#but if he's a good boy he can increase his allotment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mybeautifulchristianjourney · 1 year ago

Text

Devotional Hours Within the Bible by J.R. Miller

The Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30)

“Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey.”

The particular teaching of this parable is not the same as that of the parable of the virgins. That was the duty of preparation ; this is the duty of working using one’s powers and capacities. Every one of us has received a talent or talents, some portion of our Lord’s goods. The Master has gone away, leaving us to use whatever of His, He has entrusted to us until He returns. Then we shall have to give account to Him. It is not a voluntary matter with us, nor is it a matter of indifference, whether we will be Christ’s servants or not. Christ is the rightful Lord of every man. Declining to accept Him and to enter His service does not exempt anyone from the responsibility.

“Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them.” Perhaps we do not realize how entirely Christ has entrusted His affairs and His interests in this world, to His followers. This puts a serious responsibility on us. If the gospel is to get to men then we must proclaim it. If the work of the Church is to be done then we must do it. The only hands Christ has for work in this world are our hands. If the sorrowing are to receive comfort then we must give it. If the world is to see the beauty, the gentleness, the patience, the compassion, the helpfulness of God then we must be the interpreters of these Divine affections. Christ has delivered His goods to us.

We notice also that in the distribution of talents the same is not given to all. “To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability.” Each person received what he was able to care for. This principle is observed in all Divine endowments. No one has duties allotted to him, which he has not the ability to perform. Nothing impossible is ever asked of any person. Men differ in their ability to manage their Lord’s affairs, and the talents given into their hands vary accordingly. The merchant does not take the man with capacity only for lifting heavy bales and put him in the counting-room. When a woman wants a fine dress made, she does not give the costly materials to a washer woman, a hairdresser, or to a teacher of German or music but to a skillful dressmaker. Our Master gives each particular disciple, the duties he has ability to do. We need never say, therefore, that we cannot do the things that seem to be required of us. We can do whatever we are given by our Master to do. He makes no mistakes in the allotment of tasks.

The story then tells what the servants did with their share of their master’s goods. “The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more.” This man used faithfully what had been put into his hands, and the result was that it was doubled his five talents became ten. He used his gifts traded with them, and in the trading came the increase.

This is the Divine law in all life. God gives one a gift of music but it is only in its possibilities as yet. It must be cultivated, developed, disciplined, or it never will become of any practical value. Love must be exercised, if it is to grow. It is only a capacity at first. The same is true of all human powers, whether of body, mind or heart. The trouble with too many people, is that they are indolent and do nothing with their natural gifts, and then these gifts never increase. Talents that are exercised, put to work, traded with always multiply. “The hand of the diligent makes rich” (Proverbs 10:4). The boy who is so shy and diffident that he can scarcely speak a work in public, by using his small abilities, becomes a great orator, able to sway a vast multitude. The girl, whose voice is sweet but undeveloped, puts her talents to use, and by and by sings so as to thrill countless hearts.

The man with the two talents was faithful, too. “So also, the one with the two talents gained two more.” Not many of us would claim, that we have five talents. This is the distinction of only a few. And many of us would not be quite willing to say we have only one talent. That would seem to put us low in the scale. Perhaps, however, some of us would admit that we have about two talents. It is the great middle class that does most for the world.

It would not do for all to be great to be five-talented. If all the soldiers were fit for generals, who would make up the rank and file? If all Church members were eloquent preachers, who would do the countless little, quite services that need to be done? If all men and women were great poets, who would write the prose? There is need for far more common people than great brilliant ones. One Niagara is enough for a continent but there is need for thousands of little springs and rivulets. A few great men are enough for a generation but there is work for millions of common folks. So this diversity of gifts, is part of the Divine plan. The world needs more people of average ability, than it needs of the extraordinary sort, and so we are sure always of being in good company. Lincoln said God must love the common people, for He made so many of them. People who are very great must feel lonesome, for there are so very few of them.

In the case of this two - talented servant, as with that of the five-talented, it was diligent work that redeemed the mediocre man from the obscurity of the commonplace, and gave him distinction. Presently he had four talents. The practical lesson in all the parable, is the using of our gifts, that, if we really have only two talents, we should not vex ourselves but should go to work with what we have, and it will grow by and by into something worthy. William Dawson speaks in one of his sermons, of the commonness and pitiableness of “contented insignificance.”

The talents were not given to the servants; they were only committed to them to be used. Then there would be an accounting. “After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them.” There is an important suggestion in this “long time.” We are given plenty of time to make use of our talents. It takes time to learn to work well and to develop and train our faculties to their best. Even if we have buried our talents for a season, there is ample time to dig them up and try to put them to better use. We owe far more than we can tell, to God’s patience in waiting so long for us. But we must never forget that the Lord will come and we shall have to reckon with Him for whatever of His we have.

The character of the reward should be noticed. The successful man was not give a year’s vacation that he might take a long rest. He was not given an easier position where he would have less care and less work. The reward for doing his work well was more work! Because he had done well with the little that had been entrusted to him more was put into his hands. That is the way of honorable promotion among men not rest and luxury but a higher position with harder work, increased burden. “Joy” is promised, too, “the joy of your Lord,” the joy which comes of serving, of doing the Lord’s work. The deepest joy experienced in this world is the joy which comes of serving.

But one of the servants had failed to do his best with his talent. “Then the man who had received the one talent came.” The story of the one-talented man is pathetic, and yet it has its startling lesson. If only he, too, had been faithful, doing his best with his little gift he also would have multiplied his talent. Many who have done the most for the world had only one talent to begin with. The discovery that we have only one talent, never should discourage us. We should accept what we have, however small it may be, and set about making the most of it and doing the most with it. The last thing to do with our gift or ability is to despair about it and then hide it away.

The gifts that are not used are lost. “Take therefore the talent away from him.” In all life it is the same faculties unused are lost, become extinct. Natural eyes would lose the power of sight if one lived in darkness continually, and never used them. The eye that is never turned toward God, by and by loses even the power to look toward God. The capacity for believing, which never believes, at length ceases to be able to believe. “Capacity is extirpated by disuse .” The lesson comes with tremendous force to the young. If they will not use the abilities which God has bestowed upon them these powers will be taken away from them.

3 notes · View notes

kipixxx44 · 1 year ago

Text

entry 4

7/30

i had a breakdown last night i think, not a bad one but enough to make me upset with myself but i woke up and let it go and now it's not serious anymore. i relapsed

bligh and i are on the phone as i write this. he makes me nervous. not in the bad way. we aren't really platonic (or, good at keeping it that way) and i don't think we're really romantic either, it's like a secret third worse thing. a thing that makes me nervous. a thing that complicates things. he told me that every time he gets close to me i find a way to destroy him which is valid (and true?), i've been told i do that to people and things and situations but it sucks coming from someone you care about, someone you love. i love him in a complicated way. a way that makes me nervous. i don't want to be with him because it's not sustainable, or realistic, his family and my family wouldn't do well together, i wouldn't do well with him, i'm not where i need to be in order to give him what he needs. or deserves, i think is a better way to put it. plus, he's moving. but i don't want to string him along or love him for an allotted amount of time and then he leaves and both of us end up hurt. plus, shit with jj would get really, really messy. complicated. that, once again, makes me nervous.

bligh is probably one of the coolest people i've ever met, no joke. he understands me in a way that freaks me out but i think it's mutual. he's tall and strong and his eyes are pretty and his smile is stupid and it pisses me off in a way that i've found i'm, unsurprisingly, very attracted to. he's creative. that's one of my favorite things about him. he's gonna be an engineer, and a damn good one. he's never not thinking and he's always doing something. skating, photography, guitar, baking, he knows a lot about plants because of his mom, but he's also done just about everything under the sun at least once. like crocheting. he says he sucks at it though. if i had ten bucks for every hobby bligh has had or currently has, i would have, like, a fuck ton of weed money. i didn't mention that bligh is also my smoke buddy. and my sneaking out buddy. and the person i sit with on the bus every day. anything that involves me could also probably involve bligh, we're cool like that. we can just coexist and it's comfortable. "our spot" has been deemed at the elementary school playground on the platform that's the perfect size for both of us to sit without his legs bending weird. (i'm only like, 5'1 for reference--) he has pretty good music taste, i've made him like fifty something playlists (that is an exaggeration) but he only knows about three or four. also, i taught him how to kiss. it was after we made a really good batch of brownies and the red hot chili peppers song my mom slow danced to at her wedding was playing. i hadn't kissed a boy in years. i think about that (him) a lot

i went back to school shopping with my dad today and it sort of turned into a mall trip because he asked me if i wanted clothes. the only thing my father and i ever really bond over is obligation. we do what we gotta do, as he puts it. that, unfortunately, is also all we do. he doesn't get my interests and hobbies and vice versa, we don't agree on most "intellectual conversation topics" so anything deep that could be discussed can and will, without fail, become an argument of some variation because i'm always too sensitive and he's never sensitive enough. so i grasp what i can, which translates into, if we go grocery shopping i can be in your company and you can be in mine and we will just be. and that's nice, i like just being. we haven't gone grocery shopping in a few weeks

i did see joey, though, which was cool. we talked about work and how we're really doing under everything, (he is, as always, "on the verge" and i am over it.) we also talked lots of hypotheticals. how many twelve year olds could we take on in a fight? how much does that number increase if we are armed with a metal bat? you know that big brother thing where they come up to you completely wordlessly, throw punches that would 100% hit you full force if you moved at all and then walk away after almost but not really beating you up? he did that a lot too. i don't see him often anymore but i like that we still have a sibling connection. he gives me really good advice on everything except kaz. that's another thing we talked about. every time the topic is brought up he just says she's a bitch and that he never went through what i did so he can't offer anything i haven't probably already heard. which is fine. i don't expect him to know what to say. kaz flew back in today so now i've fallen back into that weird thing i do where i have anxiety attacks before i go anywhere except therapy and to the park, with bligh

i don't have much else to write about right now so i'm going to cap this here and pick up tomorrow, probably

thanks :)

0 notes

textsfromthefifthbasement · 3 years ago

Text

Hi, everyone! Here’s the oneshot I wrote for day 1 of Queer Week!

On AO3

Old Friend

Nadir was beginning to think he had made a grave mistake in coming here. The ground shook from gunfire, and barricades blocked his way through the city. There was really nothing else to do aside from hide in an empty building and wait for the turmoil to die down.

A part of him thought it was ironic. Back in Mazandaran, he had thought to himself many a time that death followed wherever Erik led. Here he was years later, still chasing after Erik and running into death and destruction.

Sometimes, in his darkest nights, he wondered if it was all his fault. That morning in Nizhny Novgorod when he had convinced Erik, barely out of his teens, to come to Persia, he had been so hopeful that he was offering him a better life than he could know in Europe. And despite his best intentions, Erik had taken even more power for himself by the shedding of blood and the suffering of others. Sometimes, Nadir wondered if he should have known back then what would have happened, if there was some sign he had missed that would have spared all of their souls…

But Allah help him, he couldn’t hate Erik. Far from it, in fact.

He startled as the door to the building burst open. He tried to sink further into the dark corner he was trying to hide in. Then, he saw the red scarf of the National Guard.

The communard noticed him and raised his rifle towards him. “Who are you, and why are you here?” He shoved the barrel into Nadir’s chest. “You were trying to steal my gunpowder, weren’t you?”

Nadir said, “Please, I’m just passing through. I have no quarrel with you.”

The communard stilled for only a moment before moving to pull back the hammer. Just as Nadir was convinced he was going to die unknown in that ruined building, a red cord wrapped around the communard’s neck. His rifle fell to the ground as he clawed at the Punjab lasso, but it was already too late, he was as good as dead. Nadir felt no joy in watching it, only relief and regret that everything had to go this way.

The life drained quickly out of the communard’s eyes, and then his body fell to the ground like a deadweight, revealing the tall, masked figure behind him. Nadir scrambled to his feet. “Erik?” he said.

Before his old friend could respond, Nadir pulled him into an embrace. “I’ve missed you, old friend.”

Erik’s arms hung limply at his side for a few moments before he stiffly returned the hug. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Nadir pulled away and studied Erik for a moment. Had it really been ten years since the night he had sent Erik away instead of following the shah’s orders to execute him? Erik hardly had seemed to change.

In fact, very few things seemed to have changed over the past ten years, save, of course, the increased number of gray hairs on Nadirs head and the night terrors that sometimes plagued him of the shah’s prison. As he looked at Erik, he still saw the contradiction of the man who had simultaneously invented torture chambers for the shah while comforting Nadir’s son in his final days.

He loved him.

Nadir wondered what that said about him, that he would love a man that abhorrent for his actions alone, never mind the gaping hole in his face where his nose should have been.

Erik pulled away from him. “I need to find the gunpowder.”

Nadir said, “Wait, why do you need gunpowder?”

“I built myself a house beneath the new opera house. I wish to ensure that no one will ever bother me again.”

“Not even me?”

Erik seemed to falter for a moment. “Society has done nothing but use me up for whatever I can give and then throw me away like trash. I wish to have nothing more to do with any of it.”

“Was all of it that distasteful? Even those evenings we ate dinner together before…” Nadir swallowed back his grief at the thought of Reza, the poor boy. He had deserved so much more life than what was allotted to him.

Finally, Erik said quietly, “You could have come with me.”

“I gave you enough time to get away before the Shah’s men got suspicious…”

“But you could have.” Erik held up a hand. “I understand why…”

Nadir wasn’t quite sure what came over him, whether Allah granted him a sudden burst of boldness, or if he was acting on pure desperation, but he reached up and kissed Erik on his thin, barely-exposed lips. “I’m sorry, I failed you,” Nadir said.

Erik finally buried his masked face into Nadir’s shoulder. “Please don’t leave. Can you stay?”

And Nadir did.

#poto queer week 2022 #phantom of the opera #pharoga #erik #nadir khan #lgbtq+#gay #fanfiction #my fanfic

25 notes · View notes

shegairowmyamo · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere Turbo x Reader headcanons

ok so im done waiting to try and get a second tumblr account so i'm just gonna post it heer and bicehouse i know that there are gonna be those who are STARVING for content like this and i'm one of those so i decided to make it myself. I'm dipping my toes in the diper end of the pool now but you know, baby steps. Besides, I'm thinking of doing more things like this but this has all been for fun but i will warn you that i'm not used to writing a lot of lovey dovey stuff. I hope you enjoy it.

If you're sly enough maybe you can get this guy rapt around your finger but believe me or not, Turbo is smart but his jealousy can get the best of him. If the backstory that Felix told Calhoun told us anything is that Turbo will do anything to get rid of computision, so who isn't to say that he would go at the same lengths for you too.

He doesn't trust you with ALLOT of the residents of the arcade, some of the onley few is Felix and “maybe” the Twins™ and perhaps even Tapper for whatever reason.

If he ever sees you talking to another person he will 1. Assume that the one who is talking to you was the one to start the conversation: and hopefully 2. Try and restrain his obvious jealousy and rage with a strained smile and and not going all out yelling at the purson: 3. “Calmly” walk up to the heathen who dares come close to his prize possession. Now this is fun and all to imagine but what if the heathen was hitting on you… In which this bitches jealousy will go true the roof and all logic goes out the window he will go in, engines roaring his car to life (idk how cars work but this sounds cool) as he sweeps in.

Oh you could smell the burning hot jealousy from a mile away, and now that i think about it… It smells like burnt rubber… Basically what i'm getting at here is that Turbo would totally run this jackass over. He will receive a death glare everytime Turbo sees the ass hat. Menttoly declaring him as a threat and putting him on his bucket list of games to unplug.

The aftermath of all this would either be just him having an arm around your waist for the rest of the night and when someone comes too close for his liking He will pull you closer to him “for protection” as he puts it. Or you would have to go into one of your games and calm him down because Turbo is having a full blown attack of some kind. He's repeating words and sometimes sentences, he's holding you close while his vision is blurry from the amount of rage he feels. Being mad at that no good loser for daring getting close to you yada yada. He demands and expects to be cuddled and kissed while being told how great he is and how you're never leaving him.

This (gremlin) man would unplugged any game for you even if its just “because that character was mean to me :(“ and he will be like (idk how to write a character with a lisp) “don't worry babe you don't need to worry about that asshole for mutch long” cue evil laughter. But as silly as that sounded we both know his intention, and they are far from silly.

Turbo sometimes has a hard time hiding the 8-bit hearts that pop out of into the air surrounding him and in his eyes, especially the time he realized he was “in love” with you. And then it turned into an obsession and became overly possessive over you. He will do like that thing where he will just ask for a hug out of nower to get your attention and out of your line of sight he will stare down the person you were talking to. It is creapy as fuck but also cinda hot.. I mean like yah having someone wanting to be with you 24/7 can sound kinda exhausting but the image of him being so protective over someone just makes me swoon you know what i mean.

The first person you're going to see when you exit your game is obviously Turbo, he will be just casually leaning on a wall asking what took you so long in a playful manner. And then he will casually just ask you if you want to go to Tappers or some other game to hangout in while ignoring any protest or excuses that you tell him. But don't be fooled by his careless demeanor because he will store those little protests in a jar of grudges.

If i had to guess this man's love languages it would be words of affirmation and his close second being receiving gifts. So inflating his ego might not be such a bad thing on your part. But on everybody else's “whistle”. If anything it would help you survive this guy from anything getting out of hand if you were to refuse him too many times. One day right after closing time he will insist that you must be so tired and that you should hang out in his game for the night but after you both get there and Turbo make sure that there are no witnesses he will knock your lights out. And even if there were witnesses it would probably be just one or both of the twins. But they both have noticed the change in Turbo and his increased aggressive behavior and they didn't wanna get involved so they both agreed to keep quiet. Man it seems that everyone in Turbo Time is a selfish git.

The absence of you in your game forste Litwick to unplug it for good which makes your home just a memory of the retro past. Turbo with a sinisterly joyful smile on his face watches as your expresion turns even more sorrowful and helpless when he tells you the news. The twins have this sinking feeling ever since the day they saw you get kidnapped and after your game got unplugged it got even worse but it made them more determined to beat Turbo in the races they have as their own revenge. But a part of them feared that all that anger was gonna get taken out on you and it was confirmed one specific day when Turbo went to mod knows where and came back a few hours later with blood on his knuckles. After that they backed down with the whole winning thing a little just for your sake.

One day tho one of the twins were looking for something when he heard heavy breathing coming from one of the places in Turbo Time that he usually didn't go to, whoever was there heard him and abruptly stopped. It encuregd him to wallck kloser to the noise and when he did, oh boi. The piercing eyes of a tied up purson (aka you) stared at him in disbelief and fear. Thinking at first that they were Turbo but when you realized that it was one of the twins your eyes soon changed to desporation. Releasing now what the twin had stumbled upon he quickly retreated, the desporet cry and anguished scream for his help still haunt him especially those eyes. What did Turbo do to you…

Turbo at this point only sees you as an object, his prize possession but he would never harm you at least not physically. He wants to keep his winners cup spotless, that includes any dents or bruises. And the bloody knuckles are just from him punching the wall right beside your head to scare you and to get his point across if it wasn't obvious from the start.

#wir headcanon #turbo x reader #yandere turbo #yandere #yandere x reader #wir turbo #my writing #yandere wir turbo #yandere turbo x reader #wir

65 notes · View notes

sincerelystranger · 4 years ago

Text

Author: LXC thirsting after NMJ while they’re students together. Inspired by the fact that one of the Gusu rules is that you’re only allowed to eat 3 bowls of rice per meal? I just felt like NMJ is a very big boy and he’d probably need a little more than that.

---

Nie Mingjue is tall, and broad, and handsome. He’s strong enough to wield his huge saber in one hand, he eats all three allotted bowls of rice at every meal, and Lan Xichen can’t stop noticing him.

Nie-gongzi is the only non-Lan Sect student this year at Cloud Recesses, and he – he’s perfect. He never dozes off, he always listens intently, and the only thing he seems to have any interest in other than eating, is practicing his saber. Uncle is in love with him and Lan Xichen just can’t stop noticing him.

