crook of her shoulder.

The physical contact was a pleasant surprise. Keqing acknowledged this by squeezing the other girl’s hand. It’s funny because, well, Keqing had never been the affectionate type, let alone really had a friend before. There had been her parents’ servants and the occasional child of business partners from abroad, otherwise Keqing had always been a pretty lonely kid. 

That being said, she wasn’t particularly sure if the tightening that had been seizing and releasing the organ in her chest was from the contentment of having someone genuinely appreciate her ... or if she was just severely allergic to intimacy. 

Either way, when Jia turned slightly to look at her, probably to tell her some joke, Keqing moved up from her shoulder and pressed their lips together. Their teeth clinked and their noses mashed, which, well, ow ... and Jia tasted like the giant fried shrimp balls they gorged on for dinner which wasn’t bad as a dish, but tasted a little funny coming from someone else’s mouth. Not that Keqing’s breath reeked of anything better ...

... But all in all, no, that was ... not good. That was far from the most romantic first kiss in existence. It couldn’t even be considered romantic, really. Keqing recoiled as if she had been scorched, her entire face lit aflame. She searched Jia’s doe eyes and was on the brink of mumbling out an apology when, in that instant, Jia seized her face between her hands, an unreadable expression contrasting that of Keqing’s.

Without further hesitation, Jia drew her closer for another kiss — one that was soft and sincere just like her. 

It lasted for all of a couple of seconds. When Jia pulled back, it had been her face’s turn to heat up, its hue shy of scarlet.

Having lost all composure, Keqing dragged both hands through her once neatly plaited pigtails. “I apologize for, uh, attacking your face.”

Jia beamed, but not before flushing an even more telling shade of red ... ah yes, now she was scarlet. “No, uh ...” A girlish giggle leaked out from her awkward grin. “ ... Don’t worry about it.” It then dawned on her that Keqing’s lips were still but a hairsbreadth from hers. Jia quickly uncupped Keqing’s face and sat on her hands. 

“Sorry,” she mouthed.

Keqing tilted her head, picking at the nape of her neck in confusion. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who kissed you first.”

And it was as if saying that word aloud is what made it real. Kissed. Keqing kissed Jia. Her friend. Her only friend.

She was tempted to completely shield her face with her hands, but she decided against it, in the off-chance that the gesture would traumatize Jia and inhibit her from ever talking to any guys (or girls ...) ever again, let alone getting wed to one.

The once amiable silence between them had descended into something tiptoeing the fine line between “awkward” and “grave”. Fortune seemed to favor both girls that fateful night, however, and it only took another minute or so before Jia’s mom had swung the door open, calling for her to say her goodbyes and head home with her.

And here was the awkward part: should Keqing see her out? And bid her a proper goodbye at the front door?

Alas, her body settled on a decision before her mind could, coercing her legs into walking down, down, down the spiraling staircase alongside Jia. It was only when both girls stood face-to-face at the door that Keqing was able to wrestle herself out of autopilot.

Jia’s mom had already begun her trek down the path leading to their home. Jia, however, hadn’t made any effort to budge from her place. She continued to stand there with both hands clasped behind her back, her aura an interesting mix of stalwart and shy.

Keqing smiled slightly in spite of herself, her own gaze glued to the floor. Only then was when ...

“Uh, good night!” Jia’s voice rung in the air an entire octave higher, causing Keqing’s eyes to lock onto hers like a magnet. The former flicked her fingers stiffly in a sort of cursory wave.

That wave. It was the wave that did it. Keqing inched forward and dipped her head to press a quick kiss to the corner of Jia’s mouth. She then guided her closer to the door, coaxing it further open.

“Good night,” she finally murmured in return, closing the door before Jia could muster a response. Oh, if only Keqing had stayed just a moment longer.

Because then, she would have caught the dopey look on Jia’s face. She would have seen Jia fondly graze her lips with the pads of her fingers. 

Keqing should not have shut that door so quickly.

Because they didn’t talk about it after that.

In fact, they didn’t talk at all.

[lynneshobbydomain]

Gundham. And Kokichi. And ferrets. This isn't a shipping ask, but a scene with them seems interesting.

(Hey Anon so sorry for the long wait! I hope that you enjoy this! I haven’t played SDR2 in a while so it took me a bit to see if i could get Gundham’s character down. I hope I did alright! Please enjoy this story, as I had so much fun writing it!)

Little Thief 

Rated: G Summary: Kokichi finds a ferret and believes he knows exactly who it belongs to.

Kokichi was walking by one of the alleyways when he heard a loud CLANG and froze on the spot, carefully pedaling backwards to see what was going on. Sometimes he found people dumpster diving for the hell of it, and sometimes he found people that he could use in his secret organization (how do you think he got to 12,000 people already? He could almost hear Saihara sigh wistfully like a maiden who was exhausted by society’s shortcomings and tell him that was a lie). He could hear whoever it was rummaging furiously through the rolling garbage bin as though they were scrambling for something. Maybe it was a racoon? Weren’t they nocturnal though? Unable to keep his curiosity in check, Kokichi walked further into the alleyway to the garbage bin, watching amused as papers were flying out. He got down on his hands and knees and blinked when he saw a furry slinky.

“Aren’t you supposed to be like, domesticated or something?” Kokichi asked as he reached in and tried to pull the thing out. God he never thought that he’d feel such soft fur, and this thing needed a bath. Ugh the smell was unbelievable and it didn’t help that they were through a garbage bin of all things. The ferret kept slipping out of his grip like a wet soap bar in the middle of the shower. He wondered if this was how Shuichi felt when he was trying to grapple with his anxiety. (Maybe that metaphor went a little too far). 

Kokichi struggled with maintaining the grip and coaxing the ferret out, getting just as dirty and smelly as the animal that he was trying to fight. “How did you even get in there?” He grumbled. “Wait, I wonder if you’re one of Tanaka-chan’s.” He brought the ferret up closer and yipped when it started to try to weasel itself out of his hands. “Oh no you don’t you furry ribbon boneless creature.” He tightened his hold and struggled to get back to his feet. 

The ferret was indeed long and skinny in length. The fur was a striped snow white and stormy grey with a white beak and a sakura colored nose. The beady eyes were trying to look innocently up at Kokichi, but the D.I.C.E supreme leader knew better than to fall for that trap. Nothing was innocent about dragging a tiny school boy into a garbage bin. (OKay he knew that he did that all on his own, but it was fun to think about).

Now came the hard part. If Tanaka was missing a ferret there’d be school signs right? Tanaka was more or less pretty uptight about where his animals were and he was always vigilant about letting the whole school know when one of them was missing. Kokichi racked his brains trying to come up with a memory of Tanaka posting up flyers recently, but couldn’t think of anything.

Still...Kokichi looked at the struggling creature that was clearly wanting to get back in the garbage bin. (Maybe it wants to slither up against Kokichi’s neck. He could be the new mascot of D.I.C.E! No, better not get too attached to that idea anytime soon). He tucked the creature closer against his body. The only way to know was to go bother the Supreme Overlord of Ice. 

It was just a good thing that the 77 class’s dorms weren’t too far away from here. “Okay little long mouse, let’s go find your daddy and then I can take a shower.” Kokichi lectured the furry creature as he made his way across the school yard. Unlike his own class, 77 didn’t really care about his pranks or about his tall tales. They let him have his fun, but they were fast to pick up on the fact that he was lying, telling the truth, or was just goading them on. Tsumiki was his favorite to prank sometimes, but so was Saijoni when she got an attitude. 

He didn’t mean anyone on his way to the dorms and whether that was a blessing or a curse, Kokichi didn’t know. He made his way down the 77’s class hall and found Tanaka’s dorm room. “Okay this is where we part.” He told the ferret. “I’m going to give you back, and we’re all gucci.”

He knocked a couple of times on the door. “Tanaka-chaaannnnn!!!! I need help!!!!! I found a fur baby and I think it’s yours!!! Tanaka-chaaaannnn-”

The door swung open swiftly. “You did not need to call me in such an annoying tone, clown prince of lies. I heard you when you kno-” The heterochromatic stood in front of the doorway as imposing as Kokichi wished he could be. (Curse his short stature). His long red scarf tailed behind Gundham’s back along with the purple overcoat that he wore. His left arm was still heavily bandaged and he only wore the one earring. Sonia said that it got lost at the beach but Gundham was for certain that it had disappeared into the abyssal realm as a sacrifice. 

