#how many would give up honey if it was true that bees were ground up?

[afellowofinfinitejest]

Vegans do not eat honey for a variety of reasons, and there are absolutely ethical reasons for anyone to decide not to eat honey. Firstly, bees aren't ground up by beekeepers but they do often kill to requeen the hive and it's not unheard of for keepers to kill off the hives in Autumn if the cost of buying new bees in Spring is cheaper than that of keeping them over Winter. Obviously most people kill insects all the time but if a vegan is committed to reducing animal suffering as much as possible the logic absolutely follows to avoid honey.

More seriously, here's a good literature review about the various issues with keeping honey bees. Honey bees compete with local pollinators and when they aren't present the population of wild pollinators increases. Additionally, like all animals transported as goods, they catch and spread disease: "Managed honey bees and bumble bees are likely to be linked to the dispersal of many diseases observed in wild bees, therefore it is reasonable to assume that the proximity of managed bees of any species may be detrimental to vulnerable or declining native bees." Commercially produced honey is part of the problems we have with declining populations of wild pollinators.

I eat honey. I try to eat local honey. But I do not wax lyrical about how me liking my porridge sweet is a deeply ethical choice.

vegans make peace with honey

no shut up do it

[hermesserpent-stuff]

look at my son Mercury!! this is how he looks if he's not hiding his true for.

also! here is a short scene of him with clelia.

Clelia inspects her hive for their typical three week close inspection. Her eyes sweep for beetles and ants and anything else that could threaten the health of her hives. She watches their buzzing as she speaks to them and works. She likes keeping her bees updated on all the going ons of her life and the greater world. 

“Ryker is… well, Ive told you guys before, he is very determined. I really do think that if the boys are out there to be found, he and his brother are the ones to do it. I… I really do admire that drive he has. And the fact he refuses to give up.”

She murmurs a bit to the bees an a bit to herself.

“Admiring from afar is all well and good, but perhaps, if I might be so bold, a more direct statement would go a long way in cracking open that particular relationship. I could deliver your message to him. It is, after all, my specialty.”

Clelia spins on her feet at the unusual use of Latin, hand going to her gladius. A man with honey-gold hair leans against a nearby rock, eyes glittering with mischief.

“... I don't meet many Romans this far out.”

She says in greeting, eyes narrowed.

“I wouldn't think so. Much too far from the fat comforts of the empire for those less adventurous souls.”

He flicks a bit of his hair over his shoulder and practically floats as he moves closer. His voice shifts from light and airy to heavy like stone. There is a crackle of energy and it feels like a spell has broken. She can now see the wings on his sandals. 

“But I am no threat to you. I don't have a reason to harm one of my most devout.”

Her hand slides from her gladius as he winks and kicks up his legs to be floating on air. Mercury. Her god. He… he came to see her. 

“How may I be of service Mercury?”

She gives a half bow and straightens as he clicks his tongue. He rolls his eyes and shakes his hair with a snort. His golden freckles shine just a bit brighter in his merriment. 

“The formality is certainly unneeded Clelia. We’ve known each other for far too long for that.”

True. She had met him more than once, each interaction starting of with him disguising himself with a spell. But the playful demeanor generally stayed the same. He had helped her sneak and survive till Rune had taken her in. And even after that, every once in a while, he would pop up. 

“Alright Mercury. What can I do for you?”

“Ahh, I do miss when you were younger and I was Uncle Mercury…” He sighs dramatically and then speaks again. “Let's go for a walk. And maybe some honey oatcakes? They are one of my favorite offerings after all.”

“Before or after gold, Mercury?”

She asks as they begin to walk. His laughter is loud and supernatural in its echo. But it is familiar. It is… family. He is almost like a weird uncle. If your uncle could vanish from sight and often was currying messages from one god to another. 

“Hmm. You do know how to ask the hard questions don't you. Ah. After I suppose. But only for today!” 

He grins and she shakes her head. 

“Can… May I ask after the health of someone? Or someones?”

She ventures as the god bounces beside her, feet not quite on the ground. He clicks his tongue.

“They are alive and fine. Most of the time. But Im not allowed to say further because there are gods involved and I don't like being burned or stabbed, even if I would survive it. I have to preserve this beautiful complexion you know?”

She lets out a breath.

“Thank you.”

“MmmHmm. Now!! On to business! Who's the guy you keep telling your bees about? They say you chat about him a lot~!”

The god’s voice is full of teasing and her cheeks heat up. Ah. She forgot that the bees could speak to those who could speak to all. Which included gods. 

“Just a friend.”

“With that attitude, sure. I still think the relationship could open up into something more if you just sent a direct message!”

The god chirps, a far too wide grin on his face.

“I thought Venus was in charge of messing with relationships.”

Mercury blows a raspberry.

“You're dodging.”

“I'm being attacked, of course, I'm dodging.”

She teases back and he snickers. He then steps in front of her and grabs her hands.

“Don't choose to be alone. You let him touch your hand, you enjoy his company, and you await his return each month. It would make waiting easier if you knew that he was yours and you were his.”

“You sound like Rune.”

“I like~ Rune.”

“Because he helped me build you the only Roman shrine on the island.”

“And? I play favorites, Clelia. You know this.”

He smiles brightly and floats up. Her hands stay in his and they slowly rise with him. She blows a stray lock out of her eyes with a hum.

“I know. And… Fine. If - Mind you its an if- If he proposes a courtship, I’ll lay everything on the table, and if he chooses to go despite all the ways in which I’m… lacking, then I will say yes. Alright?”

“Perfect!”

He kisses her forehead and squeezes her hands.

“Ahh, Juno calls. I’ll come back when I can.”

“An honor to see you, Mercury.”

“Again, missing the days of being an uncle. How many favors do I need to do to get my title back??”

He complains with a smile. She snorts at him.

“I'll burn some honey oatcakes for you tonight Uncle Mercury. Best of luck with Juno and whatever Jupiter did this time.”

“Ugh, I’ll need the luck. Pour out some wine for me too, I have a feeling that I might have to do a lot of back and forth to preserve that marriage today.”

“But of course.”

He kisses her forehead again and vanishes in a shower of silver sparks.

[violetgardens]

A Rainy Day Takes the Stress Away.

♔Zhongli + Female!Reader ♔

♚Working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in the bustling city of Liyue Harbor can be tiring work. On a specific rainy day, when the city was quiet and the rain as his acquaintance does he make his way home for some well needed stress relief. ♚

♔nsfw under cut. ♔

“Drip… drop… drip…”

The streets of Liyue were filled with crowds. Consumers rushed to get under builds as the skies started to cry a melancholic tune. Businesses were quick to close their stands and rushed inside as the thunder boomed. The Millelith stood at their posts, umbrellas in hand. As the sky started to pour down harder, the clouds covered the sun and darkness engulfed Liyue Harbor. 

Such minor issues did not bother Mr. Zhongli though, as he sat in his chair at his desk and continued filling out papers as consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. His assistant was quick to rush into the business, drenched from the rain that poured outside. He simply looked up and nodded his head before getting back to his writings. 

Rain filled him with a sense of relaxation, a time of peace. Days where he could find himself thinking of the older days of Liyue and how prosperous it would be without Rex Lapis. Or days where he could recollect the past memories of archon war to which he would tell Aether whenever they had visited an area or went out for tea. Even days where he could sit at Xiangling’s restaurant and reminisce, basking in the warmth of the small rain drops. 

He sighed to himself before putting his pen down and closing his folder, his back was aching and he needed a break, thus, he called off work for the rest of the day. 

Walking to his home down the empty streets of Liyue (save for a few merchants and vendors who still had carts up) had given him a lonely feeling, one lacking the warmth that the bustling streets of Liyue usual had as he walked home. His longing for a better Liyue without him had affected him in a way that seeing the lack of people and interaction on the streets left him in a state of dread. He pushed through the storm and hurriedly walked the rest of the way to his home when the rain began to pour harder than before. 

“Drip… drop… drip…”

The rain cascaded off the roof of his small home creating a waterfall between him and his front door. Swiftly evading the water, he held his hands towards the knob, the color a beautiful gold. It didn't take long for him to realize you were home, the sweet aroma of one of the delicacies in Mondstadt, Sticky Honey Roast. It put a smile on his face as he opened the door, the sound alerting to you that he was home, and quite early. 

“Welcome home Zhongli!” you said ecstatically, not expecting him to be home before you finished cooking. A large smile plastered on your face before you ran to get him a towel to dry off. He gratefully took it, waving you a small hello and muttering a thank you, reciprocating a smile. He started to remove his gloves, his hands calloused from the many fights he had endured. You took his gloves in your hands while he started to remove his coat, still drenched from the storm outside. Removing the top button of his shirt and tie, he heaved a heavy sigh. Lastly, he took off the band that held his hair together, allowing it to fall to his shoulders. You smiled bigger than before at his relaxed form.

“Feeling better? You look tired. Here, come sit with me” you said while grabbing his hand and leading him to a chair in which he comfortably sat in. You rushed over to the stove and put out the fire that cooked the food, letting it sit, and began making him a cup of tea. 

“I’m feeling fine, although I seem to have an ache in my shoulders, nothing I cannot do about, though” he started as he graciously took the cup of tea out of your hands and took a sip, the heat warming his body. It wasn’t unusual to see Zhongli in a state like this. He was easily able to let off his guard around you because he trusted you more than anyone else. You were genuinely happy when he was able to let go of his standard demeanor and be himself. 

He put down the cup and looked towards you as you got up to stand behind him. Your hands found his way into his hair, combing your fingers through it. This elicited a soft humming of approval from him while you continued. Your hands slowly fell to his shoulders and softly started to massage him from the base of his neck towards the tips of his shoulders. He laid his head back in content against your body and closed his eyes, basking in the peaceful silence between the two of you. 

“That’s great to hear,” you said, breaking the silence and looking down towards his peaceful face. This man had never ceased to make you blush, his features becoming more and more clear to you since the day he’d met you in the Guili Plains. 

- ♔

The Guili plains are a magnificent area. Full of many ruins, one would think it was quite dangerous to traverse. But you were different. Today you were on the lookout for glaze lilies, the flowers that would thrive off of melodic singing and gave off a beautiful blue hue that lit up any area. Smiling to yourself, you ran over to a desolate area of the plains where the glaze lily buds were peacefully sitting. You sat in between the buds and started singing a tune of old you had learnt previously from a storyteller in Liyue. 