“Lan-gongzi!” Nie-gongzi calls, stopping Lan Xichen as he’s walking towards the dining hall. Nie-gongzi has his saber in his hand, and strands of hair are sticking to his sweat-damp forehead, and he’s backlit by the setting sun, and he looks… magnificent. Something about it makes Lan Xichen’s palms tingle. “Are you headed to the dining hall?” Nie-gongzi asks, putting his saber away.

“Yes,” Lan Xichen nods, trying not to stare too intently at the bead of sweat that’s making its way down Nie-gongzi’s neck.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Nie-gongzi asks seriously. He’s always serious – always. It scares a lot of the other students, but Lan Xichen can’t help but find it kind of… charming.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Lan Xichen smiles.

They walk together to the dining hall, Lan Xichen trying valiantly not to be too aware of their closeness – of the heat that Nie-gongzi is radiating. They’re just two students walking to the dining hall, he tells himself. Two normal students. Yep.

“Are you enjoying your studies at Cloud Recesses?” Lan Xichen asks, attempting normal, polite conversation.

“Yes,” Nie-gongzi nods, “Everything is a little more… flowery than I am used to, but my father speaks very highly of your uncle and his teaching abilities, so I’m trying to learn the best I can.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen smiles, “My uncle speaks very highly of you as well. I’m sure your father will receive a good report from him.”

“Good reports on everything except my calligraphy, I assume,” Nie-gongzi replies, “But I’ve never had a talent for the arts, so I’m sure that will be no surprise to my father.”

Lan Xichen wants to tell him that the way he wields his saber is so beautiful that it takes Lan Xichen’s breath away. Wants to tell him that he’s never seen anything more artistic than the way Nie-gongzi walks – his back straight, his strides long and purposeful. Wants to tell him that his heart stops every time Nie-gongzi walks towards him.

But that sound a bit… much… even in his own head. So instead, he says, “I’ve seen your calligraphy, I’m sure your marks will be adequate.”

Nie-gongzi laughs at that, throwing his head back in mirth.

His neck is thick and corded, his brows stay furrowed even in laughter, and Lan Xichen can’t take his eyes off of him.

“Adequate, you say, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi chuckles, “I may not have an eye for the arts, but even I know that your calligraphy is perfect. My own chicken scratch must be far from adequate in the eyes of the grandmaster who is used to reading your perfect writing.”

Lan Xichen can feel his ears redden at Nie-gongzi’s words. “You’re too complimentary of my skills, Nie-gongzi,” he says, his face tilted towards the ground.

A heavy hand pats him on his shoulder, shocking him out of his embarrassment. “I’m not one for false modesty or empty praise, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi says, and there’s something warm in his voice, “but thank you for your words of consolation.” He takes his hand off of Lan Xichen’s shoulder, and his shoulder burns where Nie-gongzi’s hand had been.

Lan Xichen feels a bit chided then – a bit chided and a little bit found out.

They enter the dining hall together and take their seats. Lan Xichen sits next to Nie-gongzi and watches him clean his table… again… and again. Nie-gongzi finishes all three allotted bowls before Lan Xichen can finish his one.

Watching Nie-gongzi eat tickles something in Lan Xichen’s brain. It makes him wonder if even three bowls are enough. Nie-gongzi is… large, and he practices his saber so often. He must be… hungry.

He quickly finishes his food and walks quickly to catch up to Nie-gongzi. “Nie-gongzi,” he says, definitely not out of breath because he definitely did not run.

Nie-gongzi turns towards him, and suddenly Lan Xichen feels embarrassed to even ask.

“Yes, Lan-gongzi?” Nie-gongzi asks after a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen coughs, “I was… just wondering if you found the food in Cloud Recesses acceptable.”

Nie-gongzi’s brows furrow even deeper at Lan Xichen’s question. “I’m not a picky eater,” he says slowly, “but it is a wonder how the Gusu Lan Sect produces so many great cultivators on such little food.”

Aha, Lan Xichen thinks to himself. He knew it! Even three bowls was too little for Nie-gongzi.

“After indoctrination is over, you should come to Qinghe,” Nie-gongzi continues, “I’ll feed you more meat than you’ve ever eaten in your life – none of this rabbit food.”

Lan Xichen feels a zing of pleasure go through him at Nie-gongzi’s invitation. “I hear Qinghe is famous for their boar dishes,” he says quietly, trying not to sound too pleased.

“Yes, our boar is quite good,” Nie-gongzi says, almost whistfully, “I caught the largest boar last season. If you come visit us, I promise you I’ll catch an even larger one.”

There is no pride in his voice, Lan Xichen realizes. Nie-gongzi isn’t bragging, isn’t giving out a false promise. He will catch the largest boar for Lan Xichen – it’s a fact. It hits Lan Xichen like an arrow to the heart. It makes his palms tingle hot and cold. He wants to touch. He feels greedy all of a sudden, desire like he’s never felt pooling in the bottom of his stomach.

“I will look forward to it,” Lan Xichen says with a calm he doesn’t feel. Look at me, he thinks desperately, wanting those serious eyes on him for some reason. Look at me. Look at me.

Nie-gongzi looks down at him and Lan Xichen’s breath stops in his throat.

“Good,” Nie-gongzi says easily, ignorant of the effect he’s having on Lan Xichen. “Now, if you do not have any other questions for me, I will take my leave first. I want to get in a little more practice before bed.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen breathes out, bowing.

He watches Nie-gongzi leave towards the practice field. Watches the swing of his hair, the broadness of his shoulders, the length of his steps.

He feels unmoored.

He’s never felt like this before.

He stands there stupidly for a little while longer, staring towards where Nie-gongzi disappeared off to. The sun is already set. He should really go back to his room and meditate a little while before washing up and going to bed. Maybe even visit Wangji. Maybe practice his calligraphy a little more so it stays perfect in the eyes of Nie-gongzi.

That’s what he should do…

But before he knows it, he’s in Caiyi buying a dozen meat buns.

He holds them close to his chest as he runs back up to Cloud Recesses. It’s quite difficult, trying to keep an even stride so the buns aren’t damaged and also trying to run fast enough so that he can get back into Cloud Recesses in time.

He catches Nie-gongzi as he’s walking out of the practice field.

“Nie-gongzi!” he calls out – his voice definitely too loud. He’d be in trouble if uncle heard.

Nie-gongzi almost seems startled to see him. “Lan-gongzi,” he bows, “did you forget something?”

Lan Xichen basically throws the parcel of meat buns at Nie-gongzi. “No,” he says, shaking his head. Embarrassment threatens to devour him whole. “For you… Meat buns…” he says intelligently.

Nie-gongzi looks down at the parcel in his hands and opens it. He looks back at Lan Xichen in surprise. “You got these for me?” he asks, his brows rising from their furrow just a tiny bit. He looks so endearing then that Lan Xichen’s heart threatens to burst.

“Yes,” he nods, willing his cheeks not to burn. “I will speak to uncle about allowing you increased portions at meal times – I know you must have been hungry all this while.” He bows then and turns to leave, embarrassment making him unable to meet Nie-gongzi’s eyes.

A heavy hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

Lan Xichen turns in surprise. Nie-gongzi takes his hand and drags him away. Lan Xichen is too shocked by Nie-gongzi holding his hand in his that he doesn’t realize where he’s been dragged off to until he’s already sat next to Nie-gongzi in a dark corner next to the equipment shack.

“Here,” Nie-gongzi says, handing Lan Xichen a meat bun. Nie-gongzi takes one out for himself and stuffs half of it in one go. Lan Xichen watches him chew, mesmerized by the way the oil in the bun makes Nie-gongzi’s lips shine, and takes a careful bite of the meat bun in his hand. It’s still warm – thank god – and it’s good. He hopes Nie-gongzi thinks it’s good as well.

“Is it to your liking, Nie-gongzi?” he asks, trying not to stare too blatantly.

“Hmn,” Nie-gongzi nods, grabbing another meat bun from the parcel. “Feels like it’s been forever since I last had some meat. Thank you for this, Lan-gongzi.”

“No need for thanks,” Lan Xichen says, watching how the meat buns disappear in Nie-gongzi’s mouth like magic. Nie-gongzi looks the happiest he’s ever seen him. All that running and embarrassment was worth it to see this face.

Nie-gongzi gives Lan Xichen a wry smile. “Was my hunger obvious?” he asks.

“No, not at all,” Lan Xichen answers, “It’s just… you eat all three bowls of rice at every meal… and well, you’re the largest disciple at Cloud Recesses… I just… assumed.”

Nie-gongzi laughs at that. Throws his head back again, let’s Lan Xichen see that long neck stretch. Mortifyingly, Lan Xichen wants to know what Nie-gongzi’s neck tastes like. Wants to lick a line from his collar bone to his jaw.

“You assumed correct,” Nie-gongzi says, smiling at him. Lan Xichen’s heart is beating faster than it was after the run up to Cloud Recesses. Nie-gongzi reaches out and pats Lan Xichen on the head. “You’re very observant, Lan-gongzi. Very observant and very kind.”

Don’t pat my head, Lan Xichen wants to tell him. Don’t treat me like a little brother. I didn’t do this to be kind.

“When you come to Qinghe, you’ll meet my little brother. He’s observant too, and kind,” Nie-gongzi says, taking out another meat bun. Nie-gongzi will probably finish the other eleven meat buns before Lan Xichen finishes his one.

“How old is your little brother?” Lan Xichen asks. Actually, he doesn’t want to be compared to Nie-gongzi’s little brother. Everyone else always says that Lan Xichen seems so grown up – why is Nie-gongzi treating him like he’s a child?

“He’s 6,” Nie-gongzi answers, polishing off another meat bun.

“My little brother is 7,” Lan Xichen says. This is probably the longest conversation he’s ever had with Nie-gongzi. He finds that he likes the sound of his voice. Likes the way his mouth moves as he speaks. He doesn’t like being compared to a 6-year-old, but he’ll take whatever he can if he can listen to Nie-gongzi speak a little longer. “Your little brother might already be bigger than Wangji, though, if he is like you.”

“No, no,” Nie-gongzi says, shaking his head, “Huisang is very different from me. He’ll probably be smaller than even my father. But I’m sure his calligraphy will be better than mine.” There’s something fond about the way Nie-gongzi speaks about his brother. Lan Xichen can tell that he loves his little brother very much. He can understand that, he thinks, thinking of Wangji.

There was something undeniably cute about little brothers.

Does Nie-gongzi think Lan Xichen is cute, he wonders?

Nie-gongzi finishes the rest of the meat buns and waits for Lan Xichen to finish his. It is torture to try to eat normally with Nie-gongzi’s eyes on him. Suddenly the act of chewing even seems unnatural. Lan Xichen is hyper aware of his every movement. Of his proximity to Nie-gongzi.

“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Nie-gongzi asks worriedly, smashing the empty parcel easily between his hands.

“No,” Lan Xichen lies (how many rules has he broken so far?). “But if it’s alright with you, could I walk you back to your quarters, Nie-gongzi?” He doesn’t want any of the disciples on watch to give Nie-gongzi any trouble. They’ll most likely, steer clear if they see Lan Xichen with him.

Nie-gongzi’s brows furrow as if they find Lan Xichen’s request strange, but he nods, “that’s fine with me.”

They walk together, Lan Xichen trying not to be too aware of the heat that radiates off of Nie-gongzi. He bows his goodbye when they reach Nie-gongzi’s quarters.

Nie-gongzi bows back and pats Lan Xichen on the shoulder as he straightens. “Thank you again for your care, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi says, gifting Lan Xichen with another small smile.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lan Xichen says honestly – probably too honestly.

Lan Xichen almost skips back to his room. His uncle will be upset with him, he’s sure. He’s missed bedtime by at least half an hour now, but he can’t find it in himself to regret anything. He’d run to Caiyi every night if he could have this secret meeting with Nie-gongzi.

10 years later, when he watches Wangji break the rules for the first time – fighting with other disciples, purchasing liquor, missing bedtime – he’s reminded of himself from 10 years ago. Wanting and confused and unable to help himself. The anger is new, though. Wangji is angry for some reason...

He hopes Wei-gongzi will treat Wangji as kindly as da-gei treated Lan Xichen.

10 years later, Nie-gongzi is now da-ge, but he’s still tall, and broad, and handsome, and Lan Xichen still can’t stop noticing him.

#the untamed #mdzs #nielan #nie mingjue #lan xichen #my fic

473 notes · View notes

sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

Text

Just Us (Chapter Ten: Request)

← Chapter Nine

“We only have a bag of flour to give you this time.” He handed me a bag smaller than any ones they had before. I knew this might be the last time they would give me anything for my bread, so I took it without any word, but not without a nasty look. The cloth tied around my mouth hid my frown from him as I looked down at the small bag that even had a hole in it. This wasn’t going to make more than twenty loaves and I knew I was quickly running out of my own supply. I had tried to use my extra money to stock up as harvest came, but the price of wheat flour was so ridiculous, only the government could afford it. They bought most of the stock themselves and were hiding it. This small bag of flour was probably scooped out of a big box as they laughed in tricking me.

I walked out the doors of the stock yard, pausing as the soldiers carried out another covered body on the stretcher. I wondered if I could recognize the person if they showed me their face. I had started giving the people my own names and using the interactions I had with them to guess their positions in Shiganshina. Some refugees were nice and would have a conversation with me while I ate my allotted rations on the edge of the stage they set up. It was a precaution so the refugees couldn’t run and push over the food stand like they had done a few months previous. It happened on my day off, so I wasn’t there to see it happen, but the next day, a stage had already been built with stairs that forced them into single file lines. If they pushed each other, the Garrison now had an above view to punish and hit those who forced themselves in line.

I had conversations with some children and taught them a hand game from my youth to pass the time. Some of their parents would talk to me too, if they were young, and ask about the situation outside of the stockyard. Since violence had increased outside the barracks, they easily found a scapegoat and restricted the refugees to only the stockyard. It had no effect on the violence, but it seems the citizens of Trost found comfort in having someone to blame for the slow downfall of humanity.

The trio never talked to me. Their grandfather always greeted me with a smile in line and I would give him the four loaves of bread for the children. The boy, Eren Jaeger, would get into fights with the guards more and more, but he would always be pushed to the ground or saved by the girl. It reminded me so much of myself. Was he getting beat up because it was something to do? Maybe it was the only thing that would make him feel something throughout the day. I desperately wanted to approach them and talk to them, but I never was able too. As soon as I would spot them, they’d disappear to some place in the stockyard and the smaller children would crowd around me to play the “clapping game” as they called it.

Everyday I walked home alone, knife gripped in my pocket, I thought of what I would say to Eren Jaeger if he ever was thrown on my doorstep. He probably wouldn’t care for the pity of an older woman who had no relation to him. He also probably wouldn’t care about my time in the Underground and how I thought he acted like I did. I had made a game plan and everyday would go over it and tweak some parts. I’d have the trio help me make bread, talking to them about anything. Slowly, I’d tell them I was an orphan and maybe find some relation with them. The only adult figure around them seemed to be the grandfather and that made me wary because of the situation they came from. Their parents were no doubt killed by titans.

I took the cloth off of my mouth as I got far enough away from the stockyard and took a deep breath of the slowly freezing air. It was going to get cold again, but the farmers had predicted a nicer winter than last year. We’d be lucky to get any snow this time, but it was better because they could chance growing more late winter crops. I decided that for the end of the year, I might as well open my shop and keep the tradition of year-end and winter pastries, hoping people would buy even without the fresh fruit. Another motivation is that some of my supplies were going to go bad and I didn’t want to lose more money than I had already. People like something sweet when they’re going through a bad time, so I’d hope they’d want my sweets.

“Eva! Eva! Eva!” I looked up and saw Elias running towards me, paper in hand. He had a growth spurt over the summer and fall months, and now he was almost to my chin. His hair was also much too long, but he wouldn’t let me cut it because apparently the other boys at school also had hair like his. During summer and current late fall, I had taken them in pretty much everyday, commissioning them to make bread with me and giving them a few slices. Since Wall Maria had fallen, their parents had gone a bit crazy and so had a lot of other people in Trost. The Order of the Walls had grown into a huge following and not just a tiny cult anymore. They were going to build a church soon in the city square and the kid’s father was too busy with that to care for the proper needs of his children. I mended their clothes, helped them with homework, and even let them sleep on my couch when they got a little too full after dinner. Their parents didn’t even notice their absence when I brought them back home.

“Yes, Elias?” He pushed a piece of paper into my hands and I saw the hundred percent he had gotten on the spelling test we had worked on together. I was awful at spelling, but I knew enough to help him. We would use flour, spread out on the table, to practice spelling words. This past list was increasingly difficult and I had to even look at it again a few times.

“I got a perfect score on the spelling test!” his smile beamed up at me and made me stop thinking about the year-end and the refugees for a few seconds.

“I’m proud of you Elias. You practiced hard for this.” He started following me back to the café and I knew he probably would want to come in and do his homework on Levi’s table. It was funny that Elias had such an unconscious affinity for him. His favorite toy was still the horse, he would sit at his table and do homework, and he started drinking tea because I refused him coffee. When Elias sat at the table doing his homework, it helped to fill the void that was left.

Levi hadn’t returned in four months, almost five this coming Monday. The only thing I had was the button down and two letters he had sent before his work consumed him. I was waiting on a reply from a letter I had sent maybe three months ago. I knew that he was still alive and right outside of Trost, but only cadets would come in and out for refugee security. Everyday, I would hear them open the gates a six and I would open the window of my apartment, hoping to see him on his horse. I’ve probably watched the Scout cadets come into Trost so much, they must know my face by now.

I missed him.

Elias grabbed my hand unconsciously as we walked and broke me out of my thoughts for a second time. It seemed that there were three reasons I woke up everyday. The refugees, the kids, and the Scouts. It’s good that I had things to live for now.

“Can I do my schoolwork in your café, Eva? There’s a lot of people over at Daddy’s house today and June’s at the bookstore.” June had recently got an apprenticeship at the book binder’s shop as he had no sons to pass it down to. I had given him the recommendation and once he saw the knowledge June had about books, he accepted her in. She was mostly selling books to people, proving her worth to the book binder, before she got to learn the secrets. Sometimes she would bring back broken books he had given her and think of the ways she would fix it. I was surprised at how close she actually was in her guesses. However, her new job had left Elias to fend for himself and grow up now without his sister at his side. He would play with friends, but once they had to go home, he was by himself. I was happy to indulge him in anything he wanted to do since I was alone too. We’d be lonely together.

“Of course, Elias. We can go pick up June when she’s finished too.” That was good enough for him and he ran ahead, turning right out of the alleyway to get to the door of the café. I wonder who would fill my days once Elias was old enough to gain an apprenticeship. Jonas would be off somewhere delivering, the kids would be gone, and Levi would be on some expedition. Maybe I’ll get a cat.

“E-Eva?” I turned the corner and stopped walking to survey the scene. My stomach instantly dropped and I felt like I wanted to throw up. Why were these two here? Elias looked up and the tall, blonde man, instantly recognizing him. Their faces didn’t seem distressed and they were just leaning against the wall of the café, horses tied to the wooden posts. He can’t be gone, I would have felt it.

“Miss Evylnn Flynn?” He was the first to speak up and Hange kicked herself off the wall, wagging her finger at me.

“I knew you were lying to me! Both of you!” They weren’t sad or upset. He had to be fine, but why were they here and not him? I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed to not see him behind Erwin’s shadow.

“Miss Flynn, we would like to have a word with you in private?” Erwin gestured to the door of the café and I swallowed hard. Was I in trouble? Why is the Commander here to talk to me in private?

“Elias, you can go up to my apartment and do your school work on my desk. I’ll come up and get you when I’m done talking to the Commander.” Elias looked back at me, his eyes whimsical. He was pretty much meeting his hero and I was pushing him away from it. Erwin looked down at the boy and smiled. To pay him for listening, I’d ask Erwin to talk to Elias. If he had time to come and talk to me personally, he could spend five more minutes to entertain Elias.

“Can you do that for us, Elias? I promise it won’t take too long.” He nodded rapidly and Erwin reached down to fluff his hair. As soon as he was done, Elias ran up the stairs to my apartment, shutting the door with a slam. I’d have yelled at him if I wasn’t in this situation. My heart was speeding up and, if they could, my palms would be sweating.

