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mfb-better-fury · 3 years ago

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Episode 3

Day

? Leone VS Storm Aquario continued

As the blinding light begins to fade, Hikaru and the others hesitantly uncover their eyes. The stadium is wrecked though both beys are still spinning; Infinite Assault has been canceled out. Hikaru’s gaze however is above the stadium, her eyes wide. From within the waters of Aquario’s spirit appears a mermaid of blues and purples, which Hikaru realizes looks like her mother.

As the others watch the spectacle in amazement, Kenta calls attention to Aquario as it runs recklessly around the destroyed stadium. A quick scan from Madoka brings the discovery that just like Leone, Aquario has suddenly changed forms.

Hikaru’s attention is torn away from the spirit as she takes note of her bey running wild. She pushes for control, trying to tell Aquario to settle down to no avail. Kyoya realizes there is no way for her to crash Aquario to a halt like he’d done with Leone the day before, and the destruction is quickly starting to grow. Noting Hikaru’s growing panic, he quickly calls for Lion Gale Force Wall. Aquario is swept up in the winds along with all the debris it had created. Hikaru watches Aquario’s new spirit swirl along the edges of the twister as if swimming up it, then launches into the sky along with the bey itself.

From the sideline, Gingka shouts to Hikaru that this is her bey and her rules, and she can make it come to its senses if she reaches out to it. Hikaru doesn’t understand, too scared to think straight. The crushing cold has begun to grab at her and it’s getting hard for her to stay on her feet.

Ryo now calls out to her, saying that her and Aquario’s spirits are intertwined. What she wishes for most of all, Aquario will respond to no matter what. He believes in her strength and the others voice their agreements. Teary-eyed, Hikaru raises her head to stare up into the sky where Aquario has not yet come down from. She then shuts her eyes, grits her teeth, and thinks: “All I want is for this to be over. That’s enough, Aquario. It’s enough!”

Out loud, she screams Aquario’s name. A few seconds later the bey glints off the sun as it begins its descent, hurtling towards Leone and ripping through its tornado. There is a huge explosion that knocks both Hikaru and Kyoya back. When the smoke clears, both beys are still upright, but Aquario swerves on its own for just a few moments more before coming to a stop to spin in place.

The others are rushing down to reach their friends; Kyoya is struggling to sit up while Hikaru is too stunned by the events to try the same. She can only roll onto her back and stare at the sky, trying to catch her breath. Even as she lies there she watches Aquario’s new spirit come into her line of sight, now calm and slow, and she can’t help but ask herself silently what in the world is going on.

Tobio and the boy arrive at a tea shop. At this point, the boy is having to lean on Tobio for support due to the exhaustion and injuries he obtained while being chased by Johannes. Tobio calls to Ryutaro at the counter to get the first aid kit; after taking in the situation, Ryutaro disappears to the back. Sitting at the counter with a cup of tea, Tetsuya watches this though has little interest.

Not wanting to make the boy walk much farther, Tobio helps him into a seat at one of the tables and asks another worker to bring over a glass of water. He then asks the boy how he’s holding up. The boy starts to say he’s alright, but decides to say the truth – he’s completely exhausted. Tobio remarks on the battle he’d seen and asks what it was about, but the boy shakes his head and answers that he’s not entirely sure. In his mind, however, the boy muses that the stranger was working awfully hard to stop him, and wonders if he could be…

They are interrupted by Ryutaro bringing the first aid kit over and asking the boy to turn towards him. From what he can see at a glance he can guess there may be a few bruises but there doesn’t seem to be anything serious, though they should clean the scrapes and a slightly bleeding wound on the boy’s hand. He then asks the boy for his name, introducing himself as well.

The boy is once again silent and contemplative for a few seconds before answering – Yuki Mizusawa. Tobio now asks what he’s been wondering about – if Yuki might know Madoka Amano. Though startled at this, Yuki nods and admits something that surprises them both – he and Madoka are cousins. He then adds that he needs to speak to her and Gingka immediately.

After exchanging a glance with Tobio, Ryutaro tells Yuki that he won’t be going anywhere until he’s patched up and rested. Madoka wouldn’t want him neglecting his health just to visit her. Yuki wants to protest but has to admit they have a point.

Tobio assures him that they’ll get him to Madoka first thing tomorrow morning. Today he’s had a rough battle and he won’t be able to explain whatever important thing it is he has to tell Gingka if he can’t even stand on his own two feet. After another pause, Yuki finally seems to drop a little bit of his wariness and thanks them. He then thinks to himself that surely Madoka has noticed what has happened and must already be working toward ensuring the safety of the star fragments.

The main group has relocated to one of the waiting rooms in the arena. Hikaru is curled up on the cushioned bench with Ryo’s jacket across her shoulders; her face is hidden against her knees. The transformed Aquario sits on the table while everyone else is gathered around. Madoka is the only other one sitting, trying to analyze Aquario.

Ryo enters the room with a water bottle, which he tries to give to Hikaru with no response. He sets it beside her and turns to the others, saying that he’s called to have the stadium repaired.

Kyoya is leaning against a wall and staring at Leone. He recalls, like Benkei, the way that the light hit him the night before last. He wonders internally if the same thing happened to Aquario, but recognizes that Hikaru is in no condition to answer questions right now.

Gingka starts to say they can call someone for Hikaru but falters as he realizes he’s not sure who they would call in the first place. It suddenly hits him that though she’s worked with his father for months, they really don’t know anything about her.

Seeing Gingka’s hesitation, Ryo offers to call Hikaru’s uncle. Though Hikaru doesn’t lift her head, she nods. Seeing this Ryo kneels in front of her and gently promises that everything will be alright, and all she has to worry about doing right now is getting some rest. They can meet back up tomorrow and try to figure things out. There’s a pause before Hikaru murmurs an apology about the stadium; Ryo chuckles lightly and assures her that it’s no big deal at all. She was able to get her feelings across to Aquario and prevent it from doing further damage – she should be proud of that.

Hikaru does not respond; instead, she curls in on herself more. Ryo pats her head before standing back up and telling the others to go home and get some rest as well.

Finishing her analysis of Aquario, Madoka closes her computer and tells the others that she’d like their meeting place to be the B-Pit so she can collect more thorough data on the two transformed beys. As she stands up she adds that Benkei should join her now and they’ll get started on fixing Bull, to which he agrees.

They all say reassuring goodbyes to Hikaru and make their way out, with Madoka placing Aquario beside Hikaru on her way. Gingka lingers just long enough to tell Hikaru that she doesn’t need to rush anything and they’ll all be there for her. Ryo steps into the hallway to call Hikaru’s uncle, leaving Kyoya the only one remaining with her. Rather than leave, he looks at her for a moment before walking to the table and taking a seat. Neither of them say a word, though Kyoya glances at Aquario.

As Madoka and Benkei are making their way back to the B-Pit, Benkei speaks up, wondering if he can ask her something. He mentions that she’s seemed distracted since all this started and he wants to know what’s on her mind.

Madoka hesitantly admits that she feels as though she’s forgetting something. ‘Lights from the sky’ feels like something she should know about. Benkei is rather confused by this, and they both spend some time walking in silence thinking it over.

After they’ve crossed a street, Benkei exclaims that she must be thinking about the legends of Koma Village and the origin of beyblade. He’d almost forgotten himself what they’d learned from Ryo during Battle Bladers due to everything else that had been going on. Finding that Madoka has stopped in her tracks with a strange expression, he interrupts himself and asks if she’s okay.

Madoka slowly mumbles the beginning of the legend in question – “Long long ago, a star fell from the sky”. After some seconds of deep thought, she jolts in realization – “That’s it! I’m so stupid!”

As Madoka suddenly takes off running, Benkei is forced to chase after her without an answer to his baffled, “What is it? Madoka!”

In Yuki’s observatory, a phone begins to ring in the darkness. The Caller ID lights up with “Madoka”.

Now in her workshop, Madoka is on the phone in her workshop and slams it down in frustration when she ends up with no answer for what is implied to be the third time. As she tries to think of what else to do, Benkei attempts to ask again what she figured out. She doesn’t seem to hear him until he grabs her shoulder to get her attention, telling her to calm down and explain to him what the problem is.

Though she doesn’t do much in the way of calming down, Madoka explains that it’s complicated, but she knows someone who she’s sure would be able to tell them exactly what’s going on, as her own memories are foggy after so long. Benkei doesn’t understand the latter part of her explanation, but focuses on the former, asking if there’s another way to contact them. Madoka tries again to think while Benkei makes a few suggestions – a different number, an email…

Once again Madoka is hit with the answer and she quickly pulls out her laptop, going to her contacts. She stops at Yuki’s name, then thinks to herself that if he doesn’t answer this time she’ll break into the observatory and dig him out of his research in person.

A car stops in front of a small house, Hikaru in the backseat with Ryo’s jacket still wrapped around her. She doesn’t immediately register when the driver tells her they’ve arrived, then jumps a bit when he says her name. Quickly apologizing, she opens the door and gets out; she stops to thank “Uncle Akito” before heading inside. Aquario is currently held tightly in her hand.

When she enters, she hears the TV on and follows the sounds of an action movie to find the woman from Episode 1 with the long blue hair – her mother – in the living room. After a glance at the TV, she asks if she’s rewatching the same movie as when she and Kyoya stopped by to pick up her launcher. Her mother laughs and mutes it, explaining that it’s not her fault the station decided to play it twice, but she quickly notices the state Hikaru is in and urges her to sit down while she makes some tea. As Hikaru sits, her mother stands with the help of her cane.

After Hikaru has explained everything, their cups are nearly empty and Aquario is sitting on the coffee table. As Hikaru stares ahead at the still-muted TV, her mother picks the bey up to examine it more closely. After a moment of doing so, she admits that she had seen the light enter Aquario, but it had been late and she’d forgotten about it by morning. She then muses that if Kyoya’s Leone had changed in response to his blazing spirit, Aquario’s change must have been prompted by Hikaru’s true attempt to try again. She also believes that Aquario’s new spirit is a sign of its belief in her.

When Hikaru expresses confusion at her mother’s claim, she is given Aquario to hold. Her mother explains that this is Aquario’s nature. When its partner reaches a certain point, whether it be by strength, compassion, or just acceptance, the raging waters will shift into an image of their partner’s predecessor. It is a reminder Aquario gives to its partner that they are not alone, and a sign that Aquario believes its partner is truly worthy and capable of great things. When she herself had reached this point, Aquario had taken a form resembling Hikaru’s grandfather. Though, she feels it’s important to add that there’s never been a physical transformation like this that she’s aware of.

“But I believe that whatever that light was, Aquario is telling you that you are capable of taking on what is to come.”

Slightly teary-eyed, Hikaru hugs her mother, who holds her and pets her hair in return.

At the tea shop, Yuki has been relocated to the break room. His injuries have been tended to and he is finishing up a sandwich when something in his bag begins to chime. After quickly brushing his hands off he pulls out his tablet, confused, then surprised when he sees the incoming video call is from Madoka. After a brief glance at his bandaged hand, he shakes his head and answers.

Madoka’s face takes over his screen and she immediately exclaims his name in some mixture of anger and relief, demanding to know why he didn’t answer the phone. He very sheepishly replies that he isn’t home to have heard it, which stops her short. She begins to ask what he means, but cuts herself off and starts over asking where his injuries came from and where he is if not at home. He brushes the injuries off as the result of a fall and admits that he’s currently in her town. This quiets her.

Madoka: “So...It really is time then. Grandpa’s stories…”

Yuki nods, now serious: “Yes. The new star fragment is finally here. And I believe they are aware of it as well.”

Still on the couch with her mother, the movie now unmuted, Hikaru is curled up and idly doodling on her tablet when it notifies her of a new email from Madoka. It reads: “Come over tomorrow morning as soon as you can. I know what’s going on.”

In Ryo’s office, he and Gingka see this email and exchange confused looks.

At Kenta’s house, he reads the email on the computer and wonders if they’re about to get caught up in another big mess.

Kyoya sits on the edge of a rooftop as he reads the email from a beat-up cell phone. He then looks up at the sky, his grip on Leone tightening as he does so.

#Better Fury #Better Fury episode #BF Aquario's Rebirth #Hikaru Hasama #Kyoya Tategami #Ryo Hagane #Madoka Amano #Gingka Hagane #Kenta Yumiya #Benkei Hanawa #Tobio Oike #Ryutaro Fukami #Tetsuya Watarigani #Yuki Mizusawa #Akiko Hasama #she's pseudo-canon she gets a tag lol

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heyitssmiller · 4 years ago

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Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 8: Penne for Your Thoughts

Food and shenanigans. Need I say more?

Tag List: @peanut-in-the-goal @whataboutmyfries @raxelle-nite-in-gale @heyoitslysso @spookydiyharrypotterbat

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

@lumosinlove

“When you said you were cooking for an entire hockey team, I thought you’d stick to the basics. Maybe a salad appetizer and something easy to make that feeds a lot of people.” Dorcas looked around at Leo’s countertops, which were covered in flour, measuring cups, and homemade pasta. “This seems a little overboard.”

Leo rolled out more pasta dough and mentally took note of the different kinds he’d made so far. Linguine, fettuccine, penne, pappardelle, farfalle…

“Leo.”

“I just want it to be good, ok?” He finally looked up from his dough and rolling pin and stopped cooking for the first time in several hours. “Besides, this is a good outlet for me. If I focus on cooking, I don’t have to focus on-” He cut himself off, then added lamely, “Anything else.”

Dorcas sighed. “That’s not how you face your problems and you know it. Talk to me.”

Leo didn’t even fight back about talking about his problems. That was Dorcas’ first clue about how bad this was.

“I can’t do it.” He rubbed at his forehead in frustration. “I can’t be ok with being just friends. I can’t be ok with taking a step back and distancing myself. I can’t be ok with trying to get over them. And I don’t know where that leaves me.”

“I only see one other option here. Talking to them.”

“They’re already perfectly happy together-”

“And who says they won’t be with you?” Dorcas demanded. “You’re only imagining two possible outcomes – talking to them and being rejected, or not talking to them and keeping this a secret. But they could also be in the same position you’re in right now. The only way you’re going to know is if you talk to them.”

“I don’t think I can do that, either. Even if they feel the same, that doesn’t change the fact that they are in love with each other. I can’t get between that.” He laughed dully, and the sound tore at her heart. “My mama would kill me if I became a home-wrecker.”

“Who said love is only between two people? Leo, I know you know this. So why is it so hard to grasp now?”

She could see the second he began to shut down and sighed. “I’m going to hug you now, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dorcas wrapped her arms around him and glared at the wall. She was ninety percent sure Logan and Finn both felt the same way and clearly none of them were going to bring it up.

So now it was her turn. And she didn’t hold back her punches.

Those two hockey players were going to get a severe talking-to tomorrow.

“You guys have to promise to be more well-behaved tonight.” Logan told the team as they drove to dinner. Next to him, Finn was nearly bouncing out of his seat in excitement. “Please.”

He got several grumbles in response, but no teasing – which was a surprise.

“So are you two finally going to ask him out?”

And there it was.

“Are you guys finally going to mind your own business?”

“Nope!”

“It’s not like we don’t want to.” Finn sighed. “We just don’t know if he’s interested.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“He’s cooking your entire hockey team dinner. That’s dedication right there.”

“Also did you even watch the episodes of your show?”

“You just had to go and run your mouth.” Logan groaned, shooting Finn a look. He just shrugged apologetically as their charter bus pulled into the parking lot.

“Do you know what’s for dinner?” Someone asked from the back of the bus.

“He said it was a surprise.” Finn responded as they all filed out of the bus and inside the restaurant that had been kind enough to host them.

Leo and Dorcas were standing in front of several tables covered in food, which took Finn back to three months ago. He smiled broadly and waved at the two of them. Leo waved back and waited for everyone to settle down before explaining dinner.

“I figured a build your own dinner was probably the best idea for so many people. I hope pasta’s alright with you guys.” Leo said, then began pointing to each variation of noodle as he explained, “We’ve got regular noodles, gluten-free noodles, and then some cauliflower noodles for y’all to choose from. Then we’ve got sauces and proteins to choose from, including some vegetarian and vegan options. Everything is labeled, so go ahead and grab a plate and help yourselves!”

Everyone clambered to get in line and grabbed portions that were way to big for the day before a game. Their nutritionist watched on in horror.

Finn was watching Leo talk to Loops when Logan nudged him with his elbow. “Finn, look.”

“Hmm?” He asked, turning back around to look at what Logan was pointing to. There in front of them was a pot full of creamy white sauce, bacon, and sausage with a little label that read: carbo’hara.

Finn melted.

He’d told Leo that joke during their first conversation and how he and his brother would have it the night before every hockey game as kids. And he had remembered.

“Logan.” Finn said, not bothering to hide the yearning in his voice.

“I know.”

Dorcas was watching all of this with growing frustration. Were they blind or were they just stupid? All of this could be solved so easily with a single conversation, but none of them were willing to take that first step.

She really shouldn’t get involved. It wasn’t her business. But-

“It’s painful to watch, isn’t it?” A stranger’s voice asked. Dorcas turned to look at a girl with blonde hair and mischievous brown eyes. She stuck her hand out.

“I’m Marlene. And I just want to say that I am so sorry you’ve had to deal with the three of them for months now.”

Dorcas smiled and shook her hand. “So you’ve noticed, too?”

“I think everyone has.”

“True.”

“You’re thinking about interfering?”

Dorcas shrugged. “It’s either that or waiting for them to get their acts together.”

“And who knows how long that’ll take?”

Dorcas laughed, looking appraisingly at her new companion. “I like you already.”

The other girl grinned. “I told Leo when he was in Gryffindor that he should introduce us. He said it was a terrible idea.”

She smiled back. “He was right.”

“So I’ll take Leo, you take the other two? I’m assuming you’ve been trying to talk to Leo but haven’t had any luck.”

“He’s being really stubborn about the whole thing.”

“From all the complaining I’ve heard from the team, so have Logan and Finn.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “After dinner I’ll talk to them. Normally I wouldn’t interfere, but this is ridiculous.”

“Agreed. Good luck.”

“You too.”

“Hey,” Marlene spoke up, “Can I have your number? You know, for meddling purposes.”

Dorcas grinned. “I really hope that’s not the only reason you’re asking for my number.”

“Guess you’ll have to see.” Marlene said with a wink.

Oh, boy.

Dorcas was in so much trouble.

But she had other things to focus on right now.

She marched over to Finn and Logan and stated firmly, “You two. We need to talk.”

A dark-haired guy in glasses sent her a wide-eyed stare. “You’re terrifying.” He looked to his teammates. “What did you guys do?”

“Now.” Dorcas said, ignoring the others entirely.

“Rest in peace.” Glasses guy said solemnly as Logan and Finn got up nervously. “It was nice knowing you.”

Logan shared a worried glance with Finn, but they both followed her to a quiet hallway where she turned to glare at them.

“Are you two actually interested in Leo or are you just stringing him along? If it’s the latter I won’t hesitate to punch you.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Logan asked, then frowned. “Fuck, does he think we’re stringing him along?”

“So you are interested?”

Finn looked confused. “I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s the holdup, then?”

“We’re not sure he’s interested.” They shared a sad look. “He’s never given us any reason to think so.”

Dorcas pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh my god, you three are so stupid. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, trust me – he’s terrified. Think about it. He likes two guys who are already in love with each other, which would be daunting for anybody. And he’s worried that if one of you didn’t feel the same he’d come between the two of you and ruin everything. Not to mention that if he got rejected he’d be rejected not once but twice.”

They stared at her, then turned to stare at each other.

“Fuck.” Finn stated simply.

“Fuck is right.” Dorcas agreed. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

***

“You were so wrong when you said introducing me to Dorcas was a bad idea.”

Leo laughed and turned to face Marlene. “Hello again.”

“Hey, cooking guy. Anyways, I’m in love.”

“Oh, really?”

“She’s awesome. And terrifying. And I really want to take her out on a date.”

“If you hurt her-”

“Oh my god, are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“No. All I’m saying is that we had entire class of knife skills in culinary school. She knows how to properly butcher things. You hurt her, you’d better prepare for the consequences.”

Marlene blinked, then broke into a dopey grin. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Leo laughed, shaking his head a little as he grabbed an empty pot and brought it back into the kitchen to clean. Dinner had been a huge success – almost to the point of them running out of food. Leo had noticed the nutritionist shooting him glares all night and made a resolution to send him an apology letter. He just hoped it didn’t affect their playing too much tomorrow.

He was scrubbing the pot down when another pot was set down on the counter next to him. Marlene shoved his shoulder to get him to move to the side a little. “Figured you could use some help.”

“Thanks.” He said with a smile as she grabbed a sponge.

“So,” She started, and that’s when Leo knew he was in trouble. “I know Dorcas talked to you earlier. And I’m sure you don’t want to hear any more of that, but I wanted to let you know that no matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. I mean, yeah, it might suck for a while, but at the end of the day wouldn’t you rather know than be left guessing forever?”

Leo stopped cleaning out his pot and looked at her, surprised at the turn this conversation took.

She shrugged. “Just a thought.”

He’d never really considered it that way before.

There was a knock on the doorframe, which startled them both. Leo turned around to see the head coach standing there.

“We’ve got to head out soon to get to our hotel at a decent time. Thank you so much for dinner! My guys will be talking about this for months.”

“I’d be happy to do it again sometime.” Leo said, then winced. “Maybe something with a more controlled portion size, though.”

The coach laughed. “That might be for the best.”

After all the goodbyes, Logan and Finn were the last two inside, seemingly reluctant to leave. Leo took that as a good sign.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Logan asked, green eyes hopeful. “At the game?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” The bus driver honked the horn, clearly fed-up with waiting. “You’d better go before they leave you behind.”

Logan and Finn gave one last wave before heading towards the door while Leo began making his way back to the kitchen.

“Hey!” Logan called suddenly. Leo turned back around to look at them. “Can we take you out to dinner tomorrow? After the game?”

Leo’s stomach churned at the wording. He gathered up all his courage, took a deep breath, and asked, “Is this a date?”

Finn and Logan beamed. Leo’s heart skipped a beat.

“I sure hope so.”

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

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louezem · 4 years ago

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Saying Yes

Summary: Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta’s life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark.

Part Four - Sisters…..

Part 4 - Sisters

“Prim? Are you here?”

Katniss threw her keys and bag down and toed off her shoes with a sigh of relief. It had been a long and frustrating day at work. All she wanted was to shower, eat and then sleep.

“I’m in the kitchen!” her sister replied. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

Katniss offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t have to face another takeout or frozen pizza for dinner tonight. She knew how to cook but was lazy about it when she only had to cook for herself. Prim, however, loved to cook.

She followed the delicious aroma wafting down the narrow hall to the tiny kitchen. It was barely big enough to hold a small table and 2 chairs, but Prim had set it with the nice plates and cutlery and a small bud vase holding a single, yellow dandelion.

“What’s all this?” Katniss waved at the table. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Does it need to be a special occasion for me to show my appreciation for my favorite sister?” Prim asked, lifting a spoon to her mouth and offering it to her for a taste.

“Mmm, that’s so good.” Katniss licked her lips. “It tastes familiar. What’s in it?”

“It’s lamb stew with dried plums.” Prim smiled as she added an extra dash of red wine to the simmering pot. “I remembered how much you love it and I thought I’d try to recreate the recipe. Besides, lamb was on special at the market today.”

Still thrifty with the budget. Katniss thought. Old habits die hard.

“Go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. I just need to warm up some crusty bread to go with this.”

“I love you, little duck,” Katniss said, pulling her sister in for a hug.

“I love you more, duck potato,” Prim grinned.

An hour later and Katniss was feeling full and sleepy as she curled on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, sipping on a second glass of red wine.

“Thank you Prim, that was wonderful,” she sighed, patting her full tummy. “I always appreciate a home cooked meal but I thought you had plans to go to the movies with Rory tonight?”

“I did but he caught an extra shift so I decided to come over and bug you instead.” Prim said, joining her on the sofa.

“So, did you happen to catch any news today? Hear any juicy celebrity gossip at work?” she asked, taking a sip from her own wineglass.

Katniss looked sideways at her sister, wondering why she was asking such an odd question. Prim knew Katniss was not big on the news or gossip – celebrity or otherwise.

“No, I was run off my feet all day. I don’t have time for gossip. There’s a trunk show on all week and they can get a little crazy.”

“Huh,” Prim starting tapping on the screen of her obnoxiously large smart phone. “Then you haven’t seen this?” She slowly turned the phone screen to face her sister.