“♫ ♪ ♫~”

The buds started opening and the lilies were in full form. Unbeknownst to you though, one of the buds was not what you thought. It sprung off the ground, a cryo whopperflower looking straight in your direction whilst the other glaze lilies were destroyed by its presence. You shrieked and jumped back, making a run for it. It wasn’t until more creatures began to aggro you, creating more obstacles for you that were hard to escape from. The rumors were right, Guili plains were certainly a dangerous place. Every twist in turn there was a new enemy that would stop you in your place. Ranged hilichurls, mitachurls, heck even abyss mages and ruin guards followed your path as you tried to escape back to Liyue Harbor. 

You were running out of breath and needed to hide somewhere, taking your chances and running over to a tree. There, you saw a man. 

Zhongli had taken his day off to come to the Guili plains, a sight he could not forget. He recollected all of his memories from the archon war, and stood in front of a lake pondering the future of Liyue. Lost in thought, he had not seen the commotion that went on around him until he found you right next to him, breathlessly holding on to one of his arms as you looked up to him pleadingly. Then, he turned around and saw a ruin guard following you. Quickly connecting the dots he told you to stay put and walked over to the ruin guard, spear in hand. 

And within a moment. It was over. Blink and you’ll miss it.

He walked back over to you once he finished surveying the area. Your eyes held a look of awe as you clutched your chest and hurriedly met with Zhongli, to which you shot a nice smile. He nodded before looking back down to you.

“You do know these plains are quite dangerous. Given that you have come here with no more than a basket and no weapon, I can assume you are not a fighter. What brings you here?” He asked with a questioning tone. His assumption made you blush with embarrassment, for what he said was true. You had come only to pick glaze lilies, not be attacked by hordes of monsters. But you digress. Clearing your throat you muttered to him, “I have come to pick the glaze lilies. A storyteller once said that singing a song of the past would bring them to bloom, and once he told me of their beauty I had to come and check them out. Though, I was not expecting a whopperflower to attack me… and then… well, you know the rest” rubbing the back of your head with a cheeky smile. He put his hand on his chin and closed his eyes and looked back at you. “Well, I suppose I could help you find these lilies. They are a special part of Liyue’s history after all” he started. “It is rather rude of me to interject into your plans. Please, allow me your name first? Apologies for not asking first.” 

“Oh, I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you. And yours?”

“Zhongli. A pleasure as well. Shall we go find those flowers?”

- ♔

And thus was the start of your relationship. One started on the brinks of your own death that blossomed into a love just as the glaze lilies displayed their beauty towards the songs of Liyue. It’s a story that always makes you chuckle, for if Zhongli hadn’t saved you that day who knows what might’ve happened. Sighing contently, you smiled down to the man you now call your love, and leaned down to give him a peck. His hands met yours that sat on his shoulders and he reciprocated the kiss.

“Drip… drop.. drip…”

The rain continued to pour on the glass on your window. The aroma of the roast is still in the air. A lovely little house on the side of the harbor that consisted of small artifacts from your travels and stories of long ago. Comfy, perfect fit for two. And the sight on the inside, well…

One could say it’s a sight that keeps you coming back.

He sat straight up on the chair, his shoulders loosely hanging. His shirt, once buttoned down by his collar, thrown into the disheveled mesh of clothing that sat in a pile. His face, bright red and sweating profusely from the contact making his hair stick to his forehead and back. Labored breaths came out as he groaned quite loudly, much different from his composed demeanor. Was this the same Zhongli as everyone at his work or on the streets would see? The one who knows every inch of history in Liyue? One of the most attractive men on the harbor who seemed unfazed by everything?

No. This is your Zhongli. One that the public would never see. 

He tilted his head back in surprise when you took more of him in, his grip tight in your hair and his other hand slicking his hair back and out his face. He shut his eyes tightly, mouth slightly parted as he tried to hide his groans. Yet you weren’t one to hold back. While he may have been bare, you on the other hand had been fully clothed. Why not tease him a bit? He works too hard, it’s time to take care of him. 

You slowly retracted your mouth from his cock before looking back up at him. He looked to submissive, so innocent as you tore down his walls and opened up a new world for him. His grip on your hair loosened and he cupped your cheeks, looking down in your eyes with fervor. You took this opportunity to sweetly smile at him as if you were innocent, and grabbed his member again to stroke it. This aroused him even more, the look in his eyes getting more intense and his hand going back into your hair. You knew what he wanted, slowly sticking your tongue out to lick the tip of his cock before taking it in once again. This elicited a noise from Zhongli, the intense pleasure coming within seconds, too quick for him. You bobbed your head up and down, closing your eyes when he hit the back of your throat, slightly choking. You hummed, the vibrations sending more pleasurable sensations through his body. 

He was going to cum. You knew him too well. 

You stopped all motion before he could, and looked back at him, slightly panting. He eyed you lowly, a mixture of disappointment and urgency on his face. You chuckled before standing up and placing a kiss to his forehead, an action that he always cherished. He wondered what your next move would be. You had left him bare and yet here you stood, fully clothed, even your apron was still on. 

It was as though you could read his mind. You simply hushed him, bringing him out of his thoughts and ran a finger under his chin, lifting his head up. Gracefully taking a step back, you ran your hands over clothed breasts and down to your hips, shaking your body in tune. He sighed, trying to repress himself. He had long forgotten the name of Rex Lapis, one of war, and had reduced himself to Zhongli, a mortal. Yet the dominating aura of Rex Lapis stayed with him just as it had been displayed all those years ago. He knew he had to stop himself before he went over to you and ripped off your clothes himself and made you his. He breathed in a shaky breath, resting his hand on one leg and the other grabbing his shaft, slowly rubbing himself. 

You loved breaking him down, knowing that he would be unable to show his dominance, that he had to repress himself. The sight made you smile as you removed the apron, the cloth swiftly falling to your feet. You kick it away, moving your hands to the buttons on your dress. Each undoing felt slower and slower to Zhongli, his pace going faster as if demanding you to hurry up. He ached for you as lust clouded his mind yet he is powerless in the situation. You watched him, smile still plastered on your face while you undid the last button, your body in full view. Letting it cascade off your shoulders, you watched as his eyes widened and his breathing began to get heavier. 

“Oh dear. Don’t cum.”

A demand that made him stop, both eyes focused on you. His amber irises glistened over with lust, cheeks red, drenched in sweat. God, that turned him on even more. And just as you removed the last article of clothing he breathed a sigh of relief that he could finally be given the long awaited pleasure he was seeking. 

You slowly made your way over to him and he sat up in the process, upper body straightening. You sat upon his lap, grabbing his cock and positioning it near your entrance. He grabbed onto your hips and rubbed them, helping you down onto his shaft. He breathed out a groaned, your walls tightening against him. You shut your eyes tightly and parted your lips, soft moans leaving your mouth when he fully made his way into you. You opened your eyes and stared back at his orbs, leaned down to kiss him. Lips locked into a battle, you lifted yourself up before roughly slamming back down, removing yourself from his lips and letting out a loud moan. You continued with a slow pace, keeping contact with Zhongli as he tried to mask his groans. 

He’d always been a patient man, yet the pace was too teasingly slow. 

Could he resist the temptation to speed it up?

Of course not. 

It seemed only like seconds had passed and yet he had you pinned to the wall. You gasped in surprise, hands quickly meeting his neck and legs wrapping around his waist. The repressed dominance he had tried his best holding back had come out full force as he roughly held onto your hips and rammed into your wet core. You didn’t suppress any moans, sounds meshing into the air like a song. He moved his head to meet your neck, hot breath hovering over your neck. He kissed your neck and sucked the skin, biting it to leave a mark. Your arms held on tight to his neck, holding him for dear life. He pulled back, looking you in your eyes. He was panting, his legs were shaking, he was close. You met foreheads, his pace going faster and faster to the brink of pleasure. Bringing your lips together for a final kiss, your walls tightened against his cock, signaling your orgasm. You moaned loudly into the kiss, head reeling back and eyes shutting tightly. He soon finished with you, ramming himself as far as he could into your core, leaving him flustered and panting. 

Your bodies meshed together, the sweat glistening off and the warmth of your bodies radiating off each other. You were tired and he knew it, slowly making his way to the sofa where he laid your body comfortably. About to leave, you quickly grabbed his hand to stop him, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. 

“Stay with me.”

The rain accompanied the sounds of comfortable silence. His eyes followed your form and he chuckled to himself. He knew. 

This was a demand he could not ignore.

“Drip… drop… drip…”

♕ violetgardens. 

[seeksstaronmewni]

The Bear Roots of Burbank Cartoons: A Lookback at Boo Boo Runs Wild

5 years ago, [adult swim] aired the greatest of all Yogi Bear / Ranger Smith episodes, “Boo Boo Runs Wild” (1999), on August 13th, 2016 A.D. at 4 AM.

Look and see, kids, how America’s not-so-average bear connects in the wide world of animation that produces many of the cartoons that you love in Burbank, Canada and more!

As and after I saw it, I knew that I found the greatest band of cartoonists out there, and that greatest band of cartoonists out there was none other than...

Spümcø, whose many creatives would end up working at Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Cartoon Network Studios, and many other popular Burbank and Canadian studios that made the cartoons I grew up and beyond watching.

Obviously, the character design is rather different, but they still look like the right characters, even with the slight color changes...

and with their items of human attire out. Ranger Smith, on the other hand...

Ranger Smith is wildly off model, and probably on purpose, throughout the picture.

Only in one scene appears he with a more familiar face.

Now, I didn’t have to watch Wild Kratts (which, by the way, features 6 Spümcø Canada creatives) to learn that “there’s only one thing a bear likes more than raiding a pic-a-nic basket.”

As the title suggests, Boo Boo loses his temper when Ranger Smith restricts him from tearing bark and decides to go primal in returning to his bear roots: “From this day forth, I’ll not dress in the man’s attire, and I’ll not speak in the man’s tongue. From now on, it’s going on all fours and grunting for me!”

Boo Boo wreaks havoc for the trees with his natural bear roots.