“Miss Flynn?” Erwin turned and gestured to the café door again. I nodded once and walked over, unlocking the door and leading them both in. What could they want? My mind was running through a hundred scenarios. Most of them ended with something happening to Levi. The other popular answer was that I was somehow in trouble.

Once the door closed behind me, I got the nerve to turn around and smile at them. Hange’s presence made me slightly more comfortable, but this was the first time I had met Erwin. His energy was completely overwhelming and even if he looked nice, you could tell the amount of power he had. It was like the positive version of Levi.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” I whipped my hands on my jacket, looking to the floor.

“Do you have any juice? I’m so thirsty, I barely had time for lunch!” I smiled a bit at Hange and walked over to the icebox I had. The only consumers of the juice were Elias and June, so it was nice to give it to someone else.

“C-Commander?” I asked, silently cursing at my stutter. How was he more intimidating to me than Levi had ever been? He smiled at me and nodded before sitting down at the center table. I picked out another glass bottle and took one for myself. Hopefully they liked orange.

They both were just staring at me, waiting for me to come and join them. I handed them the juice and paused for a few seconds before sitting down. They both seemed so relaxed and I was exactly the opposite. My hands were fidgeting under the table and I dare not look at Erwin. Levi would probably yell at me for how shy and weak I seemed to them. Hange even downed her juice and let out a big ‘ah’ as she slammed it down on the table while we sat there. Only then, I realized the thin film of dust on the table. If Levi found out I sat his Commander on a dirty table, it would be over for me.

“Miss Flynn-”

“Eva. You can call me Eva. If we’re going to be seeing each other multiple times, it’s better to be one first name basis.” He smiled a bit, probably to calm me down, and continued.

“Well, Eva… I don’t know how to begin this conversation, but I believe I can start by asking you what your relationship with Captain Levi is?” I blinked and looked at Hange. She was leaning forward, smiling at me, expectant at my answer. Had they found out? Was there a reason Levi might have told them about us? What if there’s only suspicion and I’m the one who outs us because I wasn’t careful? Was Erwin trying to intimidate me off of a hunch Hange had?

“Why are you asking?” I wasn’t going to give them a straight answer. Erwin smiled a bit, a genuine one this time, and put one hand up.

“We have no ill will with the conversation. Both Hange and I are just curious about the situation our Captain may be in. The way you answer, however, might lead to some concerns.” Well, that makes me not want to answer your question, Commander. I took a sip of my juice before sitting up straight again. If we were to have this conversation, it would have to seem like I was being truthful. My hands were still shaking as I sat them on my lap.

“What has the Captain said?” Hange almost jumped out of her chair.

“Barely anything! I’m aching to know how Levi is when he’s with you! Is he a cuddler? Does he know nothing about relationships?” My eyes widened at her answer and it made me believe that he had to have said something to them. But, why? Did they back him into a corner?

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the Captain and I are only friends. I haven’t seen him in over four months since I closed my café.” Hange leaned back in her chair and laughed crazily. I was starting to see what Levi meant.

“I appreciate the loyalty you have to Levi’s and your private life, however, he has already informed us of you two’s relationship. We are only finding time now to come and visit, but we’ve known for a month.” I choked on my juice at Erwin’s words and wiped my mouth, swallowing hard.

“He… did?” It was squeak and that got Hange laughing even more. So, how did they know if they were being truthful? Erwin nodded and handed me a handkerchief from his coat pocket. I thanked him and wiped the leftover juice off my hands.

“He believed it best that, as the Commander, that I know about your existence for various reasons. Hange also happened to be in the room because she is the only person who has officially met you and vogue for your personality. I had no idea about your visit to the Scout Headquarters until yesterday and that is a security risk.” I nodded and tried to calm down my racing heart. It was… interesting to finally have someone know about our relationship. Especially the Commander of the Scout’s. It was also concerning that the one who gossips the most in the Scouts also holds that information. Levi had told me how Hange revealed weekly who was having sex with who during boring meetings.

“May I ask, what were his reasonings?”

“As Commander of the Scout Regiment, I am the first line of defense for my soldiers. I pledge to protect them as best I can within our job description. This pledge of protection goes to their families and loved ones as well. I believe it to be Captain Levi’s intention that you are also under this hedge of protection concerning this period of political and societal unrest we are currently experiencing. He told us about a recent mishap you had with the refugees in Trost.”

“Oh, yes, that makes sense.” He shifted in his chair and pulled out an envelope from his jacket.

“Another reason is that I have personal services that deliver mail much faster than the average carrier and much more secretive as well. Currently, the Scout’s are being monitored for reasons I cannot reveal to you. He believes, and I concur, that if your existence is publicized to the government, you could be used as bait or a bargaining chip. Some in the government are not happy with Captain Levi’s placement and rank in the Scouts and the repercussions of his past come back to haunt him. If not now, sometime in the future.” I took the envelope off the table and recognized Levi’s wispy handwriting. A response to my letter. This made my heart sing with joy. He hadn’t forgotten to write back, but he was pushed in a difficult situation that didn’t allow him to. I shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Did the monitoring begin around three months ago?” He nodded and I noticed Hange was looking between be and the letter. She’s very curious about Levi’s private life, and I couldn’t blame her. I had been that interested in him as soon as he walked into my café.

“There is information that the Scout’s have been given that can be perceived as a huge security threat if society gets wind of it. I also agree with the government’s judgement on that and am trying my best to limit security breaches in the Scouts.” That’s when the real reason they were here hit me. It wasn’t to deliver a letter and oogle at our relationship. I was a security threat to them. I was in trouble. My mind went back to the night Levi and I had before he left. Had he told them about that too? How much has he said?

“I see. That is why you came here today, I assume.” I looked him right in the eyes and he didn’t seem to have any anger in them. I remembered Levi and I’s conversation about Erwin. I wasn’t going to know at all what he was thinking until he specifically told me.

“I have known Levi enough to build trust with him. I trust him with information that is top secret and dangerous for society. If certain things get out, it could cause riots and more civil unrest as the expense of the Scouts. Levi has told me that you support the Scout’s endeavors the most out of any branch of the military. I hope that the support you have for us also translates into loyalty.” He didn’t blink, waiting for my response.

“He hasn’t told me anything of that nature, Commander. The only thing he has told me is that he cannot morally support whatever the Scout’s are doing at the beginning of the coming year.” Hange seemed to let out a sigh of relief and I even saw Erwin sit back an inch. I understood why they might be on edge about that. They have no idea how Levi is when he is with someone like me and I am someone who frequents the refugee camps.

“Yes, that seems to be a common theme among our officers. However, we do not have the power needed to fight back against orders directly from the government. I hope that once the plans reach the public ear, your support of the Scouts and Captain Levi doesn’t waiver. It would be a shame for the Captain to have a good thing leave him for something that he didn’t have a choice in.” I took another breath and noticed my heart was slowing down. I wasn’t going to be thrown in some dungeon and tortured for the information I don’t know. That made me feel better about this conversation.

“Now, I must plainly state the requests we have for you. They shouldn’t be unreasonable, but I will say this is the first time we’ve had someone of Captain Levi’s rank be involved with a normal citizen. I think you can see why we have the need to be cautious and explain common Scout things to someone who isn’t in our place. You could be a security threat if you do not know proper protocol.” That was only slightly demeaning.

“Yes, Commander. I do understand the need for me to know what I can and cannot do or say.” He smiled again and it amazed me the duality he had. He made you feel welcomed with his smile, and then completely intimidated with his status and demeanor.

“As you are in a relationship with someone who is given classified information on a daily basis, it can be possible for it to easily slip out of Levi when he isn’t thinking. We ask you not to repeat anything you hear from Levi, even if you disagree with it. There may come a time when people you know are involved or put in danger by the operations of the Royal Government, therefore I’m asking you to bear some of the pain of a Scout officer in these situations.”

“It seems you’re setting me up for the coming year, Commander… or at least you have a situation in mind currently.” Hange smirked and pointed at me.

“You’re smart, Eva. I can see how you might last around Levi’s.�� I wonder what they think Levi and I’s interactions are. They probably don’t think I’m the one who makes him suffer with my words more than he does me. Imagine if they knew how much I made their Captain blush. I smiled thinking about it.

“The next request. As I extend my protection to you, I request you do the same to Levi and any Scout who is in need of assistance. Captain Levi was once a wanted man, and the government could easily turn their back on him if they deem it worthy of their agenda. There might come a time where you will have to shield or protect Levi or members of the Scout Regiment from the Royal Government. I’m best stating that, as someone in a relationship with the Captain, you may need to lie and commit treason for his or our safety. You are a part of the Scout Regiment now, and that is some of the responsibility that comes with it.” I sat there and thought that one over. It was a huge request, but not one that would easily deter me from Levi and the Scouts. I thought of the Garrison soldiers kicking down Eren Jaeger everyday, or Mitras not dispatching any MPs or food supplies to the districts struggling to stay alive. If I knew it was for the better, I could easily betray them. I owe nothing to the government.

“You don’t have to accept this right awa-” I shook my head and stopped him.

“No, I can do that. The government has never done anything for me. I can easily betray them for a cause and people I believe in.” This made both of them smile instantly.

“Levi was right, your loyalty and regard seems to be astounding, Eva. I believe he has found a fine woman to be with.” I looked down at my hands, trying to hide the blush with my hair. I don’t know why that compliment hit me the way it did, but people admiring our hidden relationship made me happy, I guess. Especially the Commander. It wouldn’t happen much more than this, so I should savor it.

“Am I able to make requests, Commander?” I looked up at him again when my blush subsided.

“Erwin. You can call me Erwin, and I will try my best to accept them. If it is something I cannot do, I will have to refuse. Our positions of freedom are very different, Eva.” I nodded and took another sip of my juice. There has been something bothering me since Levi and I had talked about Erwin.

“If you are asking me to put my life and reputation on the line for the Scouts and Levi, I must request that equally. I understand you cannot predict the outcome of expeditions, and I know we both know that Levi won’t die simply because of that. I’m specifically asking for you to protect him against the government.” He crossed his arms and I still couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Eva. You can’t be asking me to commit treason for one soldier? I am unable to do that.” I shook my head at him and formulated my next sentences. I also had a specific scenario in my mind.

“If the government asks something of Levi that would lead to his certain death, no matter how it will help society, I want you to do everything you can to protect him from that fate. Refuse his service. Discharge him from the Scouts. Anything it takes. I know he’ll take it, no matter what they give him, but I want to be selfish for him. He’s too valuable to humanity to be lost in such a simple manner. ”

“It seems you’re setting me up for something, Eva… or at least you have a situation in mind currently,” he mimicked my words and it made me smirk a bit. We could play the same game with each other. It felt nice to be able to be on the same level with him right now unlike the last few minutes. We were bartering back and forth. I was in my element. I could never match his strategy or intelligence, but I knew how to make a deal.

“Secondly, give him more breaks. Every time I see him he’s tired and complaining about the amount of paperwork he has to do. I haven’t seen him in person in almost five months because of whatever you seem to be planning. At least a monthly break. You know how he gets when he’s overworked.” This made Hange laugh again and I noticed then how quiet she had been throughout Erwin’s requests. It made me think how intelligent she was as well. All the officers must be. She had her quirks, but she knew when to be serious.

“That… that is something I cannot promise you. I can try my hardest, but when we are as busy as we are now, I cannot let anyone slack off because their family requested it. You must see I have to be fair about it.” I frowned, not liking that answer, but I knew he wasn’t going to change that. I was being more selfish than I could be right now. I even had one more, morbid request to get through. This one was one that I had thought about over the last few months. What if.

“Lastly, if Levi does die, I want you to tell me directly, Erwin,” I looked up, locking eyes with him to make sure he knew how important this request was, “I won’t believe any random cadet or Garrison soldier who comes to deliver the news and I won’t believe it if I don’t see him come back with the rest. I’ll make up excuses and scenarios. I want you to tell me personally that he’s finally gone and let me go get his things from the HQ. If it comes from you, I know it’s true. It doesn’t have to be in person, a letter would suffice, but I want it directly from you Erwin,” my eyes were pleading for him to accept, “Can you do that?” He looked back at me after thinking for a few moments.

“Yes, I can do that, Eva. However, a letter can easily be copied and someone can steal my signature. If I do send you something… I’ll send it along with my bolo tie,” He pointed to the green orb on a cord around his neck, “I can’t assure how quickly the news will come, but you will be the first civilian to know. This request, however, I have no anticipation of needing to do any of this.” I nodded, accepting that answer. We both had equal confidence in Levi’s ability.

“Thank you… Erwin.” I sat up and looked to Hange, waiting for her to say something. She had been leaning more and more forward as I talked through my requests. She wanted to say something, but wouldn’t interrupt her Commander for it.

“Oh, it is my turn! I only have one request for you and then a ton of questions to ask you! Is that okay? I know you have the kid to take care of. By the way, son? Brother? Who is he?” I held my hands up and shook them ‘no’ when she said son.

“He’s just a boy I watch because his parents don’t. I take care of him and feed him. He has an older sister, too.”

“Ah,” Erwin nodded, “Captain Levi also told me you take kids off the street and give them a second chance. Is he one of those children?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No, he has a home and family. What else has Levi told you about me?” I didn’t know we were just giving out information about each other to people. Hange answered my question again.

“You own a café where he gets tea. It’s your past caretakers café. You were given it after he died. Uh, what did he say about your character? He said you’re fiercely loyal, which is definitely true, and that you’re very charitable, hence taking care of the kids. He didn’t say it all nicely like that, but I think you can guess how he said it.”

“He said something to the effect of ‘She has this awful part of her where she puts all her faith in anyone and takes in brats to give them a second chance’, which, I understand why Levi sees that as a bad thing, but I find it nice to be charitable.” It made me laugh for the first time, Erwin trying to mimic Levi’s tone of voice.

“My request!” Hange hit the table, like she just remembered that she had one to give. I wonder how crazy this one was going to be.

“I’ll try my best, Hange.”

“My request is that you make him happy,” My heart skipped a little when she said that and she continued after she heard no protest, “We don’t know much about him or the way he thinks, but we do know what he’s been through. The expedition before he met you, his two friends from the Underground were eaten by titans when he wasn’t there to save them. He was getting so temperamental and would blow his lid at anyone just like that when we came back. No one could blame him, he had just lost his friends to titans and he found out that he didn’t even need to. There are a lot of details, but I’ll leave that to Levi. Anyways, we needed to get him out of HQ, so I recommended this café because I think your strawberry turnovers are excellent! After he came here, he started to change. Mellow out as much as Levi could. All the officers started wondering why he’d changed so rapidly and we thought he was sneaking out to go drink himself to death. Then, I saw you at the year-end festival with him. I knew then it was you, and think of the amazing confirmation he gave me when he kept requesting me to go get you after his injury!” I felt tears well up in my eyes for some reason. I remembered how he looked when he walked in: tired from death. I didn’t know it was the death of his friends that made him that way, and here I was trying to tease him over some tea. I was such an idiot.

“I think you’ve made Captain Levi feel something he’s never felt before. He still acts the same towards us because he has to keep up this façade, but with you, I’m sure he’s completely different. Actually, he has gotten more relaxed around the cadets and makes them run a bit less. Slowly, your impact is breaking into his everyday life. So, my request is that you keep doing that. He’s a broken kid, but he’s found someone to heal him. That’s what he told us you do, isn’t it?” The way Hange was looking at me, I just wanted to cry then. I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me. She’s putting me at such high regard for something that I so desperately want to do for others. It was a confirming moment telling me that I was doing something right.

“I-I promise, Hange.” Her smile grew bigger and Erwin slowly stood up, signaling her it was time to go. I stood up too, but held my hand up to him.

“Yes?”

“I have a last, small request for you, Erwin. That little boy, basically as Commander of the Scouts, you’re his hero. He’s starting to have this obsession with them ever since I got him this toy. If you could just talk to him for a bit and tell him about the Scouts? You know, minus the bad things?” He huffed once in laughter and agreed to do it. When I yelled to call Elias down stairs, he almost fell on his face when he tripped on the kitchen door. He looked up at Erwin expectantly.

“Elias,” I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him forward, “This is my friend Commander Erwin. He knows how much you like the Scouts and can tell you about it if you want…” I trailed off at the end, but Elias had already ran up to Erwin, looking up at the man three times his size.

“How big is a titan?!” I smiled as the two blonde haired boys sat.

Hange came over to the counter where I was sitting and hopped up there with me. I didn’t mind and made room for her, staring at the interaction that was happening in front of us. Elias was even showing him the toy I had bought.

“So… What does Levi think about the kids?” She so badly wanted to prod Levi’s brain and find out how he ticks, but she’d have to do it through me. Now that they knew everything, I’d guess I’d tell her a little bit.

“Levi bought him that horse. Elias doesn’t know it, but Levi said he wanted an eight year old boy to have what he wanted at that age. He’s only talked to June once I think, but he helped her win over some boys in her class. I don’t think he could tolerate Elias’s questions as much as Erwin is doing right now though.” She nodded.

“When you two have kids of your own, I think he’ll like them a bit better than he does other people’s kids.” I choked on the air and coughed loud enough that both Erwin and Elias stopped their conversation and looked over at us. Hange just waved them off and patted my back. Kids? He hasn’t even kissed me yet.

“Hange, we’ve only been together for a few months, and for most of them I haven’t even seen him.” She shrugged and gave me her crazy smile again.

“I don’t know, you two seem pretty compatible. Now, I haven’t seen you interact, but from what I can tell, you like each other enough. I’ve never seen someone hang around Levi as long as you have. Mark my words, you’ll have cute kids. I want to help name one!” I gave her a crazy look, willing her to stop talking about the topic. Imagine if she mentioned it to Levi, how irate he would be with her. I can’t even talk about sleeping in the same bed with him.

“Hange, we’re not-” Erwin stood up and patted Elias’s head again. Thank gods they were done. I don’t know if I could deal with any more of Hange’s future visions and questions. Is this how Levi feels with me?

“Hange, it’s time for us to get back. We have another meeting soon and Levi’s waiting to reprimand us for coming here when he said not to.” She puffed out air like she wanted to continue our conversation further, but hopped off the counter and walked to the door with Erwin.

“It was good meeting you, Eva. I’m sure we will have many more of these in the future.”

“Bye, Eva! Bye, Elias! Don’t worry, Eva, he’ll be home soon! Hold on a bit more!” Hange screamed as she walked out the door behind Erwin. I could still hear her gossiping as they got on their horses and rode off back to HQ.

“Eva, why did they want to talk to you?” Elias broke the silence as I stared at the door. Home. He’ll be home. Was I home?

“Elias, can you keep a secret? A super, super top secret that no one else can know?” His eyes widened and he nodded over and over again.

“Yes, I can. I promise!” I smiled down at him and ruffled his hair a bit more.

“Even Erwin doesn’t want you to tell this secret to anyone.” That got the boy more excited to know, and I knew it would keep his mouth shut.

“I promise! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” If Levi had already told two people, I guess I could too. What’s the harm in telling an eight year old boy?

“Captain Levi and I are together.” He pulled a weird face, sitting down at the table and pulling out his school work. His excitement immediately dropped away.

“That’s it? I thought it was going to be a fun secret, Eva.” This little boy is incredible. The first person I tell, and he could care less.

“You’re the only person in Trost who knows, Elias. It is a fun secret!” I tried to defend my relationship in front of the eight-year-old. I guess he was picky on which Scouts he liked.

“Eva, can I have some juice please?” I gave him an annoyed look as he completely skipped over the subject. I should’ve told June first and not a little boy who still thinks girls have cooties.

“No, you can have it after you finish your homework.” He groaned at my payback and shifted back and forth in his chair. I didn’t waiver and decided to ignore his pleas in favor of reading the letter I had been anticipating for months.

His handwriting was so nice and I wondered even who taught him how to write so well in the first place. My handwriting was awful because the orphanage had a limited budget for pencils and teachers. I could barely read cursive and only used it to sign my name. When I told Levi this is a response to his first letter, he had laughed at me in his reply, but wrote it all in print for me. Even his print was perfect. It made me annoyed, but they were pretty to look at in addition to their contents. They weren’t love letters by any means, but they were nice to receive and imagine what he was doing.