Katniss fought to keep her composure as she watched the images unfold in front of her. The video captured a gorgeous smiling couple standing close together, hands intwined, on a gilded balcony overlooking the park. A fireworks display was lighting up the night sky behind them. Once the fireworks come to an end the couple and their guests start to clap and cheer and someone pops a champagne cork as music begins to play and other couples start to filter onto the dancefloor.

Dressed in the one-of-a-kind flowing white and gold reception gown created by Cinna, paired with custom Jimmy Choo couture heels and her golden hair flowing in loose waves almost to her waist, the bride was every bit as breath-taking as Katniss knew she would be. Holding her close to his side with an affectionate smile on his face was Peeta. He looked equally handsome in a perfectly tailored white suit with gold accents at his throat, breast pocket and cuffs.

Though Cinna never talked to her about it – most likely to spare her feelings - Katniss knew he’d worked closely with Portia, the designer who created Peeta’s outfit, to ensure the bride and groom perfectly complimented each other on their special day.

She couldn’t help looking carefully at Peeta’s left hand now placed on Glimmer’s waist expecting to see the shiny glint of a new gold band on his finger but he didn’t appear to be wearing one.

That’s odd. She thought. No wedding ring?

She always thought Peeta was the type of guy would like to wear a ring when he got married.

When they were dating he was always very open about showing his feelings for her, and would tease her gently when she got embarrassed by his frequent public displays of affection. “I want the whole world to know I’m yours,” he’d told her, more than once, gently tugging on the end of her braid as she’d scowl.

Unable to continue watching him display affection for another woman was more then she could bear and she pushed the phone away.

“They make a very lovely couple,” Katniss said quietly. “I hope they’ll be very happy together”.

Prim snorted out loud. “Katniss did you even read what’s under the video?” she held the phone up again.

“The Show Must Go On!”

An official spokesperson for the Snow family declined to comment following the cancellation of the nuptials between heiress Glimmer Snow, granddaughter of Coriolanus Snow, and her fiancé Peeta Mellark, Culinary Director for the “Arena” chain of restaurants owned by the Snow Corporation. However the brother of the groom, Mr Ryan Mellark, confirmed that the decision by the couple not to proceed with the wedding was both “mutual and loving” and that the couple would remain friends.

“I don’t understand,” Katniss looked to her sister, confused. “Are you telling me they didn’t get married?”

“Yep. No wedding. They called it off at the last minute but went ahead with the dinner and reception anyway, which is kind of cool. One of Rory’s classmates was working the bar for the evening and he says it turned into one hell of a party. But then I guess the Snow family does know how to do things in style.”

“Wow. I wonder what happened to make them call it off.” Katniss stared into space as she tried to process this new information. She’d purposely avoided all news and social media over the weekend, hoping that if she distanced herself the sooner she’d be able to forget the intense look in Peeta’s eyes as she’d driven away from the hotel. “So much time, money and effort went into those dresses, poor Cinna worked for days hand beading the reception dress—"

Prim rolled her eyes.

“Lord almighty Katniss, you can be so dumb sometimes,” she took another sip of her wine. “Isn’t it obvious what happened? Peeta claps eyes on you again for the first time in forever and the next day his wedding is called off. He still loves you.”

“That’s not true.” Katniss jumped off the sofa and quickly gathered her wine glass and the near empty bottle. “Don’t say that. Why would you say something like that?”

“Hey, give that back!” Prim tried to grab the wine bottle from her as she stomped past into the kitchen and began angrily slamming their dirty dishes into the dishwasher. It wasn’t long before she heard her sister’s soft footsteps behind her.

“I’m sorry Katniss, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Prim apologised quietly. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. You haven’t been yourself since you found out Peeta was getting married.”

Katniss sighed. “I’m fine Prim, really. You’ve no need to worry about me. Peeta and I were over a lifetime ago. I’m over it. I know absolutely nothing about his life now.”

Prim tilted her head and regarded her sister with cool blue eyes. “Will you ever tell me what happened between the two of you? You’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Does it matter now?”

Prim shrugged. “I’d like to understand. I was still a kid when you two broke up and no one bothered to explain what was going on to me. It was confusing. All I knew was one day you were getting ready to leave for college, the next you were staying in District 12 and applying for any low paid job you could get. Why didn’t you go?”

“Because things changed,” Katniss scowled. “Family comes first.”

Prim squinted. “Really, Katniss? You’ve fobbed me off with that line for years. I was hoping you were finally ready to open up with a few more details. I know you loved Peeta, don’t bother denying it. Your feelings for him weren’t the problem. Or his for you, everyone could see how bad the guy had it for you. It wasn’t Mom, or money issues. She was fine then and you had a full scholarship. There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“All right, if you want to know I’ll tell you.” Katniss reached up into a small cupboard a produced a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. “Follow me. This conversation is going to require something a bit stronger than wine.”

Settled back on the sofa once again, she tossed back a shot and took a deep breath.

“Peeta accused me of cheating on him,” she began. “When I tried to defend myself, he didn’t believe me. He chose to take his brother’s word over mine.”

“No way.” Prim gasped, her eyes widening.

“It’s true. Rye told Peeta he caught me making out with Gale after a graduation party at Madge’s house. Rye didn’t believe me when I told him that Gale kissed me, that I didn’t invite it and I didn’t kiss him back. After cussing me out and calling me a few choice names he went straight to Peeta and told him.”

“Oh, shit.” Prim’s mouth dropped open. She picked up a full shot glass and threw it back before fixing her sister with a stare. “Okay. In the interest of full disclosure I have to ask – did you make out with Gale?”

“Of course not!” Katniss yelled. “Gale was my friend! I’d known him since we were kids. Besides, Madge liked him and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”

“But did you like him? Let’s face it, Gale is attractive. In a Hemsworth kind of way.”

“No. I only ever saw him like a cousin, or maybe an older brother. I never felt anything romantic for Gale. It shocked the hell out of me when he kissed me. We didn’t talk for a long time afterwards.”

“Okay, okay, I just needed to clarify that. Continue, please.“

“Peeta and I had a huge fight and he broke up with me. He was horrible to me Prim.” Katniss voice cracked a little as the memories assaulted her. “He wouldn’t give me a chance to defend myself. He was so mean, I’d never seen him like that before. He was like a totally different person.”

Katniss felt the familiar sting starting to build behind her eyes and bit her lip in order to try and gain some control over her emotions. It still hurt, remembering the words that came out of his mouth.

“He asked me had I led Gale on, and told me to crawl back to the slag heap I came from.”

“Oh my god, Katniss,” Prim’s eyes softened and reached towards her sister “I’m so sorry—"

“Wait! It gets worse!” Katniss let out a hard laugh. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, somehow Peeta’s evil bitch of a mother found out about what happened. She called Mom and threatened her. She told her that if her seam slut of a daughter went ahead with her plans to go to the same school as her son, that she’d report her to Child Protective Services for neglect. She’d tell them about Mom leaving us alone at night while she worked, and that you would be left at home by yourself at 14 if I left town for school. She even knew about the bouts of depression after Dad died. All stuff I’d confided in Peeta about.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Prim jumped of the sofa and started to pace up and down. “It’s so unfair. And untrue! Mom and I talked about what would happen when you went to school, I was going to stay overnight with Hazelle at the Hawthornes when she was on nights!”

“You know that and I know that, but Mom was terrified. She didn’t know what to do.”

Katniss downed another shot.

“After she threatened Mom, I tried talking to Rye one more time. I begged him again to believe me that what he saw wasn’t real, but he insisted I was lying. That Gale had been seen at the slag heap with a girl from the Seam, and I must have made it worth it when he could have had Madge instead of my skinny ass. His words. I never really understood that part.” She frowned.

“I told him about his mother’s threats and he finally said he’d talk to his Dad about keeping her off our Mom’s back, but only for your sake and only if I agreed to stop trying to contact Peeta. So I did what he wanted. I gave up my college place and started applying for jobs and signed up for a few classes at the Community College.”

“So, it was me.” Prim’s eyes filled with tears and she crawled towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. “You did it for me.”

Katniss shrugged like it was no big deal. “You’re my sister. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

“You’re such a dumbass but I love you.” Prim began to cry harder. “You sacrificed so much Katniss. Your education. Your future. Peeta. I’ve never seen you as happy as when you two were together, not even when you were with Darius.”

“Hush now, no more of that talk.” Katniss soothed her crying sister, tears forming in her own eyes. “It all worked out for the best in the end. I was here when Mom got sick and I took on a second job to help pay the bills. We got by, and we stayed together. That’s what Dad would have wanted. Family comes first.”

“Peeta was a part of our family. He was like a brother to me when I was a kid.” Prim sniffed. “Why didn’t he believe you? And what the fuck was Rye’s problem?”

“I don’t know. All I know is his mother always hated me, but I never knew Rye did too. Peeta and Rye were always close, and once Rye started filling Peeta’s head with lies I just couldn’t get through to him after that. He never spoke to me again after he broke up with me. A few weeks later he left town for school and I never saw him again until that day on the steps of his hotel.”

“Katniss, I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry. It sounds like his mind was poisoned by his brother and that horrible old witch who gave birth to him. God, I’d love to give her a piece of my mind. As for Rye? I swear, if I ever see that guy again I will dick punch him.”

“I saw Rye the day before the wedding, he has mellowed quite a bit,” Katniss continued to stroke Prim’s blonde hair soothingly, taking comfort from the continuous motion herself. “He was almost pleasant once he realized I had a legitimate reason for being there.”

“I owe you so much Katniss,” Prim sat up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Because of your support, I got to come here, go to school, do everything you missed out on. Everything I’ve achieved is because you. How can I ever repay a debt like that?”

“Don’t worry, you can pay for my luxury retirement home on the beach in District Four when you find the cure for cancer,” Katniss quipped and laughed as Prim hit her with a cushion.

Later that night, after Prim had left and Katniss was getting ready for bed, she couldn’t help but look for a small box she kept hidden in the furthest corner of her closet.

Inside were a few sentimental items that even after ten years, she never had the heart to throw away.

A pencil drawing of a dandelion he’d put into her locker one day, after she told him they made her think of him.

A movie stub from their first date. She smiled at the memory. Peeta had taken her to see “I Am Legend” and got embarrassed when he cried over the dog, Sam, dying. It was still one of her favorite movies.

A photo of them together at Senior Prom, and another of their High School Graduation, big smiles on their faces just days before he broke up with her and her world came crashing down.

“Oh Peeta,” she mumbled, “why didn’t you believe me?” She sniffed. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She’d already done enough of that for this lifetime.

“… maybe you should crawl back to the slag heap you come from.”

She felt a spark of anger in her own stomach when she recalled the things he’d accused her of. It was an old spark, but one that had helped her keep going and moving forward over the years. She slammed the box shut and shoved it back in the darkest recess of her closet before crawling into her bed. She had run from the bakery that day. Run from his words and the rage and hurt in blue eyes that had only ever looked at her with softer emotions.

She closed her own eyes and pulled the covers over her head, hoping she wouldn’t be hearing them over and over in her nightmares that night.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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#promptsinpanem #15Days #for Kika #Kristin Rouse #baronesskika #authoresskika #in loving memory

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genuflectx · 4 years ago

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4th Dimensional Being/OC - CH2

Full Length: 19,543

Chapter Length: 3,238

Main Themes: Other dimensions, tentacles, confinement, nsfw

Other Warnings: politics, "godly" behaviors, vomit, feeling of loss of autonomy, comparison to a toy

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

Remember the entire story (including downloads!) is up for Patrons wink wink.... enjoy CH2 (WILL BE NSFW IN LATER CHAPTERS)

The 4DB Chapter 2: Gabriel

One moment she'd been processing letters and packages for barely above minimum wage and then the next moment she'd been processed into a cold research facility. Her body was exhausted from the day-and-a-half trip. And her mind? She was still only partially sure this was truly happening. All she really understood for certain was that something had spoken to her, and that something was being called a '4DB.'

The white-coat in the heels asked to be called Gale, short for Nightingale. Chris knew this was not her actual name. Regardless, Gale was currently the nicest person she'd met so far and she was the one to finally brief her... after Chris gave her own story, of course. But when Gale did eventually explain the situation to her Chris found herself slowly sinking into awe.

The 4DB had begun speaking to seven humans on Saturday, a mere three and a half days ago. Gale had even gone so far as to give Chris the list of names, as if they would have some meaning to her: Chrysanthemum Sain, Aaron Boucher, Morgan Airhart, Cole Artrip, Nathan Hunter, John Barker, and lastly the president's name.

“And it really just wants to study us?” She'd asked.

Gale had smirked a little and folded her hands up. “Make no mistake. We are studying it, too.”

However, the 4DB did speak to the staff as well. Just in short, stern bouts of command. Do this, do that, prepare this, prepare that. It had no concern for the staff. It just wanted its six human subjects in a secure location. Seemed that the scientists being on site were a compromise.

Chris tilted her head minutely, eyes squinted. “Six? But there were seven humans?”

That made Gale chuckle. “The president will of course not be joining us.”

“...Right.”

Chris was then told a limited amount of information about the scientists' studies. Since they had so little time to re-locate on-site the facility was currently understaffed. That meant, unfortunately, no real research had begun. Though no experiments had been conducted the group was able to conclude that whatever the 4DB was it was not traceable. There were no changes in temperature nor air pressure in any of the rooms which it had spoken, neither during nor after. As far as they were able to gather with their limited resources the creature was... just not there. No one could see it. No one could feel it. All they could do was hear it and that wasn't even recordable either, as it gave no sound waves.

“Wait wait. But it touched me,” Chris had interrupted, confused.

The look of joy upon the scientist's face was genuine. “And that's why you are so interesting. It hasn't touched any of the other subjects. Well, unless they've lied to us. And we've one last subject yet to arrive as well. We will see.”

Gale continued. Though they'd yet to learn anything meaningful that would soon change. After all, the subjects were nearly gathered and her skeleton team had been diligently working to outline experiments. With the factor of the unknown it was going to be a challenge, but everyone was steeling themselves. Whatever this strange god-like creature had to say, whatever it wanted to do, her crew would be in wait ready to record it.

In short, the scientists hadn't learned shit yet. If Chris hadn't been so exhausted she'd have been frustrated. Instead she had slumped down into her chair, confusion stuck upon her features, and then promptly yawned.

The last thing Gale did was stand abruptly, finally gather Chris's cell phone up, and then open the door to the hall. “Come on, get some food. You can meet your peers and then be shown to your room.”

So here she was, sitting in a too-big cafeteria poking at strange rations upon her little plastic tray. It was like high school all over again. Chris nibbled at something green. She supposed it was meant to be peas, but it was mushed up. Like baby food. She shuttered.

Suddenly another tray clanked against the cold metal table and Chris looked up to find Cole settling in. He smiled at her, way too wired considering how little sleep they'd had. It was probably adrenaline.

“Guess they couldn't get real food in on such short notice?” He complained. “Gotta be a grocery store within driving distance right? Geez.”

It was at least nice to see him again. It had felt like hours in that dim room. Gale was kind but it did seem like she had been watching Chris way too closely.

“Feels like we're animals in a zoo,” Chris mumbled, tired. She tried to eat some more and made a face.

The older man shrugged. “Guess they told you everything too! Don't know about you but I'm looking forward to this. Doesn't it feel like something greater? Like a calling? Hey, maybe we ought to say hello to those fellas,” he gestured with a nod.

Three men sat at a further table chatting. They'd hardly glanced at Chris when she'd been shepherded in, though the youngest had smiled at her. “That's okay. I just want to eat then go to sleep. Why don't you go talk?”

Cole looked at her in thought. Then he smiled and patted her shoulder amicably. “Don't be a stranger, stranger!” He stood up and moved away.

He was a nice man. Chris wondered if he had any children. He certainly hadn't had any family photos at his house. She sighed, blinking sleepily, and hurried to try and finish her food.

They waited and waited. Chris had finished her food nearly half an hour ago. Finally Gale came into the cafeteria with another woman at her heels.

“Everyone's together now! Great! Someone will show you to your rooms shortly.”

It was like a dormitory, with two beds to a room. Everything was clean and tidy, the walls and floor a glaring white. There was at least a curtain for courtesy, which could be used to cut the room in two. Some quiet men brought their bags for them.

The woman who'd been with Gale turned out to be the final subject and was meant to share a room with Chris. She was relieved that she'd not need to sleep across from a strange man. As they unpacked and made the room more cozy Chris gave some pleasant small-talk, though the other wasn't that receptive.

“You can call me Chris. What's your name?” She asked.

The other woman, who was currently unpacking a teddy bear, answered. “Morgan.”

Chris nodded and folded some clothes away. She didn't think she could do much of this before she passed out, but it made things feel less weird. She could imagine she was back in college. Or that maybe she'd just moved. Yeah, she'd moved across country to somewhere small and warm. A cozy beach house rather than a cold, cramped dorm. She'd left her old job behind and settled into an early retirement. If only.

“So uh, where do you work Morgan?” Chris continued. “I was told everyone here is from the government.”

“The DMV,” she said curtly, frowning.

Chris chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, haha, yeah.” She didn't know why she laughed like that. For some reason it just felt tense. “I work for the post office so I know a little bit of how that must be. Lots of customer service.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah...” She paused then moved to pull the courtesy curtain. “Well. Goodnight.”

Chris watched as the curtain cut the room, stranding her. She sighed. That was fine, she was pretty sleepy anyway. It was time for bed. She found sleep a difficult bear to wrestle. It was so cold and foreign, and no one ever really got a good night sleep somewhere cold and foreign. She could not for the life of her get her feet to warm up. When she did sleep she did not dream.

They were awoken by a knock, a metallic creak, and a “Rise and shine!”

The morning started with breakfast. And then, one by one, each member of the waiting group was taken away into another office where they were made to fill out paperwork. When they'd leave the room they'd have a lanyard and I.D. around their neck. Chris was fourth to go. She caught glimpses of the word liability as she flipped through a stack of documents. That wasn't frightening at all.

Once everyone was locked in as a member of the facility, and each had their clearance cards, they gathered before a bolted metal door. Soon a man who introduced himself as Jay began speaking, the features of his face void and controlled.

“Today the 4DB wants to talk to each of you. Individually,” he looked up over his glasses. “We will be monitoring everything. You will have a microphone attached to your chest. However, our studies have proven that we cannot hear the 4DB through the recording equipment-”

“How is that possible?” Interrupted a young man. Chris could see from his I.D. that his name was Nathan; he'd been the one to smile at her the night before.

Jay's expression flattened and wrinkled, as if he'd had to deal with this particular subject for too long already. “We have theories and those are currently classified. Now, you will go in alphabetical order and have thirty minutes each.”

Morgan cautiously rose her hand like this was a classroom. “And... what if something goes... wrong?” She questioned.

Jay blinked, Then he said: “Let's begin. Airhart Morgan, you're first,” he unlocked the great metal door.

Her eyes went wide and she froze like a rabbit on the road. Jay nearly had to force her in. After all, she was under contract now. She signed the papers like everyone else- as if they had a choice. She had to do this. Morgan took tiny bunny steps inside. When she left the room thirty minutes later her eyes were downcast and lips a tight line. She didn't want to talk.

“Artrip Cole,” Jay called.

Chris's kind older acquaintance just about skipped to the door. As everyone sat in wait for his thirty minutes to be up, Chris couldn't help but feel like she was in a doctor's office, which was of course the closest thing to purgatory one may get. She imagined the white-coat Jay as a gatekeeper, his voice calling forward those to be judged by a scrutinizing doctor's glare. Cole returned just as happy as he'd entered.

“Barker John,” Jay called.

“Boucher Aaron,” Jay called.

“Hunter Nathan,” Jay called.

Chris had been waiting for two and a half hours now. Everyone who had already spoken to the creature had left the waiting room so she remained alone. She'd had enough time to conjure up some good questions, and every time someone else came from the room with a strange expression she added a question more. Nathan came from the door and silently left the room.

“Sain Chrysanthemum,” Jay called. “Last one up.”

She stood. She slowly made way to the door. She stopped there a moment, thinking.

“Go on. Don't have all day,” Jay nudged her back.

“Right, sorry,” she nodded, entering.

Chris watched the door close gently behind her. Then there, in the center of the room, was a massive neon pink square twice her size. She gawked, speechless, and all the questions she'd accumulated leaked from her brain onto the white floor.

“Chrysanthemum,” came that loud, near mono-tone voice. It rushed into her head yet sounded from every direction at once. “Good to see you again, though I have been watching.”

She didn't register what had been said and instead stepped tentatively closer to the square. Chris was so distracted by it that she hadn't even been bothered when the 4DB called her by her full name. “What is this thing? Woah.” As she tried to walk around the square it followed. No matter what angle she took it remained a flat, consistent shape.

“It is equipment. You may only see a piece of its face or its inside, and it turns as you turn. It records your voice and your movement, just as that little equipment on your chest.”

She lifted her hand, her eyes following the plain to its high top. It felt...strangely textured. Like a giant sheet of paper, but more solid or plastic. She'd expected it to feel smooth.

The 4DB, on its other end, tilted themself curiously. “You are the only one who has touched it. Are you not still afraid, little creature?”

Chris dropped her hand and backed away. “I... guess I am a little. It's impossible not to be a little afraid of something that can bend reality. You, uuugh,” she shuttered, holding herself. “Touched my insides. It was like feeling an eel wriggle around in there.”

“Tell me about your government,” it asked abruptly, changing the subject.

She rose her brows and stared at the pink square like it was an eye. “What, the president wasn't good enough for that? Heard you talked to him.”

“You do not ask a government to judge itself. You ask those whom it affects. You work for this government and were chosen from a pool of many,” it explained. “So you will tell me.”

Chris paced slowly, looking at the ground. There was something between the lines with what it said and it bothered her. Finally, she said with no small amount of fear: “Or what?”

The 4DB was taken back. They had not expected that particular response, despite the rivers of possible time before them. “Or what?”

“I'll tell you... or what?” She waved a hand. “The scientists told us only so much, and Heaven knows they didn't give us time to read those lengthy contracts and legal documents. I'm not an idiot. We're being forced here against our will, right? There really wasn't a choice for us to come here or stay. We can't leave,” Chris stopped pacing. “If one of us doesn't cooperate like you want, will you kill us, Gabriel?”

“My name is not Gabriel.”

Chris blanked. Then she nearly doubled over with laughter, tears budding at her eyes. “That- that- all that and you only get one thing from it?”

“...I am... for once... confused,” the 4DB admitted sheepishly. “Why are you laughing? You didn't answer my question.”

She wiped the water from her eyes and caught her breath, feeling somewhat less tense. Really, of all she had just asked the thing only heard Gabriel. It reminded Chris of herself. This creature did not understand the people it was studying at all, and she supposed that was why it wanted to so badly.

“You didn't answer mine either!” She shook her head and leaned on the wall, feeling much lighter.

The 4DB's many, many tentacles twirled absentmindedly, again and again around themselves like a pool of snakes. “Your planet, your universe, your dimension, is of some interest to retain. However... you are small. And there are billions more to see.”

She felt sort of dizzy now, as if the absurdity of the situation was hitting her all over again. Just like when the creature first spoke to her in that parking lot. Chris had to let her mind slow down before speaking, though Gabriel didn't seem to care.

“So you mean yes. Yes, if we don't cooperate you'll kill us. Maybe the whole planet too,” she sighed and rubbed a hand down her cheek. “What do you want from us so badly that you'd hold us hostage for a little information?”

“We are deciding if you are worth the space you occupy, little creature,” the 4DB explained, though there was far more to it than that. After the ranting Chris had done they nearly felt too guilty to admit that playing with tiny insignificant things was just fun. Like an ant farm. One could nurture the ants or one could drown then. Were the ants of the Earth worth nurturing? That was yet to be determined.

She drummed her fingers on her forearm. So, she'd have to prove her worth. That scared her. All she could think about was that dream she'd had when she'd passed out. Those tiny, tiny shapes jittering on a plain below her feet. How they screamed in confusion. How she'd crushed a building by accident as she fell through the world. Chris looked up at the pink eye sullenly.

“Well. I guess you answered my questions, so. Our government is a business. It didn't used to be, but it is now. I mean, well it was always sort of a business, but it also sorta used to mean more than that,” she stared off in thought.

“Continue.”

She sighed and drummed her fingers on an arm some more. “There used to be more trust in it I think. But it's gotten so inflated, so... off from what it should be that even more 'traditional' thinkers are thinking twice. I guess I'm not helping my people's cause am I?” She asked sadly.