Unlike past episodes, however, the artists went far wilder than the usual Hanna-Barbera cartoon, making the trees alive and screaming in pain! OH, WHAT TOURTUE! Not to mention how I love Boo Boo’s goofy/manical laugh, a beautiful product of John Kricfalusi’s voice (Yes; I know that he was a formerly abusive megalomaniac who still has ADHD, but God knows what cartoons would be like today—at least those produced in Burbank and Canada—if it wasn’t for the many layout artists that he led).

Also unnatural to a Hanna-Barbera cartoon is the extreme levels of slapstick, wackiness and graphic nature of cartoons since such shows as Mighty Mouse: The New Adventures, Beany and Cecil’s DiC reboot, and The Ren & Stimpy Show. Boo Boo and now Cindy Bear are licking away at all of the honey... and bees... with insanely long tongues (may be that they’re sloth bears?). This left Yogi Bear practically speechless.

The mere sequence of dialogue between Yogi and Ranger Smith, discussing what to do about Boo Boo, involved HEAVY work in the storyboards by Vincent Waller. So many expressions that they couldn’t fit in each of Spümcø’s 3-panel storyboard pages!

As you see, in addition to Vincent Waller’s storyboards, John K. added extra poses (storyboard revisions more or less, but definitely layout poses) under the respective scenes. That way, Vincent could focus on telling and writing the story in rough pictures. (source of storyboards)

I also love the sound design. While it’s definitely true to a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, John K. and the late Henry Porch were very creative with some weird, dated and out-of-context sound effects, similar to what they and Horta Editorial did on The Ren & Stimpy Show in the first two seasons. The production music (probably APM and Capitol Records) also gave it a vintage, nostalgic feel.

Ultimately, with the aforementioned abusive megalomaniac aside, Spümcø undoubtedly harbored some of the finest animators and artists ever. Such names as Bob Jaques (Spongebob Squarepants, Buy One, Get One Free*, The Baby Huey Show), Ben Jones (DC Super Hero Girls, Cats Don’t Dance, Teen Titans GO!), Vincent Waller (Spongebob Squarepants, Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog), Albert Lozano (Inside Out, A Kitty Bobo Show), Todd White (Spongebob Squarepants), Eric Koenig (Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Madagascar, Cats Don’t Dance, The Simpsons, and The Tigger Movie), and Erik Wiese (Samurai Jack, The Mighty B!) are among the hundreds of creatives who ended up almost everywhere working in Burbank and Canadian animation.

Other names on the Spümcø team that one might recognize include Gabe Swarr (Dexter’s Laboratory, The Buzz on Maggie, Foe Paws, El Tigre), and even background artists such as Richard Daskas ( @rdaskas​ - Samurai Jack, Time Squad, Sym-Bionic Titan, Batman Beyond), Richard Ziehler-Martin (Tiny Toon Adventures, The Wacky World of Tex Avery), Hector Martinez (Tom and Jerry: Robin Hood and His Merry Mouse, Timone and Pumba, Captain N, Evil Con Carne, Dora the Explorer), and Tony Mora (MAD, Teen Titans GO! to the Movies, Pickle and Peanut). I mean: in short, these artists worked for Warner Bros. Animation, Disney Television Animation and Walt Disney Feature Animation, Nickelodeon, and Cartoon Network Studios!

Spümcø’s production assistants on Boo Boo Runs Wild feature Matt Danner —a fantastic character designer, storyboard artists, director and producer, whose credits range from (Johnny Test and The Legend of the Three Caballeros to Team Hot Wheels and The Looney Tunes Show—and Cartoon Brew editor Amid Amidi. Brian A. Miller was an executive in charge of production, not for but probably in association with Cartoon Network.

Spümcø’s creatives, as I said, are all over the place in Burbank animation. Other shows that still air on @adultswim​ have ex-Spümcø creatives. For example: today’s re-run of Samurai Jack EPISODE XVI features Chris Reccardi (The Powerpuff Girls, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy)...

Scott Wills (Genndy Tartakovsky’s Primal, The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat)...

Lynne Naylor-Reccardi (The Shnookums and Meat Funny Cartoon Show, Wander Over Yonder) and Jim Smith (YooHoo and Friends, Tom and Jerry Tales, McGee and Me)...

and Leticia Lacy (TRON: Uprising, Sym-Bionic Titan, Wander Over Yonder, Korgoth of Barbaria).

Even outside of Cartoon Network Studios, where most ex-Spümcø artists end up, @cartoonnetwork​’s The Amazing World of Gumball, from Cartoon Network Studios Europe (AKA Hanna-Barbera Studios Europe), features ex-Spümcø artist Charlie Bean (The Powerpuff Girls, Robotboy, Batman: The Animated Series, Timone and Pumba, Creature Crunch) on The Cartoon Network Europe Development Team.

One of Cartoon Network’s biggest and craziest hits, Teen Titans GO!, also features such ex-Spümcø artists as storyboard artist, director and producer Luke Cormican (The Buzz on Maggie, Brandy and Mr. Whiskers, Brickleberry, The Replacements, El Tigre)...

Gerald de Jesus (The Book of Life, The Ricky Gervais Show, TMNT)...

and Eric J. Pringle (Fosters’ Home for Imaginary Friends, The Problem Solverz). What wacky cartoon filled with live-action images, unpredictable visual gags and extreme slapstick humor wouldn’t?

Relatively, you could even tune in to Nickelodeon, the original home of Spümcø’s ground-breaking hit, The Ren & Stimpy Show, and see names of creatives associated with Spümcø and Ren & Stimpy, such as Zeus Cervas (Star vs. the Forces of Evil, Spongebob Squarepants, Clarence) on today’s episode of The Patrick Star Show...

or even Gabe Del Valle (Mighty Magiswords, Spongebob Squarepants) on today’s episode of Middlemost Post!

Overall, Boo Boo Runs Wild introduced me to the cartoon studio whose works I took for granted and on which I was missing out all of my life, and I strongly encourage this generation to support this Yogi Bear / Ranger Smith episode, which you can watch RIGHT NOW on [adult swim]’s site. It was officially on their YouTube channel, but it was removed for unknown reasons. This short never even got a DVD or VHS release!

The last televised airing of Boo Boo Runs Wild on [adult swim] so far was January 6th, 2019 A.D., but Spümcø also produced “A Day in the Life of Ranger Smith” and “Boo Boo and the Man” (based on true events in the life of John Kricfalsui) for Cartoon Network.

As I come to a close, it’s worth noting that layout Ed Benedict, an animator and artist whose credits go all of the way back to the 1930s with Disney and continued with MGM and Hanna-Barbera/Cartoon Network Studios, originally worked on Yogi Bear episode “Yogi’s Birthday Party” as a layout artist, and reprised that very role for “Boo Boo Runs Wild”. What a legacy the animators and artists of this episode leave!

Always will I remember how Spümcø, whose legacy connects to my Cartoon Network-infused childhood, blessed me and graced me that fateful day, August 13th, 2016 A.D., with the ultimate example of the fine art of cartooning that is the Yogi Bear / Ranger Smith episode “Boo Boo Runs Wild”. I was living in the moment, and I thank God for it.

“For years they have [been] asking me to make new Yogi cartoons, but I can’t even get a half a million [dollars] to make one, probably because I actually like the characters, but 60-70 million $ to make walking corpses is economical.” - John Kricfalsui on Yogi Bear (2010)

Another Ranger Smith, Boo Boo or Yogi Bear cartoon from the people behind The Ren & Stimpy Show is highly unlikely today, due to the abuse and harassment of John K. angering the world to the point of hating and condemning the man who helped to shape not only Cartoon Network but also television animation—and animation as a whole—with an undeniable legacy of artists and animators who deserve way more credit and respect than we perhaps thought of giving as kids.

Tweet version of this post here.

[saltymiraculer]

A Pretty Flower for a Pretty Girl

I’ve stayed up until midnight reading @zoe-oneesama ‘s Scarlet Lady comics a few too many times, so I thought I might as well finally turn my ideas into a fic!

Also, this was too adorable for me not to.

                                                       -🌼-

Life just couldn’t give him one day off? Not one?

Apparently not, or else he wouldn’t have to be fighting a giant glob of cafeteria food and compost that insisted on being called “Lunchion”.

You know, Adrien could appreciate the pun if he weren’t covered in banana peels and eggshells, and–was that a hamburger patty? He pinched his nose and extended the baton towards Lunchion’s weak spot, the plastic tray it used as a shield.

You’d think an akuma wouldn’t use their most important object as a deflector, yeah?

Lunchion made a gargling noise and blasted him with another garbage-truck’s worth of compost.

Scarlet Lady–did he forget to mention her?–screeched and jumped backwards, catching herself with the yo-yo she had finally figured out how to use.

“Disgusting! I’m out of here. Call me when you get the akuma!“ she called back to him, swinging away and disappearing in the direction of the Grand Paris. He groaned and pushed himself off of his knees.

“Shtay Awaysh!“ the blob gurgled. “Give me your Miraculoushes!“

“Not a chance, trash can!“ he yelled, jumping just out of shooting range.

“It’sh Lunshion, idiotsh!“

“Yeah, whatever!“

As much as he wished he didn’t, Adrien needed some help. Without Lucky Charm, which he could normally figure out how to use, he didn’t have too much of a plan.

Wait a second…was that a miraculous box?

And so it was, sitting on the ledge of a building. Holy cannoli, he was actually going to have a competent partner for once!

Just who to give it to? He opened the box, and inside was a small comb, in the shape of a bumblebee.

Oh, wait a second.

Which classmate had the adorable, tinkling laugh? Which classmate had the sweet-as-honey smile? Which classmate had he had a crush on since day one?

Ding, ding, ding, it’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

“Um, give me a minute!“ he said, jumping as far as he could away from the akuma and running to the bakery. He landed on Marinette’s balcony, nearly knocking over one of her potted plants.

“Eek!“ he squeaked, catching it just before it hit the wood. The last thing he wanted was to destroy her porch.

“Hello?“ Marinette asked, startling him out of the panicked state. “I-is there a reason Chat Noir is standing on my porch, or am I just that lucky?“

“Oh, uhhhh–“ he fumbled the little box out of his pocket, holding it out to her. “–yeah, I need some help, so…“

“No. Freaking. Way. No way, no way, no way! Awesome!“ she cheered, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.“

“it’s fine. You just transform and let’s go!“

“…how?“

“Dang it.“ 

Once Marinette had consulted the kwami–after momentarily freezing–she transformed and they looked at each other, nodded, and jumped on building after building, chasing the glob of garbage as it made its way downtown.