Dear Mara (This one doesn’t seem to fit your face, but it’s the only one I could think of),

As you requested in your last letter, for some reason, my daily routine:

4 AM - I am either up or wake up from an hour or two of sleep to take a shower. The water pressure is the best at this time as no one is taking one.

5 AM - I make myself tea, now, it’s the peppermint you sent me. I thank you for that, but now my tongue can’t stand any other flavor that’s not on par with it. I’ll light a candle and do some light paperwork and plan the morning workout for the cadets, waiting for the sun.

6 AM - The cadets have 30 minutes to get ready in full gear and come to eat breakfast until seven. I eat early, limiting the interactions I have with Hange as she’s loud in the morning.

7:30 AM - Training starts with a morning run and workout. They might do hand-to-hand after or work on ODM. Whatever I feel like sitting and watching that day, I make them do. On the days when they’re getting really annoying, I’ll make them practice ground maneuvers since it’s hard to kill titans with no trees. Recently, we’ve been starting to go over formations for the mission I can’t tell you about.

12 PM - We eat lunch, and recently it’s been bad. The food shortage has hurt our stock and I know the Garrison probably laughs at us as they get to eat meat. We ran out of meat last week.

From then on, the cadets have classroom work to do to memorize our signals and formations. I usually do more paperwork and we have officer meetings over and over again until dinner at six. After that, surprise, paperwork again. We went to the capital to get talked over again last week, so that was a break in my routine, but other than that I do paperwork until my eyes hurt, then I’ll go make more tea and take some biscuits from the canteen. Sometimes there are small disputes I have to settle, cadets to discipline, or one-on-one meetings with Erwin. Recently, he’s asked me if I want to create a Special Operations Team with the best Scouts for the next mission and beyond. I’ve been studying and reading over the files of each Scout. Maybe, you can help me form the team if I come across any trouble picking, but it’s not like there are many to choose from.

I plan to tell Erwin about our relationship soon. During our meetings in the capital, my position is always questioned and threatened by the four heads of the Royal Government. If they find out about any weakness, not that you are weak now that I’ve trained you, they might use that against me. If I tell Erwin about you, he can give you certain protections. Other than him, I have no intention of telling anyone else and it hasn’t seemed to come up in regular conversation. Hange always has something off to the side to say about you, and I suspect she knows something, but she keeps quiet around others. If she doesn’t keep her mouth shut, you might not hear from her again. Perhaps I will tell my Special Ops Team since trust is needed for a team to work, but that won’t be for another few months or even a year.

You asked me if I needed anything and currently, I would like a bit more tea, if possible. I’m limiting myself to three cups a day since my tea leaves are dwindling. I’m struggling without you and your tea, but I know you can’t ship yourself here through the carrier system. I was right about the cuddling… I miss it and it does make it difficult to try and sleep, knowing a much more comfortable option exists. I won’t go on more because I don’t miss your teasing. Hopefully, I will see you in the next month's time, but right now, it seems the Royal Government is about to monitor us. Going back and forth to you might harm you, and I won’t risk that. It’s helped, this feeling of missing you, by the cadets used for refugee security. It’s been reported almost everyday that a light-brown haired woman, no older than 30 with light green eyes leans out a window about a café with a red lettered sign and stares at the Scouts coming in during the sunrise. I knew right away it was you. I hope you’re getting enough sleep and not being irresponsible with the amount of hours you work on the refugee’s bread.

I must now go to another officer’s meeting in Erwin’s office to discuss something boring. I’d rather be helping you knead dough for a thousand loaves then sit in his office one more time.

My questions for you: Has the Garrison brought those brats you said to sponsor over yet? Have you decided to open back up the café? Has the girl gotten her apprenticeship? Have you told Jonas that if he touches you one more time while I’m going, I will break his fingers? You said you might cut your hair, is this true? Have you yet?

Till your next letter and next delivery of twenty grams of peppermint tea,

Captain Levi

Chapter Eleven →

Chapter Masterlist

xx Everyone say thank you to MAPPA for Levi and Armin’s faces <3

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi x reader #levi x oc #levi heichou #captain levi #aot #aot levi #snk #snk levi #attack on titan #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #original character

63 notes · View notes

vivilove-jonsa · 4 years ago

Note

Spooky prompt: We're going to have to stay here tonight 🎃

Thank you for the prompt, honey! This isn’t really spooky at all but it’s inspired by Katrina and Ichabod’s first meeting in Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow with a slight twist. I hope you like it :)

“We’re going to have to stay here tonight.”

The announcement had been greeted with no surprise. Even without tales of headless horsemen, witches or evil spirits in the forest, autumn in Northern New England carries its own hazards. The weather can turn unexpectedly.

The blizzard had kept anyone of sense from attempting the journey home and their host had gallantly offered refuge for his guests beyond the harvest feast.

“Stay as long as necessary,” Eddard Stark had told them.

Some had chosen not to stay. The Umbers had set off that first night regardless saying they did not fear a bit of snow or any ghost stories. Jon wonders how their coach and horses fared along the indifferent roads in such conditions and if they Umbers reached their hearth. Or are they now headless victims of a malicious spirit? More likely, they might be frozen corpses, their eyes unseeing and their spirits wandering through the woods railing at their own folly.

Most had stayed, like the Tarlys. Samwell is his age, a likeable though bookish boy who often winds up the butt of jests which hardly seems fair since Sam’s twice as smart as most any man here. Jon is glad to call him his good friend. He is also secretly protective of him when it comes to settings such as this where Sam might not be shown due respect by some. His brother Dickon is here as well. Though he’s a few years younger than Sam, he does not need Jon’s protection.

There are some who Jon wishes hadn’t stayed as well, particularly Harrold Hardyng. A puffed up jackanape who charms the ladies with his compliments and looks down his nose as Jon’s old waistcoat, the only one he possesses decent enough for the Starks’ house, while cruelly poking fun at Sam’s fondness for sweets when the ladies aren’t present.

Jon almost wishes he had attempted the journey back to his own modest homestead himself. He knows Tormund won’t let his livestock starve or freeze but he feels his responsibilities as a newer landowner keenly and thinks he should be there, too.

But Mister Stark looks upon his former ward quite fondly and Jon could not refuse his entry to remain. “It’s four miles to home for you which may as well be ten leagues in these conditions. Pray, stay a little longer, Jon.”

And why shouldn’t Jon wish to remain at Winterfell during a blizzard? He spent most of his boyhood here after all.

Because of Mister Stark’s daughter Sansa, that’s why.

From gawky and somewhat missish at thirteen, she has blossomed into a beauty, willowy, graceful and sweet at seventeen. Jon had liked her well enough as a girl but they’d had little occasion to converse one on one. But now? Oh, he’d enjoy sitting by her side at the hearth for hours upon end if he could.

She’d been standing by her father’s side to greet their guests upon arrival when they’d met again for the first time in years. She’d shook hands with him, giving him a friendly smile and saying how much she’d missed him here. Jon had been enchanted and his enchantment has only grown since then as one night of her company had stretched into several.

Therefore, Jon cannot bear watching Harrold Hardyng’s obvious attempts to court her right under the nose of their elders. What does Mister Stark think of Hardyng? More importantly, what does Sansa think? For her part, Sansa only smiles politely at his oafish gallantry like the gracious young lady she is but is there any attachment blooming?

Jon hopes not though he is likely a fool to hope. He’s quite proud of his homestead but knows it wouldn’t have been unlikely for him without Mister Stark’s help and it is not a scratch on a grand house like Winterfell. If he thought an offer of marriage between him and Sansa might be accepted though…oh, he is a fool to hope.

On the seventh night of his unexpectedly extended visit, the young people are growing restless. There is only so much gossip to share, only so many stories to tell. Days and nights kept indoors with mixed company relaxes some of the usual decorum and makes them bolder.

“A game! Let’s play a game!” Sansa declares after supper while Tom Sevenstrings and his friends pluck out a tune.

“The Pickety Witch!” someone suggests and several more agree.

Sansa laughs as her friend Jeyne Poole covers her eyes with a length of fine silk. What a sight she is in her pretty blue gown with her red hair shining brightly, curled and coiffed just so. Her rosy lips and that bit of black silk upon her porcelain skin, she presents an image that Jon knows will revisit him in the night. Honor will have him attempting to banish the thoughts it will spur. Carnal desire will encourage him in them.

They twirl her around three times, the children, young ladies and gentlemen chuckling and edging about the limited allotted space for the game as their elders watch from nearby smiling with nostalgia for their own youths perhaps.

“The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?” Sansa asks with her hands stretched out before her, eager to snare a victim and guess who it is she’s caught.

All around the little area, she takes a step and then another, grasping at thin air. She’s hemmed in by her would-be captures but the space is enough to leave her uncertain of anyone’s exact whereabouts.

Beth Cassel screeches and scurries when Sansa nears her. Samwell squeaks and dodges her at one point, making his brother Dickon laugh heartily and barely elude capture himself. Little Rickon stomps on his brother Bran’s foot in his eagerness to escape his sister the Pickety Witch. She’s by far the prettiest Pickety Witch that ever was in Jon’s opinion.

Jon grins as she nears him and stands his ground. He hates to see her stuck in the middle indefinitely. And he’ll gladly let her capture him especially if it means she might choose to give her victim a kiss (even if it means he’ll be the blind man next.)

But a sound from the left draws her attention before she gets close enough to touch him and she turns.

Jon scowls, seeing that Harry has knocked the fireplace poker from its place. From his smug grin as Sansa moves towards him, Jon knows he did that on purpose.

His heart clenches, waiting for her to reach him. Like Jon, Harry isn’t moving.

She’s nearly to him, no more than a foot away. At any second, she’ll put her hands on his chest, his shoulders, touch his face and Jon will have to watch it all with a feigned smile as the sickening feeling in his stomach increases.

But when she’s right in front of Harry, Sansa does something unexpected. She darts to the right and nabs another victim.

Sam yelps. Yes, it’s a bit undignified but Sam does startle easily. Jon sees her lips twitching with suppressed laughter as his own are doing the same.

Sansa gently rubs his broad shoulders and then touches his round face. She wears an expression of puzzlement though, surely, she knows who she’s caught.

Or perhaps she doesn’t?

“Is it Loras?” she asks sweetly.

“N-no, Mm-Miss Sansa,” Sam stammers while Loras Tyrell across the room looks positively aghast at being mistaken for Samwell Tarly.

His voice will have given it away, Jon is sure.

Or maybe not.

“Ah, it must be Dickon then!”

Dickon Tarly may be younger but he is a head taller than his brother and far less rotund. Sansa doesn’t know the Tarlys all that well but she has spent the past week in their company and Jon has never heard her call them by anything but their correct names during that time.

Unkind laughter from some of the other lads breaks out. Some of the girls present titter cruelly, the girls who look at Dickon with moony eyes and give Sam dismissive looks. Jon glares at them all as does Dickon.

“No, I’m not Dickon, Miss Sansa,” Sam says, apologetically. Jon feels sorry for him.

“You must be a stranger to me then but clearly you are a noble gentleman, sir,” Sansa declares before kissing Samwell Tarly softly on the cheek. Sam’s eyes are wide as saucers as she removes her blindfold. “Oh ho, my mistake! He is no stranger at all but I was right to name him a noble gentleman,” she tells the others in a firm but merry tone.

The unkind laughter and cruel titters from a moment ago dry up in an instant. Jon can hear pleased laughter from the true friends present and everyone’s spirits are jolly again as Sansa helps blindfold and spin Sam for his turn.

Everyone’s spirits are jolly except for Jon’s, that is.

He’d never thought to be jealous of Sam in this manner but now, there is no denying that he is. Sansa kissed Sam on the cheek. Sansa has named Sam noble, which he is, and Jon has never felt less noble in his life. Sam carries an old, respectable family name and is the heir to more money than Jon will ever know. Sam would make her a finer match than most of these fools would ever acknowledge if they had any inclination for one another in that manner.

Feeling depressed and ridiculous, Jon decides to leave the circle of players and goes to fetch himself some cider. Once he has it, he retreats to the Starks’ deserted library.

He entirely misses Samwell catching Gilly, one of the serving girls, naming her correctly at once even with his blindfold in place and chastely pressing a kiss to her hand, making the girl blush with pleasure.

It is there where he broods alone in the library with his hard cider that he’s discovered. She has caught him after all. Tis only fitting. She has held him captive from the moment he arrived here.

“Why did you leave the game?”

“I was feeling…” Jealous. “Tired.”

“I hope you’re not unwell.”

“Not at all, Miss Sansa.”

“‘Miss Sansa,’ is it? That’s terribly formal. We’ve known each other since we were children, Jon.”

“Yes, you’re right. Sorry, Sansa. You knew you’d caught Sam, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Why’d you pretend otherwise?”

“I don’t like the way some of our guests treat him.”

“Nor I.”

“I know. I know he’s your friend and quite dear to you.”

“He is. He’s a very good man.”

“Yes, everyone should open their eyes and see it.”

It’s true. Why are his spirits are in such turmoil? He agrees with her but envy is twisting it, turning it into snake in his guts that would eat his heart if it could.

“I have a confession to make,” she says softly next.

“A confession?”

She bats her full eyelashes. It seems to make those impossibly blue eyes look even bluer. “I knew I was right in front of Harry. I could see just a bit beneath the blindfold. I recognized his boots. I reached for the person next to him because I didn’t wish to capture him.”

That snake in his guts is withering away as something else swells. “Oh? You do not care for him, do you?”

“No, I do not. I was actually hoping to capture someone else. I was looking for a certain set of feet but never got close enough to see them.”

“Not Sam’s?”

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing as her cheeks flood with color.

His heart may eat that snake. There is no room for jealousy here tonight. “Oh? Whose boots were you hoping to find, may I ask?”

She smiles as their eyes meet. “Who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch, Jon?”

He licks his lips and grins back at her before cupping her satiny cheek. “I do.”

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #vivilove-jonsa fic

47 notes · View notes

delcat177 · 4 years ago

Text

Before New Pokemon Snap

While this game I have waited for for 22 years loads up, before I spend the night playing, I wanna tell tale of my time with the first one.

(The player’s guide is so nostalgic!)

Yon Longe Poste

I was interested in nature photography as a kid. And by interested, I mean kinda really obsessed. My father had been a journalist and had his own interest in nature photography, so after developing some skill on a little plastic snap camera, he did one of the few bond-y things we did when I was a kid and taught me how to use his old 33mm. It was a wonderful thing with a telephoto lens that I’d carry in a case around my neck, snap the lenses back and forth as needed on my daily field ramble.

Mom had commented on my patience with the snap deal, I would sit by the hummingbird feeder motionless for as long as it took to get shots, and a real field camera took it from the backyard to the woods. I could usually get birds and could always get some Pure Michigan nature, but I was constantly angling for animals--with 24 to 36 shots, depending on how I pooled my allowance, I spent a lot of time hunting for frogs, snakes, turtles, settling for butterflies and my dog. The one time the latter met a big touchy porcupine, I didn’t have my camera and was preoccupied with my poor be’needled boy, and when I went back, it was gone.

So, remembering a family story about how Mom had once found a porcupine chewing on the door because it was trying to get salt out of the wood, I requisitioned a piece of plywood my father promised was extra salty, took the shaker for good measure, and put it back where the needling had happened.

I haunted that spot all summer, but life isn’t as interesting as it can be, and porcupines are nocturnal. It wasn’t safe to be in the woods after dark, we had coyotes, so I took my solace in finding one day that it had, at least, been happily gnawed.

When I saw the first Nintendo Power previews of Pokemon Snap, I went “ah, yes, a blessing from the gods” and started work on a local Christmas cookie empire (different story entirely) to be ready for the release date. June was four months from my birthday and six from Christmas. I needed to be on LOCK.

And when I finally gave over my $63.59 (state tax was six cents) for this limited, low-poly, rail-ride of a game...

...I absolutely adored it like few things I have ever adored. The only thing missing was Oddish, and I was okay with that, kinda, I guess, if they had to.

I played nonstop. If I got bored with the ambience, which was rarely, I put on one of my sister’s CDs--RENT, usually.

Yes, I was listening to RENT at 12.

Until Mom heard La Vie Boheme.

At any rate, I got every last cent’s worth out of it. I filled my Pokedex. My last Pokemon, pulled from a sneak peak at a player’s guide in Wal-Mart, was Muk. I still have creepypasta/Pokegod theories about how Mewtwo was supposed to be in the game (why 63 Pokemon, not 64??). The Album, where you could save your pictures, let you write a few words on your faves, and I did my best to take funny snaps and caption them. The pun “Karp-E Diem” was used.

My skill increased. I learned how to stop the ride indefinitely at the Charmander section and played with them, throwing them apples and seeing how many consecutive heads I could bonk (I think my record was 7?). Then, with a tip in the NP letters session, I found out you could glitch the game by constantly changing direction in the kart, lagging it from moving, so that events timed to the movement went off early. This is the best way to get the most AMAZING shots of Pikachu riding Articuno without hacking, still.

It must have gone on for a year, at least, before I beat the game.

REALLY beat it.

Pokemon Snap is a limited game. Each Pokemon can have a maximum score assigned to it, a cap where it’s simply absolutely perfect in shot.

And for Mew, the highest-scoring Pokemon in the game and the only Pokemon on the last level, I was consistently getting 9900.

But that wasn’t quite right.

The thing is, Professor Oak reviews your shots and tells you exactly why you did or did not get each bonus. To get all bonuses on Mew, she needs to be in the right pose, (a sequence of item throws, easy), exactly in the center (again, easy) and exactly the right size.

The last part is worth 100 points exactly.

If I could have submitted every photo I had of Mew, I would have cleared it out easily and mindlessly. I would have gotten 10000 points, the only five-digit score in the game, somewhere in the 60 snaps I was allotted for the level. She was right in front of me, all I had to do was click-click-click.

But that’s not how the game worked, and this is where it shines. It’s also where I am very curious to see if it’s going to be the same.

Like I said, Pokemon Snap was a limited game. It’s notoriously difficult to emulate, because it uses some advanced jury-rigging of the N64′s capabilities to call and recognize a photo of a Pokemon. To streamline that, and presumably to allow for this precise experience, the player can only select one photo they took of a Pokemon to be reviewed per play.

I wasn’t just trying to catch the perfect shot.

I was trying to find it out of all the shots I took.

Over and over again, I went through the stage, snapped pictures, pored over my album, selected the single entry what I was sure was just right, went to judging. Over and over again, I heard Professor Oak go “whAt a PItY”, in sound byte form. The CDs became necessary to halt murder.

It took weeks. But one day, from sheer little-kid determination, I got my snap. I JITTERED hearing the “Just right!” byte, held my breath--

10,000 points.

The perfect score.

(This isn’t mine, of course, and also is a 9900--that foot is the real problem, so I’m glad to see I’m not alone)

It automatically saved to my best-score slot. I wish I had taken picture-pictures. I felt pride on a deep, genuine level that like my hummingbirds, I had at last gotten just the right moment, had just the right eye.

I’ve honestly been thinking a lot about my father lately. We didn’t have a great relationship when I was in the house with him, but...being a teenage “daughter” and being an adult son are two different things.

And it didn’t stop at Pokemon Snap. After being kicked out of an evangelical school, I started attending classes for high-schoolers at the community college, and Photography was my first. I ended up taking the class four times and passing it twice--I wasn’t bad at the subject, but rather had a hard time getting transportation to the college to do the course work. I had to withdraw the first and second times, pulled a C on the third, and took it one last time as I was graduating to shine up my GPA since I knew I had a reliable car and I could lock in the A.

My sister and my mom, maybe my dad all thought I might end up a wildlife photographer. I professed the interest, and unprofessed it once I started reading about how harsh locales are in that job. I suspected getting bugs up my nose in 110-degree heat wouldn’t be as fun as the idea sounded. Instead, I leaned toward my librarian interests, and now I’m sitting here developing games and writing.

If I could tell myself back then, before all of it, that photography would never make me a dime, would cost me all my allowance on film, would be one of the albatrosses of my college years, and that technology would make all of the practical experience I learned in development a moot point...