(Kokichi still had it somewhere...he thought).

“What is that infernal beast doing in your hold?” Tanaka spoke slowly.

Kokcihi pouted, “What?! Do you think we couldn’t be friends?! That’s so mean of you, Tanaka-chan, I just might cry! I found this little poor baby in a garbage bin. Have a bit of mercy!”

“I would not be surprised if the Thieves of Hell decided you to be their infernal partner.” Tanaka blinked slowly. “Alas, as good of a creature as that is, they do not belong to me. They must have sought you out specifically. Come! You have done well to come to me for aid! I will teach you how to tame the beast! I will not break such a strong bond so easily!”

“Eh?” Kokichi felt like he just got whiplashed and it wasn’t easy for him to feel like that. Then again, Tanaka was probably the only one in this school that could give him something like that. “Wait hold on! This isn’t yours? They aren’t yours?”

“No. I do not tame many thieves of hell as I would like. My Four Devas are handful enough. Are you going to come in or not?” Tanaka demanded and Kokichi felt compelled to at least hear him out. He closed the door behind him, not really knowing what he was getting himself into.

“Do you know much about ferrets?” Kokichi asked as Tanka found a two-tiered cage in his closet (honestly that man was prepared to find any animal wasn’t he? It was already prepared for an animal’s welcome too. Specifically a rodent’s). 

“I must know plenty of the different beats of hell if I am to remain as I am as a tamer.” Tanka replied easily. “You will find, clown prince of lies, that they are similar to you in spirit as they are similar to you in personality. I have no reason to suspect any harm will come to them as long as they are in your care. Though be warned! They are picky as they are clever. They can get out of any imprisonment they so chose to. Food must be to their liking. I will provide you as such so that you have something for now.”

Kokichi blinked, “What makes you think I’m gonna take it home with me? Tanaka-chan is being awfully assumptious. I was just trying to give the fur baby back to you! I’m too young to be a daddy!”

“What makes you think I would break your bond? If having such an infernal creature is too much for you I can break the seal and contract.” Tanaka offered. “Perhaps that may be for the best?”

A sudden fear gripped on to Kokichi. He just wanted to give the ferret back and go on his merry way. But...if it wasn’t Gundham’s and no one was going to claim it...then maybe the creature could be useful after all! (Kokichi still remembers finding Shuffle against the garbage bin when she was just getting started in middle school. He remembers having to scavenge to eat. He remembers…) “Nishishishi~ if you’re so busy with your hamsters, I can watch a ferret for a while. It’s not a big deal.” It was a huge deal. 

“It is quite rude for us to assume gender, but I believe if I’m looking correctly you have a female. You may wish to be careful with her.” Tanaka mused thoughtfully as he took the creature from Kokichi and allowed it to climb up his arms. “They will get up to any places you may find hard to reach and if you train them well they can be a valuable asset to you.” The ferret suddenly wrapped itself around Tanaka’s neck, but it was an easy tug and pull to put the creature into the cage. “I unfortunately do not have much in ways of entertainment for the poor creature. So you may have to go out and get some. Partners like this do not come to you easily. Bonding and being a part of their fleeting lives is a sacred promise and one you should uphold to your best.”

“You sure know a lot about animals.” Kokichi casually crossed his arms behind his head. “I just wonder how it got on to school property if it’s not one of yours.”

“Infernal beasts have an instinct that I do not fully understand myself. Perhaps she knew that she was destined to be with someone at the school and came to it’s siren’s call. You were lead by fate and now you have met.” Tanaka said simply as he double checked the cage and then held it out towards Kokichi. “You should come to me for more aid should you have need. My door is open.”

“Your cellphone number would be better.”

“The last time I gave it to you, clown prince of lies, you gave me nothing but images of things you call “memes”. I believe I had the right to revoke such a right.” Tanaka deadpanned.

“Awww.” Kokichi pouted. “We were so close too. Alright, I guess I’ll...figure out a way to smuggle this into my dorm room. Ciao sunflower seed!” 

                                                        X

Unbeknown to either of them, Shuichi had a flyer in his hands looking for a grey and white striped ferret that had gotten out of someone’s apartment complex. The name Tinkerbell was scrawled in a hasty flourish. “Now where could you have gone…” 

[kkintle]

Map: Collected and Last Poems by Wisława Szymborska; Quotes

Dreams flickered on white canvas.

The future—who can guess it. The past—who’s got it right.

Trite Rhymes     A great joy: flower upon flower, the branches stretch in pristine blue, but there’s a greater: today’s Tuesday, tomorrow will bring mail from you, and still greater: the letter trembles, strange reading it in spots of sun, and still greater: just a week now, now just four days, now it’s begun, and still greater: I kneel on top and make the suitcase lid shut tight, and still greater: the train at seven, just one ticket, thanks, that’s right, and still greater: rushing windows, with view on view on view on view, and still greater: dark and darker, by nighttime I will be with you, and still greater: the door opens, and still greater: past the door, and still greater: flower on flower. —Ohhh, who are all these roses for?

Do you open each human fate like a book, seeking feelings not in fonts or formats? Are you sure you decipher people completely?

Are people really so simple as far as people go?

Lovers     In this quiet we can still hear what they were singing yesterday about the high road and the low road . . . We hear—but we don’t believe it.   Our smile doesn’t mask our sorrow, and goodness needs no sacrifice. The pity we give to nonlovers is even more than they deserve.   We’re so astonished at ourselves, what’s left to astonish us? Not a rainbow in the night. Not a butterfly in snow.   And when we sleep we dream of parting. But it’s a good dream, it’s a good dream, since we wake up from it.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It’s in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow.   With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we’re different (we concur) just as two drops of water are.

If we haven’t had enough of despair, grief, all that stuff, lofty words will kill us off.   Then we’ll stand up, take our bows: hope that you’ve enjoyed our show. Every patron with his spouse will applaud, get up, and go.   They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite.

I TEACH silence in all languages

FOR PROMISES made by my spouse, who’s tricked so many with his sweet colors and fragrances and sounds— dogs barking, guitars in the street— into believing that they still might conquer loneliness and fright, I cannot be responsible. Mr. Day’s widow, Mrs. Night.

We know ourselves only as far as we’ve been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart

An Effort     Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it.   I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me.   Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Leave me, leave, but not by land. Swim off, swim, but not by sea. Fly off, fly away, my dear, but don’t go near the air.   Let’s see each other through closed eyes. Let’s talk together through closed mouths. Let’s hold each other through a thick wall.

Since eternity was out of stock, ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead.

Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.

One day the answer came before the question. Another night they guessed their eyes’ expression by the type of silence in the dark.   Gender fades, mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all-resemblance just as all colors coincide in white.

Sunny. Green. A forest close at hand, with wood to chew on, drops beneath the bark to drink— a view served round the clock, until you go blind.

Parable     Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!” “There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have been floating for years,” the first fisherman said. “And he doesn’t say where. It’s not even clear which ocean,” the second fisherman said. “It’s not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,” the third fisherman said. They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That’s how it goes with universal truths

Ballad     Hear the ballad “Murdered Woman Suddenly Gets Up from Chair.”   It’s an honest ballad, penned neither to shock nor to offend.   The thing happened fair and square, with curtains open, lamps all lit:   passersby could stop and stare.   When the door had shut behind him and the killer ran downstairs, she stood up, just like the living startled by the sudden silence.   She gets up, she moves her head, and she looks around with eyes harder than they were before.   No, she doesn’t float through air: she steps on the ordinary, wooden, slightly creaky floor.   In the oven she burns traces that the killer’s left behind: here a picture, there shoelaces, everything that she can find.   It’s obvious that she’s not strangled. It’s obvious that she’s not shot. She’s been killed invisibly.   She may still show signs of life, cry for sundry silly reasons, shriek in horror at the sight of a mouse.                      Ridiculous traits are so predictable that they aren’t hard to fake.   She got up like you and me.   She walks just as people do.   And she sings and combs her hair, which still grows.

I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings.

Exiled by style. Only their ribs stood out. With birdlike feet and palms, they strove to take wing on their jutting shoulder blades.   The thirteenth century would have given them golden halos. The twentieth, silver screens. The seventeenth, alas, holds nothing for the unvoluptuous.   For even the sky bulges here with pudgy angels and a chubby god— thick-whiskered Phoebus, on a sweaty steed, riding straight into the seething bedchamber

He grew rozes with a “z.