“You know, I’ve always hated just sitting around during akuma attacks!“ she said brightly.

“Is that why you get caught up in every single one of them, then?“

“No! I mean, I don’t want to get caught up in them, but it just happens!“

“Sure thing, Marigold. Sure thing.“

“You’re incorrigible, Chat Noir.“ she joked. He chuckled, halting to a stop and sticking out his arm so Marine–Marigold, sorry, wouldn’t fall off the edge of the building.

She slammed into his arm and fell backwards, and fortunately, he caught her.

But, sine life couldn’t even give him five minutes off, they were in the exact same positions as ballroom dancers. And she was blushing.

Dammit, life!

“I’m sorry!“ he said, letting go as fast as he could. Marigold was still looking down, a hint of blush still spread across her cheeks.

“It’s okay,“ she whispered. “It was nice.“

“O-oh. Let’s keep going, yeah?“ he set off again, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. They arrived where the akuma was about to take the top off of a restaurant, swinging their respective weapons defensively.

“Who’sh the bumblebee, pushycat?“

“That’s Marigold to you, Lunchion!“

“Finally! Shomeone getsh the name right!“

They took down the akuma in a matter of minutes, thanks to a well-timed Venom from Marinette and the smart idea to fake a Cataclysm to get Lunchion in weapon range.

“Ugh, now I’ve got to call Scarlet,“ Adrien groaned. Marinette stuck her tongue out and gave him the thumbs-down. He agreed nonverbally.

Scarlet Lady appeared, swinging in from stage right, and landing neatly on the roof ledge parallel from them.

“Ugh, finally. What took you so long? And who’s this?“

Marinette gave him a look that he interpreted as ‘spite Scar as much as possible’. He nodded.

“Marigold’s my new partner! Scar, this is Marigold! Marigold, Scarlet Lady.“

“Let’s hope she’s a good sidekick for my sidekick, so the battles won’t take as long! They’re just exhausting! And that’s Scarlet Lady to you, you mangy cat.“ Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien could see Marinette mocking Scarlet Lady, exaggerating the stuck-out hip and the way she rolled her eyes whenever she could.

He stifled a laugh.

“Look, Scarlet, there’s Nadja Chamack!“ he said, snapping her out of the stupor she was in. She applied a fresh coat of red lipstick and swung off to the ground, casting Lucky Charm and using the Miraculous Cure simultaneously.

                                                      -🌼-

“That was good,“ Chat Noir whispered. “but we’ve got something more important to attend to.“

He pointed at a little boy, who couldn’t be more than eight or nine, sitting on the ground on the verge of tears. The walked over to him and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Are you alright?“

“N-no!“

“What happened?“ Chat Noir asked gently, landing on his other side.

“My brother got really sick–because of the cafeteria food–and he’s in the hospital, and I’m really scared he’s not going to be okay!“ Marinette exchanged a worried look with Chat Noir.

“Hey, it’ll be okay! The people at the hospital will help your brother, all right? He’s going to be just fine.“

The little boy sniffled. “Th-thank you, Chat Noir and Bee Lady.” She smiled and patted his arm.

“I’m Marigold, okay? Remember that.“

“I will, Miss Marigold.“

“Good,“ Chat Noir interjected. “But we’ve got to get you back to your family. I’m sure they’re worried about you.“

A lady who they assumed was his mom ran up and hugged hum, telling the little boy it would be all right.

                                                        -🌼-

“And that’s why I’m the true hero! See, even you can–“ Scarlet Lady was saying. Nadja cut her off with a shhh noise. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay! The people at the hospital will help your brother, all right? He’s going to be just fine.“ a yellow-and-black striped hero said, comforting a little boy.

The little boy sniffled wetly. “Th-thank you, Chat Noir and Bee Lady.” She grinned and patted his arm.

“I’m Marigold, okay? Remember that.“

“I will, Miss Marigold.“ Nadja chuckled at the little boy.

“Good,“ Chat Noir said. “But we’ve got to get you back to your family. I’m sure they’re worried about you.“

She walked up and tapped Marigold’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, but can I get an interview?“ She looked at Chat Noir hopefully. He nodded and smiled, grabbing Marigold’s hand and pulling her next to him.

The cameras swiveled towards them.

“But first, has anyone met my amazing new partner?“ Nadja could hear Scarlet grinding her teeth loudly behind them, but paid that no attention.

After a few questions and some cooing over the two heroes’ banter, their miraculouses beeped and they both looked very startled.

“Sorry to disappoint, but we’ve got to run!“ Marigold said, yanking Chat Noir’s arm urgently.

“If the lady insists! Next time, Nadja!“

“Um…goodbye!“ she called after them, watching the duo swing off into the sunset.

                                                       -🌼-

They landed in front of the rosebushes of Dupont, each of which was covered in pretty blossoms.

They bumped into each other as they landed, stumbling back, leaving them about an inch apart. He took the time to notice the tiny details of her makeup–the way her eyelashes had the tiniest gold jewels on the tips, the orangey sheen over her lips, and the way the sparkly yellow mask framed her eyes.

“So–um–we’re about to transform back,“ she started.

“You’re right, um, I’m going to need that back?“ he said, pointing at the comb. She pulled it out of her hair and handed it to him, Pollen materializing immediately.

“Sun salutations, Chat Noir!“

“You ready to go back in your box, Pollen?“

“Hmmm…not really. Can I stay with Marigold?“ Chat Noir looked to at Marinette with a surprised expression.

“You can do that?“

“Of course, I can!“ Pollen huffed. “Now give the comb back to Marinette.“ He handed the silver comb back to Marinette, who pocketed it immediately.

They stood there in awkward silence for a inute until Chat Noir’s ring beeped again. he dashed into a bathroom, stuffed a wedge of camembert into Plagg, and ran out of the bathroom, back to where Marinette was conversing with Pollen.

“Out of all the 19 kwamis, I had to get the hippie one? Not that I’m complaining, but…yoga? Now?“

“Don’t complain, mine eats cheese 24/7.“

He shook his head and broke off one buttery yellow rose from the bush.

“A pretty flower for a pretty girl,“ he announced, offering her the rose. “Before I go.“

“Friendship,“ Marinette said softly. Wait, did this mean she only wanted to be friends? Shoot. “The rose, I mean. Yellow roses mean friendship.“

“Oh,“ he said, looking down. Double-shoot.

“Unless it’s thirteen of them, though.“ He looked sideways at the bush before Marinette put her hand on his arm.

“Don’t you dare. Those roses aren’t supposed to be picked, you know.“

“Sorry, Marinette. I–um–is it okay if I call you Goldie?“ Marinette smiled warmly.

“Of course, but only if I can call you kitty.“ Adrien felt a warm, tingly feeling in his chest, rising up until he felt like he could float.

“Yeah! Let’s go, Goldie. We’ve got a fanclub to meet.“

They walked the around the building, over to the class, who immediately burst into applause.

“You were amazing!“ Kim cheered.

“Yeah, I’m changing it from the Ladyblog to the Goldie-Noir Blog!“

“So you heard that, huh?“

[stillchaoticlogic]

Stumbling: Chapter 4

Pairing: Raihan X Reader X Leon

Your life hadn’t gone exactly as you planned…

Which is why when an old rival walks into the coffee shop you work at he gives you an offer you just can’t refuse. Finally, a chance at the League. Suddenly you are thrust into the spot light and a world you thought you had left behind. Dreams aren’t always what they are cracked up to be though, especially when you find yourself the tangled up with the champion and a certain gym leader.

Has all your dreams come true?

Or is this your worst nightmare?

Read the First Chapter Here!

Read the Second Chapter Here!

Read the Third Chapter Here!

**Masterlist Coming Soon!**

The Journey Begins!

The next morning you end up running around Motostoke attempting to get everything you need. The last of your savings is spent on a Flash phone and luckily your able to get the Pokedex on there along with a map of the region and all your trainer and Pokemon information. You then head to the center and stock up on medical equipment and pokeballs before going to the department store and getting a set of camping gear. 

“How?” you ask as you gaze down at your pack which is already bursting at the seams. 

“That’s a little full…” you yelp not expecting anyone to be standing behind you. 

You whip around and are met with sight of Sonia and Nessa. 

“Oh hey!” you exclaim as you smile at the duo. 

“Getting ready to head out?” asks Nessa with a small smile. 

“Yeah… I had to stock up on some things before I left but this seems excessive…”

“I’ll help you sort through your pack! But first, how do you feel about lunch to catch up?”

“That would be great but….”

“It’s on me! That equipment is expensive!”

“No! Sonia I can’t let you do that!” 

“It’s okay! I want to catch up! You can just get mine next time OR after you take Leon for all he’s worth. That prize money is nothing to shake a stick at!”

“Alright deal…”

“Well if she wasn’t… I was… I heard you took care of some asshole pokemon abuser yesterday and that deserves a free lunch at the least!” says Nessa. 

“Oh! Yeah… I guess the guys told you about that?”

“Nope! You’re all over the news and social media. Everyone is talking about the gym challenger who saved a Jangmo-o!”

“What? Really? Why?”

They laugh before each wrapping an arm through one of yours.

 “Because your badass babe!” exclaims Nessa.

“Yeah! All the leaders and media outlets now have their eyes on you! You’re going to dominate this competition!” Sonia interjects. 

Despite not having seen Sonia in years, time just simply got away from the two of you, and having never met Nessa before, the three of you sit down like old friends at the local cafe. 

“So you’re going to have to tell me what happened…” Sonia starts after you all get your food. 

“With what?”

“All of this! You just disappeared! And now out of the blue Leon is endorsing you in the League! What happened?!”

“Well… I couldn’t find a sponsor…”

“That makes no sense… you were one of the best!”

“That’s what Leon said… no one was looking for what I had to offer I guess. I also got some bullshit reasoning too. I wasn’t pretty, cute, sweet or sexy enough. I was too smart… I didn’t have the right look… You name it, they said it… I tried for several years, the last one when I was eighteen… At that point I had someone tell me I was too old…”

“Seriously?” huffs out Nessa in anger. 