The 4DB leaned in close, keeping their body just inches from crossing the plain. “So that is how you see your leaders. Now Chris, how do they see you?”

She furrowed her brows and chewed her cheek for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Well I work for them, technically. They give me benefits. They keep the lights on. But just like any other business if I were to, for whatever reason, lose that job, I would automatically lose those benefits.”

“Explain further,” coaxed the 4DB curiously.

She liked complaining about the government as much as the next guy but it was just way too much to unravel. Hell, it wasn't like she was an expert. Chris tried, but the 4DB always had just one more question. She'd explain what 'benefits' were and then suddenly the creature wanted to know why benefits were necessary at all.

“So if your government takes your job away your health is no longer provided for?” They scrutinized.

Chris felt like these questions were just digging her in a deeper and deeper ditch. She wanted the encounter to end already. “It's not like that everywhere. Most governments don't treat their people like that.”

“That is for the others to decide,” they said.

“Others?”

They nodded invisibly. “We work to gauge your species around the planet. As a whole. I am not the only one.”

Chris stayed quiet, thinking that over. So maybe she didn't just get the world marked for destruction. Even if she thought her own government was pretty shit most of the time, the other countries around the world would surely help humanity's cause. Maybe, on average, humanity wouldn't look so bad. Maybe the 4DBs would show mercy.

“Your time is up, the workers would like you to leave the chamber. We will talk again soon, Chris.”

She drummed her fingers on her arm and stared at the tall pink square. It gave her weird mixed feelings. Finally she straightened herself and gave a small smile. “Hey, you said my name right. Too bad, you're still Gabriel,” she winked and made for the door.

Though annoyed, Gabriel replied as the door shut: “If you wish.”

Go see chapter 3 (and the rest of the story) on Patreon, otherwise stick around and wait for it to go public :}

#terato #exophilia #monster romance #tentacles #monsters #4th dimension #flatland #monster lover #art #writing

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

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time to play your dead man’s hand (Day 1)

Life is Strange AU!!!! I don’t even have the first chapter done. It’s too long for Tumblr all together.

Also part one is kinda a test. I don’t know if I’ll continue this, but it people like it I will. But if this only gets, like, 10 notes then I’m not gonna slave myself over the LiS script to write this correctly.

Also also: I literally had no idea who should be Anne’s stepdad, so “Edmund” is just a filler name. If anyone knows someone who would make a good step father for her, please let me know!

One more thing- The Anne in this is Bowman!Anne! Because I like her more than Millie even though her character is supposed to be punkish

TW: Gun violence, death

——————

Part One- Chrysalis

The first flash of lightning wakes her. She cannot really recall falling asleep, but she is certainly awake now. The sky turns white again and then the rain, hard and relentless, begins. Another flash of lightning and, this time, thunder accompanies it. The massive boom shakes her to her toes and makes her feel small in comparison.

Her senses are a mess. She can hardly smell through the rain, and all she can see is the dark until the lightning intermittently burns the sky.

She’s lying face-down in the mud. The brown sludge slides down her face, slippery and grimy. It coats her clothes, but the rain is quick to wash it away and replace the drench with some of its own. She nearly slips as she’s pushing herself up to her feet, suddenly shivering.

The thunder cracks again, but this time she hears something inside of it. A shout. Several shouts, like the wail of anguished souls. She sees lightning, and then in the fading light, she sees shadows leftover.

She’s on a sloped path that has turned into a river from the rushing water. Her shoes and socks are soaked in an instant, already rubbing her feet raw and chafing blisters against her ankles. She tries to speak, but her throat is closed up in horror.

Where am I? What's happening? She thought, looking around. A storm? Why am I in a storm?

A burst of lightning torches the sky, splitting it in two in a magnificent silver slash. It illuminates the towering shape of the lighthouse just up the hill.

Wait... There's the lighthouse... I'll be safe if I can make it there... I hope...

Wind whips at her at dizzying speeds and the rain drives hard enough to push her to her knees. It is only through force of will and sheer luck that she manages not to be thrown clear as she began to stagger up the slippery path and to the cliff where the lighthouse is situated. She could scream, but the storm screams louder and its cries are deafening.

Time ceases to mean much as the storm pummels her and the world around her. She cannot see more than a hand's span in front of your face- she’s having to shield her head and squint so those subzero jerks couldn’t stab her blind. She’s exhausted by the short trek and is nearly prepared to give in to the whims of the storm and let it blow her where it will when she pulls herself up to the top of the incline.

Before her is the ocean, as dark as wine, and atop is a massive tornado. It was much too large to be real, but there it was, caged in flashing bolts of lightning and thick gales.

And it was heading right for Whitby.

Holy shit...

Suddenly, the storm whips up a large boat that had been thrashing in the waves near the beach. It was sent flying, crashing into the lighthouse and causing the top half to come crumbling down, down, down-

————

Maggie awoke with a start. Cold sweat is beaded on her brow and runs like slick snail trails down the back of her neck. She doesn’t scream, thank god, because she realizes that she’s in her art class at school. Warm rays of sun are bleeding in through the window, casting grand, golden shadows across pastel canvases and abstract parchments and colorful tapestries strung up along the walls. There was no sign of a storm in sight.

Woah, She thought. That was so weird.

A line of sweat starts to make its way down her pale face and she quickly swipes it away. Her heart is still racing, pounding painful inside of her chest. She tries to steady it and just focus on the calming voice of Mr. Tudor, the art teacher.

Okay... I'm in class...

At the table in front of her, Agnes Tylney’s pen falls on the floor and she reaches down to pick it up.

Everything's cool... I'm okay...

Catherine Aragon throws a paper ball at Joan Astley.

“Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition?” Mr. Tudor is saying.

Jane Seymour’s phone vibrates.

I didn't fall asleep, and...that sure didn't feel like a dream... Weird.

“Diane Arbus.” Jane answers. Her voice is like honeyed venom- sweet but stinging. Maggie knew the potency of the poison in her words all too well.

“There you go, Jane!” Mr. Tudor praised, “Why Arbus?”

As Jane was explaining, Maggie looked down at her table. Her basic school needs-pens, pencils, journal- were scattered out on the blacktop, along with her camera and a photograph. When she picks it up, she looks upon the horrid image of her standing in front of dozens of other pictures tacked on her dorm wall.

Look at this crap! How can I show this to Mr. Tudor? I can hear the class laughing at me now.

She sighed and set it back down. Her eyes cast over to the analog camera and she carefully picked it up as if it were a baby bird. She was always so cautious with the old thing.

Her thumb grazed over the washes out yellow top portion before gently pressed a button. The camera flashes in her face, taking her by surprise.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Mr. Tudor piped up. “I believe Maggie has taken what you kids call a "selfie"... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Maggie...has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for ‘selfie-expression.’ Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now, Maggie, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Maggie grits her teeth and tried not to sink into the bottom of her chair and evaporate into the abyss. Eyes were boring in on her from all sides. Tiny flames light up in her ears.

“I-I did know!” She stammered. “But I kinda forgot...”

Mr. Tudor narrows his eyes. He usually looks so lax and kind, so seeing him bring out the Disappointed Look cut deep.

“You either know this or not, Maggie.” He said, frustrated, “Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?”

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created ‘daguerreotypes’ a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Jane said, as boot-licking as always. She swivels her head around to Maggie, her eyes gleaming like a hungry tiger that just found its next meal. “Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad face.”

Maggie’s spine chafed painfully against the back of her chair as she hunches her shoulders in to seem smaller. Her ears were fully on fire, now- she hopes her hair is hiding them.

Just as Mr. Tudor is finishing his lecture on Jane’s answer, the bell rings. Students are instantly leaping up and scampering out of the classrooms.

“And guys,” Mr. Tudor says, “don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the "Everyday Heroes" contest. I'll fly out with the winner to London where you'll be feted by the art world in the Tate museum. It's great exposure, and it can kickstart a career in photography. So, Agnes and Maud, get it together. Catherine, don't hide. I'm still waiting for your entry, too. And yes, Maggie, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Maggie stands up slowly, unfurling her shoulders from their hunched position. As she’s waiting for the muscles to stop aching from the sudden uncoil, she sees Jane beeline to Mr. Tudor’s desk. Maggie rolls her eyes.

Jane doesn't waste a second kissing ass...

She gathers her things and heads for the door. Before she could make her escape, however, Mr. Tudor’s smooth voice rang out.

“I see you, Maggie Wyatt. Don't even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.”

Maggie tenses and then gives in. She turns around and approaches the front desk. She does her best to avoid Jane’s drilling gaze.

“I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.” Mr. Tudor said.

“Do I have to? I just don't think it's that big a deal.” Maggie said.

Jane snickers. Mr. Tudor has an almost-sympathetic look.

“Maggie, you're a better photographer than a liar...” He said. “Now I know it's a drag to hear some old dude lecture you... but life won't wait for you to play catch-up. You're young, the world is yours, blah blah blah, right? But you do have a gift, you have the fever to take images, to frame the world only the way you envision it. Now, all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That's what separates the artist, from the amateur.”

Maggie can only bob her head shyly and mumbled a soft, “Yes sir.” Mr. Tudor takes it and lets her leave.

Stepping out into the hallway from the art class was like stepping into a hurricane. While the art class was serene and peaceful and illuminated by the sunshine’s warm glow, the hallway was a tiled jungle with fluorescent suns. Student were weaving every which way like colorful, talkative birds of paradise and the teachers peering out from their classrooms were the watchful jaguars. Dozens of conversations were going at once, laughing came from every direction, and the clatters of lockers were white noise for the cacophony. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, boldly showing off their tail feathers and wings without a care in the world. Everyone except Maggie, that is. She sighed and shoved in her earbuds before she could hear Aragon from across the hall finish her statement about someone being “so fucking shy.”

Her destination was the bathroom, where she needed a serious timeout to unwind from her classroom embarrassment. She made herself as small as possible, narrowly avoiding the rushing figures of other students. Her awkward swivels and side-steps definitely earned her a few odd glances, but she tried to ignore them until she finally got into the safety of the bathroom.

Empty. Good. Nobody can see my meltdown. Except for me.

Maggie washes her face using one of the sinks, letting the chill of the tap water sink into her cheeks. She keeps her hands there for a moment before sighing and dropping them. She takes out her polaroid photo after turning the sink off.

Just relax. Stop torturing yourself. You have “a gift”.

She stared and stared and stared at the photo, but it just seemed to appear worse and worse the longer she looked.

Fuck it.

She tears apart her photo and drops it on the floor. The way the pieces fall to the ground are as delicate as the flutter of the butterfly’s wings that just flew in from an open window. Maggie blinks and follows it. It lands on a bucket behind a stall and spreads its emerald green wings into the light bleeding over it.

Holy shit. Maggie thought. Well...when a door closes, a window opens...or, something like that. She takes out her camera. Okay girl, you don't get a photo op like this everyday...

Maggie slowly approaches the butterfly and takes a photo of it. At the flash, the butterfly takes off, flapping in a blur of brilliant green that almost seems to glow in the air. As it dashed for a safe landing, the bathroom door opens and closes and a guy walks in. Maggie recognizes him as Thomas Cromwell, the richest, most pompous kid on the campus, from his slick hair and letterman jacket. He does a quick scan of the bathroom, not noticing Maggie hiding, and then began pacing. His pale, bat-like face is twisted with enraged horror. He looks like he was about to shatter at any second

“It’s cool, Thomas... Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three...” He was muttering to himself. “Don't be scared... You own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up!” He laughed. Craziness oozed from the fractures in his voice- or maybe directly from his fragmented brain. “You're the boss.”

A moment later, the door swings open and a girl strides in. She’s a little heavier set, but carries herself with great pride and power. Her dark eyes are impish and on fire. Green is spilled out over the top of her hair, long, dyed tendrils of emerald coiling with brown locks. When she speaks, her voice comes out in a (familiar) confident growl.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say.” She said while checking the stalls. Maggie has to back up in her hiding spot- it’s a wonder neither of them have caught her, especially with how she’s peeking out to watch. “Now, let's talk bidness—”

“I got nothing for you.” Thomas said. He’s trying to keep his composure, Maggie can tell just by listening to him, but it’s about as cracked as his sanity.

“Wrong.” The girl said. “You got hella cash.”

“That's my family, not me.” Thomas grits. He’s grinding his teeth now.

The girl laughed. “Oh, boohoo, poor little rich kid!” Her tone becomes serious. She marches over to Thomas, who is hunched over the sink, bracing himself. “I know you been pumpin' drugs 'n' shit to kids around here... I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them.” She leans into his ear, “Man, I can see the headlines now—”

“Leave them out of this, bitch.” Thomas snarled.

“I can tell everybody Thomas Cromwell is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself—”

Thomas rounds on the girl. There’s now a gun in his hand, which he must have been hiding in his jacket. The girl backs up into the wall, the fire in her eyes going out in an instant, and Thomas stands in front of her, one arm against the wall beside her head and the other pointing the gun at her stomach.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” He roared.

“Where’d you get that? What are you doing?” The girl babbled. Her fearless mask has dropped in an instant at the presence of a weapon. “Come on, put that thing down!”

“Don't EVER tell me what to do! I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!” Thomas howled. Whatever was holding the crack in his brain together has broken apart at the seams and every bad thing is pouring out at a horrifying rate.

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs—” The girl grunts. She can feel the biting metal of the gun’s muzzle press against her stomach. She’s so rigid.

Thomas leans into her ear. His voice is curled with dark ice. “Nobody would ever even miss your ‘punk ass’ would they?”

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!!”

The girl shoved Thomas away from her and makes a break for the door. Her sudden movements jar Thomas and he pulls the trigger. Blood splatters against the wall and from the girl’s mouth as the bullet passes through her stomach.

“NO!!” Maggie screamed.

She’s running out from her hiding spot without realizing it. She stretches out her right hand, as if she thought she could actually do something to help. The gun and the girl are falling to the ground in slow motion. Maggie’s breathing picks up. Everything becomes blurry. Black and white and grey splotches haze her vision. Every nerve is filled with painless liquid fire, buzzing inside of her. Red is the only other color she can see- the dark red of hot blood. Of her blood, maybe. She can’t tell anymore, but, suddenly, awareness returns to her- intense shock fades and leaves behind wet adrenaline in its wake, soaking her to the core. She opens her eyes- when did they ever close?- and finds herself in the art class again.

Warm rays of sun are bleeding in through the window, casting grand, golden shadows across pastel canvases and abstract parchments and colorful tapestries strung up along the walls. There was no sign of a storm- of a gun- of a dead body-

Whoa! What the fuck?! Maggie’s body lurches back in her seat. A few kids glance curiously at her before focusing back on Mr. Tudor, who was giving his lecture on Alfred Hitchcock and photography. How- how— I— She looks around again. I was in the bathroom... He shot that poor girl... I held up my hand...and now I’m back here.

Agnes Tylney’s pen falls on the floor and she reaches down to pick it up.

I already heard this lecture...

Catherine Aragon throws a paper ball at Joan Astley.

Now Joan is being hassled again... And if Jane’s phone rings...this is real.

Jane Seymour’s phone vibrates. Maggie’s heart leapt in her throat and her body flinches as if her fear had taken a physical form and punched her. Her clumsy limbs scramble awkwardly and one arm knocked her camera off the desk. It breaks into pieces upon hitting the ground.

Shit! Oh my god, I cannot believe this... Okay, if I'm crazy, I might as well go all the way... Can I actually reverse time?

Maggie holds up her right hand and, like an instinct knowing when to be triggered, her vision turns grey. She feels like she’s floating, maybe vibrating, and she watches as her broken camera pieces itself together and rises up to sit in its original position. When Maggie releases the force, Mr. Tudor is just getting to his Diane Arbus question. However, Maggie can barely hear him or Jane’s know-it-all answer. She was too busy staring in awe at her hand.

Holy shit. Holy shit! I’m a human time machine! H- how— Okay, okay, don’t freak out, Maggie. Not yet.

She looked at her newly-repaired camera and picked it up. She presses the photograph button and the flash momentarily blinds her. Just like before.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Mr. Tudor pipes up, “I believe Maggie has taken what you kids call a "selfie"... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Maggie...has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation is not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Sorry.”

The teacher’s voice is barely processing in Maggie’s mind. She just couldn’t get herself to care about what he was saying. She was too worried about the girl she had seen die.

If I can go back in time...what if that girl isn't dead yet? Can I save her?

“Now Maggie,” Mr. Tudor is rounding on her, just like he did last time. “since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Maggie opened and closed her mouth for a moment. The words are thick at the back of her throat.

“I-” It’s hard to enunciate properly. If she wasn’t so worried about that green-haired girl, she might have been more embarrassed over her squabbling. “I'm sorry, Mr. Tudor, I feel sick. May I be excused?”

“Nice try, Maggie, but you're not gonna get away that easy. We can talk more after class.” Mr. Tudor said.

Maggie swallowed hard. As much as she loved Mr. Tudor, she really wanted to slap him right about now. She wasn’t feigning illness- she genuinely felt sick to her stomach with anxiety and fear. She was sure she was ghostly white, too. How could Mr. Tudor not see that?!

“Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?” Mr. Tudor asked.

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created "daguerreotypes" a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Jane answered like before. And, like before, she looked at Maggie mockingly and said, “Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad face.”

“Very good, Jane.” Mr. Tudor praised. “The Daguerreian Process brought out fine detail in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800's onward.”

It was Jane’s snide remark that snapped Maggie slightly out of her worried trance. She side-eyed the blonde and clenched her jaw. She decides to test out her new power again and ‘rewind’.

“Now Maggie,” Mr. Tudor said, marking the ability a success once again. “since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

“The Daguerreian Process.” Maggie said, practically reciting Jane. “Invented by a French painter named...Louis Daguerre. Around 1830.”

Mr. Tudor looks a little surprised, but smiled at the girl. “Somebody has been reading, as well as posing. Nice work, Maggie.”

Jane gives Maggie an annoyed look, which she can’t help but feel empowered about.

“The Daguerreian Process made portraiture hugely popular, mainly because it gave the subjects clear defined features. You can learn more when you actually finish reading the assigned chapters. Maggie is so far, way ahead of everybody.”

The bell rings. Maggie practically flies out of her seat and began collecting everyone as quick as she could.

“And, guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the ‘Everyday Heroes’ Contest!” Mr. Tudor said, “I will fly out with the winner to London where you'll be feted by the art world in the Tate museum. It's great exposure and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Agnes and Maud, get it together. Catherine don't hide, I'm still waiting for your entry too. And yes Maggie, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Maggie, you are not crazy. You are not dreaming. It's time to be an everyday hero.

Instead of trying to leave, already knowing she’ll be halted, she hurries over to the front desk. Joan watches her with those lamb eyes of hers from where she’s still seated.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tudor, can I talk to you for a moment?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, excuse you.” Jane said, narrowing her eyes at Maggie.

“No, Jane, excuse us.” Mr. Tudor said. He turns to Maggie. “I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.”

“I’m not avoiding, just...”

“Biding time, waiting for the elusive ‘right moment’?”

“Exactly.”

Mr. Tudor chuckled lightly and said, “Maggie, my dear, don't wait too long. John Lennon once said that ‘Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.’ Go on now, don't let me stop you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Maggie exits quickly and delves right into the jungle that was the hallway. She pushed through the brambles of students to get to the bathroom, making it there in record time.

Okay, Maggie, retrace every step... I washed my face- She washes her face. I shredded my photo- She shredds her photos. Then the...butterfly flew in- The butterfly flies in. And I took a photo...

The camera flashes. The butterfly leaps up from the bucket and flaps away. The bathroom door swings open. Thomas Cromwell strides in.

Maggie stays hidden behind the stall, listening. She hears Thomas mutter darkly to himself, then that girl enters. She unknowingly taunts Thomas and he soon snaps. By the sudden yell, Maggie knows the gun was out.

She began looking around as the terrified yelling rattles through the bathroom. She dreads the gunshot that was soon to come if she didn’t do something.

She notices the fire alarm on the wall. Grabbing a fallen hammer by the bucket, Maggie smashes the glass encasing the alarm and pulls it. The siren began to wail.

“No way...” She hears Thomas mutter. Then, he grunts in pain as the girl knees him in the groin and shoves him away. Maggie watches in relief.

“Don't EVER touch me again, freak!” The girl yelled before running out.

Thomas totters on his feet for a moment before picking up his fallen gun. He growled softly, noticing the photograph scraps on the floor.

“Another shitty day...” He mutters before walking out.

Maggie emerges from her hiding spot. Cold sweat is prickling on her brow, sliding into her bulging eyes. She doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

That did not happen! This cannot be real! I just saw a girl get shot and then saved her! What the fuck is going on?

She waits a moment before exiting the bathroom. Outside, the hallway is empty, aside from a few fleeting figures of running students. And the school’s security guard.

Edmund coming at Maggie nearly startled her back into the bathroom. He’s upon her in an instant, his sharp voice tearing strips off of her before she can even think of something to say.

“Hey, do you hear that fire alarm? That means you should be outside.”

“I had to use the bathroom...” Maggie said.

“Girls always use that excuse.” Edmund rolled his eyes.

“Excuse for what?” Maggie said, slightly ruffled.

“For whatever you're up to. Your face is covered in guilt.”

“The alarm tripped me out!”

“Then trip on out of here, missy. Or are you hiding something? Huh?”

Maggie was about to consider crying to get herself out of that situation when Principal Dudley emerged from his office and called out.

“Thank you, Edmund, the situation is under control. There's no emergency here.” He said. “Leave Miss Wyatt alone and please turn off that alarm, since that's your job.”

Edmund didn’t argue, but he did give Maggie a suspicious look before lumbering away. Maggie sighs in relief and starts for the front doors to leave and evade the incessant siren, but Principal Dudley stops her.

“You look a little stressed out, Maggie.” He said. “Are you okay?”

Maggie chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I'm...I'm just a little worried about my...future.” The lie was horrid.

“You're sweating pinballs.” Principal Dudley points out. “Is that all you're thinking about? You can always be upfront with me, Maggie. Or have you done something wrong... Is that it?” He’s making Maggie even more anxious with his prodding. “Well, Maggie? Talk to me.”

Maggie clenches her jaw, then let’s the truth spill out. She had to tell- Thomas was a danger to the school!

“I just saw Thomas Cromwell waving a gun around...in the girls' room.”

Principal Dudley’s eyes go wide, but then his brows furrowed when he really processes what had been said to him.

“Thomas Cromwell. You sure?”

Maggie is shocked at his doubt. Sure, it may be normal to ask for complete sincerity, but Principal Dudley doesn’t seem very convinced at all. He must be swayed by all the money the Cromwell family has. Even then, could he not see how Thomas was breaking apart at the seams?!

“Yes!” She said. “He was in the bathroom talking to himself with a gun. I saw everything! He was babbling like crazy—”

“Okay, slow down, slow down.” Principal Dudley said. “So you saw this...without him seeing you?”

“I was hiding behind a stall.” Maggie said. Impatience and desperation are oozing into her voice. “I have the right to be there. It's the girls' room—”

“I know, I know.” Principal Dudley said. “I just want to be completely clear what happened. Mister Cromwell happens to be from the town's most distinguished family. And one of Blackwell's most honored students. So it's hard for me to see him brandishing a weapon in the girls’ bathroom. So what happened next?”

Maggie went to tell him about the girl and their conversation, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to make herself a suspect if this all blew up in her face.

“Then...then he left. I ran out here wondering what to do.” She paused. “Are you going to bust him?”

“This is a serious charge.” Principal Dudley mutters. “I'll look into the matter personally. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Maggie nodded. She wished Principal Dudley would do more than that, but she should have known. The Cromwell family practically owns Blackwell Academy. She just hopes she didn’t just throw her entire scholarship down the toilet.

She steps outside and is immediately bathed by the warm rays of the golden-orange sun. Beams of light hit the Blackwell campus in just the right way to show off how grand and pristine it was. It was a private school, after all.

As Maggie is walking down the front steps, she notices some papers scattered out on the ground. She picks one up and reads it.

MISSING- KATHERINE HOWARD

MISSING FROM: Whitby, Yorkshire

DATE MISSING: Monday, April 22, 2020

OTHER:

Age: 15 years old

Height: 5’0 Weight: 110lbs

Hair: Blonde, dyed pink Eyes: Hazel

Katherine Howard... She looks so hopeful and pretty. I wonder what happened to her...