(...) the rest of your life? Old age is a precipice, (...)

I am too close for him to dream of me.

Silence—this word also rustles across the page and parts the boughs that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Funny little thing How could she know that even despair can work for you if you’re lucky enough to outlive it.

The Railroad Station     My nonarrival in the city of N. took place on the dot.   You’d been alerted in my unmailed letter.   You were able not to be there at the agreed-upon time.   The train pulled up at Platform 3. A lot of people got out.   My absence joined the throng as it made its way toward the exit.   Several women rushed to take my place in all that rush.   Somebody ran up to one of them. I didn’t know him, but she recognized him immediately.   While they kissed with not our lips, a suitcase disappeared, not mine.   The railroad station in the city of N. passed its exam in objective existence with flying colors.   The whole remained in place. Particulars scurried along the designated tracks.   Even a rendezvous took place as planned.   Beyond the reach of our presence.   In the paradise lost of probability.   Somewhere else. Somewhere else. How these little words ring. Alive     These days we just hold him

But this is ancient history. I can’t dwell on it forever or keep asking endlessly, what’s next, what’s next.   Day to day I trust in permanence, in history’s prospects. I can’t gnaw apples in a constant state of terror.

Arduous ease, watchful agility, and calculated inspiration.

Old Folks’ Home     Here comes Her Highness—well, you know who I mean, our Helen the snooty—now who made her queen! With her lipstick and wig on, as if we could care, like her three sons in heaven can see her from there!   “I wouldn’t be here if they’d lived through the war. I’d spend winter with one son, summer with another.” What makes her so sure? I’d be dead too now, with her for a mother.   And she keeps on asking (“I don’t mean to pry”) why from your sons and daughters there’s never a word even though they weren’t killed. “If my boys were alive, I’d spend all my holidays home with the third.”   Right, and in his gold carriage he’d come and get her, drawn by a swan or a lily-white dove, to show all of us that he’ll never forget her and how much he owes to her motherly love.   Even Jane herself, the nurse, can’t help but grin when our Helen starts singing this old song again— even though Jane’s job is commiseration Monday through Friday, with two weeks’ vacation.

Sell me your soul. There are no other takers.   There is no other devil anymore.

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies. What a loss when you think how much effort was spent perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed, so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

The abyss doesn’t divide us. The abyss surrounds us.

In Praise of Dreams     In my dreams I paint like Vermeer van Delft.   I speak fluent Greek and not just with the living.   I drive a car that does what I want it to.   I am gifted and write mighty epics.   I hear voices as clearly as any venerable saint.   My brilliance as a pianist would stun you.   I fly the way we ought to, i.e., on my own.   Falling from the roof, I tumble gently to the grass.   I’ve got no problem breathing under water.   I can’t complain: I’ve been able to locate Atlantis.   It’s gratifying that I can always wake up before dying.   As soon as war breaks out, I roll over on my other side.   I’m a child of my age, but I don’t have to be.   A few years ago I saw two suns.   And the night before last a penguin, clear as day.

True love. Is it normal, is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own?

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing.   Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

And it so happened that I’m here with you. And I really see nothing usual in that. 

Under One Small Star     My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all. Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five A.M. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please don’t pay me much attention. Dignity, please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.   Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man. I know I won’t be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

Non omnis moriar—a premature worry.

Thank-You Note     I owe so much to those I don’t love.   The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more.   The happiness that I’m not the wolf to their sheep.   The peace I feel with them, the freedom— love can neither give nor take that.   I don’t wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back. Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can’t, and forgive as love never would.   From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity.   Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen.   And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map.   They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon.   They themselves don’t realize how much they hold in their empty hands.   “I don’t owe them a thing” would be love’s answer to this open question.

Dentistry turned to diplomatic skill promises us a Golden Age tomorrow. The going’s rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sorrow.

Our solitary existence exacerbates our sense of obligation, and raises the inevitable question, How are we to live et cetera? since “we can’t avoid the void.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note— and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.

(...) to linger longer, not to go home again. Since only prisoners want to go home.

In Praise of Feeling Bad about Yourself     The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean.   A jackal doesn’t understand remorse. Lions and lice don’t waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they’re right?   Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they’re light.   On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one.

I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.   I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about

The star is large and distant, so distant that it’s small, even smaller than others much smaller than it.

Small wonder, then, if we were struck with wonder; as we would be if only we had the time.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

“How should we live?” someone asked me in a letter. I had meant to ask him the same question.   Again, and as ever, as may be seen above, the most pressing questions are naïve ones.

Whatever you say reverberates, whatever you don’t say speaks for itself. So either way you’re talking politics.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know. Trips only if taken abroad. Memberships in what but without why. Honors, but not how they were earned. (...) Price, not worth, and title, not what’s inside. His shoe size, not where he’s off to, that one you pass off as yourself.

Nothing’s sacred for those who think. Calling things brazenly by name, risqué analyses, salacious syntheses, frenzied, rakish chases after the bare facts, the filthy fingering of touchy subjects, discussion in heat—it’s music to their ears.

During these trysts of theirs, the only thing that’s steamy is the tea.

May delivery be easy, may our child grow and be well. Let him be happy from time to time and leap over abysses. Let his heart have strength to endure and his mind be awake and reach far.   But not so far that it sees into the future. Spare him that one gift, O heavenly powers.

For the sake of the children that we still are, fairy tales have happy endings. That’s the only finale that will do here, too. The rain will stop, the waves will subside, the clouds will part in the cleared-up sky, and they’ll be once more what clouds overhead ought to be: lofty and rather lighthearted in their likeness to things drying in the sun— isles of bliss, lambs, cauliflowers, diapers.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day.

A miracle, just take a look around: the inescapable earth.   An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: the unthinkable can be thought.

When I see such things, I’m no longer sure that what’s important is more important than what’s not.

Hatred is a master of contrast— between explosions and dead quiet, red blood and white snow.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields, those we remember and those that are forgotten: (...)

Without us dreams couldn’t exist. The one on whom the real world depends is still unknown, and the products of his insomnia are available to anyone who wakes up.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

We agreed to death, but not to every kind. Love attracted us, of course, but only love that keeps its word.

We were besieged by doubts. Does knowing everything beforehand really mean knowing everything.   Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

They aren’t obliged to vanish when we’re gone. They don’t have to be seen while sailing on.

The Three Oddest Words     When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past.   When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.   When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no nonbeing can hold.

But how to answer unasked questions, while being furthermore a being so totally a nobody to you.

Talking with you is essential and impossible. Urgent in this hurried life and postponed to never.

Understanding came only later: not all misadventures fit within the world’s laws and even if they wanted to, they couldn’t happen.

And what can you say about one day of life, a minute, a second: darkness, a lightbulb’s flash, then dark again?   KOSMOS MAKROS CHRONOS PARADOKSOS Only stony Greek has words for that.

There must be an exit somewhere, that’s more than certain. But you don’t look for it, it looks for you, it’s been stalking you from the start, and this labyrinth is none other than than your, for the duration, your, until not your, flight, flight— (...)

Life on Earth is quite a bargain. Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission. Illusions are costly only when lost. The body has its own installment plan.   And as an extra, added feature, you spin on the planets’ carousel for free, and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard, with times so dizzying that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

At times I get fed up with her. I suggest a separation. From now to eternity. Then she smiles at me with pity, since she knows it would be the end of me too. 

Assassins     They think for days on end, how to kill so as to kill, and how many killed will be many. Apart from this they eat their meals with gusto, pray, wash their feet, feed the birds, make phone calls while scratching their armpits, stanch blood when they cut a finger, if they’re women they buy sanitary napkins, eye shadow, flowers for vases, they make jokes on their good days, drink citrus juice from the fridge, watch the moon and stars at night, place headphones with soft music on their ears and sleep sweetly till the crack of dawn —unless what they’re thinking needs doing at night.

It’s good you came. Sit here beside me. He really was supposed to get back Thursday. But we’ve got so many Thursdays left this year.

Page after page at a snail’s pace. But we’re still going in fifth gear and, knock on wood, never better.

We eat another life so as to live. A corpse of pork with departed cabbage. Every menu is an obituary.   Even the kindest of souls must consume, digest something killed so that their warm hearts won’t stop beating.