“Yep...So I moved to a small town that I could afford rent in and got a job at a cafe. That’s where Leon found me. He got lost and ended up at the cafe to get out of a storm. A week later I had a letter of endorsement.”

“I’m glad you’re finally getting your chance.”

“Thanks… I just hope he didn’t put his faith in me for no reason.”

“Oh stop that! You’re amazing. You’ve always been amazing. You’re going to kill this competition,” Sonia exclaims as she looks you in the eyes. 

“Thanks Sonia…”

“Of course! Besides at least you have a direction… I feel like a magikarp out of water sometimes…”

“Aren’t you working with your grandma?”

“Yeah… but I’m not sure if it’s what I want…”

“Why is that?”

“It’s overwhelming sometimes… plus that’s a pretty big pair of shoes to fill…”

“Ehh… you’re doing great! You’re just too hard on yourself,” argues Nessa. 

“She does great work, she just gets stressed out sometimes, mostly for no reason…”

“Oh hush!” Sonia exclaims in embarrassment at her friends praise. 

The three of you end up chatting for the next hour before you all say your goodbyes. 

“I can’t wait to see you at my gym! Go crush Milo for me girl!” Nessa yells as they watch you head down the steps into the Wild Area. 

“Oh don’t worry! He’s mine!” you yell back with a laugh. The lunch having significantly lifted your spirits and they helped you go through your pack, making it much lighter than before. 

“Oh boy…” you mutter as you gaze around the vast area before you. With a sigh you head off into the wild in search of your first new team member.

“Now… If I was a Bounsweet...where would I be hiding?” You gaze around the field before heading into the tall grass. You had never seen so many different types of pokemon in one place. Serenity took over most of the battling and after many run ins with several different types of pokemon that aren’t the one you’re looking for you find a...combee?”

You gaze in abject excitement at the honey bee pokemon with the little red dot. “A female combee…” you mutter as you approach her. She continues to buzz around a flower and you know that after the beating that Serenity has taken today you couldn’t risk sending her out. Gazing down at the only other pokemon you currently have with you, you pull it from your belt. 

“Davine!” you call as she pops out and looks up at you, “I have a favor to ask of you…”

Her Amber eyes are large and full of uncertainty, “Can you help me catch that combee?”

She gazes over at the pokemon idly hovering over a flower before she hesitantly nods. 

“Alright! Can you use headbutt on her?”

Nodding the tiny dragon approaches the combee, who doesn’t look perturbed in the least, in fact she looked more interested than anything. Gliding over she buzzes around Davine’s head and it’s almost amusing when Davine panics and just boops her on the head instead of using headbutt. The combee blinks in surprise before it almost looks as if she laughs before gently booping Davine back. The dragon flinches back but opens her eyes slowly as the bee just buzzes around her laughing as if she wants to play. 

“Whelp…this is my life now…” you say in exasperation as you pull a pokeball out of your pack and throw it at the combee. It shakes a few times before the red dot turns green and you pick it up from the ground. Letting the tiny bee out she blinks up at you in slight confusion before happily buzzing around your head. 

“Yeah… You’re going to be a great addition to the team,” you say with a laugh as the bee lands on your head. 

“We’re going to have to work on your confidence… but good job!” you say as you hand Davine a berry to eat. She gazes up at you in confused awe before hesitantly taking the treat from you. Holding up another berry you hold it while the bee, who has gotten quite comfortable on your head, nibbles on the berry. Calling out Serenity you hand her a berry as well and introduce her to the newest member of  your team. 

“This is...hmm… we’re going to have to figure out a name for you…” you say indicating the tiny bee before you. She just buzzes happily around investigating her new friends. The three seem to have interesting personalities, but you think they will get along. Serenity is pretty calm, if not stubborn, whereas Davine is timid, but you have a feeling that there is so much more to her. Jangmo-o are proud by nature and you can’t wait to bring her confidence in herself back. The newest member of your party, your little combee, is cheerful but very curious. You have a feeling she’s going to get herself into a lot of trouble. 

The sun is setting on the wild area when you find a little alcove of rocks away from the wild pokemon roaming as well shelter from the wind. Glaring down at your tent you heave a sigh and pull out the instructions.

“I should have been trying to figure this out an hour ago… I’m going to lose light!” you grumble as you begin struggling with the tent. 

“Hold this,” you say as you hand Serenity one of the poles for the tent, “I thought they said it was a pop up!” 

“Need some help?” questions a voice from behind you. “Ouch! Hey!”

You let out a scream of surprise as you whip around to face the dragon gym leader now doubled over in pain. Davine looking somewhere between terrified and remorseful after her surprise assault on him. 

You can’t hold it in and start to laugh, “Are you okay?” you ask between fits of laughter.

“Are you really laughing at me after your pokemon just attacked me?!” he exclaims, but the smile on his face says he isn’t mad. 

“You scared her! And me! You deserve what you get!” you exclaim as you walk over to Davine and pick her up. You press her into your chest and gently run your fingers over her head to soothe her. 

“Tell her you're okay, she’s upset that she hurt you,” you say indicating the baby dragon in your arms. 

He just smiles down at her, “You didn’t hurt me, I’ve gotten accidently hit by my friends way too many times for that to even leave a scratch! I know you didn’t mean it.” He takes her gently from your arms and holds her to his chest. He begins to scratch her under her chin and before you know it, she has relaxed against him. 

“Is that a Drager Tamer trick?” you ask as you regard the two. 

“I can’t reveal all my secrets but yeah that’s one of them. Think of dragons like giant cats.”

“Huh… good to know… How did you find me by the way?”

“Nessa said that she saw you off into the wild area, and I decided I wanted to head to the Lake of Outrage to pick up a new partner. Then I decided to see if I could find you...besides I’m not Leon you know? I know how to find my way around.”

You just laugh at his explanation, “So does that mean you know how to set up a tent?”

“So you think you’re going to beat me and you can’t even set up a tent?” he teases. 

“Beating you and setting up a tent are two different life skills, do not mock me!”

He laughs at your explanation before he puts Davine down and walks over to you. 

“Come on, I’m teaching you how to put up a tent, but you cook dinner alright?”

“Demanding aren’t we?”

“Oh come on! If you cook for me, I get to rub it in Leon’s face that you did! Besides I bet you’re amazing,” he says with a wink. 

“Fine… teach me how to set up the tent and I’ll cook you dinner.”

Raihan walks over to the tent, putting a couple of poles in the corresponding pockets and then just pulls. The tent springs up practically on it’s own and you can only sit and stare with an open mouth. 

“That was so easy…”

“Yep…” he says with a shit eating grin. 

You just huff before you grab the pot out of your bag and set it on the makeshift fire pit you’ve already got set up. He just laughs at your annoyance before he calls his team out consisting of Flygon, Goodra and Duraludon. 

“Don’t forget my boys okay?” he says as he walks over to you and bumping into your side as you sort through all your ingredients. Holding up a pack of sausage, “How do you like spicy food?”

“Love it!” he says with a smile.

You just nod as you watch Davine scurry over to you and hide near you, she’s watching the dragon’s carefully. 

“Why don’t you go say ‘hi?’” you ask gazing down at the tiny dragon.

She clinks her scales together nervously as she regards them. 

“Okay, that’s fine… you can when you are ready.”

She ends up staying glued to your side while you work, whereas combee and Serenity walked up to Goodra and they seemed to be fast friends. 

“So how did today go? I see you caught a combee?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t your conventional catch, but I think she’ll make a great addition.”

“So you want a Vespiquen?”

“She’ll be super helpful against Milo since I may or may not be able to find a fire type.”

“Vulpix are pretty common around here…”

“I’ve always wanted a ninetails! They are so majestic!” you say with a laugh. 

“You would look good with one too. I can just see you posing for some magazine, Ninetails looking all haughty!”

You laugh as you think about being in a magazine, “Yeah...we’ll see… I’m trying to find a bounsweet so I can start training her up to take on Nessa.”

“Thought about Kabu yet? He’s tough when you’re first getting started.”

“I’ll figure something out…”

“Yeah you will!”

You raise your brow as you watch Davine walk towards the other pokemon. Goodra notices her first and approaches slowly, obviously happy she wanted to join in. He cooed at her softly and slowly she joins the others. 

“She’ll be okay…” he says noticing the way you watched the interaction. 

You turn and gaze at him, “I know… I just can’t help but worry…” you mutter as you add the chopped ingredients and put the rice on to cook. 

“Dragon’s are resilient, she’s going to bounce back, all she needs is you, princess,” he says as he winks at you. 

 “Are we really back to the princess stuff?” you ask as you try to hide your smile. 

He shrugs, “What’s so wrong with wanting to call you princess? After all, there’s going to come a time when you are.”

“When I’m what?”

“My princess,” he says with a lazy grin. 

You roll your eyes and throw a berry at him, “Chop that up for me will you, Romeo?”

“See you already have a pet name for me too! It’s like we’re meant to be!”

He laughs as you throw another berry at him, “That one tooo!”

“Alright! Alright! So violent! Looks like you like things a little rough… I-”

“Raihan!” you interrupt him and he just bursts out laughing, but helps you chop up the berries anyway. 

“I thought you were going to make me dinner… Here I am helping you…”

“You want to eat tonight or not? Then chop the vegetables!” you ask as you add the sausage into pot and start stirring it. 

“Yes Ma’am! I love it when you take charge,” he growls out. 

You huff, but take the berries that’s he’s chopped and endeavor to hide your blush as you add them to the pot. 

You glance up at him and he’s watching you with a lazy smile, “Hey…” he muttered suddenly. 

“Yes?” you ask softly. 

“You made it through your first day.”

You smile at the thought, “I did…”

“Come on Princess… Let’s eat,” he says as he grabs plates and bowls out of his own pack and helps you divy up the food for the pokemon as well as yourselves. 

“Damn this might be the best curry I’ve ever had!” he exclaims as he takes his first bite. 

“You’re exaggerating it’s not that great!”

“What are you talking about? This is the best!”

You laugh quietly and thank him as you dig in yourself. You have to admit it’s really good and your pokemon seem to be enjoying it as well. You notice that Davine seems to be sticking pretty close to Goodra as the dragon chatters to it happily. 

“So you’re looking for a Bounsweet?”