Maggie set the paper back down and started to walk to the dorms. As she does, she gets a text from Cathy Parr, a good friend of hers. The girl was asking if she could have her flash drive back. Maggie texts back saying she will and would meet her in the parking lot. However, getting the flash drive was a lot harder than she expected, starting with the way Jane and her goons, Aragon and Jane Rochford, were lounging on the steps to the girl’s dormitory like watchful hawks. When Maggie approaches, Jane stands up with a wide smirk.

“Oh, look, it's Maggie Wyatt, the selfie ho of Blackwell. What a lame gimmick. Even Henry-” She slips for a moment, but corrects herself quickly. “Mr. Tudor—falls for your waif hipster bullshit. ‘The Daguerreian Process, sir!’ You could barely even say that. I guess you got your meds filled.” Behind her, Aragon and Rochford laugh. “Since you know all the answers, I guess you have to find another way into the dorm. We ain't moving. Oh, wait, hold that pose!” Jane snaps of photo of Maggie and sneers. “So original. Don't worry, Maggie, I'll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social medias. Now, why don't you go fuck your selfie?” She sits back down on her perch.

Maggie steps back, grinding her teeth. She looks around the dorm’s courtyard, trying to find something to help her. Anthony Lee and Peter Meutas were throwing a football ball to each other, but Maggie didn’t dare approach boys in their primal sport. Maud was reading on one of the benches and Joan was sitting all alone near the shrubbery, but she didn’t want to bother them, either.

And then there’s a rattle from above.

The school’s most well-known janitor, Duke, is up on a ladder painting. The bucket of white paint he’s using is supposed to be hooked on the side of the rungs, but Maggie watches as it falls and splatters all over Jane.

“No way! No fucking way!” She screeches.

Aragon and Rochford leap up in an instant. Their eyes are wide- a look of such shock is unusual on them.

“You okay, Jane?” Aragon asked.

Jane glared at her. It’s enough of an answer.

“Hold on, hold on, we'll get some towels!” Rochford said. “We'll be right back!”

“So move your ass, before I dry!” Jane barked.

Aragon and Rochford scramble inside. Maggie waits for a moment before slowly approaching Jane- or, rather, the door, but she got dragged into a conversation anyway.

“Uh...hey, Jane...”

“What do you want, Maggie?” Jane hissed. Her eyes are narrowed in a warning.

“I’m sorry about what happened. That was an awesome coat...”

Jane blinked at the passivity of the younger girl’s comment. She loosened up a little and stopped baring her teeth like an enraged white tiger.

“It was.” She sighed. “But there will be another.”

“Well...” The conversation was actually going smoothly. Might as well keep it up and try to get on Jane’s good side so she’ll lay off. “you always seem to know how to pick the right outfits.”

“I do have some talent. Mr. Tudor told me-” Jane stops herself. Maggie is sure she’s biting her tongue.

“I've seen your pictures.” Maggie said. “You have a great eye, Richard Avedon-esque.”

“He's one of my heroes...” Jane’s eyes, usually so judgmental and cruel, scan Maggie without an ounce of mockery in their gaze. “Thanks, Maggie.” She looks over her shoulder at the doors to the dorm. “I hope those sluts get me a towel before they hang a sign on me.” She turns to Maggie again. “You deserve a better shot. Sorry about blocking you and...and the ‘go fuck your selfie’ thing.”

“That was mean...but pretty funny.” Maggie admitted, laughing slightly.

“Just one of those days, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean, Jane.” Maggie said. “I'll see you later.”

“Au revoir.”

Maggie notices that Jane offered her a small wave. She returns it with a slight smile before stepping into the dormitory.

The dorm building is about as basic as one could get- a long hallway full of doors with one branching path that led to the bathroom. Maggie walks down the corridor, glancing at the slates beside each dorm that could be written on. Hers was blank when she got to her room at the end. She didn’t think much of it and stepped inside.

Home, sweet home. My favorite cocoon...

Her room is a basic setup- bed in the corner near the door with a fuzzy ferret stuffy sitting atop the pillows like a duvet guardian, lanterns strung around the ceiling for lighting, a drawer with a radio at the foot of her bed, a desk, a bookshelf with a few potted plants, a small couch, a guitar, her closet, dozens of photos tacked on her wall. It was cozy, and it was home now.

While she’s searching for the flash drive, Maggie noticed a sticky note on her desk. When she picks it up, it reads, “Hey girl,”-the I has a heart instead of a dot, a little something that made Maggie’s touch-starved heart flutter-“I borrowed your drive so I can watch some flix while I study. If you need it back, just track me down! XoXo, B.”

So it’s in Bessie’s room...

Honestly, Maggie didn’t mind. Bessie Blount was nice to her and super sweet, despite having obvious baggage of her own. She was strong and smart in a way Maggie wished she could be.

As Maggie leaves her room, she sees Maria de Salinas charge out of Bessie’s dorm and lock the door. She leans against it as Bessie knocks loudly.

“You can't get out now, Bessie! So tell me the truth, or rot in there!” Maria growled.

“Let me out, Maria! This is so stupid! You are ridiculous! If you don't let me out, I will scream!”

Maggie blinked. She approaches slowly, but Maria doesn’t glare at her when she gets near.

“Hey, Maria,” Maggie said. “Is everything cool?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, Maggie. I've locked Bessie in the room because we're ‘cool’.”

“What did she do?” Maggie asked.

“What didn't she do?“ Maria’s anger bubbles up again. “Shes been sexting with my boyfriend, that’s what she did.”

“No I didn’t!!” Bessie yelled from inside the room.

Maggie winced. “Ouch. How did you find out?”

“Uh, why do you care?” Maria said. “Why are you even asking me? You never talk, just zone out with your camera.”

“That's why I'm talking to you now.”

Maria crosses her arms. “What's my last name?”

She’s being tested to her an answer. Maggie blinks.

“Maria de Salinas. Duh!”

Maria is surprised. “I'm flattered. I didn't even think you knew my name at all.”

“Of course I do. Just because I don't talk a lot doesn't mean I don't care. So, how did you find out about them?”

“According to Jane, Bessie would do anything to date a football player.” Maria explained. “She saw the sext. And William won't answer his phone. Once Bessie admits it, she can go. Straight to hell.

“Maggie, I swear I didn't do ANYTHING!” Bessie cried from behind the door. “But I bet Jane did! I know the proof is in her room!”

Knowing that she couldn’t go to Cathy without the flash drive; Maggie agrees to do a little trespassing and snuck into Jane’s room, which was about as pristine and neat as she expected.

After printing an email Jane sent to Aragon about the whole ordeal going down, Maggie returned to Maria and showed her the evidence.

“Of course...” Maria muttered. She turned and opened Bessie’s door. “I'm an asshole. I'm sorry, Bess.”

“You are, and I hope so.” Bessie’s eyes softened. “You really think I'd mess around with William?”

“No. But I get stupid jealous. I owe you dinner. Still love me?”

Bessie smiles and chuckled. “And you do my laundry.”

Maria turns back to Maggie with a relieved look. “Thanks, Maggie. You're like the Blackwell Ninja. Now let's see what William has to say about Jane...” She storms out of the dorm.

“You set me free!” Bessie laughed. “Thank you. Cathy’s flash drive is on my desk.”

Maggie retrieves it quickly and heads out to the main campus. However, she stops when she sees Edmund stalking towards a very scared-looking Joan.

“...so don't think I'm blind!” The security guard was saying. “I see everything here at Blackwell! Do you understand what I'm saying?

“No!” Joan cried. Her eyes are glistening with tears. “Leave me alone!”

“You can't fool me. I know everything about this school. I cover the waterfront. So you better figure out what side you're on...”

“Please, leave me alone!” Joan is crying, now.

Edmund is about to say something else when there’s a flash from a few feet away. He notices Maggie holding her camera and grits his teeth before storming off. Maggie instantly went to Joan’s aid, but the blonde didn’t seem to be in the mood for pity.

“Hope you enjoyed the show.” Joan grits, wiping away tears. “Thanks for nothing, Maggie.”

Maggie watches her run to the dorms with a frown.

Poor girl...

#life is strange au #six the musical #anne boleyn #jane seymour #henry the eighth #catherine of aragon #maria de salinas #maria on the drums #bessie on the bass #jane rochford #thomas cromwell #catherine parr #katherine howard #tw: gun violence #tw: death

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javistg · 5 years ago

Text

One Victor. CH 19. P1.

Chapter 19 is almost done! Seriously, I have to write one more scene and edit stuff a bit, but I’m mostly done. So, I decided to share this snippet with you.

If you want to find the rest of this fic, go HERE.

As usual, all this is unbetaed and still subject to change. Hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think.

One Victor. CH 19. P1.

“So, what do you think? Is this OK?” Peeta slid the open book across the table so that Katniss could see his work.

“It’s perfect,” Katniss said, running her fingers along the edge of the book so as not to smudge Peeta’s artwork. The bunch of yellow flowers was so lifelike she could almost smell them. “I’ll add the information tomorrow, once the ink is dry.”

Peeta looked at the clock on his kitchen wall. It was 6:45. “You better get going, the alarm’s about to ring.”

Katniss sighed. Tired. Annoyed. It was the same thing every day: wake up, go to school, check up on Prim, go to Victors’ Village, rush before curfew, put dinner on the table, do homework, go to sleep, start again.

Life in District 12 had never been particularly exciting, but Katniss Everdeen had never lived within the confines of her district. She couldn’t even remember a time when the woods weren’t a part of her life. She had grown to rely on them for nourishment and needed them to bring peace and contentment to her soul.

Sadly, Peacekeeper Thread’s hold on the district was tighter than ever and —with everyone walking in a straight line— Katniss’s days of roaming through the woods and stalking prey had become a thing of the past.

Luckily, thanks to her arrangement with Peeta, the lockdown didn’t mean empty cupboards and hunger. With the food she received, Katniss and her family could now enjoy the kind of peace that came from knowing where their next meal would come from; a sense of ease she hadn’t experienced since before her father’s death.

Of course, she didn’t miss the constant worry of having to provide for her family —or the terror of going back empty-handed after a long day out in the woods— but she still missed the thrill of doing what most wouldn’t. The sound of the forest moving around her; the smell of the trees; the soft brush of the mountain air caressing her cheeks; the feel of her father’s bow between her fingers; the pride that came from landing that one perfect shot.

She still went by the fence every day —like a stubborn criminal returning to the scene of the crime— and every day, she was met with the buzz of electricity coursing through the wire.

Sometimes she didn’t know what was worse, confirming the woods were still out of limits or knowing that —after her last adventure— she might not even have the guts to sneak out ever again.

Even as her days blended together in a monotonous repetition, Katniss still enjoyed a few things. Helping Peeta out in the greenhouse remained one of her favorite activities —just the thought of the small glass building thriving in spite of its surroundings made her smile-- but, lately, there was something else she liked even more.

The day after her little adventure in the woods, Katniss had shown up at Peeta’s back door with a shy smile on her lips and a sort of peace offering in her hunting bag.

She couldn’t explain why she felt so rotten for having put him through the entire ordeal, but Katniss knew he had been worried, and she hoped her small token would help make up for his troubles.

Peeta’s mouth dropped open as soon as she produced her family’s plant book, leaving it on his kitchen table with an almost theatrical flourish.

“Would you still like to work on it?” she asked, her voice tight with anxiety. She wanted Peeta to say yes so badly, her heart ached.

They had both mentioned the project in passing a few times, but her misunderstanding with Gale had made her weary, and the idea of misreading Peeta’s intentions scared her so much that she hadn’t followed through yet, somehow convinced that he had only offered his help to be polite.

With the gentlest of touches, Peeta ran his fingers over the cover. “I do, but only if it’s OK with you.”

“It is,” Katniss assured him.

Peeta pulled out a chair and sat down.

Katniss pushed the book in his direction and took a seat; watching as he opened it and began peering through the entries.

“Where should we start?” he asked, smiling like a boy who’s just received the best birthday present ever.

They worked on the book practically every day. They always left it for last. After tending to Peeta’s vegetable and herb garden, and prepping and storing the food for later use, they went into his kitchen and sat down to work.

Unlike the hours they spent in the greenhouse, --where Peeta chatted about the most random topics, usually making her laugh and pulling her into conversation— the time they spent with the book was one of silent reflection. Once they settled on the plant they were recording, no words were needed. Katniss didn’t understand why sitting like that, immersed in the comfortable calm they shared, thrilled her so but, as days went by, she found herself yearning for those stolen moments almost as much as she longed for her time in the woods.

In the soft light of impending dusk, she followed Peeta’s hands as he worked, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to her previously black and yellowish book.

Sometimes, while Peeta diligently made sketches on scraps of paper trying to get every detail right, Katniss’s mind wondered.

Three weeks had gone by since she had found Bonnie and Twill by her father’s lake and, in that time, no one had mentioned them again.

She wasn’t surprised by Peeta’s silence. As a victor, he was probably privy to information she couldn’t even begin to imagine —information he wasn’t at liberty to disclose.

She had never given much thought to these things before, but learning that Peeta carried a signal scrambler in his pocket —and had another one installed on the kitchen wall; she was now convinced that the green blinking light over his stove couldn’t be anything else— had made her realize that the blue-eyed victor with the winning smile had some secrets to keep.

But Peeta wasn’t the only person who knew about the escapees and, after years of hearing her hunting partner’s rants against the Capitol, Gale’s silence on the matter unnerved her. Why was it that, in the face of real change —actual rebellion— Gale had suddenly become tight-lipped?

Had Thread’s measures tempered his spirits or was Gale still fighting —secretly scheming with those discontents he had mentioned in New Years’? If so, had he approached Peeta?

The first option saddened her —she hated the idea of her friend’s spirit being crushed under Thread’s boots— but it was something she could understand. A lot of miners had been arrested recently. Ending up in the peacekeepers’ cells was no joke. Katniss wouldn’t have blamed Gale for walking away from his ideals when his family’s safety was on the line.

But the second… the second scared her so much she pushed it out of her mind almost at once.

Days trickled by. Katniss went to school, checked up on Prim, worked in Peeta’s greenhouse, wrote in her family’s plant book, and kept her theories and questions to herself.

Deep down, she didn’t mind, holding on to her routine soothed her and, really, it wasn’t as though she had much to say. When it came to politics, Katniss had learned from an early age to steer clear of trouble. Even as a small girl, she had understood the importance of watching what she said, always fearful —like her mother had been— that Prim might repeat her words and get in trouble.

After all, Katniss had spent years ignoring Gale’s heated rants when they went out to the woods, not because she didn’t agree with him, but because she didn’t see the point of attracting unwanted attention when she had a family who depended on her.

But things were different now, something big was happening in Panem —something most people had only ever dreamed of— and, with her days blending together with tedious dullness, Katniss was growing curious. She was also growing anxious.

As thrilling as news of an uprising had been, hearing what the Peacekeepers had done in Eight sobered her. Thread and his men had already done plenty in Twelve —and that was without provocation— what would happen if things got out of hand? President Snow would show no mercy. He wouldn’t think twice before killing off another district --same as he had Thirteen. Even if it was only to make an example of it.

District 12 was small and weak, and it didn’t develop nuclear weapons. It would take every person in the district to stand up to the Capitol for anything to really happen, and that would never be.

She hated admitting it, but Gale was right. The tesserae system, the lack of job opportunities for people from the Seam, the way merchant businesses were passed down from one generation to another. More than the Games, these were the things that kept the people in Twelve pitted against each other; the things that made it impossible for a rebellion to succeed.

With all these thoughts pressing down on her, Katniss couldn’t stop being cautious —couldn’t forget that she had a lot to lose. Curiosity wouldn’t put food on her table —and it certainly wouldn’t keep Prim safe— so, Katniss bit her lip and did what she had always done: kept her thoughts and theories to herself.

Still, when she was at home, all the silence and prudence in the world didn’t stop her from paying attention whenever she watched TV. Every night, she sat in her living room and waited for Bonnie and Twill’s elusive mockingjay to show up on the corner of her screen. It never did, but that was hardly surprising, District 13 wasn’t the kind of topic that came up in the daily news.

Her repeated failure to put the matter to rest frustrated her, but there was nothing she could do. She had a full, busy life. She didn’t have time to sit around and wait for a random story to pop up on her screen.

XXXXX

Peeta stood up and stretched his back. He hadn’t been painting for long, but the chairs in his kitchen weren’t that comfortable, and he was tired. The long, sleepless nights of late were finally catching up to him.

A few steps away, Katniss began gathering her things. Now that winter had begun to withdraw, she had cast her old coat aside and gone back to wearing her father’s old hunting jacket. The leather garment was a couple sizes too big for her slight frame, but Peeta suspected she liked wearing it because it reminded her of her dad. Whatever her reasons, he welcomed the change. It made her seem happier, she looked a lot more like her usual self.

Wanting to keep Katniss around just a few minutes longer, Peeta asked, “Would you mind giving me a hand before you leave?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

Peeta pointed to a couple of wooden crates on his counter. “Could you help me carry one over to Haymitch’s?”

Reaching the counter, Katniss slid her hands under one of the crates and pulled it into her arms. “Lead the way.”

XXXXX

Haymitch’s house was worse than a pigsty. Mouse droppings, piles of unwashed clothes, and discarded wrappings littered the hallway.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the revolting stench of liquor, vomit, and burned meat that hung in the air, Katniss followed Peeta through the long entrance corridor and into the kitchen.

Alerted by the sound of visitors, Haymitch quietly slipped into the room.

At the sight of the victor, Katniss tightened her hold on her crate and shuffled back a couple of steps. She had seen Haymitch hundreds of times before, usually skulking around the Hob, but she’d never been close enough to smell him.

Surprise quickly gave way to disgust.

Maybe it was because she had grown used to Peeta, who was stylish and handsome, and every bit what a victor was supposed to be, but she couldn’t quite believe that the paunchy, middle-aged man with greasy black hair and gray Seam eyes who stood across from her had once won the Hunger Games.

Unperturbed by Katniss’s presence, Haymitch pointed a half-empty liquor bottle in Peeta’s general direction. “Hey, Kid,” he slurred. “Whatcha got there?”

Peeta looked down at the jars and containers he carried. “The usual.”

Eager to get back out to the fresh air, Katniss looked around trying to find an empty space for her crate. Every surface seemed to be covered in empty bottles and dirty plates. “Where can I—,”

Haymitch waved his bottle in the air. “Just leave that on the table, Sweetheart.”

The jars in Peeta’s crate rattled as dropped it on the counter. “Don’t call her that,” he growled.

Startled by the anger in Peeta’s voice, Katniss stiffened. She had never heard him speak so forcefully before.

Seemingly undisturbed by Peeta’s outburst, Haymitch shrugged. Pointing his chin at Katniss, he asked, “How old are you, girl?”

Annoyed to be under Haymitch’s scrutiny, Katniss pulled her shoulders back. “I’ll be seventeen in May.”

“Ah!” Haymitch raised his liquor bottle as if in triumph. Looking back at Peeta, he added, “Don’t worry, Boy, I’ll learn her name when she’s 18.”

Peeta’s lips turned white as he pressed them together to bite back a retort. Looking away from his mentor, he went to the kitchen table and began to move the dirty dishes out of the way so that Katniss could deposit her box.

“This place is a mess,” she grumbled, too nauseated by her surroundings to be polite. “Have you ever considered getting a housekeeper?”

Amused by Katniss’s discomfort, Haymitch tilted his head to one side. “What? You angling for a job, Sweetheart?”

“Ew, no!” Katniss shook her head in disgust. It wasn’t a bad offer, even with all the filth, but she still had two more years of school ahead of her. “I don’t have that kind of time. You need someone who can come here every day.”

A wide smile broke on Haymitch’s face, and he started laughing. “You hear this, Boy?”

Peeta nodded, his previous bad mood forgotten, replaced by a bright smile. “I think she’s right, you know? You could use someone.” He turned to Katniss. “Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

It only took her a second to find an answer. “I do,” she said, adding an enthusiastic nod for emphasis. “I think Hazelle would be perfect for the job.”

“Hazelle?” Peeta shook his head, the name unfamiliar.

“Gale’s mother,” Katniss explained. “She washes clothes for a living, but she hasn’t had much work lately —what with the shortages, and all— I’m sure she wouldn’t mind leaving that for something more steady.”

“Could you tell her to come over tomorrow?” Peeta asked.

“Yeah. I’ll stop by in the morning before school.”

“Hey, I’m still standing here!” Haymitch complained. “Don’t I have a say?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your say,” Peeta said, already moving to show Katniss the exit. He didn’t want to keep her any longer. This had taken longer than he expected, and the curfew alarm was about to ring. “But it won’t hurt to have her come by and take a look.”

“It won’t hurt you, you mean,” Haymitch yelled back.

“Is he always like this?” Katniss whispered once they had reached the front door.

Peeta shrugged. Haymitch was more of an acquired taste, he couldn’t expect her to understand.

XXXXX

Katniss had just reached the wrought iron gates of Victors’ Village when Peeta stepped back into Haymitch’s home.

The old victor was busy rummaging through the contents of the crate Katniss had left on his table. “So, you know any of these people?”

Peeta leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know Gale. He’s alright.”

Haymitch pulled a big round jar out of the box and smacked his lips in appreciation. He loved pickled cabbage. Cradling the jar against his chest, he fixed Peeta with the most solemn look he could muster. “Alright, alright?”

Peeta nodded. “This is a good idea, Haymitch.”

With a grunt, Haymitch twisted the jar open. After dropping the lid on the table, he turned to look for a fork. “OK. Set it up, then.”

#one victor #sneak peek #victor!Peeta #catching fire AU

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katedoesfics · 4 years ago

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Lacuna | Chapter 5

It took the rest of the week for Kahli to finish the bridge to Amber Island, with some assistance from Arlo. But when all was said and done, she felt a sense of accomplishment as she admired her work.

When she returned home that evening, however, she found that Huss and Tuss had returned, waiting for her in front of the house just as they promised. Huss greeted her immediately as she approached them.

“How do you do, Kahli? Do you have the money to pay off your debts?”

Kahli crossed her arms. “I know who you are.”

Huss’s gaze narrowed on her. “Oh, you do, do you?” He cracked his knuckles threateningly. “You should know, I’m not afraid to hit a woman.”

Kahli grinned. “Neither am I.”

“You should be,” Arlo’s voice sneered. He trotted up on his horse, and Huss and Tuss immediately backed away. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble around here?”

“We’re not afraid of you,” Huss hissed.

Arlo slid off his horse, and without another word, the troublesome brothers squealed and took off running down the road.

Kahli turned to Arlo expectantly. “Aren’t ya gonna chase ‘em down, cowboy?”

“Cowboy?”

Kahli rolled her eyes. “You Civil Corps sure do a good job around here.”

“Did you really think you were going to fight them?”

“I may be worthless with a hammer, but I can throw a punch, you know.”

Arlo crossed his arms. “I’d like to see that.”

“Alright, tough guy,” Kahli taunted. She punched her fist into her palm. “Let’s go. I can kick your ass.”

Arlo laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“Afraid?”

“I don’t fight damsels in distress.”

Kahli scoffed. “That’s ‘cuz you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you.”

Arlo shook his head.

“What if I was a big baddie? If I attacked you? Brought a hammer up to your neck?” She made a slicing motion across her neck.

“I’d be more concerned for your thumb.”

Kahli narrowed her gaze on him and smiled. “Me too.”

Arlo laughed. “I’ll keep an eye on things, but please stay out of trouble, alright?”

“Is that why you’re in the Corps?” Kahli asked. “So you can creep on all the pretty ladies?”

Arlo smirked and got back on his horse. “Maybe,” he said, turning his horse around and trotting back into town.

Kahli blushed and turned away, but it didn’t matter; Arlo was already out of sight. She turned her attention back to her workshop; she already had another commission lined up. This one was from Dawa with a request to help fix a section of fencing at the tree farm. An easy job, far easier than her attempt to build the bridge. She figured it would only take a couple hours to do, so she opted to save the job for the next day, turning in for the night for some much needed rest.

In the morning, as she was puttering around in her workshop, a cheery faced peered around the door. When Kahli met the young woman’s gaze, she stopped and offered her visitor a smile in greeting.

“Hey, there,” she said. “Sorry to bother ya.” She stepped into the workshop. “I’m Sam. We haven’t officially met yet, but I’ve heard a lot about you already!”

Kahli raised a brow. “You have?”

“Sure,” she said cheerfully. “From Presley and Gale, and a lot from Arlo.”

“Arlo?”