...we would both know it was worth every single moment, one moment at a time.

Hekk.

Maybe I should send Dad some photos.

so is it done installing yet

8 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 4 years ago

Photo

Disney’s Twisted Wonderland: Starry Clothes Trey Clover R【 Try wishing 】Chapter 1

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut

Commissions are OPEN!!

Creeaak…

Trey: Heeey, anyone in?

Heartslabyul Boarding Student A: Oh, Clover-senpai.

Cater: Trey-kun! Good work on your role as a “Star-Gazer”. Is your collection of “Wishing Stars” proceeding smoothly?

Trey: Yeah. By the way, I smell something burning in the kitchens…

Trey: Is the black mass behind you the cause of this, Cater?

Cater: Hoo boy~ I got caught red-handed ☆ …That’s my failed cake; I burnt it.

Trey: Cake? Why are you making that?

Cater: Well…

⊱ ──── Heartslabyul Dorm- Lounge ──── ⊰

Riddle: Hmm…Is there anyone here that’s qualified enough to be put in charge of sweet-making…?

Cater: What’s up, Riddle-kun? You’re making a difficult face.

Riddle: Cater? I was just thinking about the party we’re going to have during the “Nothing’s on Day”.

Riddle: It pains me to have to put Trey in charge of making the sweets while he’s busy with his “Star-Gazer” duties.

Riddle: So I was thinking of getting someone to do it instead of him.

Cater: I…I see~ I know!

Cater: How about taking this chance to order some of the 2nd Years to handle the sweet-making?

Riddle: That’s a great suggestion. So you’re saying that we should turn this into an opportunity for everyone in Heartslabyul to grow further?

Cater: Yup!

Cater: I’ll be returning to my room now that it’s settled then— I’m beat from Club.

Riddle: The 3rd Years will play an important role as well, if that’s the case. They have to over-watch and guide the immature 2nd Years.

Cater: Ugh…

Riddle: So that’s how it’ll be, Cater.

────────────────────────

Cater: …And that’s how I ended up being allotted as the Sweets-making P…

Cater: The sponge cake didn’t fluff up like it was supposed to at all. So I decided to bake it longer, only to end up burning it.

Cater: I’m gonna cry at this rate…

Heartslabyul Boarding Student A: Sorry, Diamond-senpai. The pie became misshapen…

Heartslabuyl Boarding Student B: The cookies we were baking over here has become perfectly rock-like. Even though we followed the recipe to the T…

Trey: …I see. I’ve grasped the situation.

Trey: It would be faster if I helped here, in that case. Dearie me…

Trey: The cake failed to rise because you didn’t beat the eggs well enough. You’ve got to beat enough air into it.

Trey: And the reason why the pie came apart is because you’ve kneaded it too much. The butter within the dough will melt with the warmth of your hands.

Trey: And the toughness of your cookies might perhaps, be due to what makes up the dough. Did you make sure to sift the flour?

Carer: Roger, vice-dorm head ☆ Now then, everyone! Let’s get our spirits back up for another try.

────────────────────────

Trey: In it goes into the oven…Phew. And now all we have to do is wait and to make sure that it doesn’t burn.

Heartslabyul Student B: Wow. We were struggling so hard with this but now it’s all over in just a moment with Trey-senpai helping out…

Cater: As expected of you, Trey-kun♪ You really saved us there~ You’re really a genius pâtissier, I say!

Trey: I’ve just done this a couple more times than you all. Plus, it’s not really fair to be comparing me with you guys since my parents run a cake shop.

Trey: Personally, I’m thinking of trying my hand out at new sweets to build up my repertoire.

Cater: You’re really one passionate guy when it comes to sweet-making.

Riddle: …Cater…what’s Trey doing here?

Cater: Ah! Riddle-kun…

Riddle: Didn’t I tell you not to rope Trey into this since he was busy with his “Star Gazer” duties?

Riddle: There’s no point in assigning you to this if this happens. Honestly, what in the world were you thinking…!?

Cater: Y-You have a point there...Sorry. I’m truly ashamed.

Trey: Calm down, Riddle. I was the one who offered Cater my help since he seemed like he needed it.

Trey: Making sweets requires a certain level of skill and finesse. I don’t suppose it’s all that unusual for them to be tripping up over it.

Riddle: …If you say so.

Riddle: Even so, we still have to think of something to ensure that the sweet-making process isn’t hindered even if you’re absent.

Riddle: It doesn’t seem like increasing the amount of staff on-hand will solve this issue either.

Trey: About that…I’ve got a suggestion…

Trey: How about getting a good Food Processor for out dorm?

Riddle: A Food Processor? You mean the thing that pulverizes vegetables and the like? Why would you need that?

Trey: Listen up, Riddle. You see, the most important thing when it comes to making any kind of sweet is to make sure that they all “mix” well.

Trey: Flour, Egg, Butter, Sugar…it won’t work unless you mix a large amount of different ingredients together, each with different properties.

Trey: Even if you follow the recipe to the T, it’ll still end up in a failure if you don’t get the mixing part right.

Riddle: It’s certainly hard to express the extent as to how far you’re supposed to be mixing something in detail when it comes to written instructions.

Trey: And that’s where the Food Processor comes in. Everyone and anyone can mix, grind and blend anything easily just by utilizing it.

Trey: Butter and eggs are not temperature sensitive and you don’t have to mix or beat flour to prepare it either.

Cater: You mean, even someone like me can make it easily if I use that?

Trey: Yeah. Plus it’s high-powered so it’ll be over within a jiffy. It’s the best thing out there for students who are easily bored.

Cater: Wha-!? Are you talking about me!?

Riddle: I see. There’s merit to bringing it in.

Trey: That being said, however, the model best suited for our needs retails at a Hundred Thousand Madol. Therefore, it’s not something that can simply be bought on a personal budget.

Riddle: Wha…!? It never crossed my mind that it’d be THAT expensive…

Heartslabyul Boarding Student A: But we’ll be relying heavily on you at this rate without it, Clover-senpai.

Heartslabyul Boarding Student B: The “Nothing’s on Day” Party is a Dorm Tradition of ours, so we can’t afford to go about it half-heartedly.

Cater: We’re going to be using it all the time in the long-run, so it really isn’t all that expensive if you think about it, right?

Cater: It’ll be used even after we graduate, for a long, long time.

Trey: You guys…

Riddle: …It might not be all too expensive after all, if it means that we can carry out the rules that the Queen of Hearts laid down much easier than before.

Riddle: I’ll revise our funds for this year and gather enough money from it. Let’s order one as soon as possible.

Trey: Thank you, Riddle!! I’m glad.

Riddle: It is only my duty to continuously make an effort to make the dorm a better place as the Dorm Head of Heartslabyul. Therefore, there isn’t any need to thank me.

Riddle: I’ll take my leave here then.

Riddle: Trey. The role of a “Star-Gazer” is also part of an important tradition. Try to keep your helping hands short and return back to collecting “Wishing Stars”.

Trey: Of course, Dorm Head.

Trey: …Yes. Now, I can finally try my hand at making those spiced sweets I’ve always wanted to make.

Trey: Normal Pies and Cakes are not a problem, but…

Trey: Only the high-quality models will work when it comes to finely grinding spices.

Trey: And here I am, having just wished on a “Wishing Star”. “I wish to obtain the latest Food Processor Model”.

Cater: What…? Did you just grant your own wish without lifting a finger!?

Cater: We haven’t even reached the stage where the “Star-Sending” takes place…You’re a really sly one, aren’t you?

── ⋆⋅☆ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝒩𝒟☆⋅⋆ ──

#twisted wonderland #twst translations #Trey Clover #Cater Diamond #Riddle Rosehearts #Heartslabyul #translations #Disney #ツイステッドワンダーランド #ツイステ

49 notes · View notes

mybeautifulchristianjourney · 3 years ago

Text

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30)

"Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey."

The particular teaching of this parable is not the same as that of the parable of the virgins. That was the duty of preparation ; this is the duty of working - using one's powers and capacities. Every one of us has received a talent or talents, some portion of our Lord's goods. The Master has gone away, leaving us to use whatever of His, He has entrusted to us until He returns. Then we shall have to give account to Him. It is not a voluntary matter with us, nor is it a matter of indifference, whether we will be Christ's servants or not. Christ is the rightful Lord of every man. Declining to accept Him and to enter His service - does not exempt anyone from the responsibility.

"Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them." Perhaps we do not realize how entirely Christ has entrusted His affairs and His interests in this world, to His followers. This puts a serious responsibility on us. If the gospel is to get to men - then we must proclaim it. If the work of the Church is to be done - then we must do it. The only hands Christ has for work in this world - are our hands. If the sorrowing are to receive comfort - then we must give it. If the world is to see the beauty, the gentleness, the patience, the compassion, the helpfulness of God - then we must be the interpreters of these Divine affections. Christ has delivered His goods to us.

We notice also that in the distribution of talents the same is not given to all. "To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability." Each person received what he was able to care for. This principle is observed in all Divine endowments. No one has duties allotted to him, which he has not the ability to perform. Nothing impossible is ever asked of any person. Men differ in their ability to manage their Lord's affairs, and the talents given into their hands vary accordingly. The merchant does not take the man with capacity only for lifting heavy bales - and put him in the counting-room. When a woman wants a fine dress made, she does not give the costly materials to a washer woman, a hairdresser, or to a teacher of German or music - but to a skillful dressmaker. Our Master gives each particular disciple, the duties he has ability to do. We need never say, therefore, that we cannot do the things that seem to be required of us. We can do whatever we are given by our Master to do. He makes no mistakes in the allotment of tasks.

The story then tells what the servants did with their share of their master's goods. "The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more." This man used faithfully what had been put into his hands, and the result was that it was doubled - his five talents became ten. He used his gifts - traded with them, and in the trading came the increase.

This is the Divine law in all life. God gives one a gift of music - but it is only in its possibilities as yet. It must be cultivated, developed, disciplined, or it never will become of any practical value. Love must be exercised, if it is to grow. It is only a capacity at first. The same is true of all human powers, whether of body, mind or heart. The trouble with too many people, is that they are indolent and do nothing with their natural gifts, and then these gifts never increase. Talents that are exercised, put to work, traded with - always multiply. "The hand of the diligent makes rich" (Proverbs 10:4). The boy who is so shy and diffident that he can scarcely speak a work in public, by using his small abilities, becomes a great orator, able to sway a vast multitude. The girl, whose voice is sweet but undeveloped, puts her talents to use, and by and by sings so as to thrill countless hearts.

The man with the two talents was faithful, too. "So also, the one with the two talents gained two more." Not many of us would claim, that we have five talents. This is the distinction of only a few. And many of us would not be quite willing to say we have only one talent. That would seem to put us low in the scale. Perhaps, however, some of us would admit that we have about two talents. It is the great middle class that does most for the world.

It would not do for all to be great - to be five-talented. If all the soldiers were fit for generals, who would make up the rank and file? If all Church members were eloquent preachers, who would do the countless little, quite services that need to be done? If all men and women were great poets, who would write the prose? There is need for far more common people than great brilliant ones. One Niagara is enough for a continent - but there is need for thousands of little springs and rivulets. A few great men are enough for a generation - but there is work for millions of common folks. So this diversity of gifts, is part of the Divine plan. The world needs more people of average ability, than it needs of the extraordinary sort, and so we are sure always of being in good company. Lincoln said God must love the common people, for He made so many of them. People who are very great must feel lonesome, for there are so very few of them.

In the case of this two - talented servant, as with that of the five-talented, it was diligent work that redeemed the mediocre man from the obscurity of the commonplace, and gave him distinction. Presently he had four talents. The practical lesson in all the parable, is the using of our gifts, that, if we really have only two talents, we should not vex ourselves - but should go to work with what we have, and it will grow by and by into something worthy. William Dawson speaks in one of his sermons, of the commonness and pitiableness of "contented insignificance."

The talents were not given to the servants; they were only committed to them to be used. Then there would be an accounting. "After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them." There is an important suggestion in this "long time." We are given plenty of time to make use of our talents. It takes time to learn to work well and to develop and train our faculties to their best. Even if we have buried our talents for a season, there is ample time to dig them up and try to put them to better use. We owe far more than we can tell, to God's patience in waiting so long for us. But we must never forget that the Lord will come - and we shall have to reckon with Him for whatever of His we have.

The character of the reward should be noticed. The successful man was not give a year's vacation that he might take a long rest. He was not given an easier position where he would have less care and less work. The reward for doing his work well - was more work! Because he had done well with the little that had been entrusted to him - more was put into his hands. That is the way of honorable promotion among men - not rest and luxury - but a higher position with harder work, increased burden. "Joy" is promised, too, "the joy of your Lord," the joy which comes of serving, of doing the Lord's work. The deepest joy experienced in this world - is the joy which comes of serving.

But one of the servants had failed to do his best with his talent. "Then the man who had received the one talent came." The story of the one-talented man is pathetic, and yet it has its startling lesson. If only he, too, had been faithful, doing his best with his little gift - he also would have multiplied his talent. Many who have done the most for the world - had only one talent to begin with. The discovery that we have only one talent, never should discourage us. We should accept what we have, however small it may be, and set about making the most of it and doing the most with it. The last thing to do with our gift or ability - is to despair about it and then hide it away.

The gifts that are not used - are lost. "Take therefore the talent away from him." In all life it is the same - faculties unused are lost, become extinct. Natural eyes would lose the power of sight - if one lived in darkness continually, and never used them. The eye that is never turned toward God, by and by loses even the power to look toward God. The capacity for believing, which never believes, at length ceases to be able to believe. "Capacity is extirpated by disuse ." The lesson comes with tremendous force to the young. If they will not use the abilities which God has bestowed upon them - these powers will be taken away from them.

#Devotional Hours Within the Bible #J.R. Miller #The Parable of the Talents #Matthew 25:14-30 #August 9 #2021

5 notes · View notes

sourbat · 4 years ago

Note

3 for Charles/Pickles?

Thank you! I love me some Chickles.

A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

Implied post Galaktikon

Being in the hospital this late at night was distressing, amongst other things. It hardly seemed to matter that the entire wing and waiting room was closed off to the public; Charles could not deter the anxiety that continued to prove itself insurmountable against logic and reason. He tapped a shaking finger against his watch’s lens, growing more irritated with each passing second. Across the waiting room, a hanging television displays the same breaking news that had been laying for the past week: “Recent Storm Brings Back Dethklok?”

A clear voice stated there would be more news at eleven, but if recent updates proved anything, there wouldn’t be much to go on. Charles took pride in being the first to know, to piece the clues and finalize a solution, but even now he was still trying to make sense of things: the thunder and lightning, the rain and its connection with the magic, the unknown song and the remains of a broken guitar, and, most importantly, the return of Dethklok.

The very last bit should’ve been enough to clear his mind. Above all things, having the boys back, even in the conditions they were in, should automatically put everything else aside. But while everyone was fine celebrating, crying over the unannounced reunion and sudden resurrection of the band, Charles had to consider the unknown. Since initiating the Dethsong, it had been raining non stop. Why? Charles furrowed his brows, sinking forward and contemplating the various unknown elements that kept him from celebrating too early. How did some random song reawaken the band? What would happen once the storm ended?

Would Pickles…?

Charles pushed the thought aside. No, he needed to remain calm right now and remember his role. No matter what, he needed to be the voice reason. Even if this was all temporary… no, he needed to stop this!

A heavy sigh escaped his nostrils. Charles pushed his hands into his eyes, feeling the weight of the past several days being to increase its weight and hold on him.

He had almost cracked when Nathan woke up. He had been in the middle of explaining things to a dazed, barely alert Nathan, when his hands started to tremble. It happened right in front of the Explosions and Ms. Remeltindtdrinc, and although it was only a brief deferment of his usual character, Charles worried all those involved sensed his concern, his fear of the unknown.

He couldn’t risk letting that happen again.

A nurse finally approached from the side. “He’s awake now,” she announced. “And he asked for you specifically.”

Charles closed his eyes. Fear racked his chest, clawing for release at the news. His throat dried and tightened, and Charles had to spend a few seconds in his seat, mentally preparing himself for the difficult scene ahead. He told himself he would not break this time. Nathan was already so confused when he returned, and while he expressed little during their shared conversation, Charles knew the break in character affected him.

He would not repeat the same mistake with Pickles.

Charles stood up and faced the nurse. “Take me to him.”

The walk to the hospital wing lasted longer than needed. Charles was grateful fate allotted him enough time to swallow his fear, to remove the tired visage he’d donned since discovering Nathan at the remains of Mordhaus, calling close friends and relatives to take the long pilgrimage to the hospital where all the members were carefully placed once they had finished materializing back into the world of the living, and making the necessary travel between Mordhaus, the hotel, and here–all in the middle of a massive thunderstorm. It was a heavy mask that left him worn, exhausted and lacking proper constitution. Charles wished the walk to Pickles’ room was longer, because when he arrived Charles still felt the drag under his eyes, the dry ends each time he blinked, and his heart throbbing with fear over whatever condition Pickles was in–certainly not the best!

Charles swallowed, held in a deep breath, then made his way inside the room.

“Pickles?” he called, voice coming close to cracking once he saw the curtains surrounding the hospital bed.

“…Charles?” The weakened voice tore at Charles’ heartstrings. He swallowed again, pushing down the desire to run, to tear at the curtain and snatch up the man who, at any moment, might disappear with the rains.

Charles gently pulled the curtain aside, lips pressed firmly and eyes unwavering as he unveiled Pickles lying beneath him. The man was covered up in that too-thin hospital garb and blanket combo, made all the more useless thanks to a set of casts and devices that elevated the afflicted appendages. Charles watched Pickles’ good hand lift a few inches, middle and index straining up and aimed shakenly at him, before it became too much for Pickles to control and dropped them.

Almost. Charles bit his inner cheek, fighting against the pain. Almost.

Despite his condition, Pickles managed a chuckle. “Heh, heh.” He stared up at Charles and, not detecting the man’s inner turmoil, cracked a slight grin. “Now…there’s a sight… fer sore eyes.”

Charles pushed out a smile. “I could say the same myself.” He swallowed again, choking down the surmounting tremble, but succumbed to a sniff. “You’re alive,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Must be,” Pickles replied tenderly. “I mean… only other option… is heaven, an’ I don’ see me pullin’… that off.” He licked his dry lips, eyes closing as his tongue dragged over cracked and singed flesh. “That… or this is… the start of Doc Off…” Pickled stopped to cough. Charles reached for a napkin, but Pickles shook his head into the pillow. “Doc Offdensen’s… routine check-up dream.”

The joke, no matter how sweetly intended, failed to provide Charles a sense of security. Nevertheless, he held on to his smile, nodding politely at Pickles’ remark before pulling a chair and sitting beside him.

“You must have questions,” Charles started, noting how his voice shook as Pickles’ expression turned hurt when he tried bringing his good hand up again to rest some fingers on top of Charles’. There was discomfort behind each movement, Charles thought as he juggled between the pale fingers begging for his touch, the heart rate monitor that increased with each pained attempt, and the vibrating windows revealing a slight change in the accumulation of storm clouds. He would need to call for additional assistance, perhaps an increase in morphine dosage once he was finished debriefing with Pickles.

“Yeah,” Pickles admitted weakly. “What’s… fer dinner?”

He chuckled again, only this time Charles found it too difficult to pretend it was alright. His glasses fogged with heat, and his eyes and face burned at the joke that, in any other circumstance, he’d roll his eyes at. Maybe offer a pitful laugh.

Charles hurried to fix his composure. “Pickles… you’re aware what’s going on, right now?” he asked, and watched as Pickles slowly bobbed his head, movement turning more restrained as the pain from a long battle started to return.

“Yeah, I’m back.” The answer came as smoothly as ever, lacking the heaving breaths and squinted eyes that struggled keeping it all together. Instead, Charles was welcomed with that familiar grin, toothy incisors and lively green eyes that gloweed under the intense hospital lighting. He slipped forward, hurt and captivated by that familiar look that Charles feared he’d never see again. Now close, Pickles summoned the last of his strength, and pushed the tip of his middle finger against Charles’ palm: a silent plea for him to take his frail hand in his own.