“Yeah! I spent all day today looking for one, but had no luck…”

“They are usually in the Rolling Fields, check there tomorrow and I’m sure you’ll find one! Maybe even a vulpix!.”

“Thanks Raihan…”

“Yeah no problem...let me know if you need help finding another type-”

“No- I mean… thank you for that as well, but I mean, thank you for being here tonight. I can hardly believe I’m here, but it’s nice to not be alone out here.”

He chuckles, “No problem… do you want me to camp out here with you tonight? I can sleep out here if you don’t feel comfortable sharing the tent.”

“I don’t want to hold you up…”

“It’ll be fun! Like when I was on my journey, except now I get to play the hero if something happens.”

You shake your head and laugh at him, “thanks, and you can sleep in the tent if you want, it’s cold out here and I trust you.”

“Whatever you say princess…” he says with a smile.

Notes:

I hope you all like this chapter! I chose the nickname @narees17​ entered! I thought it fit so well! But thank you for everyone who submitted! Now we need to name the combee! Tell me your thoughts! Also if you would like to be tagged send me an ask! I love hearing from you all!

Taglist: @ichigokage​

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 9- Burnt Parchment

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A brief respite for the hermits, they all take the time to rest, train, and learn more. While Xisuma digs through the libraries for information on dark magic, Stress discovers an unnerving note far from home.

____________________________________

Xisuma hums to himself, fingers running along the books. Old leather soft and emblazoned with gilded letters, sharp parchment of scrolls cutting into his skin with new vigor. All kinds of books and tomes and tablets, collected among Joe’s library. It’s a well cared for collection, and Joe prides himself on all the knowledge stowed in his home. 

The only problem is how he sorts his books. Most librarians would use one of many systems developed by scholars, perhaps by genre or author’s last name. But no, Joe used his own strange system, a madness to his method. No matter what the other hermits do to fix his insanity among the stacks, he only shuffles it back. And Xisuma is stuck reading through the strange collection their resident poet has amassed. He blinks away as he reads something he’d rather not, and pulls free an aged scroll, adding it to the collection in his hands. 

Xisuma steps back, turning. His eyes fall across the large black lacquered cabinet settled in the corner of the poet’s home. Distant from everything else, even the azure blue bed that’s covered in half-written poems and spells. Cold metal brushes against X’s fingers as he unconsciously touches the wrought iron key. “Dark magic has to be somewhere in there.” 

He reluctantly opens the banned book cabinet. Joe isn’t a person to ban books just for being controversial. In fact, the poet loves to bring books other libraries wouldn’t dare hold. Knowledge that should be spoken, kept safe. Illegal works against the Council, exposes on guilds, lost history no longer taught in schools. If their island in the Ashioll sea was a sanctuary to the illegal guild, this library was a sanctuary to illegal words. 

But even some knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands. And if there’s anything X could call dark magic, it’s dangerous in any hand. Only one book among the darkened oak shelves gives him any hint to it’s contents including dark magic. A book about ancient magic. Why is this with the taboo tomes? Xisuma stands, tucking his armful of books close to his chest and donning his mask back on to face the sunlight.

Xisuma is a void wizard. He spends his days staring into the darkness of space, learning from the motions of dark matter and the void between stars. When others look to the light to discover truth, he can see everything beyond space and time, warped by the light others seek. X’s fingers run across a fractured part of his helmet. Where an insignia of a sun surrounded by spiraling void was dented out of existence. He can just barely feel the sharp triangular points of his brother’s symbol nowadays. 

He pulls the mask over his head, and braves the sunshine of his island home. In the distance, he can hear yelling, followed by the sharp clang of metal. The ground rumbles, and out of the corner of X’s vision he sees pillars of stone spire free from the grass. False and Scar are dueling, and Xisuma notices silver coins being passed between TFC and Cub. An easy smile appears beneath X’s mask. TFC was never one to stay holed up in the infirmary long. He’s still pale and weak from the crystal attack, but nothing would stop the guildmaster from being with his family. So long as he’s not using his magic, Xisuma won’t stop him. 

The fading black veins up TFC’s arm reminds Xisuma why he’s researching dark magic. After what happened to their guildmaster, their leader and father figure, Xisuma needs to know why it happened. And how to stop it from hurting any of his family. Ever again. Dirt crunches under his boots as Xisuma walks to the stone tower he calls home. The oldest structure, the first part of the island built up. When him and his brother fled into the mysterious sea, setting up the Order of Hermits. Fitting name, seeing as they’re the only ones brave enough- or stupid enough- to call the odd archapelago home. 

“Sheshwammy!” Keralis’s voice runs across the air like honey, but the magnitude of his voice causes Xisuma to jolt in his boots. A scroll drops, falling open and rolling across the dirt. Xisuma groans, tucking his chin to chase after the runaway parchment. Keralis aids him, scooping up the scroll and tightening the paper around the wooden rod. “Whatcha got there? A little bit of light reading?” 

“I wouldn’t call dark magic ‘light reading’.” Xisuma chuckles, plucking the scroll handed across from him. Keralis’s expression is quite alarmed. 

“Dark magic? Like spooky scary attacking crystal dark magic?” Keralis peers at the books in Xisuma’s hand. “Why are you trying to learn dark magic?”

“I’m not trying to learn it- I’m trying to learn about it. So...so things that happened in Gildara don’t ever happen here. Don’t ever happen to our island.” Keralis nods, nudging Xisuma’s shoulder to show it was all in jest. And the void mage feels like he can breathe. 

“Are you going to hole up in that tower of yours then?” Keralis watches X’s eyes through his visor, the crossed scars over his left eye. “Sheshwammy, come, let’s have some tea in my house! Soak in the sun, it’s good for you!” 

Keralis waves Xisuma to the glass hemisphere, tall grass and undergrowth flourishing in the massive terrarium. A single tree props up the glass from within, and a beehive thick with honey sits like fruit hung low from the tree. Black flecks buzz around among the terrarium, denizens of bugs flying in their habitat. To and from their food and wherever they make home within Keralis’s terrarium. When Keralis first showcased his magic to Xisuma, he admits he was freaked out. To gain magic by consuming bugs seemed...strange. But over time, it was no different than Joe’s poetry magic or Tango’s hellbound spells.

“Hello Suzy. How’s the hive today?” Keralis giggles, giving the fuzzy bee a pat. X stops at the door, watching Keralis file away some of his magical treats for later. “I was just coming to grab some more beetles before fighting Cleo, but this gives me an excuse to not face her now.” 

Xisuma sits down among the grass, the tall blades bending outward like a nest. Green and grey robes spread out, and Xisuma sets his pile of books on Keralis’s green bed. Keralis places a cup of tea in his hand, his friend remembering exactly how much sugar, honey, and milk he likes in his tea. Xisuma’s shoulders untense, remembering why he wanted a guild in the first place.

They weren’t just a team. They were family. They have each other. He’s not the only one worrying about TFC, others are taking good care of him. And they take good care of each other, including X. Xisuma swirls the spoon in his tea, blowing on the steaming drink and raising his head to feel the sun filter through the glass dome. His brother always wanted a family like this, but sometimes the sun shines too bright even for those who rely on it’s light. Every time Xisuma feels the warm rays on his brown hair, he thinks of his brother. 

But he always chases the thoughts out. That wimp left, ran away when things finally started to become real. Xisuma pulls the book on the top of the stack and forces it open. He flips to the page about magic law and illegal magic. 

Keralis peeks over Xisuma’s shoulder, trying to follow the insane speed the void wizard reads at. He doesn’t catch everything he sees, or understands most of what he reads, but the pages do reference the words he fears to be true. “Do you really think someone is practicing dark magic?” 

“I’m sure it’s dark magic. You saw how those husk people acted.” Xisuma picks up a book discarded to the side, pointing to a single paragraph. Hardly more than a line references the process of magic. “Dark magic is illegal for a reason- it steals power, killing the person who it’s stolen from. But none of these books talk about how it happens. There’s no mention of crystals, or the entire land devoid of life. A grey wasteland.” 

“What about this book?” Keralis sits in the grass, pulling up a massive, ancient leather book. “Plirus Mageia.” The bug mage opens the book, dust spouting free of the yellow, torn pages and causing Keralis to cough. 

“Well, it says it’s complete, but does that really mean…” Keralis grins as he discovers dark magic listed in the index, flipping to the page. It’s Xisuma’s turn to peer over Keralis’s shoulder, watching the ancient pages flipping forward, deft fingers searching for the page number listed.  Until they go past it. Keralis frowns, and flips back. And misses again. One by one, they look through the book. All that remains of the chapter on dark magic is ash, pouring into Keralis’s lap when he tips the book forward. “Someone doesn’t want dark magic to get out.” 

“Or someone doesn’t want anyone to know their secret.” Keralis whispers. 

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

Stress packs the snow tight, pressing rosy pink lips onto the forehead of the snowman. One hand has her icy magic circle pressing against the torso. A little kiss like that sends magic surging through the white snow, each crystal and snowflake imbued with her power. The stone eyes blink and bluster against it’s cold body, and stick arms wiggle to life. “There you go lovely! Go explore! Watch out fer the edge!” 

Stress giggles as the snowman wanders across her icy island home. Just offshore of Eremita, she built her igloo under the cooling respite of an eternal snowcloud. She sits back, closing her eyes and feeling the chill touch of snowflakes falling on her pale cheeks. The cold water tickles her skin, clinging to the warm, fluffy grey fuzz that keeps her comfortable. She loves the cold, because it means she can cozy up in her warm robes, fluffy boots, and thick pants. She doesn’t have to worry about her hair being too long at her neck, or if she has too many blankets- which is never enough in her opinion. She’s known as a blanket thief, and it takes bribery to get them back. 

Snow crunches, the fresh layer depressing onto the white powder beneath it. Stress peeks open her eyes, and notices her new snow friend is waving for her attention, rock mouth mute to call for her. Rigid sticks flap back and forth, until the snowman knows it has her attention. It points a wooden finger down to the icy waters around her island. 

“What is that doin’ here?” Stress questions, standing up. She brushes the snow from her rear, watching the tiny boat rock against the ice chunks. She can only imagine if these enchanted sailboats had little itty bitty sailors, they’d look like massive icebergs, just before a frozen continent at the bow. “I thought these didn’t leave the cities.” 