“Yeah! He sent me to check in with you. Make sure you’re alright and all. Heard you tried to take on Huss and Tuss! You know, they may be idiots, but they’re not afraid to break some limbs to get what they want. Be careful who you try to fight around here.”

“Because I’m just a builder?”

“Fair enough. Guess I don’t know you that well yet. But still. It’s my job to protect people around here, yeah? I’m all for defending yourself, but just make sure you know what you’re getting into, first.” She put her hands on her hips proudly. “I could show ya a thing or two if you want!”

“I might take you up on that,” Kahli said.

“Alright! Hey, if you’re good enough, maybe we could get you into the Corps! I could use another female around here!”

“Tell Arlo I want you defending my honor next time.”

Sam winked at her. “Us women gotta stick together, right?” She saluted Kahli playfully. “Alright, everything looks good here. I’ll tell Arlo I found Huss and Tuss bleeding out at your feet. I’ll make it real exciting!” She laughed. “He probably won’t believe me for a second, but could you imagine his face? Ha! Alright, see ya around, Kahli!”

Sam waved to Kahli as she stepped out of the workshop, leaving Kahli alone, her lips twisted to the side as she pondered over Sam’s words. It seemed odd to think that Arlo was talking about her. Probably telling everyone how incapable she was as a builder. Her cheeks warmed in frustration at this thought, and she quickly turned back to work. At the very least, she could probably redeem herself by helping Dawa and Aadit at the tree farm.

It was nearing noon when Kahli found herself at the tree farm, patching the whole in the fence to the relief of Dawa and Aadit. But they weren’t about to let her leave without giving her another job.

“I don’t know why, but the panbats have been coming out of the swamp and into the farm since last month,” Dawa said.

“We’ve tried everything already,” Aadit continued. “Fire, water, you name it, but they just won’t go away. The Civil Corps came by the other day and they’re just as clueless as we are.”

“They have been sucking nutrients and poisoning our trees. Look at them - the leaves are turning brown. Is there something you can do?”

“We tried talking to Higgins,” Addit added, “but he’s afraid of the panbats and won’t help us.”

Kahli smirked. “Of course he is,” she muttered. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

She didn’t know much about panbats or how to get rid of them, so finding a solution would require someone more knowledgeable than her. She hadn’t formally introduced herself to Petra or Merlin yet, so now seemed as good a time as any. She was hopeful they may be able to help her come up with something.

As she walked to the research center, she watched the people around her. For the last week, she studied them quietly, getting to know their routines and how they interacted with one another. As an outsider, it was easy to see the relationships they shared with one another, and she couldn’t help her curiosity. She was sure, in time, she would get to know them all, but she enjoyed watching from afar.

On her walks through town, she had already gathered a few bits of information. From time to time, she would see Antoine watching Dr. Xu from afar. She had gotten familiar with Albert, stopping to chat with him a few times. It was almost unavoidable since his shop with Gust was right in the center of town. Gust hardly said two words to her, but Albert was always eager to speak with her, showering her with compliments when the opportunity presented itself. She wasn’t used to the attention, and she paid no mind to him in the beginning. But after leaving the ruins a few times, she saw him acting the same wa with Sonia and Phyllis, and it became clear to Kahli that he was just a flirt.

She often saw Sam, too, patrolling the town, and Sam was always eager to stop and say hello. And, to Kahli’s surprise, on one particularly late night, she caught a glimpse of Nora and Arlo together. They weren’t doing anything, but it seemed odd for them to be hanging out as late as it was. And so far from prying eyes, too, at the edge of town. She couldn’t help but to wonder if there was something between them.

Despite her people watching, there were still a few people she had yet to meet, and Petra and Merlin were among those. She felt bad she was only getting to introduce herself now, but the bridge had completely occupied her first week in Portia. It was about time she get down to the research center, and when she entered, she looked around in awe. A dark skinned woman greeted her first with a smile, then spoke.

“You must be Kahli,” she said. “You’re a new face around here, so I just assumed. I’m Petra. Glad to see you made it our way.” Her head cocked to the side. “Or, are you only here because you need something?”

“People only visit us when they need something,” the older woman from the back of the room said over her shoulder.

Petra grinned. “That’s Merlin. What can we help ya with?”

Kahli frowned slightly, biting her lower lip. “Well, I just came to say hi.”

Petra laughed. “No you didn’t. But that’s okay, I know you’ve been busy. I saw the bridge you built to Amber Island. Nice work with that.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks. Just don’t walk over it.”

“Well, that kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

Kahli shrugged. “To be fair, I never told anyone I knew what I was doing.”

“That’s reassuring,” Merlin remarked over her shoulder.

“Well, you’re trying,” Petra said. “Gotta give ya credit for that, hm?”

“I am,” Kahli said. “And now apparently I need to help fix the tree farm.”

Petra frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“They’ve got a panbat infestation,” Kahli explained. “Need something to get rid of them.”

Petra thought about this for a moment. “Hmm. I’m not sure.” She barked over her shoulder. “Director! Do you know anything that might stop a panbat?”

Merlin finally turned to face them, no longer burried in her work. “Of course my dear. Panbats are very sensitive to sound. If you make some sort of sound amplifier, you’ll be able to scare those poor things away in no time.”

Petra nodded in agreement. “I might have an old diagram lying around for something like that.” She turned to a table and flipped through some scattered pages before finally pulling one out and handing it to Kahli. “Here. This should help ya.”

Kahli thanked them, then returned home with the diagram. She spent the rest of the afternoon working on the device, and by evening, Emily had stopped at the fence on her way home. She leaned against it as Kahli emerged from her workshop and grinned.

“So, you and Arlo have been hanging around a lot,” she said.

Kahli wiped her hands on her pants, sensing where Emily was going already. “We have?”

“I see him checking up on you.”

“I think that’s called doing his job,” Kahli pointed out. “Sam checks on me too, yanno.”

But Emily chose to ignore her. “And hanging out at the bridge.”

“Helping me when I jammed my thumb,” Kahli corrected.

“You guys have this weird back and forth.”

“It’s called conversation.”

“You like him,” she sang. “You think he’s cute!”

“I think you need a punch in the face.”

“Arlo and Kahli, sitting in a tree -”

“Shut up!” Kahli quickly placed her hands over Emily’s mouth and Emily laughed.

“What’s the matter? Afraid someone will hear?”

“You spew lies,” Kahli hissed.

“Oh, come on.” Emily turned to put her back against the fence, then leaned backwards, looking at Kahli upside down. “What’s wrong with being attracted to someone?”

“I’m attracted to no one.”

“Liar.”

Kahli narrowed her gaze on Emily. “I’m not here to fuck around.”

“Why not?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m just doing my job as best friend.”

“Your job?”

“Getting you laid.”

“I don’t need to get laid.”

“When was the last time?”

Kahli hesitated. She glanced to the side, silently calculating.

“Exactly,” Emily said. She straightened and faced her. “There are some good looking men around here.”

“You know I’m the new girl,” Kahli reminded her. “I can’t exactly go on someone else’s turf.”

“Who’s turf?” She brightened. “What do you know?”

Kahli shrugged. “I don’t know anything. But I see things. I suspect things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve seen Albert flirting with a different woman every day.”

“Everyone knows he’s a womanizer,” Emily confirmed with a nod.

“And I think Antoine’s got it bad for Dr. Xu.”

Emily nodded. “Yeah, I’ve always thought that, too.”

“What about Arlo and Nora?”

Emily paused in thought, then grinned. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” Kahli hissed. “I’m just telling you what I’ve seen.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t think they’re a thing.”

“No?”

“Maybe Nora likes him.” Emily shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You don’t think he likes her?”

Emily grinned. “You’re really digging.”

Kahli rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So what?”

“Just admit it!”

“Oh my god, Emily,” Kahli said in falsetto. “He’s like, so freaking hot, I wanna have his babies!”

To Kahli’s dismay, the sound of trotting hooves silenced her quickly, and she and Emily turned to see Arlo, Remington, and Sam leaving the center of town.

“Ladies,” Sam said with a nod as they passed, and the three officers stopped for a moment.

“Sam,” Emily said in greeting. “Rem.” She met Arlo’s gaze and grinned. “Arlo.”

Silence fell between the five of them for a painfully long moment.

“Uh,” Sam started. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Kahli said quickly.

“We’re talking about hot men,” Emily said.

“Oh!” Sam started. “My turn! Dr. Xu!”

“Oh, he’s so dreamy,” Arlo said. He rolled his eyes.

“What about me?” Remington said. “I’m dreamy, right?”

Emily grinned. “Rem, my man, you are by far the dreamiest of all the men in the Free Cities.”

“Aw, Em, I always knew we had something special.”

Emily turned to Kahli expectantly, and suddenly, all eyes were on her.

“I have a… hammer… to build… “

“Felt like flattening your other thumb?” Arlo said with a grin.

“Don’t you have a job to do or something?” Kahli sneered.

“Right,” Arlo said. “I’m a cowboy or something, apparently.”

Sam laughed loudly. “Yeah, alright, man. What’s a cowboy do? Rope some cattle?”

“That’s offensive to the cowboy community,” Emily laughed.

“Yeah, Sam, seriously,” Arlo played along.

“If the four of you don’t mind,” Kahli said. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Come on,” Arlo said, taking the reins in hand. “Guess we gotta go rope some cattle or something.” He winked at Kahli before leading his team away.

“You will regret this,” Kahli sneered at Emily. “When you least expect it. I will have my revenge.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily said, waving her off. “And when you two get married, I’m going to mention this moment in my maid of honor toast.” She backed away from the fence, keeping her gaze on Kahli and grinned. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” she sang.

#lacuna #lacuna5 #mtap #my time at portia #fic #fanfic

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askmelanahost · 5 years ago

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Part 2! I hope you enjoy!

Coming to another time in Melana’s life. She is sixteen years old and in high school. Like Jack had said, she didn’t remember quite much of anything from the mansion, just going to it. She just lived life like normal not even interested in the mansion. Though her dreams were filled with nightmares of the mansion calling to her in many different ways. She ignored them all, of course, keeping the mansion in the back of her mind.

She was driving to school one day, everything peaceful and normal for a Monday morning on her normal commute. Though something seemed to catch her one eye as something glowed in her passenger seat.

“When will you come back, my sweet Melana.” A voice whispered, but when Melana looked over, nothing was their insight. It sounded like a young males voice, it sent shivers down Melana’s spine. But she brushed it off and she continued to school.

Arriving at Gale Sound Highschool, she parked in her usual parking spot and she went in. Fixing her hair a little as she put on a big smile and started walking to her friends.

“Hey, Anabelle, Nancy, Sarina, Jack..” Melana greeted, Jack had moved in town a few years after the young ones traveled to the desolate mansion, though three never told him about it.

“Hey, Melana!” The three replied.

Melana sighed as she looked down, giving out her happy appearance.

“Melana? What’s wrong?” Jack questioned. “Did you see another one?” Melana nodded.

“Yeah, but it was more specific this time, a blue glow in my passenger and a voice, it sounded like a young teenage male, asking me about the mansion, when I would come back. It was weird.” Melana explained.

“That does sound weird, at least your safe,” Jack replied. Nancy, Sarina, and Anabelle nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should visit it again?” Anabelle suggested.

“What?! Are you serious?!” The twins said in unison.

“It might be cool to see something I’ve never seen before,” Jack said.

“It all comes down to the tiebreaker, Melana,” Anabelle said looking to Melana.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Melana said as she started to walk to class, the others following in suite. All of them going their separate ways.

After their long day of learning highschool things, they met up at Melana’s car.

“Don’t you guys have your driver’s license yet? Now I don’t have a choice…” Melana said in defeat. Anabelle smiled mischievously, Jack smiling as well. Nancy and Sarina giving small smiles.

“Alright non-drivers, let’s go to the Gracey Mansion I guess..” Melana sighed as she got in the driver seat starting her car and driving to the mysterious forest.

Once they got there, they all got out walking to their final destination. After at least fifteen minutes they made it to the worse looking mansion. Melana sighed as she felt a pit in her stomach.

“Something isn’t right. The door is open,” Melana said, “Let me check what’s up.” She said walking towards the opened door.

“What? The door isn’t opened.” Anabelle said.

“It is! It’s completely wide open.” Melana assured.

“Are you seeing those Melana. The door is shut and most likely locked.” Jack added. Melana sighed in frustration.

“Guess I’m seeing things again..” Melana sighed, though still walking towards the door, ignoring their non-verbal warnings.

“Melana stop.” Anabelle said.

“Yeah stop!” The twins replied.

“Yeah!” Jack added in. Though not sure what was going on at the moment. But Melana was completely out of it now, her eyes droopy and she continued to walk closer and closer, being pulled in by the mansion’s trance. The friend group didn’t think to stop the troubled teen as she reached the front door, the door to them finally opening by itself. All of them terrified with fear, that the house was alive. They all snapped out of their terrified state and they all called out.

“MELANA!” But it was too late, the door slammed behind her. The four running up and trying everything to pry the door open to help their friend.

“Should we call the police?!” Anabelle asked.

“And tell them what? That a house kidnapped our friend and she’s locked in?” Nancy replied, “They’ll think we’re out of our minds!”

“We have to get her out! She could get killed!” Jack said, almost on the verge of tears.

“Right! Let’s think!” Sarina said as she walked away from the door, getting the others around to figure out a plan.

Snapping out of her subconscious, Melana found herself on the floor of a nice looking hallway.

“Huh? What happened, why does my head hurt so bad… Wait, where am I?” Melana thought holding her throbbing head. Melana sat up looking around. She looked up and saw a window. She stood up and walked over to it, freezing in terror once she realized where she was. She covered her mouth trying not to scream, not wanting to draw any attention to herself, though that plan had already failed, a small glow emitted from behind her.

“What is someone with beauty like yours doing in a decaying mansion such as mine?” A young male asked. Melana froze with fear, she turned around slowly, her eyes going small as she saw the scariest thing she has ever seen in her life.

“GHOST!! I’m gonna die here!” Melana thought.

“I didn’t mean to trespass, I swear! I’ll just be on my way!” Melana said with the confidence she had left to muster. She booked it for the door, turning the doorknob, only finding out now the disturbing truth, she was stuck.

“My dear seems you are stuck here for a while. Let me introduce myself, I am Gracey, the residents here call me Master Gracey. I own the mansion.” Gracey said.

“Uh, I-I’m M-Melana…” Melana said sheepishly.

“No need to be scared love, I’m here to help protect you,” Gracey reassured.

“O-Okay, w-why am I here?” Melana questioned.

“Either to your fate, or to find out something. The mansion picks and chooses. But come, let me take you on a small tour.” Gracey said, appearing at Melana’s sighed, which made her jump. Gracey wrapped his arm around her arm and he started to walk taking Melana in tow.

His tour guided her through the surprisingly well-fitted mansion, nothing was decomposing or rotting, which Melana questioned very much, but didn’t mention, she met some other ghouls as well.

“This is Madam Leota. She is a fortune teller.” Gracey explained.

“S-She’s a h-head…” Melana stuttered

“Yes child, I am without a body. But do not be afraid, your future sees no death for a long time, but soon, something special will happen.” Leota responded with a smile. Melana sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness. I didn’t want to die,” Melana said, “but something special? I don’t think so.”

“Listen to your heart child, and something special will pop out with no problem,” Leota replied.

“Okay, I guess,” Melana said.

“Alright my dear, we should continue! More people to meet and so little time, materializing is very short in these times, then I will take you to your room, don’t worry, I will keep you safe out of harm’s way, your room will stand alone from the others, close to mine though.” Gracey said.

“That sounds reassuring, but I need to eat, and drink,” Melana brought up.

“Oh! Of course! My chefs will make the finest feast, for someone with beauty like yours, you only deserve the best.” Gracey said.

“O-Okay,” Melana responded. She looked around some more. “Where do those stairs lead to?” Melana asked.

“You mustn’t go up those stairs, those stairs lead to the attic, and you don’t want to see what vengeful ghost lurks up there,” Gracey warned. Melana gulped a bit but nodded.

“Master Gracey. It’s almost time.” An older male said from behind, which made Melana freeze in place.

“Alister please, try not to frighten the poor girl. I just got her used to everything,” Gracey said now agitated.

“Sorry Master Gracey,” Alister replied. Melana turned around to face her new apprentice. With no eye and a noose tied loosely around his neck, his fate was sealed immediately by the looks Melana got of him.

“Alister, please take her to the room beside mine, she doesn’t need to be wandering the halls at this late,” Gracey demanded. Alister nodded and held his hand out for Melana to take.

“Come young one, let this short tour be ended, I will lead the way,” Alister said. Melana took his hand, oddly finding comfort in his gentle soft hands. He leads the way, giving small ghost jokes along the way to lighten the mood, which Melana giggled slightly to everyone.

“Found of jokes are you?” Alister asked.

“Oh yeah, I have a sense of humor like no other. I love dad jokes and puns as well, my dad wrote a whole journal of jokes, I read that thing multiple times. It’s one of the things that mom lets me have insight into how dad was like when he was still alive,” Melana said.

“I’m sorry for your passing. I hope you’ve done well, you’ve seemed to have done well without him,” Alister said.

“Yeah, I guess. But I wish I could’ve met him though…” Melana said sheepishly.

“Well, we can talk more about it in the morning, we have arrived,” Alister said, opening the door and showing the big room with a well-kept bed in the middle. “If you need anything, just call, I will always be able to help, as well as Master Gracey, or Madam Leota.” Melana nodded.

“Thank you, mister Alister,” Melana said as she walked into the room.

“You can just call me Alister,” Alister replied with a smile. Melana nodded as she silently closed the door, she ran over and hid under the covers of the bed even putting the pillows under the blanket so she can rest properly, not even five minutes later, Melana was out like a light.

______________________________________________________________

Sorry its quite short, but I hope you still enjoyed anyway!

@asktheghosthost

#ask melana host #melana host #The Ghost Host #ask #oc story #disney oc #disney second generation I guess #original story #story #the haunted mansion #ask the ghost host's daughter #ask the ghost host #OC Ask Blog #oc ask thing

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porchwood · 6 years ago

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Fic Bits 2018: The One That Got Away

Modern AU; Madge POV. Jude/Madge, Gale/Madge.

They say you can never go home again, and yet here I am, packing to do just that.

The second autumn after you graduate from college is when the niggling feeling starts, like you left town without returning your library books or forgot to put the new insurance card in your glove compartment. When the first one comes around, you’re elated that you don’t have to think – let alone worry – about registering for classes, mapping your daily routes across campus, or buying school supplies of any kind, but by the second you’re starting to feel like something’s wrong. It’s easy to understand why so many people fall into teaching. Your body gets set on that routine, so that going back to school in fall is as instinctual to humans as seasonal migrations are to birds.

Ironically, it was the school year that determined this move – or rather, the school year that necessitated it, though the fall semester is already several weeks underway. Beginning in January, Dad will be teaching again for the first time since I was in elementary school – and, doubt it not, loving every minute of it.

At twenty-three my life could and probably should be independent of my parents’, but no matter which way I turned the situation around in my mind, there was no truly good reason not to move back with them. As badly as I don’t want to go back to the small town where I grew up, there’s nothing substantial enough to keep me here if my parents are gone.

We’ve always been thick as thieves and, oddly, moreso since moving to the capital city. The fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue that kept my mother to a quiet routine in our hometown made her a veritable recluse amidst the constant bustle of squealing brakes and blaring horns, and everything was so blindingly expensive, we rarely partook of the concerts and boutiques and exotic restaurants that had sounded so exciting from our living room back home.

Moving here as a family had been the result of two somewhat predictable stars aligning perfectly: after twelve years as mayor, Dad was elected to the state legislature and I was accepted into the music program at a small private college, a short bus ride from the capitol building. My parents rented a spacious loft halfway in-between the two, which enabled me to keep tabs on my mother while enjoying the independence of living off-campus all through school, while our place back home was loaned out to visiting professors and the like – short-term rentals to keep the utilities running and keep an eye out for any maintenance issues that might arise. I’m told I missed out on the “full college experience” by not living in a dorm, but from all accounts, it’s a party I’m glad to have skipped.

For all intents and purposes, home has been 37 Ash Terrace for the past five years. Four-and-a-half hours isn’t the longest drive, but there was always one reason or another to stay here through the holidays – which is not to say we’ve never gone back, of course. Our family revisits can be counted on two hands, but I’ve made a few extra trips on my own for special occasions, the last of which – the baptism of Katniss’s son Janni – was more than two years ago now.

I look up at my bulletin board, now stripped of everything but the central photo, and have just tugged out the tack when my phone rings. It’s a local cell number – local to our hometown, not to here – but doesn’t pull up a contact, and I cross the first two fingers of my free hand, hoping one of my cover letters has snared an interview as I answer, “Hello?”

“Is this Madeline Undersee?” asks a young male voice.

That was one of the best things about moving away, and one that I’m particularly loath to leave behind: finally getting to be Madeline, not Madge. That a young professional back home is addressing me as such, however, gives me hope.

“It is,” I affirm, and there’s a brief, quickly stifled sound from the other end before the caller goes on, “I was wondering if you might be available to play a wedding in November.”

The pieces snap together in my mind. It’s probably a local boy who went to college in the capitol like myself – it’s a common enough path – and found himself a fiancée, though it is a trifle odd for the groom to call ‘round for an accompanist.

“I’m sorry; I’m actually moving out of the area this weekend,” I reply, “but I can refer you to several other musicians who would be excellent choices.”

“I’m afraid it really has to be you,” he says with what sounds far more like mischief than regret. “What about a wedding in your hometown? Would that be a little easier to manage?”

“In –?” I break off, mind whipping through the possibilities. It’s hardly a secret that the Undersees are moving back after five years in the big city, but we’ve kept radio silence on my own return except where potential employers are concerned, so there’s no way some random local groom could even know about me, let alone want to hire me for his wedding. “Who is this?” I demand more than ask, a shy fifteen-year-old bookworm all over again, bristling in anticipation of the prank.

“You really don't know?” the young man responds, sounding genuinely surprised, and for a half-second my heart skips in hope, never mind that his voice bears no resemblance whatsoever to Gale’s rough, smoky timbre. “I’m wounded, mädchen,” he laments, and my heart trips halfway through its skip and somersaults clumsily forward to faceplant onto the concrete below.

“Jude?” I squeak.

“You haven’t forgotten me entirely, then?” he teases.

“Don’t be daft,” I retort, my stunned heart now flailing in shock. “So…you’re getting married?” I almost ask if it’s Columbine but that crush is surely ancient history now, never mind that last I heard, she was headed to some fashion design or modeling program out east.

“Don’t be daft,” he throws back with characteristic self-deprecation, but the affection beneath it wraps about me like a blanket – or one of Jude’s incredible lingering hugs. “But I do need a wedding accompanist,” he goes on, “which as I said, really has to be you, but I want to tell you about it in person. When are you back?”

“Well – tomorrow,” I reply, and the whole thing suddenly feels surreal. “Well, the day after, really,” I clarify. “Tomorrow’s the drive up and the U-Haul unload. Mom and Dad hired movers but you still want to go through everything, you know?”

“Of course,” he assures me. “Want to meet at Primavera for Saturday lunch – say, 11:30? My treat.”

“Primavera?” I puzzle. There’s never been an Italian restaurant in our hometown – it’s too small and rural to sustain any such – but the nearby city has a few shopping malls and a much wider selection of eateries; it makes sense that Jude would want to go to one of them. “What – where is that?” I ask.

He gives a little choke of laughter in reply. “Have you really been away so long, mädchen?” he wonders, but something about my ignorance seems to amuse – even delight – him. “It’s Italian – awesome Italian – right next to Mellarks’.”

“There’s nothing next to Mellarks’,” I counter, because our tiny historic downtown has never been able to keep shops for long, not with countless department stores and discount stores not twenty miles off. “Unless…are we having a sidewalk picnic, Judah?” I venture, almost hopefully, and he laughs.

“If the first date goes well, we can do whatever you want on the second,” he replies, and I miss him so much that I snatch up a pillow with my free hand and hug it to my chest as hard as I can. “But I promise: there is a legit Italian restaurant next to Mellarks’,” he says. “I’m going to buy you lunch there on Saturday, and you’re going to love it so much that you’ll refuse to live out of takeout range ever again.”

“Color me intrigued,” I tease. “As much about your mysterious wedding as this new eatery.”