In the end I stopped knowing what I’d been looking for so long.   I woke up. Looked at my watch. The dream took not quite two and a half minutes.   Such are the tricks to which time resorts ever since it started stumbling on sleeping heads.

[headoverjojo]

Hey Tri :3 ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ You know what? I really need to know the continuum of Risotto’s Secret Garden, sono debole 😂 soooo... is Granny Tosca the Don of an enemy group? Will Prosci really kill his beloved nephew? Will Risotto cry? I need the DRAMA 💚

Esteeeeeeeee ⊂(･ω･*⊂) A H, I loved it so much 💖 And I fear you’ll throw at me many boots after reading this aaaaaa gomenasaiiiiiiiii 😂 It’s a bit looong, but I hope you’ll like it! :3

Here’s the first part!

Risotto’s secret garden: second part

(Under the cut for length!)

After that day, Risotto talked even lesser than usual. Prosciutto wasn’t around, busy with his mission, and no one dared to ask him what was in his mind. No one aside Gelato and Sorbetto, the only ones, with Prosciutto, who knew how to deal with Risotto when he was in an awful mood.

“Hey, novellino.” Sorbetto greeted, entering his office without knocking. Just he and Gelato had the right to call the way taller and buffer man “novellino”, rookie, as they had been his mentors and, by now, it was more an affectionate nickname than anything else. Risotto, instead of huffing, as he always did when he was called so, just glared at the older man, silent. Sorbetto sighed, sitting on one of the chairs in front of his Capo’s desk, looking at him for a while, in a calm and patient silence. Risotto, after a little, went back to ignore him and scribble on his papers, hoping that, seeing that he didn’t want to talk, he would have gone on his merry way.

Alas, Sorbetto knew better. He knew how to deal with his pupil, he knew that he needed time. And, lucky -or unlucky- for him, Sorbetto, when he wanted, was a really patient man, as Gelato could confirm.

As he had predicted, after a while, Risotto put down the pen, lifting his gaze on his mentor. His eyebrow was twitching, Sorbetto noticed, before looking again without fear in his red eyes. He never was scared by his almost demoniac appearance nor that he could use Metallica on him. Sorbetto knew Risotto wouldn’t ever have done it.

“So, Risotto? Ready to spit it out?” he asked, crossing his leg. Risotto grumbled and Sorbetto had to chew back a smile. It was like having to deal with a Risotto barely come out from puberty and not his feared and mature Capo, sometimes…

“I’ve nothing to spit out.” at his words, Sorbetto rolled his eyes, What was he thinking, that he was stupid or what?

“Sorry to contradict you, but even an idiot would notice that there’s been something wrong with you, in the last days. It’s about Prosciutto’s mission?” Sorbetto’s black eyes sharpened, seeing the slightest unpleasant twitch in Risotto’s mouth. Ah, so it was so…

“C’mon, novellino. You know you can rely on us.” his voice was slightly gentler, as it was something that evidently was bothering Risotto really a lot. And the things that bothered Risotto to this extent were really, really few and usually really serious.

Risotto sighed, heavily leaning on the back of his chair, closing his eyes for a little while. Why was it so difficult… but Sorbetto was right. He was letting this thing to chew him from inside and how could he lead his group, in such conditions? Maybe talking about it would have helped him for real. And Sorbetto was a discreet man, he was sure that not even a syllable would have left the office.

And so, the Capo told everything. From his first meeting with Tosca, to the warm affection he felt for the lively grandma, how he loved her as she was really his grandma, how she and the group of old ladies grew to be so important to him… and, then, he told him about Tosca’s grandson and that he was the target assigned for that mission.

Sorbetto stayed quiet and silent for a while, absorbing Risotto’s words. Now he was understanding… a really horrible situation indeed. Fate could be really a bitch, uh?

“What do you think to do, when Prosciutto will be back? Avoiding Tosca at all?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. Risotto sighed, looking at him, tired as Sorbetto rarely had seen him. This situation really was a heavy burden for him…

“I don’t know. Her grandson will be surely dead by now and this was a target related to a rival gang. I don’t even know if Tosca suspects this… how would you react knowing that your just dead grandson was a gangster while you were thinking he was a good boy? The shock could even kill her. And… and I can’t let her know that her grandson died because of me, that it was my fault.” he answered, grimacing. He could bear anything, but not the hate of the few people he loved, such as his team and, now, Tosca. Sorbetto slowly nodded, thoughtful, swinging a little his foot, as he always did when he was lost in his thoughts.

“But it’s not your fault, Risotto. We are just executors. And no,- he said, lifting a hand, blocking Risotto’s protests before he could even speak- we can’t just not execute Boss’ orders. You perfectly know that doing it would mean certain death for insubordination, so it’s not something negotiable. It has been a simple and terrible casualty, nothing more. And, in my opinion, right now what Tosca may need more is a friendly presence near her, in a so hard moment. Having you near may help her to face the mourning and get over it quicker than if she was alone.” the man pondered, in a quiet voice. Risotto listened in silence, sighing, after a while. Well… Sorbetto was right. As almost always, in the end; he was his mentor for a reason, all in all. Taking another deep breath, he nodded, earning a small from the usually serious man, before Gelato, after knocking, peeked inside, announcing Prosciutto’s return. Risotto’s heart sank again, knowing what this meant.

It was time.

**

Two days after Prosciutto’s return and after reading again and again his detailed report, Risotto found the strength to go again to the park. His teammate’s report didn’t leave space to doubts: Tosca’s grandson was dead. At least, as he demanded him, Prosciutto ended his life quickly and painlessly. An incredible small comfort, but better than nothing.

It seemed like time was submerged in a molasses jar. Every step was heavy and difficult, as guilt was burdening his heart. To be fair, he didn’t really think he would have found Tosca at the park, not after such a news. He had to change his mind when he saw, on her usual bench, Tosca. She was sitting on the edge, all flopped on herself, as a heavy rock was standing on her shoulders. Risotto’s heart clenched painfully, seeing her like this. It was like he was feeling her pain, it was like feeling the same pain he felt after his cousin’s sudden death. It was so heavy and overwhelming that he was feeling like he was suffocating.

Tosca lifted her head a bit, hearing Risotto approaching. A small, sad and grieving smile bent her lips, making Risotto’s heart even heavier. How much he would have given to not see her like this…

She lightly patted the spot near her, as she always did, and Risotto sat near her, silent. The clear blue sky was slightly covered by white, fluffy clouds that, when they passed in front of the sun, casted the park in a fresh shadow. The birds were chirping, the wind was gently ruffling the leaves, as always. It seemed like everything was as the same, as nothing bad just happened and Tosca, in a moment, would have asked him to hold the skein while she separated the threads… but both of them knew that that day wasn’t like others.

That was a day of mourn and gloom. And that day was time to throw away all the masks.

“I’ve heard about your grandson. I’m sorry, Tosca.” Risotto murmured, finally finding again his voice. How curious, he absentmindedly thought, that he had no problems to face the worst criminals of all Italy on daily basis, following his Boss’ orders, but now… this was the most difficult thing he had ever done, staying near to this old woman grieving for her grandson. He felt like he was dying as well.

“Thank you. But, you know… I was expecting it, soon or later. He too. With the life he had…” she trailed off, sighing. Risotto frowned, hearing those words. What…? She knew, so? And she was so tranquil knowing it?

Seeing the confusion on his face, Tosca smiled again, still sad, even tired. For the first time, Risotto saw on her all the years she truly had, the old lady hidden under her usual gleeful attitude.

“Are you asking yourself how I knew about it, hm? I know a lot of things, Risotto Nero…” Risotto froze, hearing her calling him with his full name. He… never told her his surname. How could she…?

“It’s time for you to know, my dear… but please, don’t let it make you forget the splendid friendship we have, ok?” she said in a hopeful tone. Risotto sighed, nodding, even if still wary. He couldn’t deny her this, after taking from her her grandson. In any case… in the worst case, he would have been ready with Metallica. But just as very last option.

“I know what my grandson did for living ‘cause I was the one who gave him orders, my dear.” she explained, quiet, looking ahead. Risotto, for the second time in few minutes, froze again, completely taken aback. No, wait… this meant that she…? No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t believe it…

“As you have understood, by now, I’m indeed the Boss of the gang your Boss want to eradicate. Or, better, to absorb, as a big company does with smaller ones, eliminating who opposite to this.” she said, quietly, folding her hands on her lap. Risotto stayed silent, to give her time to explain properly. He didn’t know how he was feeling… so many upsetting news all together. He needed a bit to elaborate it all.