Stress scoops up the wooden boat, fingers running along the smoldering fabric sail. The edges turn to ash upon her touch, embers eating further into the sail and smoking the wooden ship. It’s in bad shape, and Stress can’t figure out how such a little ship meant for messaging within a city made its way out here. Why is it burned?

She remembers the contents of the boat, pulling off a glove to squeeze her finger into the thin deck. Sure enough, a scroll was being carried by the scorched ship. The snowman at her side reaches for the boat, like a child desiring a toy. It’s wish is granted, Stress ignoring the boat in lieu of opening the parchment. 

It’s burned as well, and whatever edges aren’t black and charred are torn and tattered. On the backside, Stress can see printed letters torn through. It reminds her of when she went to school in Milliara, among the other noble children learning how to be good heirs, passing notes on torn sheets of their notebooks. The twine falls apart in her hand, allowing the burnt parchment to open. 

Stress gasps, letting the letter fall to the snow. She runs to the icy edge of her snowstorm, but the ice rises to meet her feet. Walking across frozen water beneath her shoes, until she’s on solid ground again. She doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate. She needs to tell the others what was on the paper. 

The parchment, burnt and soaked with snow, flutters in the warm Ashioll sea air. Blood for ink scrawls out two words. 

HELP DANES

[britishchick09]

sherlock s2 ep 3 livewatch

it’s time for the sherlock s2 finale! i’ve been keeping lockie alive for as long as possible, but I can’t stall any longer. let’s fall into the reichenbach!

here it is:

the last masterpiece ep! :D

it begins with rain! *beatles ‘rain’ plays*

john’s back with the therapist from study in pink! :o

does this take place after the fall and the rest of the ep is a flashback?

it’s been 18 months!

john called tv ‘telly’:)

OMG HE’S CHOKING UP NO POOR BBY :’(

he called sherlock ‘my best friend’ IN THE SADDEST VOICE IN THE WORLD :’(

john: “sherlock holmes... is dead.” or is he? ;)

BAM INTRO!

guy: “falls of the reichenbach...” you dodged a credit roll with that one! ;)

sherlock: “diamond cufflinks. all my cufflinks have buttons.” john: “he means ‘thank you’. ...just say it.” awww what a parent :)

sherlock isn’t one for thanks and publicity!

the iconic hat! :D

EVERYONE WANTS HIM TO PUT THE HAT ON

he reluctantly put the hat on:)

the transitions from a scene to a newspaper is so cool! :D

john’s tabloid nickname is BACHELOR OMGGGGGG

john: “what do they mean by that?” oh you know what that means buddy ;)

CONFIRMED BACHELOR OMGGG VICTORIAN GAYYYYY!!!!!!!!!! (or in his case bi)

john: “we need to be more careful-“ johnlockers: “NO!!!!!”

sherlock is criticizing the hat lol :D

john called it the ‘sherlock holmes hat’ eyyyyy!!!!! ;D

john’s voice has a hint of deep love it ;)

there’s so many people touring at the castle! :o

this sneaky guy has this on his phone and i’m guessing that’s what all apps in the uk look like lol

OMG HE HACKED INTO THE SYSTEM

is it moiarty?

lestrade said ‘bloody ‘ell!’ and it was so british of him :D

he’s dancing to the background music YEP IT’S MOI ALRIGHT

YEET

OMG MOIARTY YOU DRAMA QUEEN

also is this an abominable bride reference? :o

john’s text notif sound sounds apple WHY

he has a windows laptop and an apple phone how chaotic

the smiley face!!!! :o

ooh cool american song playing in the background! :o

john: “ready?” sherlock: “yes” *PRESS CHATTER* how would anyone be ready for that?

sherlock wants to be himself but john’s like ‘no smartass’ LET HIM BE A SMARTHOLE JOHN

it’s the bbc! :D

OMFG A FAN FOLLOWED SHERLOCK INTO THE RESTROOM WTF

i bet johnlockers have actually done this because they were craaazyyyy back then...

THE FAN WANTS HIM TO SIGN HIS SHIRT WTFFFFF

sherlock knows she’s not a fan lol :D

wait is someone peeing in the background wtf

fan: “you and john watson, platonic, have you there as well!” mofftiss totally based this girl off of real johnlockers!!!!

can they please leave the bathroom I SWEAR SOMEONE IS PEEING BACK THERE IT’S SO AWKWARD

sherlock: “you... repel... me.” YAS!!! :D

HOLD UP what if this is mofftiss’ way of saying they don’t like johnlockers :o

now lockie’s in court bor-ing!

moiarty is a spider great metaphor sherlock! :D

judge: “how long-“ sherlock “not a good question.” lol :D

sherlock and moiarty knew each other for 5 minutes lol

who ate the wafer

SHUT UP WIG MAN LET SHERLOCK SHOW OFF

aaand he kicked them out

john: “you’re doing The Look again.” omg so married ♥

he finds The Face annoying lol MARRIEEEED

epic wallpaper! :D

OMG MOIARTY WAS CHEWING GUM DURING THE CRIME AND THE COURT THING DORK

and he looked at john... ;)

moiarty’s out and sherlock beeps john away,,,

he be making tea WITH HIS VIOLIN PLAYING YYYAAAASSSS!!!!!!!!!

omg there’s a shadow...

AN A CREAK

I KNEW IT WAS MOIARTY!!!!!!

sherlock lets him sit down wowza kind to a criminal! :o

moiarty: “every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain ;)” omg HE KNOWS HE’S A STORY CHARACTER AHHHH :o

moiarty to sherlock: “you need me.” no he needs john THANK YOU VERY MUCH

moiarty thinks sherlock’s boring SHUT UP FUNNY MEAN MAN >:(

moiarty: “that’s the problem... the final problem.” eyyyy roll s4 credits! :D

moiarty: “i didn’t tell you... but did you listeeeennnn?” lol sing-songy moiarty is funny :D

he’s doing the hand thing ♥

moiarty: “i own secrecy” who do you think you are bish brother

MOIARTY CALLED SHERLOCK ‘HONEY’ :o

WHY IS MOIARTY SAYING ‘DADDY’

THE FALL HE SAID THE FALLLLLLLL

sherlock: “i never liked riddles.” *maddie hatter rages in the distance*

he’s having a row with the machine again ;)

also that’s literally my dad with his card lol :D

ooh antiques roadshow! :D

john’s meeting mycroft why

OMG HE WAS TAKEN HOSTAGE

it’s just mycroft’s way of saying hello?

what happened in 1972

mycroft’s giving john an unrelated case... s1 finale flashback!

john’s loooong groan lol :D

sherlock is moiarty’s ‘only rival’... >:)

awww john fed some crumbs to birds :)

another unrelated case and lestrade is at the flat! :o

lestrade called lockie ‘a celebrity’ awww :)

SHERLOCK DON’T YELL AT THE CRYING LADY :(

oh he wanted her to ‘speak quickly�� ok

not ok but thaaat’s lockie!

it be moi...

sherlock SNIFF

sherlock: “brilliant, anderson?” anderson: “really?” sherlock: “brilliant impression of an idiot.” OHHHHH!!!!!!! :D

sherlock 2 NOW

john: “don’t do the smiling thing. kidnapped children..?” oh he always does the smiling thing! ;)

molly was going on a lunch date but sherlock said she’ll go with him and her little ‘what?’ is so cute! :D

sherlock’s like ‘look at all the fricks i give’ :D

aaand he left her!

sherlock: “the chemical footprints will lead us to moiarty!” all roads lead to rome, and all the footprints there lead to moiarty ;)

SHERLOCK CALLED MOLLY ‘JOHN’ OMG :D

b r i c k   d u s t

molly: “you’re like my dad. he’s dead- no, sorry-” lol :D

oh no molly’s telling a sad dad story :(

i can kind of see why people ship sherlock and molly they’re nice together :)

BUT JOHNLOCK IS BEST SHIP

although molly’s super awkward she’s so cute! :D

SHERLOCK GOT THE FAIRYTALE REFERENCE AFTER I DID YAS!!!!! :D

lestrade: “brick dust!” b r i c k  d u s t

he’s the google in 360 website! :D

they burst through the kidnapper’s door and it was like ‘someBODY once told me’! :D

omg mercury chocolate wrappers! :o

sherlock: “the more they ate, the faster they died... neat!” ...neat? :o

they found the kidnapped kids! :D

lestrade doesn’t want lockie to be himself awww :(

THE KIDNAPPED GIRL SCREAMED AT SHERLOCK NO :(

lestrade to sherlock: “i feel like screaming when you walk in!” ooh noice ;)

the jerk lady said sherlock was ‘unbelievable’ coolio she’s a bit nice! :D

MOIARTY HACKED THE TAXI TV OMG :o

also there are tvs in taxis OMG :o

lestrade called sherlock and john ‘csi baker street’ lol :D

moiarty’s connecting sherlock to sir bostalot hmm... ;)

hmmm....

sherlock: “what was that on the tv?” cabbie: “no charge...” *drives away* OHHHH

OMG SHERLOCK ALMOST GOT HIT BY A DAR

OMFG WAS HE ALMOST SHOT WTF WAS THAT

john to the rescue!!! :D

the guy was shot not lockie coolio

sherlock uses a mac WHYYY :(

sherlock: “dust is eloquent” mrs. hudson in a whisper: “what’s he on about???” lol :D

lockie vlogs! :D

sherlock: “this is a game, lestrade, one i’m not willing to play.” so the game is not on, then?

john: “i know you for real.” sherlock: “100%” awww :)

john: “no one could fake being suck an annoying dick all the time.” OHHHH!!!!! :D

guy: “yer a bloody idiot, lestrade!” and yer a bloody brit aren’t ya?

mrs. hudson said ‘ooh hoo’ just like oaken! :D

OMG fairytale!!!!

lestrade and the lady knocked on the door and mrs. hudson’s like ‘don’t barge in like that!’ :D

OMG THEY’RE ARRESTING LOCKIE

WHY IS THE LADY THINKING LOCKIE DID IT HE DIDN’T!!!!!

awww sherlock and john were arrested together so romantic just girly things ♥

OMG GUN SHOT????

they’re running omg!!!!!

sherlock: “take my hand!” FRICK YES

john: “people will definitely talk!” FRICK YAAAAS!!!!!!!

just two bfs running around in handcuffs ♥

they need to coordinate while getting up the stairs... easy enough for them! ;)

THEY JUMPED IN FRONT OF A VAN JUST CRIMEY THINGS ♥

i thought the van thing was part of the drunk ep in s3 but it’s cool that-

GUN SHOTS????

they let go! :o

OMG IT’S THE CREEPY FAN!!!!

moiarty: “they didn’t have any ground coffee so i just got-” *SUSPENSE CHORD* out of context that’s hilarious :D

moiarty’s richard!!! :o

wait he’s a hired actor the frick???