“They’re both worth the wait,” he promises, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“I missed you,” I blurt and Jude falls suddenly, uncharacteristically silent. There are any number of well-deserved retorts he could hand me, ranging from You didn’t have to to I didn’t go anywhere, but Jude is the sweetest boy I’ve ever known – on a level with Peeta, really – and even in our most frustrated moments, he never addressed me half as harshly as Gale would on a good day.

I think I hurt him a long time ago, though he’s never said as much.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, and the corners of my eyes prickle hotly.

I don’t want to go home – you can never go home again, everyone says as much – don’t want to explain why I have a music degree from a respectable college and am looking for any old day job in my hometown and living with my parents. I don’t want to see Gale Hawthorne – never mind how wildly I do want to see him – to face all the inevitable jibes about how I “couldn’t make it in the real world.”

But if Jude – sweet, funny, precious Jude – is coming back into my life, it just might be bearable. He’ll have a job and new friends now – a girlfriend, to be sure – and he may not even live in town any longer. But we can grab lunches together here and there and laugh about stuff that happened in high school. Maybe we’ll find new things to laugh about.

“See you Saturday?” I say.

“I’ll be the one with the red ribbon,” he replies.

As always, I’m the one who hangs up.

Jude always let me end our calls, always hanging on in case of one last thought or lament, one more drawn-out Night-night or See you tomorrow.

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I remember the incredibly idiotic reason Jude isn’t saved as a contact anymore and sit on my stripped mattress, both arms curled around the pillow and my chin resting on its edge. It was stupid and childish – and ultimately pointless, because he didn’t try to get in touch at all after that. Oh, he did the usual friendly Facebook stuff – comments on my posts and the like – because Jude is that kind of sweet, but he’d never do anything to make me uncomfortable.

And also, maybe, he was hurt.

It’s not as if I shut him out – there were no calls or texts or emails to ignore – and you could hardly call my across-the-state move for college “avoidance,” but it certainly aided me to that end, especially five summers ago.

I bite my lips together for a long moment, silently call myself an idiot, and save the number as a new contact: Judah Tolliver. Neat, professional, and objective, like a grown-up. After all, if he’s hiring me for a wedding we’ll be exchanging calls and texts over the next few months; there’s no reason not to add him to my phone.

Returning to my call history, I dial Rue, the high school friend I’ve stayed closest to by virtue of us attending the same college. Our courses of study and career veered apart over the past few years as Rue set aside music to pursue dance full-bore and is currently spending her days with a traveling company that does famous ballets in a pared-down, intimate contemporary style, with dreamlike costumes that I suspect her father has a hand in, but we’ve stubbornly kept in touch all this while, meeting for a meal and a chat whenever her schedule allows.

She’s halfway across the country dancing Swanilda in Coppélia this season, so our farewell supper took place about two weeks ago. I don’t expect her to answer and am beyond surprised when she does.

“Hey chickie-babe!” she cries. “Are you home? I’ve only got a minute but I want to hear all about it. How did your house hold up?”

“We haven’t left yet,” I tell her. “We’re loading the U-Haul tonight and driving back tomorrow.”

“So where’s the fire?” she teases. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you to bits, but why call now? Are you getting sad about leaving – or going back?”

Rue understands my misgivings, even if she doesn’t share them. After I told my parents I’d move back with them, I curled up on Rue’s couch and cried myself into a stupor while she nestled her tiny fairy-form around me in a supportive hug. Going home is not failure, she told me over and over again, her husky voice sounding so like her mother’s as she rubbed my back in soothing circles. You and your parents have always supported each other; it makes sense you’d go back with them, at least for a little – and it’s not forever, not if you don’t want it to be.

Rue’s parents – a costumer and a choreographer – left the capitol when they started having kids and heartily embraced small town life in the heartland, but they both had vibrant careers behind them and were ready for quiet inexpensive living, for Piggly Wiggly and the county fair and a fixer-upper farmhouse, and they quickly found avenues to exercise their talents on a smaller scale.

I’m a year and a half out of college with eleven wedding gigs, five funerals, and a teaching slot at the local conservatory to show for twenty years at the piano and a B.A. with high distinction.

“Jude just called,” I reply by way of explanation. “He wants to hire me for a wedding –”

“His?” she interjects impishly.

“No,” I quell, “but he wouldn’t tell me who it is over the phone either. We’re meeting for lunch on Saturday to discuss it.”

“Meeting for lunch to discuss a mysterious wedding right after you move back to town?” she presses slyly. “Maybe it’s yours!”

Rue knows there’s nothing of that sort between Jude and me and never has been, but she’s equally convinced that there must be, or should’ve been. He adores you, you know, she’s told me time and again. Like, Peeta-and-Katniss level devotion. Couldn’t you just kiss him once and see what happens?

“Be serious,” I snort.

“I am,” she insists. “I never understood why the pair of you never got together, or why you fell out of touch after graduation. Jude was crazy about you –”

“He was like that with everyone,” I counter. “The sweet, funny thing – that’s just his natural demeanor.”

“And did he ask everyone to marry him if their respective crushes married other people?” she wonders.

“He said we should go on a date, not get married,” I remind her, the edge of a snap creeping into my voice. “It was a low moment and a long time ago. We were both feeling angsty.”

I don’t mention the other thing, the thing I’ve never told anyone – not even myself when I can help it.

“Well…maybe it’s time, sweetie,” she posits quietly. “Maybe Columbine finally found a husband and Jude wants to give the pair of you a chance.”

“I really don’t think that’s it,” I tell her, oddly wearied by the subject, but judging by the increasing volume of background noise, Rue’s about to be pulled away anyway.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she admits at the selfsame moment. “I’ll be back in a few weeks myself, but call me ASAP after your lunch with Jude, okay?”

“You got it,” I promise, and we hang up. I set the phone on my mattress, next to the photo of Gale Hawthorne from the state hockey finals seven years ago, and sigh.

I haven’t seen him since the reception after Ashpet’s baptism, and it wasn’t the most auspicious encounter.

I’d never struck a man before – or since – and certainly never in a church basement.

“Magpie?”

My father pokes his head through the open doorway. “Movers just got here,” he says. “Is your room ready to go?”

I tuck the picture of Gale inside my battered paperback of Jane Eyre, just behind the Candygram with the red ribbon threaded across the top and tied in a perfect, pressed, bow. “This is it,” I affirm, and slip the book into my purse before following my father downstairs.

As a tween I was enamored of the 1995 remake of Sabrina and resolved to head off to school with a photo of Gale – obligingly supplied by Jude, who worked on the yearbook – to pin on my bulletin board and systematically cover with playbills, flyers, ticket stubs, and the like. But I could never quite bring myself to obscure him completely, and when I went to London for my semester abroad I brought him there too, to try and forget in a foreign land.

The book is a Gale token too, also obtained for me by Jude.

I finagled to take Senior Lit in spring of my junior year in order to free up an elective senior year and as a result took the class with Jude. The first book on the slate was Jane Eyre – which I loved, somewhat to my surprise – and in true high school fashion, each copy had a log card inside the cover for the present user to write their name on, beneath the names of the book’s previous readers. Of course, neither Jude nor I got Gale’s but we knew someone had it, and at Jude’s graduation party – months after all the books had been checked back in – he stole me away to his room to press the prized copy into my hands.

I think you were looking for this, he said as I opened the cover, frantically scanned the names inscribed therein and threw my arms around him with a shriek.

But Jude, I realized, pulling back with a start, you swiped this; what if they won’t let you graduate-?

I just did, he reminded me gleefully, and the diploma is signed, sealed, and securely secreted in Mom’s wall safe as we speak. Anyway, it wasn’t my copy, so even if they do notice it’s missing, it’s not me they’d come after.

I looked back at the last name on the card – Annie Cresta – and shook my head at him. If she gets in trouble for this, I warned.

She won’t, he promised. They don’t care that much about one of twenty-three beat-up paperbacks, and it means a whole lot more to you than to the school.

I hugged him again, fiercely this time, and he curled his arms around me with a little sigh. I’m so glad you like your present, mädchen, he murmured. I know it’s not you graduating, but I wanted to beat the rush.

I spent most of Senior Lit associating Gale with Mr. Rochester, to Jude’s clear chagrin, which was curious as he didn’t seem to like the character any more than he did my sullen, dark-haired crush. I’ll grant you similarities, he agreed, but can you imagine Gale delivering that beautiful string speech in any universe?

We took our Jane Eyre final on Valentine’s Day, and in the class directly following I received an anonymous Candygram with a strawberry lollipop affixed, a red ribbon painstaking woven through neat holes punched across the top and tied in a small bow, and the handwritten message:

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

I wished so badly for it to be from Gale – never mind he wasn’t even in school anymore, let alone inclined to quote Charlotte Brontë – or maybe that I had some other mysterious tall-dark-and-handsome admirer, but I knew exactly who it was from and let my head fall against his shoulder as we sat next to each other in the choir room, his literary Valentine cupped in my hands.

Jude’s breath caught a little at the gesture, then leveled out in a long slow sigh.

Thanks, Jude, I whispered.

We both knew it wasn’t a real love note but I treasured it as one just the same, pressed between the pages of my student planner until finding a worthier setting inside Gale’s copy of Jane Eyre. The book and Candygram went everywhere with me – every summer camp and weekend trip during my senior year and in college, on every choir tour, every visit back home, all across Europe on my backpacking trip with Rue and then on to my bedside table in England. If I couldn’t lay hands on it at a moment’s notice I’m not sure I’d be able to breathe.

The movers are quiet and efficient and the truck is loaded in a fraction of the time we anticipated, prompting Dad and me to hash out the pros and cons of setting out tonight instead, but there are plenty of last-minute little things to wrap up and we’d all prefer to make the drive on a good night’s sleep – which unfortunately, is not to be had for me. Dad booked us a hotel room in the suburbs for convenience, so we could check out of the loft as soon as the truck was loaded and leave in the morning without having to wait for one last walk-through with the landlord, but while he and Mom drift off quickly in their queen bed, I frown up at the ceiling from the sofa sleeper, contemplating Jude and Jane Eyre.

The capitol is a long way off, mädchen…

My junior year – Jude’s senior year – was like high school is in the movies: a charmed, wonderful dream that feels like it’ll never end. In October Peeta finally plucked up the nerve to ask Katniss out, and their relationship brought both her and I – and to a lesser extent, Rue – firmly into the Mellark circle. Jude and I had been friendly before that, but he’s both cousin and close friend to the Mellark brothers, and as a result he and I were thrown together almost constantly at meals, school events, even youth group outings. We jokingly called these “triple dates” or “quad dates” sometimes, since the rest of our group consisted of fast-and-firm couples – Peeta and Katniss, Luka and Johanna, and often Finnick and Annie as well – but no one ever seemed to take the idea of Jude and me as a couple seriously.

We were madrigal seat partners that December, which necessitated all kinds of marriage banter throughout the dinners, then after Christmas came Senior Lit and Jane Eyre and auditions for school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof. Determined not to miss out on a role when my best friends were undeniable shoo-ins, I dyed my hair a deep chestnut-brown the night before my tryout – solidly shocking everyone in my acquaintance, but it served its purpose when I was cast as Tzeitel. I’d had my hopes set on playing any one of the sisters and forgot until the read-through that I was playing the one whose wedding is a major showpiece of the play – and that I would be marrying Jude, made even more endearing in little round glasses.

I’d never had so much fun, before or since.

I left most of my high school mementos at home when we moved to the capitol but the Fiddler album has stayed with me, and from time to time I page through the photos, the notes that came with flowers from my parents and teachers, the programs that we all signed – and the subsequent ridiculous everyday notes from Jude addressed to “Wifey” and “Mrs. Kamzoil.”

Prom came around in April and our school required everyone to attend in pairs, so it was effectively decided over youth group pizza after a highway trash cleanup that I would be going with Jude. I’d nourished a pipe dream that Gale might magically materialize and ask me to go with him – you could attend with someone who had graduated and it happened now and again, with college freshmen coming back to escort their girlfriends – but when he actually did appear at the dance it was with Leevy, his flavor-of-the-month girlfriend, if the rumors were to be believed.

I still had my brown hair at prom-time, which Jude lamented to no end while alternately telling me that I was “gorgeous just the same” and making me laugh at the silliest things. The dance was a blast for the first two hours, and then Katniss and Peeta quietly revealed to our group that they were engaged, with plans to marry the following spring after graduation.

Their courtship had been rapid and intense – emotionally, not physically – and no one was surprised that marriage was forthcoming, but the timetable was shocking to say the least. None of us believed that Katniss was pregnant or anything of the sort but they were both barely seventeen, and neither had any interest in going on to college. Peeta had a career waiting at the bakery he loved and Katniss was supremely adaptable to almost any kind of work – and neither was closing the door on trade schools or vocational degrees, if a good fit should present itself. They had decided – rather practically – to spend their senior year planning the wedding and finding a home rather than fretting over the ACT and college applications, and they would get married at the end of May, before the weather got too hot and everyone headed off to college.

It was a preposterous and entirely sound plan.

Peeta and Katniss skipped the school-sponsored after-prom party, unsurprisingly, while the rest of us splintered off into contemplative pairs. Finnick and Annie and Luka and Johanna both seemed as good as engaged to me, but the announcement had rattled them as well, and Jude and I wound up watching the smarmy stage hypnotist by ourselves in a subdued sort of silence.

It wasn’t that either of us was unhappy at the news, exactly. While I considered Katniss my best friend, we had never been chatty in typical girlfriend-fashion, and yet her impending marriage struck my stomach like an icy stone. You’ll be going to college anyway, I reminded myself, and you’ll stay in touch, but none of this served to soothe.

Jude absently wrapped his tux jacket around my shoulders and then his arm, resting his cheek on the top of my head. He’d barely spoken since the engagement reveal and I couldn’t begin to guess what his uncharacteristic silence meant.

It sounds really nice, he said suddenly, softly. Staying right here, getting married, coming home to a wife and babies.

I wanted to retort something dry and mildly caustic but couldn’t find the words for any reply at all because it was nice, this future Peeta and Katniss were setting up for themselves. I wanted to continue with music as long as I could; to study abroad, to live in the capitol and maybe other cities in due course,, but that wasn’t the future either Katniss or Peeta wanted, and why should they force themselves through the college mold, going eyes-deep in debt for degrees they had no interest in and possibly jeopardizing their relationship with the distance and other, inevitable, obstacles when the future they both craved was easily within their grasp?

Madeline, Jude continued in that same soft tone – I was always Madeline or, affectionately, mädchen to him – if Columbine and Gale marry other people, will you go on a date with me?

Almost as long as Jude and I have been friends, we’ve been aware of each other’s hopeless longing for an oblivious sweetheart and openly commiserated about it, with no fear – or even thought – of annoying each other or hurting feelings. Butcher’s son Jude was in love with Columbine Wilhearn, all black curls and lovely voice, whose mother was a small-scale – if highly in-demand – clothing designer and I was in love with broody, breathtaking Gale, whose mother managed the local laundromat and who despised my very existence because, as the mayor’s daughter, I had surely been born to privilege – never mind that my father had been a music teacher before his election and that as mayor he served a rural town of some 8000 people and dealt with weighty matters like dog waste ordinances and ribbon cuttings for tiny antique shops.

We’d both made periodic, futile attempts to elicit our respective crush’s attentions, but somehow for the course of that year – the year of madrigal seat partners and Jane Eyre and getting married on-stage in Fiddler – the longing had felt a little less pressing. Jude still ordered flowers for Columbine on opening night – she was playing the female lead, after all – but in other circumstances he would’ve done so for every performance, not just the first, and he brought me flowers too – a vaseful of red tulips from his mother’s garden to brighten my corner of the greenroom. And while I knew he’d asked Columbine to prom their junior year – and been turned down, of course – I don’t think he even tried the next time around, just cheerfully stepped up to escort me when the opportunity arose.

In fact, to the outside observer, Jude and I probably appeared to be dating for the past year.

The realization left me cross, embarrassed and oddly weary. Jude and I were just friends, everybody knew it, but could we have inadvertently sabotaged each other’s crushes by spending so much time together? Would Gale have emerged to ask me out if I hadn’t been so immersed in the Mellark circle this year – and in Jude’s company in particular?

We’re at prom, I reminded him, my tone shorter than he deserved. I’m wearing an evening gown and your tux jacket. How much more of a date do you want?

I want to pick you up at your house, he replied without hesitation, a brush of lips against my lilac-threaded crown braid. Just you and me and maybe your dad on the porch, to shake hands and talk about the weather and remind me to have you back by 10:00, and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look as I slide an orchid on your wrist. We’ll go to a fancy restaurant and trade bites of our entrees and steal a pepper shaker when we leave, just to see if we can get away with it. We’ll hold hands under the table and slow-dance like it means something, not just because we came together and it’s obligatory, and when I drop you at home, you might let me kiss you under the porchlight.

I pulled away to look up at him, at those gentle smoky eyes – gray like Gale’s and yet absolutely, utterly, nothing like Gale’s – and tried to decide whether to throttle him or burst into tears, because I knew he didn’t mean any of this the way it sounded but it was still the sweetest thing I’d ever heard – and remains so to this day. But I didn’t want Jude – I didn’t, I was sure of it – and he didn’t want me, he was just getting broody – in the hen fashion, not the Gale fashion – because of Peeta’s engagement and Columbine had remained stubbornly indifferent to him, even in a tux or stage makeup or a doublet and tights.

Please, can I go home? I whispered. I’ll call my parents so you don’t have to leave.

Don’t be daft, he said lightly, but his eyes were sad. There’s nothing left to stay here for anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Columbine at the soda table laughing at something Gale had just said and was inclined to agree.

I didn’t go home, though Jude was more than willing to make the detour: I went to Rooba’s, because she had a spacious house and had invited our whole group to stay over after the after-prom party, to sleep till noon and enjoy a lazy brunch before going home. We were a remarkably well-behaved group of teens so it felt more like a church lock-in than anything else, except for the fact that I changed into my pajamas from an evening gown and slept in Lettie Wilhearn’s bedroom – sans Lettie, of course, Rooba having given her older kids the weekend off work and banished them to the lake cabin.

Jude didn’t say a word on the drive. When we got to his house he asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink, then obligingly disappeared after retrieving my overnight bag and directing me to the nearest bathroom.

I belatedly recalled that I was still wearing his tux jacket and intended to hang it on the back of Lettie’s desk chair when I turned in, but somehow I ended up taking it to bed with me as an additional makeshift cover, my nose burrowed in the comforting scent of his collar.

I dreamt about orchid corsages and hand-kisses and sneaking a pepper shaker into my purse and woke with sore, slightly puffy eyes, as though I’d cried myself to sleep. Lettie’s alarm clock read 11:18am in the blaring midday sun and in the papasan opposite me was Jude, curled up like a child with a pile of throw pillows under his tousled head. His eyes were open and contemplative and very carefully focused on the pillow adjacent to me.

Hey, I greeted him in a sleepy croak.

Hey, he replied softly, eyes flickering to mine. Do…do you hate me, mädchen?

I blinked rapidly, trying to think what he might have done to make me hate him or if he was just referring to the fact that we’d ended up sleeping in the same room, which didn’t bother me two pins. We’d fallen asleep on each other on the bus back from Knowledge Bowl tourneys and music competitions more times than I could count.

Why on earth would I hate you? I puzzled.

Because I…asked you out, he reminded me with a wince while still firmly maintaining eye contact, as though determined to stay strong for his sentencing.

At prom, I confirmed, a smile creeping irrepressibly across my mouth. It’s a bit like being in love with one’s own wife, Sir Percy. Demmed unfashionable.

The Scarlet Pimpernel was second on the Senior Lit slate and Jude had loved it just as much as I loved Jane Eyre.

Consequently, my remark won a grateful, crooked smile and I patted the bed beside me: an invitation Jude accepted without hesitation, stretching out his lanky frame with a groan and a breathless oof! as I flung my arms around his waist and pillowed my head on his chest.

I liked the smell and feel of Jude beneath my cheek. It felt like home – or going back there – and I think in that moment I finally realized those moments were numbered and swiftly counting down.

I’ve never been asked out before, you know, I reminded him. It was sweet; the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And anyway, you potentially asked me out, under a very specific set of circumstances.

True, he agreed, and that seemed to set everything to rights. Want go find some breakfast? he wondered, tracing my braid with a fingertip.

No, I replied firmly and nuzzled deeper into his t-shirt, hiding my face from the sun.

Me neither, he agreed, and curled his arms around me, hugging me snugly to him.

Jude had clearly passed a rougher night than me because he drifted off almost immediately and was still sleeping hard at 12:30, when the savory smells of Rooba’s thick-cut bacon and handmade sausages roused my belly and brain respectively. (I learned later that Luka and Johanna had commandeered Jude’s bed, not for anything sketchy, but that they were curled together and sound asleep by the time he finally made it there, hence being relegated to Lettie’s papasan – a fine place for reading and cat-naps but miserable for a night’s worth of sleep.) On my way to the bathroom I practically collided with Jenny, Jude’s fourteen-year-old sister, noshing on a bacon sandwich and voracious for gossip.

So are you and Jude together now? she demanded with all the cheerful frankness of their mother. I saw you cuddling in Lettie’s bed.

I had always adored Jenny Tolliver more than I would ever let on. She and Jude were the only full siblings among Rooba’s five children and the similarities were endearingly obvious, despite the fact that Jenny inherited their father’s stunning black hair where Jude was a tow-headed, gray-eyed hybrid.

That was snuggling, I corrected her. Small but crucial difference.

You should think about leveling up, she advised gravely. He adores you, you know, and I hear teenage weddings are coming back en vogue.

Go away, imp, I teased, unbothered by her implication. She’d wanted me and Jude to get together since our first season of Knowledge Bowl and stubbornly refused to acknowledge that we didn’t like each other that way. I need to find some coffee and then we can argue this further.

I’ll be waiting, she said gleefully, stepping aside to let me into the bathroom.

But Jenny and I never reconvened for that argument, because that afternoon was the start of the slow crumble of the perfect high school year. Not because of anything to do with Jude or prom or Katniss’s engagement: because of something I overheard on my way to the kitchen that ended up being far more significant than I could’ve imagined.

Rooba and Marek – the Mellarks’ bachelor uncle – were preparing all the cooked food for the sleepy teenage brunch binge but Peeta’s father had stopped by with an assortment of pastries from the bakery and was on his way out again, talking to Rooba on the back porch, when I passed by en route to the kitchen.

So they’re young, she was saying. They’re hard workers with good heads on their shoulders, and they both went through the wringer at a young age. They know how to provide for a family and will do whatever it takes to put food on the table. They’ll do fine – better than fine, if we help them out a bit.

Janek Mellark’s response to this wasn’t clear – something about waiting – and Rooba replied in a strange, edged tone: Would you wait if Alys was willing?

I moved away before I could hear his reply, if indeed he made one, and enthusiastically engaged burly, cheerful Marek in a debate as to which of his offerings – stuffed French toast, chocolate chip pancakes, or Belgian waffles – would be the best to start off with, but there was a hot thudding in my ears and my eyes couldn’t seem to focus.

Alys, of course, was Katniss’s mother Alyssum – my mother’s best friend and confidante from childhood to the present – and I knew through my mother that Alys and Janek Mellark had been high school sweethearts on the very cusp of getting engaged when she unexpectedly broke up with him to get together with Jack Everdeen. Janek married Raisa Brognar – Rooba’s younger sister – on the rebound and everyone had gone on to produce their respective children and find varying degrees of contentment in their lives, but by all accounts, the Mellarks had rarely if ever been happy together, and of course, Katniss’s father died six years ago, leaving Alys bereft and in a stupor of grief, not unlike my own mother when her twin sister died at sixteen.

According to my mother, Alys Everdeen and Janek Mellark had carefully avoided each other since their breakup in high school, but when Peeta and Katniss began dating, they were thrown together to a certain extent and forced to interact socially. Further, in an unguarded moment that winter, Janek had admitted to Alys that he was still in love with her – feelings, Alys confessed to my mother afterward, that she was troubled to find she returned.

Of course, I discussed this with no one but my mother, though many a time I’d ached to confide in Jude, since we were similarly on the fringes of this relationship – not directly involved but connected through our mothers and their own relationships with the couple in question.

Something about Rooba’s remark that morning after prom implied that things were changing or had done, maybe irrevocably, and when I asked my mother about it that afternoon she gave a long sigh and kissed my forehead as though I were still a little girl. Do you really want to know, petal? she wondered. It might be easier to be ignorant till it all comes out.

Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t wanted to know, and that’s how I learned what happened after the newly engaged Peeta and Katniss left for prom. About the argument that ensued when Alys furiously confronted Janek about his son’s proposal – and what happened after the argument.