Charles bit his tongue, struggling to maintain his senses once he had Pickles’ fingers wrapped around his hand. He gave the limp appendage a squeeze, and saw Pickles’ eyes well up.

Pickles smiled up at him. “Hell couldn’… hold us ferever… Charlie.”

Pressure built behind Charles’ eyes. That stupid nickname that he tolerated, grown accustomed and learned to favor was sung again, spoken after several weeks of unending silence. Charles wanted to hear it again, to ask Pickles to repeat that statement one more time, only this time add the promise that this was it, that once the storm was over, and that Pickles and the others would remain.

But how could he know for sure? Charles knew nothing of the song that accidentally initiated the ritual, the storm that magically brought back each member just alive enough to survive the trip to the hospital before being placed on life support, and whether any of this would be forever, or until the rains ended.

“I’m glad you’re taking this well,” Charles said, fighting back the twitch of his lower lip when Pickles’ index finger gave a mild wiggle into his hand. “But, there’s a lot we need to discuss.” Pickles exhaled through his nose. Charles felt another finger shake under him, requesting for more affection instead of the usual banter of prophecies. This time, Charles chose to ignore it. “Pickles, I need your help. There’s a lot of unknown factors we need to consider, and you’re the only one awake who can help me piece it together,” he said in a semi-confessional manner. “Nathan’s awake, but he can’t talk, and the others are still–”

“Charles…be quiet.”

Charles ceased, staring eyes agape at Pickles. “Excuse me?”

“I said… be quiet.” Pickles heaved another sigh. He turned as best he could, eyes filling with tears as he painfully sucked in enough air to get him through the next sentence. “Kiss me,” he wheezed out, tears falling from the corners of his eyes. “Lemme know this ain’t a dream.”

Charles saw the tears, and pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling his heart tremble and weep for Pickles. In all the years they spent together, Pickles head never sounded so desperate, had looked so small and feeble, and Charles only had himself to thank for it.

“Of course,” he said, voice shaking with guilt, fear, and adoration as he drew near and hovered over Pickles’ weakened state. Carefully, he lowered, lightly brushing his lips against Pickles’ as a warning, a test as to whether Pickles could even handle physical contact without it causing additional pain. He felt the collective heat, the spark and drag of Pickles’ goatee, and the pointed tip of his upper lip, and in that moment, heard Pickles’ request repeat in his head, and dropped into a kiss.

Pickles grunted a sound underneath before letting it flow into a needy hum. Charles listened, feeling his head spin as Pickles filled his stiffened, awkward kiss with flaming passion and reverence, pulling Charles’ bottom lip between his own. There was barely any strength behind the move, but Charles could feel it race through his mouth, down his throat and inject deep into his heart. The trembling fingers wiggled again in his palm, and this time Charles couldn’t hold it together, and he pushed into Pickles, eyes shutting and failing miserably to keep the tears hidden. His throat locked, and though he parted his lips to allow Pickles to playfully nip and suck, to hum more pleasing, lively sounds that Charles had missed so desperately, he found that he couldn’t breathe or think straight past feeling Pickles alive and connected with him.

Pickles was alive. Pickles was here.

Charles stopped the kiss. Not by his own accord, but because the thought had proved too much for him, and despite being so happy, so relieved that Pickles was here, couldn’t keep his mouth from forming an ugly scowl, mouth agape and letting out staggered, shaking breaths. He covered it, smothering his cries as best he could, and Charles tried to take his other to wipe away the stream of tears that flowed freely from the corner of his eyes, but Pickles three fingers curled into his palm, stopping him from going any further.

“S’okay, Charles,” Pickles whispered from his bed, and when Charles looked down, saw Pickles' comforting expression stained red, and possessing a thin stream of tears that ran down the side of his face. “M’feelin’… the same. S’okay.”

Charles sniffed, blinking madly in a sad attempt to see through his wet, fogging glasses. Pain continued to pour forth, and a cathartic sense overtook him as his hand grew limp, letting the occasional curl of wiggle from Pickles’ fingers remind him that they were together.

“Come over here…” Pickles begged, massaging his index finger against the center of Charles’ palm. “I won’t… bite. I’m... too weak!”

A weak laugh broke out from Pickles. Charles let out an ugly sob, this time bringing both hands to lift his glasses away and wipe the increasing flow of tears. He dropped down, resting close to where Pickle’s hand lay, and he cried. He cried and spit out Pickles’ name between each sorry heave, and he felt Pickles’ finger continue to brush against his hair and forehead, reminding him he was still there, and that, for now, there would be no talks about gods or prophecies, about being resurrected, the storm that was drastically decreasing into typical winter rainfall, and whether their reunion was permanent, or would end once the sun arose and dried the rain and tears away.

There was just them, and now.

#Thank You #kissing prompt thing #gluku-pikron #chickles

24 notes · View notes

skzsauce01 · 5 years ago

Text

42nd Moon Pt 3

Description: By some stroke of luck, you get off the waitlist of your biology class. You’d never have guessed you’d find your soulmate there, let alone that he already has a girlfriend... Or that he comes from a fraternity of werewolves.

Warning: none

Word count: 3k

Pairing: werewolf!Jisung x fem!reader, werewolf!Hyunjin x fem!reader

A/N: Extra long chapter with lots of fluff! Stay inside while reading please!

Chapter List

Despite your every effort to give up on Hyunjin, it still hurts to see him and Jiyoung on the couch, noses touching and legs entangled.

You clutch the strap of your bag even tighter and will your feet to walk past the fraternity’s common room. You are here with a mission, and Hyunjin is not part of any of it.

At last, you make your way around the maze that is the Mu Alpha Theta house and find the door leading to your destination. You raise your fist and knock twice.

A whimper comes from the other side, so you ease the door open. Inside, you find a silver wolf lying limply on the rug.

“Goodness, Jisung!” you exclaim, running to his side. “Have you even eaten?”

He lets out another sad noise and moves only to rest his overheating muzzle on your lap.

You give him a few pats before pulling out a thermos from your bag. You open it and scoop out some of its contents with a spoon.

“Open,” you tell him.

He does so wearily and you turn the spoon over on his tongue. Jisung mulls over the food for a few seconds before his eyes light up at the taste. He sits up, wraps his teeth over the container, and tilts it back in successions to consume its contents. When he finishes, he hands you back your container and boops your arm with his nose as thanks before collapsing back onto the ground.

You laugh at his pup-ish antics and lean over to scratch his ears. That is when you hear it.

“Hyunjin-ah,” a feminine voice from outside giggles.

“Shh,” comes an equally cheery male voice. “You’re gonna wake up Jisung.”

“Whatever,” she titters. “I love you~”

“I love you too, Sweetcakes.”

Jisung feels your hand grow tense, and he lets out a whimper of concern.

His noise pulls your thoughts back to the current situation. “Ah sorry. It seems like getting over your soulmate’s a little harder than anticipated, but I’ll be fine,” you reassure him.

Jisung grunts, unconvinced.

“Hyunjin, stop it~”

You freeze up again. You can hear your increasing heart rate pounding in your head

“You really want me to?”

Giggles.

Jisung growls and gets on all fours, prepared to head towards the door to confront his fraternity brother.

“No wait, Jisung stop,” you beg, standing between him and the door. “It’s not our business to interfere. I’ve already made my decision, so there isn’t any reason why you need to go out there.”

He narrows his eyes at you and circles you a few times, ultimately forcing you back to the center of his room.

“Ji-”

You yelp in surprise as he gives your ankle a small nip, causing you to trip backwards. Instead of meeting the hard ground, you land in a pile of silver fur as Jisung nuzzles up next to you, trying to comfort your aching heart.

When you finally realize what he is attempting, you smile to yourself and bring a hand up to continue petting him. Jisung lets out a low noise of content. You let his deep breathing drown out the commotion outside, and before long, it has lulled you to sleep.

“Hi Y/N, Hyunjin,” Jisung greets as he forcibly wedges himself between the two of you and the conversation you were having. “Did you wait long?”

“No,” you answer, letting him take your bag from you. “We’re also waiting for Jiyoung anyway.”

“Her club meeting ended at 10:30. She’ll be here soon,” Hyunjin informs you two.

“Just don’t forget the rule,” Jisung says mockingly to his friend.

Hyunjin grunts and gives the shorter male a shove.

You turn to look at the entrance of Jolly Land expectantly. The two boys each won a pair of tickets to the amusement park in a school event and decided to invite you and Jiyoung. Just then, the other girl comes running and waving at the three of you.

“Hi!” she greets cheerily. “Sorry for the wait!”

Jisung steps in front of your view as she kisses Hyunjin on the cheek. "So to the park then?"

"Yeah!" Jiyoung chirps, taking Hyunjin by the arm and leading him to the front gates.

"Ew," Jisung comments jokingly.

You shrug. "It's kind of cute though."

Jisung turns his head to the side to look at you. You yourself have your eyes trained on the couple.

"Do you, um." Jisung cuts himself off. "N-nevermind."

You blink at him, curious. "What?"

“Nevermind!” he insists with scarlett cheeks.

You don’t think much of his words and go after your other friends. Once inside, a mascot greets the two of you.

“Hello there! I’m Jolly Quokka. Welcome to Jolly Land!”

“Aha thanks,” Jisung says awkwardly.

You, on the other hand, is staring starry-eyed at the giant quokka in front of you.

“Let’s take a picture together to commemorate your date!” it suggests.

“Oh, we’re not--”

“You two are so cute! You know, couples get free matching Quokka headbands! So, how long have you two been together?”

“It’s our first date!” you announce, grabbing Jisung’s hand.

The male looks at you with incredulous eyes. He can feel heat spreading across his face and to his ears.

“Adorable!” coos Jolly Quokka. “Then we most definitely have to take a picture!”

After taking the photo and Jisung being scammed into buying one, the two of you are freed to enjoy your day.

“Sorry for doing that,” you apologize once you are away from Jolly. You let go of Jisung’s hand, leaving him feeling dreadfully cold.

“I-it’s fine.” He clears his throat. “You really like Jolly Quokka don’t you?”

You bring a hand up to touch your new head band. “Yeah… it’s really cute, don’t you think?”

You’re cuter. He clears his throat again. “Well um… I guess these mark us as a couple for the rest of the day, then.”

You frown. “Does it bother you? I just wanted the headband. We can take them off for the day if you want.”

“I-it’s fine. We can keep them on. W-why don’t we, um…” He huffs a sigh, still unable to finish what he was suggesting earlier

“Pretend to be a couple for the day?” you finish for him.

“Y-yeah! I mean, there’s so many couples everywhere; I feel left out!” he blabbers before letting out a sigh and hanging his head. “Nevermind,” he says again. “It’s a stupid idea.”

"No, it's not it's not stupid. Jolly Quokka said there’s a lot of couple events today, so this could be a good opportunity to check them out. That is, only if you don’t mind either."

Oh, Jisung would be delighted. "I d-don't mind." He clears his throat and looks down at your hand. He swallows a lump in and reclaims it.

You intertwine your digit with his, and Jisung almost pees his pants.

Three rides and a bag of cotton candy later, Jisung is still swinging your hands between you two. His steps are light, clearly enjoying himself.

“What next?” he asks.

A voice over the speakers booms before you can answer. “Step on up, couples of Jolly Land!”

You turn towards the noise and see an event happening on a nearby stage. “Best Couple of Jolly Land Competition” the banner reads.

“How about that?” you point. “They say first prize gets an XL Jolly Quokka stuffed animal!”

Jisung’s stomach does a gymnastics routine upon reading some of the events on the banner, but seeing the excitement in your eyes, he is not about to say no to you. “S-sure.”

You frown at his hesitance. “Do you not want to? I understand since I’m not your real--”

“It’s fine!” Jisung cuts you off loudly. “I want to do it. I really, really want to!” He drags you onto stage, snarling every time you suggest that your participations are not in his best interest.

The two of you compete against other couples in various games like trust fall and three-legged race. You are doing pretty well and only one more game awaits.

“And the last game is a game I’m sure you all are familiar with,” announces the MC before whipping out a snack from his coat. “The pepero game!”

The rules are simple: the pair with the shortest cookie left wins but they are not allowed to touch lips. To ensure the last part, one partner is given blue lipstick and the other is given red. Any of your color on your partner’s face results in disqualification.

Jisung feels his hands growing clammy as he watches you rip open the package. Your faces are going to be just millimeters apart! Jisung wants to faint, but at the same time, he would give up his tail just to have this opportunity. Goodness, he really wants to kiss you. How can he not when you’re so innocently lifting up the chocolate stick to his mouth with your own?

“Ready?” calls the MC. “Go, Peppero!”

The fifteen seconds allotted for this game is not enough for Jisung to overcome his internal conflict. All he can think about is making purple with you, but he knows how much you want to win this game, and he isn’t sure you would appreciate the action. Somehow, for reasons beknownst to Jisung, a sly hand manages to slide on its own onto the small of your back, flushing you against him as he tilts his head 30° to the right, leaning closer, and closer, and--

“--and time!” calls the MC.

You bite off your end of the stick and step back from Jisung, smiling in content at your progress.

The MC reads off the lengths of some other couples’ peperos until he gets to yours. “1.8 cm!” he exclaims. “That puts you two in first place for this round, and with your scores from the other games, you two are the best couple of Jolly Land!”

“We did it!” you burst with glee.

The MC guides you two to the center of the stage to celebrate your win. Jisung spots some guys with their girlfriends’ color on their faces and pouts. Who’s the real winner here? Not him, apparently.

“So congratulations!” the MC says again. “How are you feeling?”

“Great,” you respond, hugging your new plushy against your chest. “I really like Jolly Quokka; it’s so cute.”

“You know, Jolly Quokka’s cheeks make it look kind of like your boyfriend, don’t they?” he jokes.

“Yeah,” you agree, pinching Jolly’s cotton face. “He’s cute too.”

Jisung immediately snaps out of his sulking and looks at you with round eyes in disbelief of what he had just heard. How many times are you going to make his heart jolt like this today?

The MC laughs and comments about how adorable the two of you are. “And what do you think about your girlfriend?” he asks Jisung.

“She’s cute of course,” he answers easily. “And pretty and funny and smart.” He bore his eyes into yours as he speaks, hoping you’d feel his sincerity.

After another handful of rides, night falls and the two of you are standing behind some metal railings, waiting for the parade.

“Look! There it is!” you exclaim, squishing Jolly as you lean against the railing for a better look.

Jisung follows your finger to see a couple of people in quokka costumes twirling batons.

“The MC earlier was right,” you chuckle. “Maybe you should join the parade; you look just like a quokka.”

He swings one of his arms behind you, grabbing the railing from the other side and leans towards your ear. “But that makes me ‘cute,’ right?” he teases.

You blush, realizing how your words sound. “Please forget I said that.”

“Why? I like it; it’s flattering.”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“It’s cute. Like me.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He laughs and you turn your attention back to the parade. Despite the amount of people, the night time wind is slowly slipping under your skin. You clutch Jolly a little closer to yourself to block some of it, but still, you can’t help but shiver.

Almost as soon as you start shaking, you feel a weight on your shoulder as Jisung places his jacket around you.

“You’ll get cold!” you protest, trying to give his sweater back.

He blatantly refuses it. “All the boyfriends give their girlfriends their jackets; it’s in the movies.”

“But they don’t show the boyfriend catching a cold afterwards, which is what you’re going to get.”

“It’s okay cause you’d take care of me, right?” he rebuttals cheekily. “And you’ll make that stew like you did last time?”

“I can make you stew without you getting sick.”

“Really?” he laughs, rearranging the garment on your shoulders, “I’m holding you to it then.”

“You better not get sick,” you pout.

Ah, your pout is so adorable, Jisung can’t help but stare at it. He keeps staring even as another part of the parade passes by, making your lips part in animation at the colorful lights. Jisung is not interested in the decorated carts or drum-playing children. To be honest, he has only been able to concentrate on one thing ever since that pepero game.

The urge is so strong, and your lips are so plump, so red, so inviting.

“Y/N…” he begins, his voice barely a raspy whisper. “C-can I… can I--”

He realizes then that you aren’t hearing his words. He looks to your eyes and finds that they aren’t even on the parade anymore. He looks up and immediately finds what has stolen your attention.

On the other side of the parade is Hyunjin and Jiyoung, doing the very thing Jisung has spent all afternoon trying to accomplish.

Jisung frowns upon seeing you frowning. A little lower, and he sees your soul mark tattoo every time you lift your hand to pet Jolly anxiously. Why do you have to be Hyunjin’s soulmate? Why can’t you just be any other girl in his bio class? Why can’t you-- he looks at his own barren wrist-- be his soulmate?

“Come on,” he snaps, pulling at your hand.

You jolt out of your staring. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” he announces. “I’m tired. Let’s go.”

You follow him through the crowd wordlessly until you’re both out of the mob. “I’m sorry,” you say in a small whisper.

Jisung turns to you. “Why are you sorry?”

“I was staring at Hyunjin on what is supposed to be our date. Isn’t that why you’re mad?”

“No, I’m not mad, I’m just--” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Okay, I am mad, but not at you. I’m just irritated at the whole stupid soulmate thing! Like if it’s going to make you love someone, then shouldn’t it also let you be with them? Then if you were happily together, maybe I wouldn’t have-- Uhg, no, I’m just being selfish right now. This is all just, just so messed up. Emotionally binding you to someone you can’t be with, it’s just so messed up.”

“Jisung…” you begin, although you are unsure where to do so. “It’s okay; I’m okay, unless… there’s something more?” You look at his wrists. You have noticed that everyone in the frat but him has a soulmark. You aren’t sure it’s something he’s comfortable talking about, but you’ve also noticed him staring at yours a lot, and that it’s bothering him.

He freezes at your suggestion. You take in a long breath to gather your courage before grabbing his wrists and stroking them gently. You cock your head to the side, questioningly. Jisung bites his lips and looks to the ground.

“You’re right. There’s something more,” he confesses.

You lower his hands. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” he says, still not looking at you. “She, um, she’s dead. It happened when I was fifteen. It was the worst day of my life; it felt like the sun stopped shining and I was nothing but a hollow husk. My wrist burned for days and days as the mark peeled off until it was all gone.”

“I’m sorry,” you say pathetically.

“It’s okay. I got used to the feeling. And recently--” he manages a small smile-- “I’ve found something that’s been filling that void.”

“Really? What?”

“That I want to keep secret, my dear Y/N.” With a sigh, he turns around and continues walking. “Sorry to dump that sob story on you.”

“It’s alright. I’m glad you were able to talk about it.”

He smiles weakly again. Only with you, he thinks to himself. “It does feel nice to get it off my chest sometimes. Come on, let’s go”

He makes a right, the opposite direction to the subway. “Ready to go home?”

“The train is that way,” you tell him.

He smirks and lets out a howl into the night air. Before you know it, you’re dashing through town on top of your personal wolf. Jisung lets the cold air on his face clear his head and the sound of your adrenaline-filled squeals bring music to his ears.

“Did you have fun today?” he asks once you’ve arrived at your apartment.

“Yes, thank you. And thanks for being my boyfriend for the day; it made me feel less bad to see all those other couples at the park,” you joke.

He laughs lightly with you.

“And Jisung?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t worry about soulmates. There’s another soul out there waiting for you.”

Jisung smiles bittersweetly at you. He takes a couple steps closer and kisses your forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

You watch his retreating form disappear into the night with your hand clasped over the spot he kissed. If today was any indication, whoever that soul is that’s waiting for him, you think to yourself, is very lucky.

~ ad.gold

#han jisung #werewolf!jisung #hyunjin #werewolf!hyunjin #soulmates #stray kids #skz #42nd moon #quokkas #04032020

106 notes · View notes

statticscribbles · 4 years ago

Text

Stone Snake

Summary: My take on Kurtz’s backstory

It’s Fangs who brings up Kurtz’s behavior, how they’d been talking, Kurtz antagonizing them before he’d just stopped for thirty seconds, frozen before he continued, his words slurred slightly. Jughead brushes it off as a slightly too much Fizzle Rocks, but when Sweet Pea says the same thing twice later that week he makes a point of confronting Kurtz; well trying to but he finds Kurtz out for the next two days.