“My grandson was a fierce opponent of this fusion and he payed for this. I am against it too… so I guess that soon or later my turn will come, uh?” another sad smile bent her lips, as she watched Risotto. As she did many times before, she gently patted his hand, squinting at him, making Risotto’s heart hurt even more. Even with her glasses, Tosca’s eyesight was pretty poor, but she always joked about that…

“I’d like you to take the mission on you, when your Boss will give it to your team. I know it’s… a hard request… but please, my dear. You’re the only one I can trust to do this. I know you’ll be… as merciful as possible.” every word seemed to plant a red-hot blade in his heart. He lowered his head, gritting his teeth. How could she ask him, among all people, something like this…? How could she ask him to kill her, the person he considered, by now, his grandma? Did she really think he would have been able to kill her?

Would he be able to do it, all in all…?

Yes, he thought, after a while. He would have been able. Even if only to give her the most merciful and fastest death she could hope to have.

He had to be the one to kill her right because he loved her so much. He owed her it. He owed her a fast and dignified death, as she deserved. If the Boss would have sent Cioccolata and Secco, she would have suffered unbearable hours of pure pain, before finally meeting the sweet release of death. He couldn’t allow it to happen.

For her and all the love and happiness she gave him in those months, he had to overcome his pain and do it. This was her last desire: he had to fulfill it.

“I don’t want to do it.” he said, anyway, quiet. Tosca smiled again, brushing his cheek with her knuckles, as she always did, understanding what he really meant.

“I know, my dear, I know. But you have to. I know how things work, in your organization… if you don’t do exactly like the Boss says, he gets ridden of you. Risotto… you’re still so young, you have many years in front of you. Who knows, maybe one day someone will dethrone your Boss and a new era will start. You have so much time to live… you have time to even find a person you could love with all your heart. You have time to have a family. I have lived many happy years… I’m an old lady, Risotto. I’m tired. But I want to go with the same dignity as I have lived with.” Tosca replied, with a soft voice. Risotto’s lips quivered, as he was trying with all his might to hold back a sob, even if his eyes were dry as a desert. In order to not betray himself, he just nodded at her words, earning a slightly brighter smile from the old woman.

“Thank you, my dear.” she said, before getting up and, as she always did, kissing his cheek in that way that kids hated but that, instead, Risotto found so reassuring. Then, she left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He got up just when dusk was falling and slowly come back to the HQ. No one dared to talk to him or ask what he had done all the time he had been out, not even Ghiaccio, who was never scared to speak up, surely tamed by one of Gelato’s famous glares. Risotto, on his own, didn’t say a word and just closed himself in his office, sighing. He felt… empty. So empty, so tired…

He sat down, sighing again and closing his eyes. How much he wished this all to be just a bad dream…

A ping from the laptop broke his thoughts. Risotto opened his eyes, checking the mails, paling a little when he saw it was from the Boss. The Boss usually contacted him just for one reason…

His hand was slightly trembling, when he moved the mouse to open the mail. His heart broke and his eyes stung for tears never shed, when he read the message.

“Next target: Tosca Verdi.”

[littleredinmotion]

live through this and you won’t look back by royalklaroline

(ff) (ao3)

Caroline left Rousseau’s determined to keep it together. Determined not to cry because if she did she’s afraid she’d never stop.

It wasn’t until the frantic drive down to New Orleans a few hours before that she realized that the reason Klaus dying affected her this much was because somewhere deep down she always knew that they’d end up together. Like fate.

But apparently, she was wrong.

Now it seems that fate is ripping them apart before they’d barely begun.

She’d lost a loved one before. Quite a few times actually. But this time was different. She thought losing Stefan, her newlywed husband, on their wedding day was as bad as it could get. But Stefan was human. Part of her knew that someday he would leave her, she just hadn’t expected it so soon.

Losing Klaus was different. She always imagined that once all her loved ones were gone, she’d always have Klaus. But now…

She felt like she’d lost her future. Her forever.

Klaus was the one who’d helped her embrace the joys of being immortal. Now the thought of a future without him felt empty and uncertain and scary.

In an attempt to keep from falling apart and to keep any last bit of him that she could, she turned and headed back to find the street painter they’d admired together earlier. She found him sitting in the exact spot with the now finished painting at his side while he started on a new one.

“I’ll pay you however much you want for that painting,” she inquired to the man.

“Sorry miss. It’s already been sold.”

“Please. I’ll pay double whatever they paid. I’m begging you,” she pleaded now on the verge of tears.

“I wish I could help you but the owner was very specific that it had to be this painting. I can paint you one like it, if you wish.”

Defeated, Caroline thanked the man but declined. She was once again reminded of how much she regretted shredding the drawing he once gave her.

She took her time making her way back to her car before leaving New Orleans with nothing but the fading sensation of the man that promised her the world on her lips.

Two weeks had passed since she had gotten back to Mystic Falls. Two weeks since Klaus had successfully sacrificed himself for his daughter. She had hoped that returning home to her girls would help her fall back into the same routine that she’d had for the past 7 years. She’d gone 16 years without seeing Klaus up until a few months ago, so she thought that going through life without him now would feel like normal.

She was wrong. Being back at the boarding school now made her feel like she was just going through the motions. A school filled with history of the Salvatore’s also meant a school filled with the history of the big bad Klaus Mikaelson.

Everywhere she turned, something reminded her of him. The snowflake painting hanging in the dining hall. A hummingbird outside the window. The British accent of one of the new werewolves she’d recruited to come the school.

With each day, she felt a rising panic that time was going by too fast. To her, it felt like only yesterday that he was chasing her all over town, but now she is the mother of two teenage girls. What happens when they grow up and she doesn’t? When Alaric, the girls, Elena, Bonnie, and all her other friends die?

Even after his death, she began to understand how loneliness had been his biggest enemy.

“Mom, there’s a package here for you!” Josie yelled from the front door downstairs, jolting Caroline out of her racing thoughts.

When she reached the door to find a large package, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. “This isn’t…” she whispered.

But it was.

She ripped the paper away to find the painting from New Orleans. The last memory she has of him. A piece of artwork to remind her of the man who introduced her to the beauty of it.

But that wasn’t all.

Stuck to the back was an envelope. Sealed with the all too familiar Mikaelson crest and penned with the handwriting she’d know anywhere that only said “Caroline”

Her breath caught. The little voice in the back of her head said “Maybe he’s still out there…” but she knew that couldn’t be the case.

With shaking hands, she opened the letter and read.

My Dearest Caroline,

         For almost eight centuries, whenever I defeated an enemy all I would take from them were their love letters. I guess somehow, I thought stealing the love from their letters would help me to find some of my own. It never worked. Yet after a thousand years on this earth, I find that the tables have turned. Now I am the one writing the letter with death waiting on my doorstep.

         When you came into my life, I was a shell. Fueled by greed and anger with no care for life other than my own. Until I met you. A mere eighteen years old and you spoke to me with more honesty and strength than I’d experienced in centuries. You never cowered in fear of my darkness because your light turned it to shadows.

         I know that I once told you that I intended to be your last love, alas fate had other plans for us. But know this. I always intended for you to be my last as well. I find comfort knowing that you were. And you being here for me today, just as you have been for the past few months, means more than you could ever know. Your presence somehow makes everything I do easier and harder in equal measure.

         My biggest regret is that I never got the chance to show you the world like I told you I would someday. Rome. Paris. Tokyo. But I keep my promises. Included in this envelope are four tickets to London Heathrow. For you, Josie, Lizzie, and, if I may add, Hope. Caroline, I beg that you be the one to bring her to these places. Though I know my family could very well take her, I’d like her to experience it with you. And don’t worry about hotels or any other requirements of the sort, it’s all been taken care of my love.

Also attached, I would like to include a list of a few tips for your travels abroad.

There’s a small pub in Blackfriars called Williamson’s Tavern where Elijah and I lost quite a bit of money once while gambling after a few pints. Still I’d do it all again. Though I hear they’ve cleaned up the place and it’s more family appropriate now.

Located on a far wall on the second floor of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg you’ll find a landscape I did of the view outside our home in southern Italy in 1475 titled “Landscape of Fallen Leaves”

In Berlin, look up a man named Alexander Schütze near the East Side Gallery. Tell him I sent you and I’m sure he will show you the best of the best. He owes me a favor.