I suppose it shouldn’t have come as that great a shock, but when you hear about a classmate’s parents getting divorced, you don’t think about his father sleeping with another classmate’s mother – or getting her pregnant. But it was some months before all of that came out, months when I could almost forget the secret burning in the back of my mind as the perfect year wound down to its inevitable, poignant end.

#the one that got away #fic bits #jude/madge #jude tolliver #modern au

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hutchhitched · 7 years ago

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Blue (Part 19)

Holy tiredness! Moving in less than a week is just plain dumb, so call me a moron. My living room is now a mass of packed boxes and misplaced furniture, but two of five rooms are ready to move. More to come tomorrow. That said, thanks for your patience as I try to balance moving with writing this story. This is part 19 of my contribution to the Christmas challenge run by @everlarkchristmasgifts. If you’ve missed a chapter, the story page is here.

Prompt: Stockings

My phone rings, and I reach listlessly over to answer it. My voice is hollow when I say hello.

“Katniss?”

“Hi, Prim,” I respond without inflection.

“Are you okay? Gale told me Peeta finally admitted how he feels about you.”

“Did he tell you that Peeta hasn’t been home for two days?”

“Oh, hell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to come over? Or do you want me to come there?” Prim asks, worry clear in her tone.

“I don’t really want company.”

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

“Prim, don’t—” I try to stop her, but she’s already disconnected the call. She makes it over in record time, uses her key to get in, and finds me on the couch in the darkened living room.

“Okay, talk to me,” she insists and sits sideways on the couch to face me after turning on a few lamps.

I shrug and pick at a thread on the cushion. “What do you want me to say? My best friend is in love with me, has been for years, and apparently everybody knew but me. And when he tells me, he screams it at me and leaves. And then doesn’t come back for who knows how long?” Prim shoots me a sympathetic look, and I add, “If he ever does.”

“He’ll come home.”

“He won’t even answer a text.”

“He will.”

I snort and stare at the wall. Unfortunately, it’s right where Peeta hung our stockings—his with his name embroidered in orange and mine in green. He had them made when we moved in together, and he’s hung them faithfully every year. Somehow, that makes me feel even worse. He’s been dreaming about us together, and I’ve been dreading him leaving me for another woman. We’re an O. Henry tale.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, suddenly furious at being left out of Panem’s inside joke.

“It wasn’t our business, first of all, but, more importantly, Peeta asked us not to say anything,” she explains. “He was hoping you’d come to the realization on your own, and he was worried you’d run if one of us spilled the beans. To be fair, Kat, if you had a little more self-esteem, you probably would have figured it out a long time ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, irritated that she’s called me out on my insecurity.

She chuckles and reaches over to give me a hug. “You have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

“What a presence you are. How much you effect those around you. How amazing you are.” Prim adds softly, “How envious I’ve always been of your ability to succeed without falling apart the way I do.”

“I’m not that special.”

“Oh for…” she mutters. “I can’t convince you to believe in yourself, but you’re my big sister, and you’ve always been my hero.”

“I’m not a hero.” Something sparks in my memory, and my mouth drops open. “Oh…”

“What?”

“That’s why Peeta hates it when I call him a saint.”

Prim shakes her head. “Huh? You’ve lost me.”

“I’m not a hero. He’s not a saint.”

“Please provide more information.”

“That’s how the fight started,” I explain. “I called him a saint, and he got mad. He said the way I look at him is what’s kept me from giving him a chance—because I see him as perfect and me as unworthy.”

“I think Peeta has a point.”

I bob my head in agreement for a few minutes and glance sideways at her. “You know I’m really bad at doing things for me.”

Prim smiles sadly at me. “You are, and I adore your generous heart and fiery personality. You’d fight to the death for the people you love. Now you need to do that for Peeta.”

“I’m scared,” I admit, and it sounds like an excuse even to me.

“I’m sure he is too right now.”

“What if I’m too late?” I whisper. “What if he’s given up on me?”

Lights flash on the wall, and she gives me a pointed look.

“I’ll get out of here. Call me tomorrow or whenever. Love you,” she says and slips out the door. I hear them chatting for a few minutes on the porch, and then he enters the house and stares at me.

“Where have you been?” I ask as gently as possible.

“I just needed some space. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“We should talk.”

Peeta nods and bites his bottom lip. “We should, but not tonight. I’m beat, it’s late, and I have to be at the gallery really early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” I mutter, and it’s clear he sees my disappointment.

“Tomorrow after work. We’ll talk then. Goodnight, Katniss.”

“Goodnight,” I murmur to his back as he climbs the stairs, frustration and relief warring inside me.

#everlarkchristmasgifts #everlark #everlark fanfiction #blue #stockings

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imgilmoregirl · 7 years ago

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AO3 Link

Notes: WARNINGS: Miscarriage, descriptions of the accident.

Hey guys, I hope you're having a nice holiday. I'll away for the weekend because of it, so no chapters, but I see you on Monday.

Open Wounds

Belle was yawning when she reached for the library's front door that morning, her eyes here still heavy and her body moved sluggishly. She couldn't remember the last time she had awakened so early on a Saturday morning, but she bet it was probably by the time Sarah was still a baby. A gush of cold air hit her when she opened the door to find Ruby Lucas behind it, wearing a black hat and holding the biggest paper bag she had ever seen in one of her hands.

"Ruby?" Belle grumbled moodily. "What are you doing here, it is six in the morning."

"Well, I surely didn't come to see you opening the library in pyjamas," her friend answered walking inside and leaving Belle to turn the key again before following her to the elevator. "Granny is working on Sarah's birthday cake and Dorothy was blowing up balloons when I left so I came here to help you to get prepared."

Sighing deeply, Belle leaned against the wall behind her as the elevator started to work up. She still felt the need of going back to bed and curling under the covers for at least another couple of hours until Sarah decided it was time for breakfast. Her almost inexistent cooking skills hadn’t got better in the last seven months and all she could manage to prepare was cereal and some frozen stuff she bought at the grocery store.

Gold had always been the one to make their meals, Belle only helped with what she could like boiling water and occasionally mixing something for him. She could live all by herself without any problem, but to have a child around a no one to cook for it was a whole new story. On the first two days after she brought Sarah home she offered her different sandwiches and bought lasagne from Granny’s, but then, she knew her girl needed nutrients that came from real food and vegetables and started to buy a few things that seemed easy to cook.

Sarah had complained about the taste of her potatoes and broccoli but had eaten them anyway. However, the less Belle could cook, the better for her, so she kept on a very lazy routine, which included sleeping until five minutes before it was time to open up the library. As the elevator’s doors opened and they got out, Belle eyed Ruby, getting slightly frustrated to see her so happy and bubbly at this time of the morning.

"Did you need to come so early? Sarah is not even awake yet."

"Archie called me yesterday,” Ruby explained, “he said you might not be prepared and might freak out a bit, so I'll be here from the very start and assure this won't happen."

Opening the door to allow them in, Belle looked back at her, furrowing. They lived in Storybrooke for a lifetime and she didn’t remember seeing Ruby anywhere near to Archie despite the times he appear to buy his lunch at her grandmother’s diner, but everybody in town did it.

"Tell me, how does my therapist have your phone number?"

Worrying at her lip, Ruby asked: "You know I kind of slept with him a few times before I met Dorothy, right?"

Her jaw almost dropped to the floor and Belle felt really awake for the first time ever since she heard the doorbell insistently ringing. For months she told every little thing about her life to Archibald Hopper and now she found out that her best friend had shared his bed. Uh, she couldn’t even think about him this way, for her he was a lonely, kind – and sometimes irritating – guy who dedicated his life to hearing other people’s problems and making them pace around his office with closed eyes.

"No! And I’d rather continued not knowing it," Belle grimace. "Oh, God, this is so weird!"

"It is called being bisexual," Ruby shrugged.

"You can be whatever-sexual you want, I would just prefer if you stayed away from my psychologist."

But truth be told, Belle should have already expected it, because while she got married and settled on a routine, Ruby still took a few more years to enjoy her youth and date a lot. It all changed when Dorothy Gale came to town to take care of a sick aunt and they fell in love.

"It was a long time ago."

"Good,” Belle emphasized, making her way to the kitchen, “because I told him about that thing you did when we were in Amsterdam."

Ruby’s eyes bulged visibly.

"Oh, you didn't - "

"I did," she shrugged, going to her machine and pointing it at her. "Coffee?"

"I hate you."

"I know."

A tiny smile crossed her lips as she put some coffee ponder inside the machine and turned it on. It was nice to have somebody to talk like this again, because for ages the only company she allowed herself to have was her father, and he, could only talk about how late his rent was. Maybe if she hadn’t isolated herself she could have been able to overcome her loss more easily, but it was already in the past and, as Sarah entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with fists, she understood that what mattered now was right in front of her.

"Mama?"

"Hey, baby girl,” Belle said, bending to press a kiss on her cheek. “Go back to bed, it is still pretty early."

Sarah made no complain only nodded and turned around, sleepily going straight back to the bedroom without even noticing Ruby’s presence, who remained quiet in the corner of their kitchen.

"She is looking a lot like you lately," her friend pointed out.

"She has Robert's chin. And his pixie ears," Belle said with a giggle, before taking a serious expression. "Can tell you something?"

"Anything."

She wasn’t exactly sure if she should share this with anyone, but she still felt the need to and if there was one understanding person in that town, it was certainly Ruby, most of the rest were just annoying gossipy things. Belle took two mugs, taking some time before speaking and pouring some coffee for them.

"Sarah woke up the other day telling me that she dreamed about Bae and now it is becoming a constant thing,” Belle told her. “Last night she was eager to go to sleep so she could talk to her brother…"

"Creepy," Ruby shivered.

Turning around, Belle offered her one of the cups and Ruby took it with a grateful smile. She sipped her drink, tracing the floor with her sleepers. Belle hated to think that it all could be affecting her poor daughter and she felt really afraid that Sarah might get troubled by these dreams forever.

"Do you think I should take her to see Archie?"

"Nah, it is just dreams,” Ruby said. “She misses him."

Belle nodded, sighing deeply. She missed Baden a hell lot too. Her beloved boy, all smiles and jokes, always cheering everybody up, his absence was a constant hole in her heart.

"It has been seven months today."

"Oh, Belle!"

Ruby threw her arms around her and hugged the petite brunette, who let some fat tears fall from her eyes, because every month felt even more terrible. Her wounds didn’t seem to heal, they were always getting open again.

"I was the first one to wake up, you now? I saw everything," Belle sniffled, referring to the accident. "I think that might be the reason why I'm the one who needs the therapy."

"Maybe it is because you're the one who feels more. Who loved more."

No, she didn't think she loved any more than Gold did, but he was tougher than her. Before, Belle liked to believe herself as a brave person, but now she realised the only thing she was, was weak.

Seven months ago.

Once Belle was calmed down and everybody got into finer clothes for the party, they got into the car, driving to the other side of the town. The rain had become a true storm by that time, thunders were resounding as lightning flashed in the sky. On the backseat of the car, Sarah was swinging her feet in the air, looking through the windows as Baden stretched himself between the two front seats, so he could speak to his parents.

"Mama, can we go to the cinema next week?" He asked, blinking his big puppy eyes at her. "There is this new superhero move I'm dying to watch!"

Worrying at her lip, Belle looked at her husband, laying a hand on his tight and caressing him as he continued to drive.

"I think we could go to Boston, right, Bobby?"

A half-smile crossed his lips at the nickname she rarely used now-a-days, but he was glad she was back at her usual lovely humour and that the jealously was gone. Satisfied with his answer, Baden leaned back against the seat, groping the empty space beside him where he had put his cell, but it wasn't there, so he immediately turned to his sister, who had something in hands, hidden by the giant Teddy Bear she insisted to bring.

"Sarah, is that my phone?"

She glanced back at him with a huge smile on her lips, blue eyes shining with excitement as she flipped the smartphone in her hands.

"I just want to play a bit."

"Oh, give it back," Bae complained, reaching to take it from her.

"Sarah, sweetheart," Belle said in case the little girl decided to start a tantrum. "Give your brother's phone back."

But she didn't. Sarah returned the phone and Bae accidentally dropped the box with August's present to the floor. Sighing he unplugged his belt and tried to reach for it.

"I think it is time for us to buy one for her, right?" Gold was saying.

"Oh, no way, she is four and..." Belle's voice died when she felt the car skid through the road. "Robert!"

It all happened too fast, in a moment they were crossing the bridge and in the next the car had lost control, sliding through the watery ground. Gold tried to stop, but the break wasn't working, so the car continued to spin, until it fell down, rolling a few times before it stopped. The shock of the moment was breath-taking, their bodies hit the car's walls at each drastic movement and eventually the unconsciousness came, however it was the pain that woke Belle up hours later.

The first thing she thought was that she wanted to scream, there was a sharp pain coming from her lower abdomen and when she looked down Belle saw there was a large piece of metal impaling her. She sobbed noticing the puddle of blood formed on the seat, unstoppably dripping from her body. Belle swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from panicking and glanced at Gold. He was pale.

"Robert?" She tried to call, but it was useless, so she looked back, hoping for something better, but all she saw was her girl laying still with a cut on the right side of her head. "Sarah? Babe, wake up! Sarah, please!"

There was no answer. She was the only one awake in there and she wanted to scream louder but in no words, because they were trapped, the car had been smashed on the fall and... And Baden wasn't there. Risking herself and knowing there was no point in keeping quiet to not cause any more damage to herself. She grunted when the metal ripped her flesh even more open as she moved to see that his limp body was laying on the rocks outside of the car.

"Baden!"

"Mrs. Gold," said a voice beside her and Belle looked up to see David Nolan, the local Sheriff stretching himself through the broken window to reach for her. "Stay calm, we are going to get you out of here."

The deputy, Graham Humbert was already trying to open the door, as he placed some clean clots to her wound when Belle started to shake her head, trying to push him away.

"No, don't touch me, go see if Bae is alright and then take Sarah out!"

David blinked eyeing the children as if he thought they could wait a little bit more, without understanding they were her priority, always.

"Mrs. Gold, please, you're bleeding."

"I'm miscarrying, ok?" Belle yelled through her tears and he stepped back. "Now go save the children I still have!"

In a quick second, David disappeared from her sight and Belle leaned against the seat, crying in despair and pain. It all hurt. She was losing her baby; the children were unconscious and she couldn't do anything to help. It was still raining although it was very little now, but none of this mattered anymore. She heard a gasp and looked at Robert seeing him struggling with the position in which he found himself, one of his legs pressed down in a awkward position.

"Belle?"

"Don't move," she warned him. "Your leg..."

"Where are the children?" He asked, not daring to move once he saw the damage the smashed car had caused. She tried to answer but suddenly her vision was getting blurry. "Belle? Are you alright?"

Belle was no fool, she was a well-read woman who knew car accidents could cause a lot of harm and that loss of blood was dangerous, but she also could hear David and Graham sending Baden with a doctor in the ambulance. Soon they would come for Sarah. She could wait. Her life didn't matter as much as theirs did.

"My head is spinning," she managed to mumble to her husband just a second before she passed out.

Gold's eyes widened and although he was also feeling the sleepy push again he couldn't leave Belle like that.

"No, no stay awake," he tried to beg, however his voice too was getting lower and all he could to was to attempt screaming: "Help!"

Present days.

Having breakfast with Ruby had proved to be a great medicine against her anxiety. Belle had already been feeling a bit sick in the night prior due to her inability of not anticipating things, but she had to admit that having a friend around helped her to stay calm. Sarah was really happy to find her favourite auntie there and the two of them had some fun playing with dolls before Belle sent Sarah to take a bath and the they got ready to go to Granny's. Ruby said she prepared one of the rooms in the small inn attached to the dinner for them to dress for the party, as she had picked up some clothes for them herself - which was a bit scaring for Belle because they didn't really have the same taste in fashion.

She allowed Ruby to take Sarah directly to the inn and stopped in front of the diner, looking at the pink and gold decoration and smiling for a second. Everything looked very beautiful, just like any other birthday party they'd throw for the kids, so she gathered some courage and entered seeing her husband inspecting a few items as Granny placed a huge cake on the counter, turning it around to see if there was something wrong with the carriages and princess that adorned it. Sarah had gone for a fairy tale theme this year and as she had dressed as all known princess ever since she woke up from coma, she decided she wanted to be a fairy for the party.

"Belle," she heard Robert saying and turned around to see him approaching her. "I wasn't expecting to see you here this early."

"I thought I should come and see if everything was going according the plan," she shrugged. "And Ruby bought secret outfits for me and Sarah that we are no supposed to see until five minutes before the party starts."

"I'm sure you two will look amazing in anything," he assured her.

For some reason, Belle felt her cheeks burning with colour and it was only then that she realised she hadn't received a compliment ever since she got out of the hospital and her father said the bags under her eyes weren't so bad - which at the time was the best she could get. Seven months and she didn't feel like a woman, like an actual human being. She never allowed herself to, she was drowning so deep in her grief that she forgot she was a whole live-breathing person.

The tiniest of the smiles crossed her face as she pointed at the pink piece on the counter, trying to distract herself for her own thoughts, otherwise only God knew, she would start to want her for husband - who was now basically her ex-husband, even though they hadn't signed a divorce yet - to keep compliment her and, worse, doing more than that. She hadn't thought about kissing anyone or making love to anyone in so long that it made her shiver with an almost forgotten feeling. But she shouldn't be thinking about that when he was only trying to be the gentleman he had always been.

"Granny got to make a great cake this year," she remarked.

"Every single cake I bake is great," Granny yelled from the kitchen, clearly paying attention to their conversation.

Rolling her eyes, Belle looked straight back at Gold, who was nervously rubbing at the handle of his cane. She saw their wedding ring shinning in his finger, still in the same place, a moonstone one just as huge as her diamond piece that was now hidden in one of her drawers. He never took it off and sometimes she got herself wondering why. She had noticed it the night she found him in Sarah's room at the hospital after months of utter silence and no contact in which she thought he would have probably moved on. Robert never stopped surprising her.

"Can I help with something?"

"I don't think so, Dorothy did most of the hard work," Gold said, gesturing to the decorated space. "Why don't you go see if our little princess is ready for the party?"

Nodding in agreement she made her way towards the inn's rooms, already knowing which one Ruby would have taken for them, because it was the same one they used to hide themselves in when they were teenagers and Belle didn't want to go back home. There was a time, right after her mother died, that her father drank too much and when he did, Belle got afraid of him and came to Ruby for a shelter. Maybe it was the reason why she still felt a bit worried about Moe's aggressive behaviour. She knew that he had changed and he didn't drink in years, and that was the reason why she allowed him to go back to her life again in first place, but yet, she'd rather be safe than sorry when it came to him.

The room number two had its door half-opened and she swung it open, revealing Ruby finishing to put on Sarah's wings. Her daughter looked gorgeous in a pink outfit with a giant tutu and those wings that seemed to shine in the lights, the golden details giving the impression that they were moving.

"Mama, look!" Sarah yelled happily as soon as she saw her. "I'm a fairy!"

Taking a seat on the bed in front of her, Belle touched the curls of her hair, pulled up on a ponytail. Her whole face was glittery and her eyelids were painted with pink products and her cheeks shined with gold lines. She looked so perfect and so full of life that Belle needed to contain herself not to start crying.

"You are a beautiful fairy. Now, why don't you go show your new outfit for papa?" The brunette suggested and Sarah nodded happily rushing out of the room and leaving her alone with Ruby to who she added: "You did a great job."

"I sprinkled glitter on her face and used some eyeshadow," she other woman said with a shrug tapping a hand to the wardrobe behind her. "Ready to see your dress?"

Not having much choice in that matter, Belle waved her head positively and Ruby opened the door taking a mint-green dress with black details out of it. Belle' mouth fell open with a gasp, because it was yes, a beautiful piece of clothing, but it was also very revealing and not a thing she would have chosen to wear for the occasion.

"Ruby, what the real hell is that?"

"Didn't you like it?"

"I think everybody in Storybrooke will be able to see my belly button with this cleavage," Belle said, pointing at it. "For God's sake this is not a date, it's my daughter's birthday party."

Rolling her eyes, Ruby took the few steps towards were Belle was and pushed the dress to her.

"Stop overreacting and try it on."

She knew she wasn't going to be able to win this, so Belle sighed taking the dress in hands and heading to the bathroom. Even though she didn't consider that dress appropriate for the party, Belle might have worn it a year ago, because she would have felt confident enough to, but now, she had no one to impress and didn't truly wanted people to stare at her. She pulled on the dress taking a look herself in the mirror and trying to feel good.

Ruby had left a necessaire full of make-up products in there and she tried to use some brown eyeshadow and a very light pink lipstick in an attempt to make herself believe she looked worth getting out of there. Belle played with the curls of her hair and took a deep breath before going back to the bedroom where Ruby was waiting.

"I look ridiculous!"

"You look fantastic," her friend assured her, "now go downstairs. I've spotted some people arriving."

The last thing she wanted was to face everybody mainly now, after Leroy saw her having hamburgers with Robert and Sarah at the other night, but she had no choice. It was no surprise the whole town was gossiping that the Golds might be coming together again, as Leroy was known for spreading any news around. Belle wished she lived in a place where people didn't watched for their neighbour's lives as entertainment.

When she stepped inside the dinner a few of Sarah's old classmates had arrived with their parents and were attacking the sandwiches. She found Gold talking to another man who had a redhaired boy by his side. The sight made her heart clench and her breath become difficult, but Belle decided to face it as a chair, like Archie had suggested in multiple occasions, so she walked towards them with a fake smile on her lips.

"Thanks for coming, Marco. We are still really sorry we couldn't make it August's this year."

"No, I'm the one who feels sorry..." Marco trailed off when he saw Belle approaching them. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Gold."

Her cheeks became flushed as he excused himself, taking August to one of the tables. She turned around to see Robert who was staring a her appearing to be spell bounded. Belle shook her head for herself, folding her arms in front of her as if it could shelter her.

"I knew it was a bad idea, I should go back upstairs and put on another thing."

"Don't you dare," Gold said immediately. "Belle, you're beautiful. Now, let's go outside and see what Sarah is up to."

His reassurance didn't have the meaning it would if she had heard it when things were still normal, but it could make her blush even more anyway, because the feelings she had regarding him couldn't be erased so easily. Belle allowed him to take her hand, leading her to the open area in front of the diner where a big table had been settled with the cake and some decoration. Sarah was running around, being chased by two other girls and she was about to call her to straighten her wings before she heard that known voice coming from the gates.

"Mr. Gold, Mrs. Gold, it is very nice to see you," Regina Mills started with a solemn smile, urging her boys inside the party. "Thank you for inviting Henry and Roland."

"You're welcome, madam mayor," Belle managed to say, swallowing hard the lump on her throat.

Regina wasn't her favourite person, she had never been, not even before the all that investigation thing had been, but it probably had something to do with her refusal to use more money to update the library's computers or even the book sections. However, she had been avoiding the mayor as much as she could ever since the accident, because an irrational part of her blamed Regina for it.

"Mrs. Gold, if you don't mind I would like to have a meeting with you in the upcoming week, just to talk about the library."

"Yeah, sure."

"I'll send you an e-mail."

As she walked inside the diner, Belle sighed in relief. Gold was tense by her side without knowing how she would react, but Belle wasn't in the mood for giving a damn about the mayor, even though she was still able to make her feel out of balance. Instead, she walked towards the mother of Sarah's best friend, the little Alex.

"Hey, Ashley, thanks for coming,"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything!" The blonde answered. "Alexandra is so excited to have Sarah back at school."

Oh, and so was Sarah. Mary Margaret said she should start in the next week and Belle had been shopping for new uniforms as the old ones were too small for her now and some stuff she was surely going to use like pencils and all those kinds of things. She was happy to her daughter could be back to an old routine, it would be good for her and maybe once Sarah was distracted with school she could overcome all of those dreams about Bae.

Telling Ashley to enjoy the party Belle turned around to see her father arriving with a big wrapped box in hands. He didn't look much happy, but he had pulled on one of his best clothes and wasn't wearing his blue cap with was a surprising thing lately.

"Papa, I didn't know you were coming," Belle said, still a bit stupefied to find him there.

"I wouldn't miss Sarah's birthday party for anything, even if that bastard payed for everything."

He was glancing at Gold and she got a hold of his arm, trying to show him her best pleading look.

"Please, don't start this again."

"He should be in jail, Belle," Moe insisted.