When he shows back up he looks worryingly sick to Jughead. The normally wide alert eyes he has are half closed and glassy. His entire body looks like he’s about to fall over, partially from his own weight and the overall exhaustion that causes him to drag himself into the chair and close his eyes leaning back. Even when Fangs quips how he looks like he’s going to be dragged to hell with all his slouching he doesn’t do more that offer a sleepy chuckle. When he gets up to change classes and his arm jerks outward almost hitting Toni; the rest of the Serpents tense waiting for a fight.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he mumbles before he slips out into the rushing hallway. The Serpents are left confused and Toni doesn’t say anything when he asks if she said something to bother Kurtz.

Jughead watches him at lunch, how his head droops against his shoulder as he curls into the armchair, folding over himself and wincing as he digs through his bag, pulling out a pair of dark sunglasses to cover his eyes. “Kurtz.” He tilts his head up to Jughead who stands over him. “Yes?” Jughead sighs nervous at the lack of fight in Kurtz for the past few days. “You okay?” Kurtz lowers the sunglasses; Jughead notes he looks confused chewing his lip before nodding. “Yes, just stress.” He states, almost questioning himself but Jughead lets it go for as long as it takes Kurtz to stand. It’s no longer let go when Kurtz is walking from the student lounge and his leg gives out from under him. Jughead hears the gasp he sucks in as he falls, stumbling up as if nothing happened, hand digging into the back of his head as he steady’s himself.

“Betty.” Jughead speaks to get her attention and she watches as he sits down next to her. “What’s in Kurtz’s file?” Betty shoots him a confused look. “Besides the criminal activity? I’d assume not much, why?” Jughead shakes his head. “Something’s wrong with him, besides the Fizzle Rocks and G&G issues. I need to know what it is, despite everything he’s still a Serpent.” Betty nods retreating from the student lounge. It takes her fifteen minutes before she returns holding a thin file. “This is it?” She nods scowling as he flicks it open. “C. Kurtz Walters.” Betty speaks but Jughead’s already read down the page scowling. “Of course he’s from there.” Betty skims the rest of the page to find what’s annoyed Jughead, at the bottom of the page written almost as a footnote.

-Request records from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. - They both look at each other and they know exactly where they’ll be spending their weekend. “You can’t just ask him?” Betty questions in their last class. Jughead shakes his head. “I don’t even know if he’s ever given me a straight answer, better to gather more information before asking.” He shrugs as he tugs his jacket on after the bell rings.

They call on Sister Woodhouse directly, she does little to hide her disgust and annoyance at them showing up. “What do you two want now?” “Our friend, Kurtz. He grew up here, we wanted to get his records for the school to have.” Sister Woodhouse raises an eyebrow as she sits behind her desk. “Why can’t the school request it then? And why you two?” Betty smiles tightly and hands over a folded piece of paper. They wait as she reads it, Sister Woodhouse passing it back to Betty nodding.

“Follow me.” She leads them down a corridor and into a small room filled with filing cabinets. “His name?” “Kurtz, Walters.” Jughead states. “Kurtz?” Sister Woodhouse frowns eyes darting back and forth as if searching for something. “Oh you mean Conrad, such a good boy.” Betty’s eyes dart to Jughead who rolls his, before pulling a half blurred photo he’d manage to get of Kurtz. He shows it to Sister Woodhouse, and she smiles.

“Oh that’s definitely Conrad, wild little boy he was, always wanted to play. Hated camera’s; still does if that’s the best photo you have of him, still unmistakable.” “He hates camera’s?” Betty probes and Sister Woodhouse nods holding the identification photo up, one of the other boy’s is holding Kurtz back, his arms restrained and his eyes wide and fearful. “It was really the flash he hated. Something about those bright lights scared him.” Betty nods hovering her phone to take photos of his files. Sister Woodhouse retreats from watching them to scold one of the children who are peeking in the door. Betty frowns putting her phone away and sliding the file between two of the books in her bag next to the letter her mother forged. Her and Jughead are in his trailer reading over the file.

Name: Conrad Kurtz Walters. Gender: Male Age Admitted: Four D.O.B: October 2002 Reason for Admission: Orphan, untreated illness specified as abandonment reason. Symptoms: Hallucinations, nightmares, tremors, anxiety, loss of appetite, crying spells, violent outbursts. “Jug look at this.” He frowns at the paper Betty pulls out. He notes the dates have changed, it seems to make Kurtz around seven when the second half of the page was written. Therapeutic treatments: Grief counseling, aversion correction. Bereavement and CBT therapies considered. Betty shakes her head as he reads. “Not that, this.” She points to the bottom of the page, her body tensing as her eyebrows furrow. Grief counseling: Failed. Aversion Correction: partial success. ECT advised. Jughead turns the page. ECT approved. ECT administered daily. ECT Successful. Patient reports no negative behaviors or coping mechanisms used three days post ECT. Jughead flips through the rest of the file, wincing as he reads out. Patient reported relapse, staff confirmed, resume ECT. ECT administered daily. ECT successful. Patient reports negative coping mechanisms. ECT rescheduled. ECT administered daily for two additional weeks. ECT successful. Treatment concluded. “ECT?” “Electroconvulsive Therapy. Where they shock you, it’s proven useful for treating depression as well as more serious mood disorders when done right.” Jughead reads. “Why would he need- Jug, oh my god.” Betty pulls out more papers, old notes it looks like and her and Jughead read over them.

Conrad was found at four years old, on the Blossom’s grounds. He was unable to say where he came from, or who his family was, traces of sedative were found in his system. It was likely he was being moved from one area to the other. Potentially part of a human trafficking scheme. She flips the page scanning down the next one. Age ten, Conrad reports nightmares of “where dead people live” he refuses to play Gryphons and Gargoyles with the other children. Sister Lila found him in the ‘king chamber’ he refused to leave. Two of the orderlies had to sedate him. He returned to the “king chamber” despite warnings and punishment’s against it. He appears to return after unsuccessful ECT sessions. When questioned about why he was there, he stated he was talking to his father. Conrad refuses to speak during his allotted therapy sessions preferring to draw. He would often draw pictures of the Gargoyle king, these only increased after successful ECT sessions. He would occasionally draw a figure in all black and gray assumed to be his father.

“His father?” Jughead questions and Betty skims the rest of the report. Conrad reports his father lives ‘where the dead people live’ we can assume his father was abusive or neglectful as the nightmares he reports often have him being locked in a closet like room or chained outside. ECT administered daily to correct the negative thoughts. Aversion to bright lights and flashes still present. Conrad shows improvement and a willingness to socialize through G&G. Betty turns.

“Look a medical report.” Conrad experienced a seizure like episode during picture day. He reported waking with a headache, a common excuse to try to stay in bed. After breakfast where he flung his oatmeal across the room twice he reported the headache having gotten worse. After his usually ECT session his speech was slurred and he had trouble standing. He was brought to picture day covering his eyes when he entered the room crying about the flashes hurting him. Two minutes of waiting in line and being exposed to the flashes of the bulbs caused him to loose consciousness and begin mild convulsions that lasted for fifty-seven seconds. When Conrad regained consciousness he was crying apologizing and asking us not to tell his father or to chain him outside. “Chained? Christ no wonder Kurtz is so fucked- Betty.” Jughead’s eyes widen. “What? Jug What?” “Who do we know that lives ‘where dead people do? And has a place to chain someone outside?” Jughead swallows. “Like hot dog.” He prompts at Betty gasps when she connects his prompting.

“Malachai? You think-” Jughead shrugs, before pulling the file back over. “Disregarding that for the moment, he had a seizure, could it be a reoccurring problem? Maybe why he wasn’t adopted out?” Jughead questions and Betty nods in agreement. “Either way you have a lot more facts to go talk to him about.” She kisses his cheek as she leaves and Jughead groans dreading school.

He’s walking through the hallway, noticing Kurtz slumped in one of the chairs again, it’s closest to the door and he doesn’t move when Jughead calls out to him. “Conrad.” Kurtz head whips up and he jerks from the chair huffing as he glares at Jughead. “I have a couple questions for you.” Kurtz nods. “Fire away then.” “I know you were at the Sister’s for years and-“ “From when I was about five till fifteen. You running a story on the ‘therapy’ they do there?” “Why do you say it like-“ Kurtz snorts. “You really think they know what they were doing when they shocked a seven year old with epilepsy?” “Epilepsy?”

“Yeah, the seizures? I’m sure you read about those in my files, not to mention the ones I’ve had earlier in the week. Running low on my meds, and with you throwing out drug runnin’ I’m out a job.” Jughead frowns. “You can’t pay for-“ “You really think I could anyways? You think Mrs. Fogarty can pay for her treatments too? We’re from the Southside Jones, everyone, even the government want us dead; we’re the dog shit on their new shoes. The reminder of mistakes and something taking up space for the nice prison they want to build. It’ll have wonderful windows, I swear.” Kurtz mocks sneering at Jughead. “You want to play havoc in my brain you’ve already been beaten, you’re years late on that one snake, not even my own parents wanted to deal with me or the hallucinations, bet that was in my file to yeah?”

“Yeah it-“ “You wanna know what fucked up my dad so bad he left me in the middle of the forest?” Kurtz snaps squaring up to Jughead. “I had an episode in front of Fred Andrews. I was going to meet my dad for lunch at Pop’s. We were getting burgers it was our thing. Andrews was on lunch break. I don’t know what it was but one second I’m eating the next I’m on the floor screaming. He freaked and my dad, he just sat back and laughed, said for him not to worry. He tried to drive me to the hospital. That idiot he should’a known better than to take somethin’ belonging to my dad. So after Andrews calmed down, he got me a shake, my dad put something in it. I was half awake drugged and out of it from the seizure and he drove me out into the forest and said if I ever came back to him or told anyone he’d keep me out back all the time, not just when I had episodes.” Kurtz sighs letting his head drop as he stares at the floor. “Kurtz.”

“Don’t go saying you’re sorry for me or ‘I didn’t know I wouldn’t’ve-‘ There’s a reason I didn’t let anyone know, reason I didn’t bother anybody. I’m crazy enough most people stay away from that. Guessin’ snakes don’t have that much brain power.” He half laughs as his breathing hitches his leg going out from under him. Jughead automatically wraps an arm around him hoisting him up.

“Come on Kurtz, you’re a snake too, you’re just as dumb as all of us.” Kurtz laughs shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, I have an excuse, I may be dumb as a pile of bricks but it’s cause my brain is fucked up, you’re just dumb.” Jughead huffs. “Oh really, prove it.” He knows its childish, but he’s surprised at how human Kurtz is acting, he justifies his relief as Kurtz being a Serpent, nothing more. “Well you let me join up didn’t you? Point proven.” Jughead laughs shoving him towards the chair he’d stood from before sitting in the chair next to it.

Support My Writing?

#kurtz riverdale #kurtz #jughead jones #jughead jones imagine #jonathan whitesell #jonathan whitsell imagine #cole sprouse #cole sprouse imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale request #stattic

7 notes · View notes

indianstories · 3 years ago

Text

SHARDA and ABDUL

SHARDA AND ABDUL

Sharda and her family lived in old Mysore area of kopal, a locality of mixed Hindu and Muslim population as the occupants were all poor people, below poverty line, who were allotted government built housing through a lottery draw. Obviously the neighbors were not by choice but by lottery. This proved to be one of the most successful ways to promote mixed community living and cultural tolerance besides building understanding and amity. People of Kopal lived in harmony for decades, the call from Mosque and slokas from the loudspeakers of Temple and Bells from the Church were all revered by all. Sharda’s mother Madhu was a school teacher. Madhu was married to Raju a street hawker who sold cut spicy masala smeared cucumbers in front of the government school. Raju had neither influence nor money to bribe, to get a job in the government. He felt that there no harm in selling cucumber and earn the same money. Madhu married Raju against her parents’ wishes as she was from an upper caste orthodox Brahmin family and Raju ,a handsome man, an unemployed graduate of History, was from the backword tribes community. Sharda was the only child to them and was an extremely pretty girl, brownish color, dark long hair drooping down to below her hips. They were so thick that her mother would tie two braids and fold them still to see them hanging up to her back. Her beautiful eyes white like that of a gazelle, her smile would compel to stop a passer-by for a glance of her perfect set of white teeth and a killing smile with dimple on her cheeks. Raju and Madhu wanted Sharda to become a doctor and they would spend most evenings after dinner at home talking for hours in the imaginary future of Sharda as a doctor and Raju would not have to sell cucumber any more . They would dream of comfortable old age, would imagine themselves in a bungalow, a car servants and rich guests visiting them. Madhu’s neighbor was a Muslim, Rahman,who was a cart puller in the rice mandi. He was married to Fatima, who use to make papad and pickles at home and sell them through local shops. They had a son Abdul. Abdul was a handsome boy too. Both Raju’ s and Rahman’ s family sunk very well. They knew that Raju was from a lower caste and Sharda was a Brahmin and theirs was a love marriage. The friendship between Raju and Rahman as well as Madhu and Rahman s wife Fathima was so intimate that Madhu and Fathima would exchange whatever they cooked for dinner. Madhu remained a vegetarian but Raju and Sharda ate non-vegetarian food. In the Evening Madhu and Fathima sit on the their door steps and talk for hours until Raju or Rahman return. Sharda was an early riser and so was Abdul. Sharda and Abdul would both step out and stay at their doors, talk and often play cricket in front of the door. Their wickets were three bricks, their ball was stitched from old cloth and their bat was a plank they picked up on the road. In less than a year, Rahman's wife met with an accident and had an instant death. This tragedy in Rahman's family brought them closer to the Sharda’s family. Abdul was very sad and Madhu would console him. Abdul was a sober boy and a studious student; He too had a dream to become a doctor. He would always console his father with a promise of comfortable life when he settled down in life. Abdul and Sharda were good friends as kids but as Sharda grew up and Abdul grew into a young man,they slowly withdrew themselves. They did not meet often and stopped playing together. Madhu would always take Sharda along with her to school. Sharda studied in the same primary school as her mother. Sharda was a math teacher and that made sharda interested in Maths which helped her to score high marks in aggregate. Abdul was in High School and was always topping in the class. So was Sharda .She always stood first in the class. Sharda was a good debater and had tremendous leadership qualities.

. Madhu taught maths for lower classes and also drawing as that was her passion. Both Madhu and Raju earning, they were financially far better than Rahman and Abdul.

Many a times Sharda would ask Rahman if he needed any help for the education of Abdul. Rahman would avoid help from Sharda and often lie to her that he has enough money to pay for the fees and books. One day Sharda and Madhu spotted Abdul in a second hand book shop where he would pick books of his class but drop them back after knowing the price. Madhu stepped behind him with cat steps and hiding behind him watched all the books he looked for. Both mother and daughter disappeared from the scene and came back after Abdul left. Madhu bought all the books for Abdul and dropped them at his house before he could return. Abdul though felt embarrassed at this kindness, accepted the books with folded hands. Rahman went to thank Madhu. Raju just entered when he saw Rahman and Abdul in tears,tears of gratitude. When Sharda was eight years, Abdul was twelve. As Sharda grew up into her teens, Madhu would cautiously watch her and constantly escort her when she went out of the house.. So was Abdul conscious of the limitations of talking and playing with Sharda. Time passed, both studied well. Sharda grew into a beautiful young woman a heartthrob that would stun even the elderly men and even women crossing her way. Abdul would sometimes have her glance when she steps out for a moment. Abdul was so fond of her that he would miss her if not seen her for a few days. Madhu was conscious of the feelings of both Sharda and Abdul, but she was cautioned by her colleagues in school. Her close friend, Radhika use to caution Madhu that Sharda is not only beautiful but an intelligent girl entering college and soon a rich Hindu boy would ask for her hand .she should not be seen with Abdul or ever seen talking to him. Madhu did not really welcome this caution, but she shared it with Raju. Raju agreed with her colleagues and so the distance between Sharda and Abdul increased. But to get a glimpse of Sharda,Abdul would stay out of home, walk up and down the lane for hours hoping for a glimpse of Sharda at least from the window. Sharda also realized the Abduls restless walk across the lane,and would peep out of the window around late evening, wave at him and disappear.

When Sharda passed her 9th exam, Abdul passed his 12th with a first class and distinction.. Abdul,s father wanted him to go for a job, but Madhu and Raju wanted him to become a Doctor. Rahman was so poor that he would not afford to pay the fee nor even buy medical books. Madhu suggested that Abdul should raise bank loan, but no Bank agreed to loan money to rickshaw pullers son.

Madhu took Abdul to the State Bank of India branch where Madhu had an account and met the manager, Anil Sharma. Anil Sharma offered Sharda a seat as he knew her as teacher of his own daughter. He directly asked her if she wanted any loan for her daughter Sharda? She replied” No Sir, she has not entered a college yet and she dreams to be a doctor.” Sharma said, ‘Madhu ji ,why not, she is intelligent and beautiful. Do not hesitate to take loan from us when she needs”. Madhu, pointed to Abdul and said, "Sir I have come for this boy who lives in the neighbor and we have lived like family members. He is an honest, hardworking and promising citizen. He has scored 95% and would easily walk through to a Government Medical College.” Sharma asked "Good, what is his name? He is Abdul and his father is a rickshaw puller and has no mother". Sharma:” all that is good but who will stand guarantee to him and does he have any things to pledge?” Madhu said "Sir, he has a one bedroom home like mine allotted to his father under Asha home and he may have some small payments left to be paid to have it in his name, Sharma" there are hassles and I would advise you to keep out of this as we cannot predict the turns it would take”. Madhu insisted, "Sir I am very keen that Abdul should study medicine and if he leaves it, it will go to another boy. Sharma said" that may not be another Abdul, so you should not indulge so much. Madhu finally said "Sir, what if I offer myself as guarantor?"

Sharma said "what will you do when your daughter needs loan after three years? Madhu ji please, you are going beyond which you may regret. How much do you trust his father a rickshaw puller and this Abdul? Madhu, says "Sir, I may regret more of he loses this seat in medicine. Sharma, Madhu ji, give me time to think and you too take your time to consult your colleagues and your husband. Madhu & Abdul return home and Madhu takes a promise from Abdul not to reveal and discuss their bank visit with any one. Abdul nods his head. Madhu discussed this with Raju who confessed his ignorance in all these matters and left it to Madhu’s wisdom. Madhu discusses her intention to get Abdul a loan with her friend Radhika working with her in school, who also had a son Narayan seeking admission in medicine. Radhika started shouting at Madhu “are you a insane woman falling into the trap of a Muslim family”. Radhika had in her mind a long term plan for her son. She instantly came out with her mind. "Look Madhu" she said "your daughter can also be a doctor and my son will also get into medicine. I also need to get a loan and if you guarantee for my loan, my son could be your Son-in-law and both your doctor daughter and my son could bring happiness to both our families".

That instant proposal stunned and confused her. Madhu silently return home in a dilemma. She could not talk to Raju about it as Raju was too simple to understand and take a decision. Raju’s only skill was in making spicy cucumber slices that sold like anything in front of the school. She was restless and awake till late nights. It was a Saturday and she waited till Monday to go the bank again. She met the manager again in the morning and Mr.Sharma did not welcome her with the same enthusiasm. She made her wait for one hour before he looked at her. He said "tell me Madhu ji" Madhu, with her eyes down said "Sir I have decided to sign guarantee for Abdul’s education loan”. Sharma "Do you realize the consequence of his defaulting?" "Yes Sir" said Madhu.” I will have to pay his loan or my house will be attached”. "Yes" said Sharma. "And still would you risk with your own daughter needing your help? And the expenses of her studies and her marriage? Sharma's tone was harsh. Sharma threw a bunch of papers to be filled up in front of Madhu and asked her to get them filled with all supporting documents after admission letter is issued for Abdul by the medical admission boards. After returning home, she walked into Rahman's home and told him "Rahman bhai, Abdul will be studying medicine and I have taken loan from the Bank. When he starts earning, he will pay back to the bank with interest. Tears flowed through Rahman’s eyes and he bowed down to touch her feet Madhu resisted with her hands firmly on his shoulders.