San Miniato al Monte has one of the best views in Florence. Though I did sire one of the nuns for fun, so if you meet a woman named Silvia tell her that I finally got what I deserved.

The only way to explore Rome is on a Vespa.

The best flavor of gelato is pistachio. Trust me.

At the Louvre, the painting across from the Mona Lisa titled “The Wedding Feast at Cana” is an incredible piece by an old friend of mine Paolo Caliari. I visited him often as he was painting it.

Be sure to rent a bike to ride around Luxembourg Gardens.

When at Versailles, go as deep into the gardens that you can. Spend the whole day if you must. Get lost. That’s the fun part, love.

Lastly, once back in London visit the Tate Britain and go find the painting entitled “The Hummingbird.”  I think you may find it quite amusing.

There are a million more things I would have liked to show you but I don’t have enough time left to write them all down. So, I’ll leave the exploring to you in hopes that you find everything that I did and more.

         If you were anyone else, I’d end this by saying I wish to see you again someday, somewhere, somehow in whatever there is after all this. But alas, I won’t. More than anything I want you to live your life to the fullest. I hope you have a thousand more birthdays and that you get everything you ever wanted out of life. I pray that my daughter learns as much from you as she ever learned from me. Please look after her as you always did for me. May your lifespan far outnumber mine and that they tell great stories of the mythical Caroline Forbes who loved with her whole heart to everyone she encountered, even those who did not deserve it.  

         Forever yours,

                  Klaus Mikaelson

She spent that summer exploring all that Europe had to offer. She’d brought her girls and Hope with her just as Klaus had wanted. They had ticked off numbers 1 through 9 on Klaus’s list and added much more to it over the past few months. On their last day in back in London where they started their trip, they were set to finally visit the Tate and knock off the last sight on the list.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to finish the list and head back home. Being in Europe had made her feel closer to him in a way that she didn’t know was possible and he wasn’t even here.

Over the past couple of months, she had become quite an art enthusiast. She thought he’d be proud. She finally understood how art had this ability to transport the viewer somewhere else and fill them with emotion with just a glance. Now she knew that’s why he loved art so much. It was his escape.

They’d been exploring for just over an hour, hoping to stumble upon “The Hummingbird” on their own. The looking was always the fun part.

“Oh my God. Mom. Over here,” she heard Lizzie say from around the corner.

She’d expected just some picture of a hummingbird. She should have known better.

Wide eyed, she gasped because there, in the middle of the Tate, was her.

Blonde hair. Blue dress. It was the night of the Mikaelson Ball. The portrait of her wasn’t looking at the viewer. She looked calm, collected, and confident. Surrounded by other party goers that blurred in the background. She was the only focus.

It was then that everything clicked into place for Caroline. She’d finally gotten the thing that she’d always wanted. 

She was finally the one.

The one for Klaus.

Now that Klaus was gone, she was surprised that she didn’t feel sad at this revelation. She felt thankful. Thankful to have known him and that he’d given her everything she’d ever wanted. Culture. Art. Beauty. The world. He’d given her the world. But most of all, she felt thankful that he was intelligent enough to know that she loved him too. Even if she never had the guts to say it to him aloud. He had to of known.

She walked over and read the description.

The Hummingbird (2011) by Niklaus Mikaelson

“This portrait is for a woman much like a hummingbird. Small and beautiful yet fierce.  She showed me how satisfying life can be every day with her. I’ll wait for her to fly back to me someday. However long it takes.”

[justcallmemav]

7/20/18

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

Pt.20

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

“You didn't get along with her, so this shouldn't be affecting you this bad.”

(She saw how you treated me and wanted to adopt me.)

“You trust people too easy, girl.”

( I had known him for 13 years. I built that trust. )

“You put yourself in this situation.”

( I didn't ask for it.)

“I never liked him anyways, trash grew legs and took itself out.”

(I loved him for five years.)

▪▪   ·I love you, mom. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be.

---

▪▪   ·I'm at work I'll message you when I'm off. Ly2.

---

▪▪   ·I could use a call right now.

---

▪▪  ·Can't talk right now, will call tomorrow. You'll be fine for a day.

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

▪  You're my best friend. I love you. I can't take it anymore.

---------

▪   I think this is it.

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

▪▪▪  Thank you for always loving me unconditionally. You're the greatest sister anyone could ask for. I love you. You're better off without me.

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

      You came to visit me two days after i was taken into the hospital on july 20th at 9 o'clock at night.

      I was drinking an excessive amount within the matter of two hours.

     Within the last few minutes of the second hour, I saw the walls of the world around me collapsing.

This is it.

I have nothing left.

     My mind wouldn't rest. I took a xanax but it didn't help ease my mind.

     It sure couldn't mend my broken heart.

                  This was the last time.

It didn't work before.

           It has to work now.

                          So I begged, and I cried.

I prayed to a God I wasn't even sure existed.

Please take me now.

        I want to come home.

                      I think I'm ready now.

JUST TAKE ME NOW. I AM READY. PLEASE FUCKING TAKE ME. I'M READY.

      I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I made the choice to give into my thoughts and my depression. I made the choice to finalize this shit I consider living. This existence. This truly was it. This is the end.

      I let my hands trace their way to my fate. To my drawer. Opening the pill bottle. Where the palm of my hand met my lips to fill my mouth with what I knew would make everything better soon. Next thing I know, my body was lured to the bottle of vodka as it stands at the end of the bed. I wrap my fingers tight around the neck of the bottle, lips to the glass. Down the hatch and into the rabbit hole I go. I feel my body spiral. Down...down...down...down…

                      Boom

                         So bitter.

                        Yet so good.

Was this the only way i could be happy again?

I will reach the numbness I yearn to undergo.

I've heard the rumors.

Does it seem as free as they say?

            Then along came the thump.

                       ALAS~

Nothingness.

Darkness. No voices, no pain, no criticism. Just the echoes of my heart beat.

Thump.. Thump….. Thump….

After what felt like days… the darkness fades steadily. The numbness dissolves like ice through my fingertips.

               Off in the distance I hear something. A cry? A car? A siren? A siren.

I struggle to come to consciousness.

                 I find it nearly impossible.

Then out of the blue, I hear a voice.

                A voice so faint and familiar.

After some time, I can open my eyes half way as I slip back into consciousness.

My vision is hazy. I managed to come to when I hear her voice.

“Cayley, there's some people here who need you to get up and come outside. They need to check on you.”

I see the pigments from the lights spinning on their vehicles, bouncing off of the brick walls on the outside of my home, but it's all blurry.

       I struggled to stand as I stepped through my threshold to go outside.

Who needs to talk to me? About what? Why?

I look up and see two policemen and a paramedic. I begin to hyperventilate.

“Is my dad okay?”

Ma'am, we received a call stating that you may be a harm to yourself, so I ask that you don't resist help. Are you able to follow us to the back of the ambulance, ma'am?

·I haven't done anything and I'm not a harm to myself.

·For your own safety we need to make sure that's true. We can't take risks, miss.

·I'm sorry, please ma'am let go of my arm, I don't need help. GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME I AM FINE.

I hear my father talking to the police officer but couldn't make out what they were saying over dad's coworker crying and all of the sounds around me. I panicked. I heard my dad speaking once more, only this time it was directed at me.

He asked me three things.

“CAYLEY BABY WHAT’D YOU DO?”

“WHAT DID YOU TAKE?”

My hearing began to fade slowly, as I focused on the ringing gradually developing in my head. I could ever so slightly hear the walkie talkies and daddys office keys jingling in his pocket. I heard Sues charm bracelet that she loves so much.

I felt my heartbeat through my chest, as if it was trying to escape. I feel my heart rate descend,  I look up to see what was around me. Everyone was there.

I saw my father crying and shaking.

 I saw his girlfriend crying.

    I saw my father's coworker crying.

          I was embarrassed.

Yet, too weak to care.

I muttered to the medic under my breath;

“I'm ready to go. Ma'am please take me.”

I collapse, but the woman was quick to catch me. She definitely had motherly instincts. Not even 2 seconds after i collapsed, I lose consciousness.

          I woke up in the back of an ambulance. I'm being hovered by two men with papers on clipboards and the medic who stopped me from busting my ass on concrete. They're bombarding me with questions and demands.