"No," she replied, firmly. "Papa, don't you understand? Robert isn't this monster you keep painting him as, he is a good man who was trying to do the right thing. The monster who killed my son is the same one who murdered Robin de Locksley."

She hadn't yet spoken about this with anyone but Gold and whenever her father started his infinity monologues about how guilty of Baden's death Gold was, she stayed quiet, but Belle couldn't do it anymore. During the edge of her grief, she had blamed him too, however once the pain was a bit more manageable, Belle understood it all. She couldn't talk about it, or the killer could come back for Sarah or someone else, but she could relish in knowing that Robert was an innocent who had lost as much as she did because of that twisted man.

"Grandpa," they heard the little fairy yelling before she ran towards Moe.

"Hello, Sarah!"

Breathing in, Belle made her way inside were Ruby was serving some juice for a few kids. She felt a bit nauseous, but told herself it would be better if she just tried to control herself because she couldn't ruin this day for her daughter.

"Are you alright?" Ruby asked.

"I think it is time for the cake."

The rest of the day was a success. No fights, no fussy children, just balloons and cake. Sarah was radiant and after the guest were gone she sat on the floor with a pile of presents by her side, opening them with Ruby's help while her exhausted parents sat by a table, drinking some tea.

"I can't believe she still have energy," Belle sighed.

"Neither do I," Gold agreed. "Every year it gets more tiring."

Belle caught her lower lip between her teeth, tracing the border of her cup. Most of their birthday parties were at Granny's, although some of them had been thrown in their own house, in times they felt more like doing an intimate thing with only w few people, but none of them had lacked the fourth member of the family as this one did.

"I keep imagine Bae running around with Sarah," Belle murmured. "And I should've be near my due date for the baby now. It could have been a happy day."

"It still was, for Sarah at least," Robert answered reaching for her hand and stroking it gently. "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am, Belle. We've lost so much..."

They lost it all. She had even lost herself in the process. Belle couldn't define who she was anymore because all she knew was pain and the phantom of what life could have been like hadn't they left home in that stormy day.

"Sarah dreams about Bae every night," Belle told Gold. "She misses him."

"We all do, but I believe it is even harder for her, even if she can hide it pretty well. She reminds me a lot of you. Beautiful and brave."

"It is the third time you call me beautiful today."

Robert gave her a little smirk catching a lock of her hair between his fingers. Belle loved the way he looked at her and how it hadn't changed even after everything.

"Time can't make your beauty fade. You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever set eyes on."

She didn't know what she was doing, but she leaned close, that sudden desire to be kissed that she felt earlier coming back to haunt her. Belle felt her husband’s breath on her skin and her upper lip touched the corner of his mouth, making her heart race, but for the first time in ages for a good reason. She felt his hand on her hip and was about to give in completely when a scream came from the other end of the diner.

"Belle," Ruby yelled. "Oh, my God, Belle!"

Almost jumping from her seat, the brunette quickly stood up to see that Ruby was holding her daughter’s flaccid body in her arms and she didn’t know how, but in the next second, she was by their side, taking the little girl from her and trying to shake her shoulders to see if she would react.

"Sarah," Belle begged in tears, as an expressionless Gold slowly approached them. "Sweetie, wake up! Wake up!"

But no prayers or screams could be heard.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #baelfire #neal cassidy #ouat #ao3 #fanfic

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d3ndroica · 7 years ago

Text

Big Apple 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

They traded texts. Sometimes the other was busy, and no reply would come, or replies were so sporadic it didn’t amount to much. But every few days or so, there would be an actual conversation. Usually it wasn’t about anything important. Something a roommate did, a news story, or some other random topic.

It was Friday. Madge was bored, waiting for cells to incubate in the lab so she could finish an assay. She had time to kill. Her thoughts had strayed to something that had needled her. She picked up her phone. Set it down. Picked it up.

Madge 4:14pm So I have a question

Gale 4:17pm um ok? Madge 4:17pm So. Do you have a different safety text if you like, bring someone home? Or go home with someone else?

Gale 4:20pm hot date?

Madge 4:21pm ha. No really it makes sense right? What if something happens

Gale 4:22pm um dont take someone home if you’re worried about your safety

Madge 4:23pm Right. Because rape only happens in back alleys with strangers. Or I could just join a nunnery so then i’ll never have to worry about my safety ever again anyway

Gale 4:24pm that would be shakespearean level tragic (the nunnery part, rape is always tragic) You’re talking a whole new level of safety text i hadn’t thought of. I guess you could have suffix emojis? There’s always 🍆 and 🌮 If you wanted to share that info

Madge 4:26pm Holy shit really? I’m at work you know

Gale 4:27pm yeah i’m working too who cares what did you think I would say?

Madge 4:27pm IDK I never understood the 🌮 thing I mean, why not a good old fashioned pussy right? 😻

Gale 4:28pm Are your coworkers reading your texts? Tell them I want to eat your 😻 See how maybe could be taken the wrong way Do you know how many people have pet cats?

Sometimes he did this. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was or if it was even on purpose. Flirting because it was just normal to him. Teasing her. Whatever it was, she tried to ignore it. She really did. Unsuccessfully, because holy shit. And it seemed to be escalating. And maybe she wanted it, and that was why she brought up things like 🌮 versus 😻. But still. It was a dangerous game to play with someone she couldn’t date.

Madge 4:29pm OMG you are nuts so, I get the pet cat thing But tacos are a thing too Like taco tuesday? I love taco tuesday, and I might want to invite people to eat actual tacos I could probably talk my roomie into it, she’s all about her latinx heritage I should be able to use 🌮 without people thinking it’s a come on

Gale 4:29pm um yeah “come eat my 🌮🌮” is probably a bad way to invite people to dinner

Gale 4:32pm 🍒? And don’t say you want to invite people over to eat cherries I thought you didn’t use emojis

Madge 4:35pm Hey I’m learning the local ways. Gotta try to fit in in a new city right? Well there’s no pie emoji anyway is there? So I guess I’d have to settle for typing out words.

Gale 4:36pm words what are those that sounds impossible 🙄 almost as bad as phone calls

Madge 4:36pm ha right. phone calls. Cressida talks on the phone a lot actually, it’s weird. Maybe autocorrect cant handle multilingual convos? OR MAYBE it’s because she can’t text people about 🌮! Shit that sounds racist. 😳 It is funny though That there are people all over town sending texts about their 🍆🍆 and 🌮🌮 Like sex is so embarrassing we can’t admit is what we want Also now i want tacos

Gale 4:39pm Didn’t this all start because you wanted an emoji for sex

Madge 4:40pm huh Wait, no. I mean, yes it applies to sex. But it’s broader than that. The whole safety text thing makes sense. I mean I get it, going out drinking, dancing, big city, late nights. There are some risks there and so when those risks don’t apply, you say so. And it’s more fun than a bunch of “home safe” messages. I never said sex. You made it about sex.

Gale 4:42pm You can say what you want but I know you’re just looking for a sex emoji. Why else would you be going home with someone at 2am?

Madge 4:44pm I just want to understand the protocols here. Like, if I am safely to where I will be for the night but it’s not home? Do I include that? Is there a second safety text in the morning? Or if someone comes home with me, that’s like, an additional risk factor. With or without the sex. So fine let’s assume it’s for sex, then it’s a bit braggadocious to be like “🖕⛄️ 🐸 I’m about to have sex now”

Gale 4:45pm Braggadocious????????? Are you kidding me?? You and your big words don’t steal my emojis 🖕⛄️ 🐸 = MINE and isn’t it still bragging no matter how you say it?

Gale 4:48pm isn’t this whole thing dehumanizing anyway? Just send 👩‍❤️‍ 👩 or 👩‍❤️‍ ❤️‍👨 or whatever. no sex needed. for the record from now on I want to be referred to as 🤵🏽

Madge 4:49pm lol You know that’s supposed to be a groom like for a wedding right?

Gale 5:16pm you want 🌮🌮 tonight?

Madge 5:19pm Yes Dammit.

Gale 5:22pm <link1> or <link2> your pick

Madge clicked on the links. One was for “street taco” and the other was for a lesbian bar called “cubbyhole.” Thank God her phone was not on the office wifi.

Madge 5:25pm Haha so funny Meet @ 9? I’m stuck here awhile.

Gale 5:26pm deal I’ve always wanted to go to cubbyhole you think they’ll let me in if I’m with you?

When Madge arrived at “Street Taco” which was actually a festively decorated sit-down taqueria, the place was packed. Gale was already there, hunched near the doorway waiting for a table and looking at his phone. Wearing layers starting with a button-down collared shirt, followed by a dark sweater, and ending with a winter coat, he looked different, practically cleancut. Suddenly she felt a wave of shyness, but she threw that feeling aside, walked over and nudged his elbow.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Hey,” he said with a small smile, still typing something with his thumbs. A moment later he pocketed the phone.

“Why do people eat so late here?” She grumbled.

“Because nobody works 9 to 5 in this city?” Gale suggested. “Congratulations - looks like you’re becoming a New Yorker. Why were you at work so late on a Friday night anyway?”

“Typical lab work,” Madge said. She started to explain but the hostess had buzzed Gale’s phone. Their table was ready.

Once they were seated Gale looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up on the librarian look already?” he questioned.

She bit back a smile. “I’m just saving it for work now. It’s amazing how effective a frumpy cardigan and sneakers can be. That, and I’m wearing a lab coat half the time anyway.” Now that he’d shed his winter coat, she realized why he looked different. He’d gotten a haircut.

“Right, lab coats. What were you saying about work?”

Madge tried to explain it briefly. “So, we have a lot of protocols that require incubation periods between each step. Some stages can sit overnight and others can’t so you work out the best schedule but there are always long days. I’m actually lucky I haven’t had to go in on the weekend yet.”

“Well I guess finding the cure for cancer isn’t going to be easy,” Gale joked.

Madge groaned. “You did not just say that.”

“What?”

Madge retorted. “The Cure for cancer? Are you serious? So, that’s a total misconception. There is no research targeting *quote* A cure for cancer. It’s not one disease. It’s a whole bunch of diseases that are lumped together.” She huffed and counted on her fingers,”Lymphomas and leukemias and sarcomas and tumors just for a start - and none of those are just one disease with a simple cure waiting to be found either.”

“Okay,” Gale replied.

Madge realized she was rambling and on her soapbox but she couldn’t stop herself. “It’s just one of those things that people don’t get and it’s really frustrating. I mean, telling people I work on pharmaceutical effects on the cellular regulation of apoptosis in diseased cells it would make no sense to anyone outside the field.” Proof in point, she knew from his expression it meant nothing to him. She continued, “so I say, hey I work on cancer drugs, but then people get this idea that we’re gonna find some magical solution that cures everything and that’s not how it works.”

Gale smirked. “Definitely not easy then.”

“Fine. I shouldn’t have brought it up anyway,” Madge frowned. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Well, I like you explaining it. Even if it sounds like greek to me. I don’t know jack about that stuff.”

They checked out the menu and ordered food. It didn’t take long to get their food, which slowed down the conversation. Gale asked how things were going with her phone-obsessed roommate, but really Madge had no complaints about Cressida. They didn’t even interact that much, at least not yet. Gale apparently had two roommates in a 3-bedroom apartment. They’d all met playing soccer and apparently got on fairly well.

“Have you seen Thom lately?” Madge asked. Thom had asked her all about Gale and what she thought after their last dinner together. Eventually Madge had told him he should just talk to Gale if he was so curious. She couldn’t see Thom and Gale together now, despite their history, but she felt maybe she owed it to Thom to pry a bit.

“We talked last week I think,” Gale guessed, sounding casual. “I take it you two are pretty close?”

“Yeah, you know, college bonding. Late nights. We’ve both needed someone .. He’s my guy, you know? I mean, my platonic guy friend guy. Obviously.”

“How did you meet him?” he asked.

“Theater program. I worked tech backstage,” she explained. “So we were in the same dorm freshman year but we really bonded during A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum that spring.”

“Only backstage?” He was teasing her. “Did you figure you’d had your 15 minutes of fame? Princess?”

Madge rolled her eyes. “Funny. So my acting coach for the pageants told me my acting was ‘pedestrian’ and I guess I decided that was a good thing. Backstage was more fun anyway. Like in Forum, Thom didn’t have that big a role, so he had lots of time to hang out backstage.”

“And you’ve been BFFs ever since?” Gale joked.

“Sort of. I don’t think either one of us realized it when school ended. We just knew it was sad to go home. Then we talked all the time that summer. I had some stuff going on and he came out to his family, so I guess it was a pretty eventful year.”

“Was it hard for him? Coming out?”

Madge shrugged. “I guess so, yeah. Isn’t it always? He can tell you. But I don’t think his parents were that surprised? It was more the extended family.” Madge felt a little uncomfortable talking about Thom’s outing, so she turned the tables. “It’s gotta be tough though. I mean, you’ve been there. Was yours hard?”

Gale paused. “Well, yeah. Coming out was hard. You stand on the precipice so many times before you finally just do it, because no matter what your mom says, you’ve heard all this shit about it being a choice and burning in hell. School, church, fucking little league coaches.” Gale sighed. “I hoped it would be easier for Thom though. He was so sure of who he was and you know, the whole theater thing. I just felt like I was lost in the woods, waiting for some sign. We barely knew gay people existed in high school. Where we came from, we’d never even heard the word bisexual, let alone pan. It was confusing. Took me awhile to figure out that I didn’t have to choose gay or straight.”

Madge almost choked on her taco. “You’re -” she cut herself off. PAN! Pansexual! Her mind screamed it at her. In all honesty she wasn’t sure exactly what that meant but she was pretty sure it was something like bisexual. There was no way she was going to admit her ignorance now. Plus he’d just laid down some pretty serious stuff and her first reaction was to his orientation. Not cool. Quickly she tried to cover. “I mean, yeah. That sucks. You came out as pan though? I just didn’t think about you coming out. As pan. To your family. Are they ...” She paused to take a long sip of her drink. “Are they supportive?”

“I’m so blessed there,” Gale had apparently been distracted enough by everything else he’d just said to realize that being pan was a revelation to her. “My mom,” he told her, “is amazing. It was definitely hard for her - I mean she is deeply religious and by then I’d brought home a few girlfriends. She’s 100% supportive though. She tries so much.”

“That’s good,” Madge said weakly. She was getting way too much new information here and was having trouble keeping up.

After a minute Gale added, “you’re right though. I think a lot of pan people only ever come out partway. They say they’re bi or gay or straight, if they can. But when I finally figured out that there was a name for my feelings, I couldn’t give that up.”

“Right,” Madge agreed. “You shouldn’t have to. It’s like Thom says. You do you.”

#gadge #gadge fanfic #my fanfic #nyc-verse #truth comes out #safety texts are real #still working on the chapter after this #hopefully not writing myself into a corner here

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mayhemories · 7 years ago

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Braids & War Paint (Part 5)

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Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4:

Aelin’s laboured breaths and thundering footfalls were a rhythmic beat in the fog filled castle grounds. Guards saluted as she ran past, Fleetfoot yapping and running alongside her.

Now the spring rains had stopped and Terrasen began their preparations for summer, Aelin had found herself unleashing all her energy into running the length of the grounds each morning. She took a sharp left turn into the main courtyard junction just as her counterpart came jogging out of the rose garden gate, his long strides causing him to reach Aelin’s side from across the courtyard in mere seconds.

“You’re quicker than I anticipated.” Rowan said breathily. The two of them had been running alternate courses over the past day or two, always managing to meet in the junction at the same time. They run the last leg together. Usually the last section of their course was filled with taunts and competitions that never get resolved.

“I’m full of surprises.” Aelin quipped as they slowed to a walk. The training field was busy with soldiers that Aedion and Lysandra had been watching. Galan seemed to take a liking to the male Ashryver cousin better, Aelin only knew it was because Aedion gave him the warmer welcome. But nonetheless, Galan, the eldest out of the three Ashryver descendants followed Aedion around like a lost puppy.

Aelin drew a blunt training sword from a pile and gestured for Rowan to follow.

“Care for a spar, Prince?” Aelin asked, gripping the hilt of the training sword. Rowan’s laugh sent shivers down her spine, her smile reached her eyes as she watched the old stubborn face pull a sword too.

“Be prepared to swallow defeat.” Rowan said charmingly in the accent of his. Aelin was intrigued by the way he inspected the blunt blade.

“I think you underestimate me.” Aelin smirked at the challenge in his eyes.

They walked out into the field until they found an empty space big enough. If the Prince of the Four Winds and the Light-Bringer were to duel there needed to be enough safe space for the onlookers they would ultimately attract.

The sun was directly above head, her presence was a welcomed one by the people of Terrasen.

“How long have they been going at it?” Rhoe Galathynius asked his general and nephew, Aedion Ashryver. Aedion shook his head and laughed, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. A small wind torrent pushed against a wall of blue flame, sparks flew, though both barriers held. Grunts, snarls and taunts could be heard from the palace gates. The tell-tale sign of fae bullshit.

“They abandoned swords half an hour ago.” Aedion answered. Rhoe was surprised they even started with weapons, even a blind man could see that no one would win with metal. The pair were too equally skilled it would’ve gone to an instantaneous stand still. It was that moment that Aelin sent a small ball of flame at his highness of Doneralle, which blocked it just as quick as Aelin attacked. They were the mirror image of each other, the opposite sides of the same coin. Rhoe shook his head in disbelief.

Their attacks were getting so vibrant and intense that Rhoe could see the pissing contest from the throne room windows. Although, Rhoe knew how deep his daughter’s power went, how she learned what burnout did when she was younger, how she screamed when she experienced her first burnout, that she would be absolutely fine, that her power was so strong it was nearly limitless. He just couldn’t help but be concerned. Although, the whole Prince Rowan situation was something else. Evalin was very worried about the developing attachment Aelin was creating with Maeve’s high ranking official but Rhoe could see what his wife, his daughter and Rowan Whitethorn could not.

Even though Rhoe’s blood had been diluted of any Fae, he still felt a connection to his heritage, he still taught himself about everything Orynth’s great library could offer. He knew a carranam bond when he saw one.

Rowan’s wind tried to smother his daughter’s flames that had now turned into a golden hue, instead Aelin used the battering gale forced winds to her advantage, like she had been taught and fuelled her flames with them.

The Whitethorn Prince had impressive power too. Rhoe stood a fair few yards away from their standoff and his fawn coloured hair flew about, Lysandra was shielding her eyes as she walked closer to the duelling fae, her shouts were swallowed by the crack of Aelin’s wildfire.

Rhoe Galathynius laughed as he bent down to the ground and began to draw the pattern. the wyrdmark of magic suspension. Their magic died down as the mark glowed brighter until they came to a complete halt. Rhoe stood to his full height and walked to the staring contest between his daughter and the forgien prince. They stood like Evalin and he did once, nose to nose, chests heaving, eyes locked. Rhoe smiled, his contests with Evalin were always with words and wit, never brute and grit.

Rhoe laced an arm around his daughter, her eyes snapping to his as he did so. He placed his other hand on Rowan Whitethorn’s shoulder, his eyes filled with the realisation Rhoe had a few moments prior.

“I think we should all go get cleaned up for lunch, yes?” Rhoe said smiling, not in the slightest mad at the singed grass underfoot.

“And then she just there her sword down and started attacking the poor man!” Aedion exclaimed, the whole luncheon table laughed at his recount of Aelin and Rowan’s contest. They had agreed that neither of them won.

Though Rowan knew that she was starting to get frustrated before her father put a cap on it.

He ate quietly, his thoughts about the carranam bond had taken all his focus. His carranam, Rowan Whitethorn’s carranam was the heir of Terrasen. From what Rowan could piece together Aelin had no idea. Though, Rhoe seemed to at least suspect something. What was Rowan expecting, as someone as educated as Rhoe Galathynius would be able to smell a bond like that from a mile away.

“Aelin, Dorian will be arriving tonight.” Princess Evalin said nonchalantly, Aelin’s eyes lit up at the comment. Rowan ignored the green pang in his chest and put together the puzzle pieces. ‘Dorian’ would be none other than the Crown Prince of Adarlan, the one who surprised the whole continent when his raw power was revealed, how the power he had somehow obtained from his ancestor Gavin. Aelin had mentioned to Rowan that she was quite close friends with the Crown Prince.

Rowan looked towards Galan, noted how his facial features tightened when the heir of Adarlan was mentioned, Wendlyn and Adarlan’s relations had been…rocky for sometime now.

“What is he arriving to attend?” Galan asked, his voice tight. At his question Aelin’s mother gave the princess a dirty look from across the table, Rowan tried to hide the quirk of his lip at Aelin’s eye roll. Of course she hide information from the clingy cousin.

“The Beltane Ball. Terrasen holds one each year for all nobility of Erilea.” Evalin explained, Rowan almost choked and chucked his own dirty glance at Aelin. Rowan hated dancing. Rowan hated dancing more than he hated Fenrys’ sense of humour.

“Oh.” Was all the heir of Varesee could muster.

“Dorian always comes a day early to spend time with Aelin.” Rhoe chipped in, his fork pointing accusingly at Aelin before he muttered: “If he offers you another dog you won’t take it.”

While the table laughed Rowan wondered if Aelin liked dancing.

Aelin sat in the drawing room, new book in hand. Her and Rowan had found a quiet spot near the window, as she read Rowan finished more letters, apparently these were letters to the Demi-Fae of Mistward, Rowan was wishing them a happy Beltane. The sun had been and gone, the other stars were out.

Aelin was waiting for Dorian, Chaol, Nesryn and Sorcha. Mainly, she was waiting to hear what Dorian thought of Rowan.

It was dead silent in the drawing room, besides the comforting cracks from the fire in the stone fireplace. Aelin had been waiting in her nightgown and robe, her book that she was ‘reading’ long forgotten. Her eyes were in a constant battle of watching out the window for the Adarlan procession and watching Rowan’s slight frown when he concentrated.

The latter always seemed to win.

She could tell their was something on his mind, something big enough to cause his s’ to be slightly wonky and make him place comma’s in unnecessary spots. Something was big enough to stop him from looking at her, even when her nightwear was silk. Aelin gathered it must have been a big issue if someone wasn’t focused on her beauty.

He only looked at her when the sound of horses and carriages could be heard. The sign of the Adarlan procession.

“Come on!” Aelin squealed, grabbing Rowan by the wrist Aelin ran to the palace doors, dragging Rowan behind her.

They ran down a flight of stairs, turned left into the torch lit grand foyer of the castle of Orynth.

“Aelin!” Dorian smiled, his eyes tight with tiredness. Aelin dropped Rowan’s wrist as she hugged her friend. She said her brief hello to Chaol before giving Nesryn Faliq a hug. Nesryn had been training as a solider when Aelin visited Dorian last year, the best archer Aelin had ever seen and with that compliment they became friends. Sorcha on the other hand was Dorian’s personal healer, they had become close friends when Dorian had injured his hands trying to tame his raw power. In turn, Aelin had become friends with Sorcha because Dorian was.

“I’m so glad you all could make it.” Aelin said, she saw Dorian’s eyes leave her and look over her shoulder where Rowan was leaning against the wall.

“Who’s your friend?” Dorian asked, the Adarlan guests all looked at Rowan at once. Something territorial flared up in Aelin when she saw Nesryn and Sorcha take him in. Aelin blamed that territorial feeling for what she said next:

“This is my Carranam, Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doneralle.” Aelin thought Rowan would be shocked or taken aback, but he pushed off the wall and draped a casual arm over Aelin’s shoulder. He extended his hand to Dorian.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

It had been hours since Rowan was in the foyer with Aelin and the Adarlan nobility. He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, all the memories flashed across his mind at once, Aelin’s body in the rose coloured night gown, her smile, her intensity, the way she introduced him to the Crown Prince.

She had known that they were Carranam and was happy about it. He couldn’t believe the way she introduced him.

Rowan was more than three hundred years old. He shouldn’t be having butterfly’s in his stomach thinking about the Crown Princess of Terrasen. He shouldn’t be so careless. He shouldn’t be territorial over someone like Aelin. He shouldn’t be thinking about her legs or the swells of her breasts. A body was just a body, but Aelin’s body… that was different.

He was too old to be lost in her light. He shouldn’t be fumbling blind.

But he was and Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t going to change a single thing about the situation.

AN: This part was written for: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @illyriangoddess @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings and @gcarroll

Thank you all for the love and support :)

As always, if you have fic requests, prompts, ideas, questions or just wanna chat, drop me an ask or leave something in my inbox.

Much love and many thanks,

-El.

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