Abdul joined the Medical College, and wore the new shirt and trousers that Madhu bought for him as her gift. On the first day, Abdul came to Madhu’s home, touches her feet, takes her blessings and his eyes start searching for a glimpse of Sharda ,before leaving to the college.. Sharda was hiding behind the curtain and Abdul could only see her feet, her nails coloured and mehandi on feet. Abdul imagined her in a bridal dress but had no courage to call her or move the cloth curtain to see her. He walked out wishing Sharda, whom he started calling Amma.

Time passed, Abdul has been passing with very high marks that qualified him for full fee exemptions and a handsome scholarship from the government of India. This gave a great relief Abdul and to Madhu. Madhu approached the Bank to inform that Abdul would not avail further loan for rest of the his studies. Besides, Abdul would pay back the first installment of loan in two years from the scholarship he would receive.

Three years passed by, Sharda too passes twelveth with 90% marks and got admission in the same medical college that Abdul was studying in his fourth year. Though Abdul and Sharda were leaving for college the same time, they would avoid walking together on the road. They would walk on the opposite footpath of the road, as Abdul was conscious of the mind of the neighborhood and he did not want any remark on Sharda by the people of the locality. Even in the college ,Sharda, was one of the most attractive young woman. She would always prefer remain in the girls crowd avoiding any encounter with the boys. Abdul and Sharda would confront in the cafe, smile at each other and part to sit at different tables.

The college library was kept open on Sundays and on days close to the exams. The reading hall use to be packed with students. Often boys and girls were seen on benches outside the library under the large shady trees. It was not uncommon to see a boy and girl engage in combined study. Sharda wanted to sit with Abdul for some time on the bench, on the pretex of seeking clarification on some doubts in physiology. She was too shy to ask him to sit with her on the bench. Abdul too was very conscious of the fall back if they were spotted by passers on the main road just outside the college. For two years of the overlapping stay of both Shardha and Abdul at the medical college, the feelings of attraction, fondness of each other remained subdued, consciously so by both. Abdul always felt the burden of the obligation of Madhu. Sharda's mother. He very well realized that without sharda’s mother, he would not have entered the medical colleges. He would not imagine even to hear a word from anyone that would be against Sharda or her mother’s honour. This indebtedness kept all his feelings for Sharda buried with himself. For two years in the same college, the two who spend hours playing in childhood, did not dare to speak to each other. But Sharda would miss Abdul, if she did not cross her on the corridor or library or cafeteria at least once a day. It was the same with Abdul, but Abdul was matured and highly mellowed personality.

Abdul bought a bicycle when he was in third year from out of the scholarships money, and commuted to college on the bicycle. One day Sharda was a bit late to leave home and was rushing out and her mother at the door waving her hand. Abdul came out at the same time, and seeing Sharda rushing on road, asked Sharda, “Amma should I take Sharda on the pillion on of my bicycle?” Sharda’s mother smiled and said, Abdul, "you should avoid such gesture", this was a loud and clear message to Abdul. The same evening while returning home, Sharda saw Abdul on his bicycle. She waved at Abdul and asked "Abdul, can I be on the pillion for some distance? Abdul said with a sad face and tears in his eyes busting out, Sharda, "Perhaps not". He then said "you know why"?

Abdul completes his medical course with distinction. He received his last installment of scholarship. He decides to go to sweet shop before returning home, and buy some sweets. While returning home, he thought of gifting some things to Madhu, Raju and his father. He got into a cloth store, picked up two shirts for his father and Raju and sky blue cotton sari for Madhu. He was in an afix, if he should buy something for Sharda. He knew that Sharda would be excited with anything from him but he was unsure of her mother’s reaction. After a prolonged thinking, he decided to buy Parker pen set for her. Abdul reached home a bit late it was 7 p.m and it was time for the evening prayers. Abdul hurried to finish his prayer, and waited for his father Rahman to return home. Rahman comes a little late and Abdul hugs his father and shows him the course completion certificate with tears. Rahman with controlled emotions said " your mother is not with us to see this day". Yes baba, but Sharda Amma will be as happy as my mother would have been. Rahman " what is it in the bag?" he open the bag and showed the gifts and asked his father to choose the shirt he liked. Rahman smile and said, I will wear what is left after Raju picks his choices. Abdul asks his father "Baba, will you accompany me to Sharda and Amma to give them the gifts? He readily agreed and they both went out to knock the next door. The door opened, and it was Sharda who was wiping her long hair after the bath with a thin Sari of her mother. She blushed, smiled and ran inside to her room giving a shout "Amma look, there is someone at the door". Madhu comes, obviously from the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her right hand. She asked both father and son to come in and sit down. Abdul proceeds to Madhu before seating himself, bows to touch her feet and shows her the result sheet and hesitantly gives the gift he brought, "Amma, please accept these little things, token of my love and respect for you, Raju Uncle and Sharda.” She takes the bag gracefully with a smile and puts it on the chair. She goes into the kitchen to bring the fresh besan ladoo she made. Raju enters just then and gives a hug to Rahman. Sharda was again behind the curtain and her Pretty feet with bright red coloured nails were visible. She knew that Abdul would easily spot them and Abdul had his eyes fixed on that motion less feet behind the curtain.Raju ask Rahman "what are your plans now?"Rahman said "Abdul wants to study further, which he only can explain." Raju said " I am as ignorant as you are Rahman", but Sharda will understand and of course, Madhu will.Abdul said " Amma, I have written the all India entrance for a post-graduation in Nephrology and I have secured a seat in All India Institute of Medical Science in Delhi with a scholarship. I need your blessings. “He bows and touches her feet again and Madhu lifts him catching his arms firmly.

The following week, Abdul leaves for Delhi and before leaving he sees Madhu to take her blessings. Sharda could no longer hide behind the curtain and she comes face to face with Abdul. Abdul extends his hand hesitantly to shakehand and said” take care Sharda, I will see you after two years, Insha Allah”. First time Sharda said ‘Insha Allah” and hastened to explain to her mother, Amma it means “If only God is willing”.

Rahman stayed back alone for about a month. Abdul choose to stay in a small rented accommodation instead of the hostel, he wanted to bring his father along to stay at Delhi. Rahman joined his son and before leaving, hands over house keys to Madhu to keep them safe. Sharda used to open the house and use Abduls table for her studies. Abdul had left all his books for Sharda. Time flies, two years passed, Sharda also completes her MBBS with distinction.

Madhu and Raju thought of getting her married, to her colleague Radhika’s son who also passed out along with Sharda. Radhika reminded Madhu of her proposal which she had made five years ago,to raise a loan for her son and would get them married. Bur Madhu, now my son has proposals from very rich and well to do families. Madhu felt belittled at that response. When she came home she saw Sharda trying to convice her father that, she would like to specialize in Pediatrics at the All India Institute at Delhi,and would write all India exams. Madhu and Raju yields to her adamancies. Incidentally she gets admission at the same Institute at Delhi, but Abdul had completed his Masters and had secured a scholarship to specialize further in Edinburgh. He took his father along to Edinburgh. Rahman and Abdul moved into a studio to live in an downtown of Edinburgh. Rahman was wondering about the change of events in life. When his son is away he would lie down to get the flash back of his life at his old house, his life pulling rickshaw and eating idli on roadside for lunch and so on.

Sharda passes her Masters, but she was keen to take American board exams and to go to US for further internship in pediatrics. She works hard and clears all the American board exams. She gets an offer at children's hospital at San Francisco, prestigious center of child care. She had to go alone, as Madhu was still in service and in any case, it was not easy to get a Visa for mother until Sharda settled down. It was the first ever flying experience of Sharda, and she was nervous. She flew by Cathay Pacific which flies from Bangalore with a change over at Hong Kong. From Bangalore to Hong Kong she got a middle seat of the four seat central row. The other three were occupied by Tamil speaking elite couple who from their talk seemed rich professionals settled in US. They were with two kids, one of whom was in the lap. They hardly looked at Sharda though she was longing to draw their attention and talk to the lady. She thought she would pick up a conversation but in vain. The transit in Hong Kong was 4 hours where she had to change the flight and get into the flight to San Francisco. She got the window seat of two seat row and the person next to her was another lady in her forties with a scarf on her head. She wished Sharda with smile and Sharda felt so much relieved with one intimate smile of the lady. Once they settled it was a nearing dawn with rays of rising sun piercing through the window. Sharda wanted to initiate some conversation, but the lady next to her said "Give me two minutes I will finish my morning prayer". Sitting on the seat she does all her postures of a Namaz, which Sharda was familiar with as she had always observed Abdul and Rahman doing it next door at home. She waited for her to finish her prayers and lost no time to introduce herself. Mam "I am Sharda, I am from Mysore" “oh, so nice I am from Mysore too, my name is Salma" said the lady. "Oh, we can talk in Kannada then" said Sharda. “Yes”, said Salma.” Tell me more Sharda”, said Salma. “Can I call you Didi”, Sharda asked. "In fact, I wanted to tell you, don't call me mam", said Salma. “Didi, I am a doctor, and I am going to San Francisco on my first assignment after passing my American exams”. "How, nice congrats Sharda, you are a blessed child to your parents" said Salma. I work in a software company and husband is also a software engineer. We have two daughters we live in San Jose. My parents live in Mysore and visit us every year" said Salma. “Didi, my mother is a teacher, teaches Maths and my father is a street vendor. He is popular as Raju, masala cucumber man".Salma was stunned at the honest and simplicity of Sharda, her beauty and accomplishments. Salma was silent for some time, till the sign to fasten seat belt went off. Salma, asked her "what are your plans Sharda?" “Didi” she said" I have five days to join, when they would allot me a hostel and till then I must find an affordable accommodation" Salma said " Sharda have you booked a hotel?" “No” said Sharda. " how much does it cost" she asked. On any count not less than $100 per day" said Salma. "Oh, I have $ 500, and I should be able to manage" said Sharda. Salma said " I suggest you come with me to San Jose, my husband is coming to pick me with children. You stay with us for five days, settle down and then I will drop you to your Hospital at San Francisco" said Salma. Sharda controlled her tears, but could not. Wiped her eyes and said “Didi, why are you so kind?” Salma said, " I am not doing a favour to you, on the contrary you are the one doing a favour to me, you know. You are helping me to earn the praise of Allah who likes humans who are kind to others and help others.” Sharda said “Didi, I am so fortunate, I will get an opportunity to know from you more about your faith" “sure “said Salma with a smile. They had the 12 hours of flight, with snacks and two meals served. Sharda had opted for non-vegetarian but was surprised that Salma had opted for vegetarian Indian meal. 12 hours passed and they arrived at San-Francesco. Salma's husband was there, and Salma told, “ Akheel, I have

brought a friend from Mysore Sharda, a doctor, who will stay for 4-5 days before she joins he work at Sanfrancisco. Akheel who is a very calm person said “Hello” and drew back to San Jose. Sharda was excited with the traffic, the freeways and the buildings and the cold weather. Salma showed on the way the huge building of the company she worked. They reached home in forty five minutes. The two girls who were seated in the rear seat of their Benz SUV were busy all the time with their smart phones and as soon as they got out of the car, went to their rooms upstairs. Sharda was shown the guest room at the ground floor. After settling down, Sharda hesitantly entered the kitchen and saw Salma making lunch. She asked “Didi, can I help you, anything that I can do. I will lay the table and she quickly spotted the plates and glasses and laid them on table. Before the lunch, she heard Azan from the clock, and Salma called the girls to come for namaz and then the Lunch. Akheel also came down, spread the prayer mat and stood to lead the namaz. Salma and two girls stood behind Akheel and started the prayer. Sharda sat in a corner chair and just watched them with curiously and a desire storming into her to know more about Islam. The next day was a Friday and Salma told sharda, that the family is going to Masjid and she could comfortably stay at home and also go round the back yard garden with a swimming pool. Sharda asked “ Didi are other communities allowed to come to Mosques?” Salma said “yes, if you like to come, listen to sermons and sit and watch, you are welcome”. Sharda, quickly changed and tied the scarf imitating Mariam and her girls and decided to accompany them. She was given a chair to sit inside behind the congregation and she heard the Egyptian, Imam speaking that day on the five tenets of Islam, prophets teachings on obligations of Muslims to humanity and the punishment for violence and killing of innocents. Sharda was just stunned at the different world of Islamic culture, she wanted to know more and more from Salma about Islam. Salma said “it is simple” Islam says that there is one God who cannot be associated with any other being and he created the universe and has empowered humans to penetrate and discover universe. He sent messengers to Human kind and Mohammed was the last messenger.” The second command is thanking Allah through prayers, the third is to fast in his name in the month of Ramadan. Fasting has medical benefits and at the same time brings equality on every one including the rich and poor. The rich feel the pain of hunger. The fourth is Zakath, a prescribed parting of 2½% of accumulated wealth, in cash or gold with poor, each year and the last one is only optional, which is Haj, A prayer at Mecca around a stone laid by prophet Abraham. This is only for those who can afford. Sharda said,” amazing Didi but people often spread that Islam propagates for force conversion, Is it true?". Salma said,” absolutely not, Islam advocates respecting other faiths and accepting Islam is optional. The historical political expansions of kings, the acts o of some aggressive Muslim kings has damaged the image of this religion. Sharda “why do the world associated terrorism with Islam?” Salma said, ” did you hear of the word terrorism fifty years ago? No. this is the result of geopolitical expansion of the powerful countries for mineral and oil from poorer countries. They used every opportunity to invade other countries, cornered the natives, nurtured terrorist organizations like Tailban, Hamas, the Islamic state etc. Violence against humanity is the least that Islam per se supports, but political developments all over the world in the name of supporting and bringing democracies shattered the peace and harmony in western Asia, parts of middle east and in Afghanistan” with pause Salma said , “but Sharda, these are complex things and I am not a historian or so much informed. You enjoy your stay here till Monday, and we shall take you to San-Francisco on Monday”. This unexpected help and love sharda received from this

family in a new country left a deep and lasting impression on her and her outlook. Sharda called her mother soon after reaching and briefly talked her about her experience of making a stranger lady her Didi. On the last evening of her stay she sat till midnight to write a mail to her mother. Madhu felt so much relieved reading her mail.

Sharda was dropped to her hospital of work and after completing her formalities was shown her hostel. Salma stayed until she fully settled in her hostel and left, assuring of any assistance, when she needs. In the evening, she calls her mother again and speaks for a long time and narrated all about her four days with a stranger Muslim family. Madhu said, “Sharda, that is what humanity is all about and the basic tenets of Vedic Hinduism are all about, before the caste system corrupted the tolerant Hinduism. Power hungry politicians found division and polarization and religious hate as the easiest tool to achieve their goals and we have been the victims of this. Love, humanism and tolerance is basic to all faiths. Take care and keep calling me whenever you are free” said Madhu.

Madhu retired the next month and she was feeling lonely. Abdul and his father had also locked the Home. She would wait for sharda’s phone every evening. Sometimes her colleagues would visit her and often remind her that sharda should not be left alone in foreign country and called back and got married. Number of proposals were dropped into her ears, some of businessmen and some of government servants, but no one was a doctor. " Sharda was not very comfortable with the hostel food and wanted to be a paying guest. There were a number of Indian families in an around the hospital letting out rooms to doctors as paying guest. She moved to a home of an elite Andhra family highly sophisticated and apparently stylish and rich. They had a son Rohan studying in University. The agreement of Tenancy included self-breakfast and dinner served by landlord.

On the very first day, when she returned home, she had to wait till the family finished dinner and she was called in to eat on table. She was shocked, but did not realize that the caste system did not fade however much some looked advanced and sophisticated and live in advanced countries. Rohan was born and educated in US. He asked her mother "Mom, why don't we ask Sharda to join the table for dinner"? Mother said, " Rohan, we have certain practices and rituals which she may not be familiar. "Like what" Roshan asked, Like the slokas we say she may not know. "Why, she may learn "said Roshan .Mother remains silent but continued to serve her dinner separately. Roshan one day revolted and said “I am going to eat with Sharda she is like my sister and I want to break your caste divisions. If we don't change in the 21st century then these divisions of humanity will continue for centuries. Mom, the youth have to break all barriers and the time is now" he said and walked out. He again came back and told his parents, that divisions in society on the basis of religion, caste and strata is very convenient to those who seek seats of power, as they would become irrelevant if there is no hatred and division in society. His father, agreed and nodded his head and said “you are right and you should live the life the way you like". Sharda could hear all the conversation staying in her room and for the first time she realized that she was a Dalit and she cannot sink with an upper caste Hindu family. Sharda when she called her mother in the evening she said "Amma, I am learning a lot of things in life. I am seeing contrasts between people and beliefs . I am becoming more and more strong and matured in my understanding the world". Madhu listened silently and said, "I have faith in you and your decisions my Chanda. You know, I married your father in spite of all opposition from the family because I was a Brahmin and he was tribal Dalit. My family disowned me for rest of my life.But I stood with my decision".

Sharda's mother develops some pain in the back and her husband takes her to the hospital. Incidentally Abdul called up to enquire about her and hearing about her hospitalization, Abdul called up the doctor of the hospital and gets all the details. He asks for this scans by mail and he discusses that with his seniors. He realized that the disease was silently progressing to a stage of total renal failure. He called up Sharda to US and explained to her the seriousness. They discuss between themselves and they both decided to return as they knew that Madhu may not live long. Sharda took an emergency leave and Abdul too, both left to Mysore both with Cathay Pacific. They had a transit at Hong Kong, to board the flight to Bangalore. Abdul's father spotted Sharda in the waiting lounge and rushed to her and hugged her. She touched his feet and Rahman blessed her with his right hand on her head. Abdul, came rushing to Sharda, but he could not even shake hands in front of his father. They just stared at each other with mixed feelings and after a few minutes unstoppable tears rolled down their cheeks. Rahman just disappears from the scene and Sharda grabs Abdul's hand and cries like a child. They both reached Mysore and then rushed to hospital together and Rahman.

Madhu was drowsy with sleeping drugs. Rahman asked his son " Abdul please ask if the kidney can be transplanted". Abdul " yes, but we must find a compatible donor who have a healthy organ. Rahman immediately said " Abdul check for my compatibility, do not loose time". It was amazing that the blood groups were compatible, both with O+ blood group and Rahman said I will donate my one kidney. Sharda was silent, but Abdul consulted the Hospital, that he could also be in the operation.

Next day was the surgery fixed. Rahman was prepared for removal of kidney and Madhu was to be taken to operation theatre. Suddenly the blood pressure of Madhu was unstable and they postponed the surgery. Madhu wanted to see both Sharda and Abdul on the both sides of the bed. They both stood on two sides of the cot. Rahman silently stood on the other side near her feet. Ward Nurse was silently watching. Madhu holds Sharda's right hand and Abdul's right hand. She slowly pulls together and drops Sharda’s hand into Abduls. Sharda shouted " Amma, what are you doing". “My child you are both made for each other". “But Amma I have to get your permission for" "for what" wispered Madhu.”That I accept the faith of Abdul, about which I learnt a lot about it in my travel. Madhu, smiles and nods her head holds their hands together and closes her eyes. It was catastrophic tragedy to both families. The last rites were performed by Abdul for Madhu as he always called her Amma. Sharda stayed in her home alone and visited Abduls house for food. They wanted to stay in India till some rituals a per Hindu traditions were completed. In the meantime, the nurse who was a witness to the death of Madhu, leaked the information in the neighborhood that Abdul and Sharda are marrying as Madhu is not alive to stop it. This news gave enough fodder to the vigilante groups actively propagating interfaith marriages .They mobilized enough crowd to attack Rahman and Abdul on the morning of 12th day of Madhus death. But were very disappointed to see both houses locked, as they all had left by the early morning flight after the 11th day ceremony. This time Sharda decided to go to UK with Abdul and get married there. She gets solemnized in London mosque, and travel to San francisco for honeymoon. They get invited to San Jose by Salma for a stay. Sharda, hugs Salma and and says, Didi,I have come with my Husband Abdul who is also a doctor. I have accepted him along with his faith ,with conscious blessings of my mother before she closed her eyes.

Then on they lived happily and Sharda retained her name on advise of Abdul, who believed that faith is not in name and what you wear, but in what you believe in and practice as good human beings.

[email protected]

1 note · View note