“Your oxygen levels are low, ma'am. I need you to inhale and exhale on ten. The oxygen being distributed through the tubes in your nostrils is a bit cold. Just a fair warning. Are you physically capable of removing your tunnels, lip piercing, your engagement ring, and whatever else pierced or on your person that could be a threat to yourself of me?”

“Do I have to take off my ring?”

“Yes ma'am, unfortunately it's code. We'll put it in this bag. It will stay unbothered. Please remove your piercings.”

Shortly after I began hyperventilating because I couldn't stop crying, and boom.

All consciousness was lost.

How could I harm anyone with a ring?

She should have been patient, anyways.

~Don't rush me.~

       You asked me why I did it. It took you two days, it took my father less than 60 seconds to get to me when he saw the ambulance at the door.

       You took 48 hours to muster the pride to visit me, and when you did, you showed no emotion at all. You hugged me that day and I felt no love.

        I was barely aware of what was going on, yet I somehow sensed tension coming from your end. As if you were forcing yourself to care when deep down you knew you didn't.

I felt like I was being smothered by a well maintained, ‘JLo Glo’ scented greeting mat.

          Even when I was much younger and you would stay in and drink, you'd hug me and I felt this giant strange force field of motherly love surrounding me, if that makes any sense. There was a step by step process of your home drunk persona and it went the same way every time.. but I'll get to that in a moment.

    Anyways, I'm still thankful you showed. Even two days late. You had me slightly convinced that you actually cared.

ALMOST. I was informed of the insensitive remarks you made to my father about me.  You really had the audacity to turn around and say I was wanting everyone to be worried about CAYLEY because ‘everything has to be about CAYLEY and CAYLEY was just looking for attention'.

         Like I didn't come home from school and take two steps through the threshold only to see you crying because you got dumped. You threatened to end your life. (Because you loved this man so much. The man you are with now. 9 years later. The man you use for money. Whom you cheat on)  Me and your biological daughter took you and admitted you.

         I felt like i betrayed you, but i needed you to be alive. For...whatever reason. I guess cos y'know.. a 12 year old needs a parent. You came home and the meds they gave you calmed you down, but you liked that too much. You quickly became dependent, actually you still are. You contradict yourself too often.

         Don't you remember what I have been put through..? By you, mostly. You were and still are so hypocritical that it makes me chuckle. Sigh- anyways, I couldn't fully comprehend anything you said during our visit. I couldn't gather the energy to move nor look at you, let alone reply to your bullshit motherhood quotes.

        You left when the time was up, two weeks go by in a blur still ever so slowly, and they transfer me. People were able to reach out to me. A handful of people I love and cherish which includes my sister, my father, his girlfriend... the woman who has been more of a mother to me than you ever were.

       It didn't take much time after me being in that God forsaken inpatient facility for me to be pulled aside by a nurse in a confidential manner. My brain threw around every possible reason as to why she was doing this.

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

Am I going home?

Are they moving me again?

What did I do wrong?

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

  ~ Nothing, stop with the assumptions~

    She informed me that I had received multiple calls from a woman saying she is my mother but she couldn't pass it through because another woman, who ALSO claimed to be my parent/caregiver, had requested that this number (she was giving me )go on a restricted no contact list. She handed me a sheet of paper with with a number on it. Buttttt, it wasn't yours. So I had no idea what was going on. Who's my caregiver? Did my sister put you on the no call list? Nope. It wasn't your number and you never do wrong, so you denied having anything to do with that whole thing. I decided to call the number while the addiction groups were in the other room. I had no reason to be there so I had time to meditate, draw, socialize, or find out who was on the other end of that phone line.

It's obvious what I chose.

It took a few tries until someone finally answered. When they did I felt like an idiot. How could I not know.

You hated her because of how hard she tried to see me and my siblings. You had so many hateful things to say about her, yet no validation. It made you angrier when you told us about her then made her out to be a bad guy and we still got in touch with her. You hated that, didn't you. You hated it because the truth was going to come out if we found her.

Lady, I met my real mother when i was 11 years old. That was the day my father bought my favorite hat… a black fedora with a blue stripe inside of a purple stripe in the middle (which I still own). I was wearing this black shirt with a red graphic design on the front and back that was WAY too baggy on me and a pair of cuffed blue jeans, I do believe. It's been eight years, I have great memory but I'm not special like that.

If it weren't for daddy, my sister, and my brother... I would've never known who she was. Well, when I finally got ahold of my biological mother on the phone the day after I received the number by the nurse… she was genuinely upset. She said one thing that will stick to my brain for the rest of my life.

“I lost you once I can't lose you again”

You won't have to.

[doanamarcellus-blog]

Annie Duong-Turner

I can't stand you. I already didn't like you in first grade. I should've never let you in. But fate works in strange ways. Clearly some people are meant to come into our lives to teach us a lesson. What did I learn from you?

Hmm. Still trying to figure that out.

You were always trying to play the mom in the friend group. Fuck that shit; I have a mother. What I needed was a friend but you were never a good fit. So in that sense, you weren't a loss to me. Mara admittedly was, but you, I didn't care where you stood one way or another.

Because you honestly didn't matter. You meant well but you never got it. And you still don't. We are just too different.

We were never ever close. I only confided in you b/c we were on vacation together with Mara and it'd be awkward to talk "behind your back" (oh, those words again) about my thoughts and what I was going through. But you took my story and ran.

You started to insert yourself. You tried to give advice again. I say again b/c you were always trying to give your "wise" two cents. Let's not forget you did terribly in school until junior year. I was always on track; you only caught up. How self righteous are you? So with your newfound "intelligence," you think you were qualified to give people advice? And all types at that. Advice on sex, relationship, love, men, trauma, etc.

I'm a psych major. If anyone, it's me that knows the benefits of therapy. But is that the step everyone needs to take? I'm sorry your dad beat your mom, but violence wasn't an issue in my case. I just needed to find myself. And sure I used other methods.

I know there's no self-help book on how to cope after a male stripper takes your virginity away in a locked dark bathroom - a short 5 second traumatic episode that changed the course of your life as you know it, and makes you emotionless for the next few months. The out of body experience I felt? None of you will ever understand. The fact I never saw his micropenis. The fact I wasn't experienced. The fact people try to tell me I was no longer a virgin even though I still very much felt like one. But alas let's tell me how helpful therapy was b/c your dad beat your mom and you're all better now. Let's also never talk about that incident itself until you're conveniently trying to give Lily advice b/c she's turning into such a big slut.

(1) I've been with the same man for almost 6 years. We are extremely committed to each other and though we have ups and downs, in the end, he's the one I want to be with. You don't even know him and you judged him based on a drunken episode or two? Think about what he thinks of you all from those episodes as well. Mara the money stealer who can't control herself when dick is nearby. Annie the mother who has to pull her back but also grabbed the dick too. 🤨 How confusing. Neither of you saw full pictures of the other, yet you immediately write him off as a "bad influence?" Please, Mara is way worse of an influence. Someday her anger and big mouth is going to get her in trouble.

(2) You never saw my relationship as anything more than fwb, yet you had the damn nerves to ask Alex about her "boyfriend." You know that was her fuck buddy, right? Yea, you're a fucking idiot. I don't care how many complicated weird sounding sentences you can form. You have NO street smarts. Or logic. Zilch. Like what a slap in my fucking face when I was in love with this man and you're asking someone about her fuck buddy "boyfriend." Yea well, they're over. I'm still here. Guess I was serious after all huh.

When did your Doana worshipping start? You have lost yourself in her. What do you even see in someone that toxic?

And she is fucking toxic because it's always her way or the highway. Never mistaken her quietness for kindness. She is always a ticking time bomb. But maybe you're used to abuse. I saw you and your new hubs engaged in a group hug with your parents. See, forgiveness is interesting. How do we determine who deserves it?

How do you think it's okay that Doana Marcellus said the following to me?

(i) "I knew this would happen."

- FIRST thing out of her mouth after it happened. It is NOT some sort of observation. It is victim blaming. I personally did not see it coming no, he had made advances and at a certain pt I did not mind it THAT much b/c he was doing something to me and I wasn't doing anything to him (gross, never would). It was the escalation I didn't see happening. It is not my fault for having low self-esteem. And having friends like yall did not help. So okay, let's name sure Doana lets YOU know the next time something bad happens, that she saw it coming. A heartless cunt like that deserves shitty friends. Maybe you and Mara are those friends. "Friends" who never tell the truth but talk behind other people's back. Did yall tell her yall smoked weed on her bed too? Yea, didn't think so.

(ii) "Are you going to start going crazy now b/c that happens?"

Like WTF is wrong with her to think any of that is okay? Her verbal abuse made everything worse for me, yet you all think she's some innocent angel who cares; she doesn't.

Because she also CUSSED me out, called me a "fucking asshole" b/c I was "hiding things behind [her] back." I don't need to tell ANYONE shit. Honestly. What I choose to share is up to me. Yet your unhinged cult leader attacked me like I've never seen. She had a mental breakdown and you guys think it's still okay to baby her? GTFO. She doesn't need any babying alright. But I'd keep babies away from her.

How can I be some slut when I'm over here with one man for the past 6 years. All of my 20s. "Dated" one gross guy before him (Fuck you Sam Choi). No one else rly. Definitely inexperienced in that sense. But please let me know how promiscuous I am!

And please tell me how else I could own my sexuality when it was taken away? You're telling me a therapist would help? Oh rly, would I get to fuck him/her? Didn't think so.

So what if what I did wasn't conventional. It was MY way of coping and I do not apologize for it.

Better than marrying the first guy that lays eyes on you, right? 😆🤨

You just piss me off with your self righteousness. You are THE corniest person on earth; no wonder you married the corniest boy you could find.

I guess my lesson: stay away from corny people who want to be your mother.

P.S. chinese paper lanterns should NEVER be used as decor. We're not 5. And you can't ruin your figure if you never had one.

[siancore]

Day 3: Lost Love Found - Richonne AU for @richonnefics

The sun shone down on her bare arms and the soft breeze offered reprieve from the striking heat. The warmth was one of the things that Michonne had missed the most while she had lived up North. She could hardly believe it was seven years since she had been back to Georgia. She had missed the easy-going nature of the locals; the friendliness and helpfulness that the people imbued the small town with. She really felt like she was home.

She smiled and looked around the small living room; there were not that many boxes she needed to unpack. When she left King County all those years ago, she only took what she could carry in one bag. Her mind drifted back to that time, and she felt a small pang of regret wash over her. That was short lived as there came a knocking on her front door. Knowing it could only be her close friends, Michonne smiled and answered the door. She was met by Sasha, Maggie and Jesus; each wearing wide grins. They hugged Michonne in turn and then entered the house.

“This is nice,” said Sasha as examined the premises.

“I think I was in here once before,” said Maggie. “Back in high school at some party.”

“It’s cute,” Jesus offered.

“Oh my gosh, Michonne!” Maggie exclaimed before hugging her friend once more. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I know,” said Michonne.

“We’re glad you’re back,” said Jesus.

“Yeah,” Sasha agreed as she peeped around from the corridor. “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” said Michonne. “And thanks so much for helping me unpack.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Jesus, before adding, “Let’s get started.

“You gonna say something?” asked Jesus, as he drank down the last of his coffee.

“Nothin’ to say,” said Rick while peering out of his kitchen window; he was overcome by a number of contradictory emotions.

Upon hearing that the love of his life, Michonne, had returned, he felt his stomach drop. He felt hopeful and sad, irritated and happy. His heart beat faster, yet ached at the same time. He was angry with himself for feeling that fleeting moment of joy when Jesus had informed him that she was back in town. He then felt guilty for wishing she had never come back.

“Are you at least gonna ask what she’s doing here?” Jesus questioned his friend.

Rick shrugged.

“No,” he said, before taking a seat back at the kitchen table. “Don’t care.”

That was a lie. Rick cared very much about what his lost love was doing. At the beginning, he would ask their mutual friends about her wellbeing, but it only hurt his heart even more to know that she was well; that she was happy in her career choice; that she was doing fine without him. He had always suspected he loved her more than she did him. Why else, he pondered, would it be so easy for her to leave what they had? What he was unaware of, in his heartbreak and sadness, was that she was hurting for him as well.

Alas, that was years ago and Rick thought he was over her for good. This news regarding her return had shaken him to his core. So he lied to their friend, even though Jesus knew that the feelings were still there.

“Okay,” said Jesus. “Just giving you the heads up in case you run into her at the store or something.”

Rick sighed.

“I hope not,” he offered flatly, fallaciously. “But since y’all are still best buds, maybe you could do me a favor?”

“What is it?” asked.

“Drop some of her shit back to her that she left here,” said Rick, trying to hide a lot of his hurt.

“Sure,” said Jesus as he stood from the table and approached the sink. “But it’ll have to wait until later tonight ‘cause I’ve gotta run.”

“Okay, I’m rostered on tonight. Take my backdoor key. I’ll leave the stuff on the table for you,” said Rick as he removed the key and handed it to his friend. “Just take it all. I don’t want it here anymore. And thank you.”

Jesus nodded and gave Rick a small smile, “It’s no trouble at all.”

The box was brimming with items that Michonne had left and Rick had held onto. A headband or two; several comic books and novels; some items of clothing; and a multi-colored cat sculpture. Rick held the colourful cat in his hands and smiled at the object. He never really liked it, but Michonne adored the thing. When they split up, she left with such haste that she forgot to take it. Suddenly, Rick felt sad again as he placed the statue into the box.

Running his fingers through his hair, he walked to one of the drawers in the kitchen and retrieved writing materials. He knew he did not want to see Michonne just yet, but he would write her note.

To Michonne, it started. Here are some of your things you left. I kept them safe for you….

“Damn it,” said Rick as he scrunched the note up and tossed it on the floor; unhappy with what he had written and feeling like it was a charade.

He took another piece of lined paper and began another note.

Michonne, here’s your shit you left behind when you dumped me…

Rick stopped and then tore that page from the writing pad too and giving it the same fate at the other. That was not what he wanted to say at all; that was too crass. Taking a deep breath, Rick began to write:

Dear Michonne,

It’s been a while. I heard you were back in town, Jesus told me. But you already knew that.

Honestly, I was conflicted about the news. I wanted to know why, after all this time, and after what happened between us, did you decide to come back to King County? I don’t have any right to ask. I’m sorry if I overstepped. Somewhere inside I kind of hoped that it was for me. But that’s just foolish of me to think that way.

I hope your life has treated you well. I always knew you’d be successful where ever you were. I’m just sorry it couldn’t have been with me.

He stopped a moment and held the pen to his lips. There was something therapeutic about writing his feelings down. Even though he had no intention of ever letting her see the letter. Feeling better, Rick continued to write his most sincere and private thoughts:

It’s been hard for me, all this time, wondering what could have been between us. I always imagined that we’d have a couple of kids running around the yard. You looking beautiful as ever; radiant and pregnant. Me with a potbelly and a smile. Us, happy and healthy.

I shouldn’t be thinking things like that. I shouldn’t be writing things like this. What we had is gone. We both made sure of that. I guess I’ve never really stopped loving you. I never stopped caring. Honestly, I’ve always loved you and probably always will. I’m just sad tha…

 Before Rick could continue with his thoughts, finish writing the letter, or discard it like the others, he heard a horn blaring out the front of his house; he knew it was his partner, Shane, who was late as usual, there to pick him up. He dropped the pen, picked up his hat and made his way quickly towards the door.

The bright light from Rick’s kitchen disoriented Jesus a little as he entered from the darkness outside. He saw the box sitting on the table and the notepad next to it; he glanced quickly, and upon seeing the note addressed to Michonne, tore it from the pad, folded it and placed it in the box. He left the light on for Rick, exited from the same door, and locked the house again.

Michonne and Sasha were still sitting out on the former’s front porch when Jesus showed up, lugging a brown cardboard box with him.

“That better be more wine,” said Sasha as he made his way up the steps.

“Unfortunately, it’s not,” he laughed. “A box of things belonging to Michonne, actually.”

The woman in question gave him an odd stare.

“From Deputy Rick Grimes,” Jesus explained. “A bunch of stuff he probably should’ve thrown away years ago.”

Jesus plopped it down on the small table; Michonne looked incredulously at it.

“Well, you gonna open it?” asked Sasha.

Michonne sighed, “It’s probably just some books I left there.”

“Let’s find out then,” said Jesus.

Michonne rolled her eyes at her friends and then opened the box. She saw something that looked like her beloved cat sculpture, before seeing that there was a piece of paper. She took the note out, unfolded it and began to read.