THE FRICK ARE THEY ACTING??????

just because it’s in print doesn’t mean it’s real...

ok technically moiarty’s an actor BUT THAT BE KNOCKING DOWN THE 4TH WALL

an actor playing a person playing an actor... wild actorception! :o

moiarty: “i’m the storyteller! it’s on dvd...” but is it on blu-ray? ;)

sherlock: “stop it STOP IT NOW!!!!” yoda seagulls...

fan: “i can read you and you... repel... me...” DON’T USE HIS LINE BOI

sherlock: “there’s only one way to complete his game...” is it on? ;)

OMG he’s admitting his feelings to molly AND HE NEEDS HER awwww!!!! :D

the sherlolly fans loved that i bet! :D

john to mycroft: “you and him go out for coffee? you and jim?” sarah z be like ‘YAS!’ :D

OMG WAIT DID MYCROFT WORK WITH MOIARTY????

mycroft tells john to tell moiarty ‘i’m sorry’ and john just gives this ‘please’ wheeze lol :D

julie albright bouncing her basketball against her bedroom wall in ‘meet julie’ (colorized)

oh CRAP

lockie’s fidgeting with the ball awwww :)

OMG MRS. HUDSON WAS SHOT THE FRICK????????

john: “she’s DYING.... you MACHINE!!!!!!” YEAH LOCKIE YOU BISH

john: “friends protect people!” true that!

THE FRICK WHY IS BEE GEEZ PLAYING

this is the music video lol :D

omg are moiarty and lockie gonna have a dance battle like in despicable me 3 lol :D

moiarty: “our final problem... stayin’ aliiiive!!!!!” HE SO PLANNED THAT

there’s about 28 minutes left will the battle take that long?

oh he turned the song off :/

aw man moiarty has to play with the ordinary people :/

MOIARTY SAID ‘atta boyyyy’ TO SHERLOCK WHYYYYYY

ooh sherlock’s doing binary code with his fingers! :D

moiarty: “first one to sherlock is a sissy” oh SHUT UP

moiarty: “there is no key DOOFUS!!!!” WOAH MAN CALM THE FRICK DOWN

“look at ALLLLL THE FRICKS I GIVE SHERLOCK!!!!”

moiarty: “nice you chose a tall building! great way to do it!” sherlock: “do- do- do what?” oh you know what lockie :(

moiarty: “i read it in the paper so it must be true!” no!!!!

john’s here for mrs. hudson!!!! :D

she seems fine tho?

moiarty: “for me? pleeeeeaaaseee?????” OMG THAT ‘PLEASE’ WAS SO HIGH LOLOLOL!!!!!!!

toss him sherlock TOSS HIM!!!!!

moiarty’s little ‘woah woah woah!’ tho :D

aww sherlock has only 3 friends :(

moiarty about sherlock kermiting: “you gotta admit that’s sexier” WUT

NOOOOOOOOO

sherlock’s breath is so shaky :(

he said ‘privacy’ like ‘pri-va-cee’ why

he’s gonna call john!!!!!

awww smile!!!! :D

he knows that this is fake right?

moiarty’s like ‘WHAT?? WHAT DID I MISS????” BOI CALM DOWWwwwwnnnn

sherlock to moiarty: “i am you. prepared to do anything.” save that line for john plz

sherlock is ‘on the side of the angels’ awww :)

moiarty said sherlock’s not ordinary RIGHT HE’S A SPECIAL SUNSHINE ANGEL

moiarty: “you’re meee!!!!!” NOT WHAT I MEANT

they’re holding hands and standing close NOOOOO

HOLY FRICK SHERLOCK JUS SHOT MOIARTY IN THE MOUTH THE FRICK THE FRACK???????

he’s not really dead right or is that just a theory

sherlock’s like ‘oh god what have i done’ SAME WHAT DID YOU DO

it sounds like the thx theme!

oh no

i know it’s not a legitimate kermiting sewerside but DON’T FREAKING DO IT

HE’S CALLING JOHN OH FRICK

HE WANTS JOHN TO SEE HIM FALL THE FRICKKKKK

sherlock: “look up, i’m on the rooftop.” ♫ up on the rooftop, click click click, HERE COMES SAD OL’ KERMIT CLAUS ♫

CRAP

sherlock: “i can’t come down so we’ll have to do it like this.” it was only a kiss :(

an apology????

‘IT’S ALL TRUE’ THE FRICK????

is this just for moiarty’s game?

sherlock sounds like he’s gonna cry NOOOOO :(((((

john: “shut up, shut up, shut up.” SAME WTF ARE YOU SAYING LOCKIE???

sherlock: “no one could be that clever. you could.” OMGGGGG

FIRST WINSTON & JULIA AND NOW SHERLOCK & JOHN WHYYYYY

sherlock sniffled omg :’(

he researched john to impress him OH MY HEART!!!!!

it’s not a trick sherlock is legit amazing!!!!!!!!

sherlock wants john to ‘keep his eyes fixed’ NOOOOOOOO

if sherlock knows this is fake he’s doing a pretty good job at it BUT WHY JUST TO PLEASE MOIARTY OR ESCAPE THE SPOTLIGHT OR WHAT

sherlock: “goodbye john.” NO

NO

NO

OH GOD THERE WAS A CRACK

if sherlock’s alive THEM HOW WAS THERE A CRACK

WAIT JOHN JUST FELL THE FRICK IS GOING ON????

john: “i’m a doctor, he’s my friend!” yes you are AND YES YOU FREAKING ARE

it’s fake he’s not really dead OH HOW I WISH I COULD TELL YOU THAT JOHNNY :(

OMG NO :’(

THE SAD VIOLIN I CAN’T

everything is slow NOOOOO

i can’t believe mofftiss made the fans wait 2 YEARS TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED NEXT i know there was ‘many happy returns’ in 2013 BUT HOW DID THE FANS SURVIVE THAT LONG WITH THAT ENDING????

it’s raining now perfect

gun????

therapist: “he didn’t say it. say it now.” john: “sorry, i can’t.” he said ‘i love you’ :(

awww john and mrs. hudson! :’(

omg she’s crying no!!!! :(

john to sherlock’s grave: “you were the best man and the most human i’ve ever known.” awww :’)

john: “one more miracle for me, sherlock. don’t. be. dead.” miricale granted my friend ;)

OMG WHAT HE WAS STANDING THERE THE WHOLE TIME WITH JOHN SUFFERING LIKE THAT THE FRICK?????

that’s the end of s2! that was a much better finale than s1 and it’s definitely the best ep of the series so far. there’s a lot of exciting turns AND WHAT EVEN IS THE ENDING??? you knocked it out of the park mofftiss! i can’t wait to see what s3 has in store besides mary, drunk times and the wedding!

and to quote the blog... ‘#sherlocklives #johnwatsonlives’ ♥

[kiliinstinct]

In The Garden - Nalu One Shot

Has a lot of things implied here, but was inspired by the sads I felt when re-watching ‘Angel Beats’ yesterday.  Note, I said inspired, but not based off of.

Anyway, consider this pseudo tragedy and pseudo angst. It’s all based on how you technically view it yourself, so I’m not sure how to explain it. oops!

--- Tag List ---

@pbfanart @yuldragneel @bearpluscat @millennial-star-gazer @caandleworks @kaycha1989  @furidojasutin @eragonsoul @just-another-dream-girl  @whatdidyasayiamdaydreaming @hanahathefluffydragon @softscream @dlshieldss @ctay21 @acidrain1698  @lovelyluce @clockworkassassino @celestialwolf24  @unwei @jem-hamster-chan @melissa827  @meilynalu  @littlejinxed @moonlitstargazerforever @trollka21

---

The air was crisp and clear. 

It was the purest atmosphere he had breathed. The wind blew gently through his hair, cooled his sore limbs and wafted the scent of grass and wildflowers through his nose. Water trickled nearby, tickling his ears with the sound. He couldn’t see it, the thick foliage circling him blocked his sight, but that didn’t bother him. Everything from the blue of the sky to the green of the ground served one purpose: to calm and relax him. 

He knew nothing before his eyes had opened. No beginning and no end. There was just his own, singular existence. Time held no meaning. His body moved on instinct, bare feet scraping along the blades of grass, toes curling in the dirt which each step. The man who had never existed until that moment, took his time exploring the garden. Hummingbirds and bees flew by, drinking the nectar from sweet honeysuckle or rested upon the flowers his arms brushed by. 

This was heaven. Though he had no clue what heaven was. This peace and comfort was his only way to describe it. He enjoyed it, following the sound of water, hoping to find its source. With each step his speed increased, noticing the ground beneath him was inclining. Soon, the man rushed through the thickets at a full run, unaware that his lack of fatigue was not normal, and that the outer edges of the garden dropped off at the end the higher up he moved. 

There was no knowledge before he opened his eyes. Therefore, it was normal. Further and further he ran until he broke free of the thicket, barely noticing the way the twigs and leaves brushed along bare skin. Eyes widened at the open path before him,  leading up to the top of quiet hill. One, lone tree stood upon it, looking over the small garden like a silent watcher. 

One, dead tree- and a bench, occupied by a figure, gazing out into the distance. Golden hair shined under the bright sun and their head turned from the crunch of his steps. A woman with honey-brown eyes, wide and perplexed. She stood when he advanced, one arm grasping the other as she sucked her bottom lip. A nervous tick he noticed. 

Adorable. 

“Who are you?” She asked, voice a tiny whisper. “Why did you come here?”

At first he worried he wouldn’t know how to respond, but he swiped his tongue across his lips and broke the dam of silence to answer.  “I don’t know. I’m just here. What about you?”

She sucked in a breath, unsatisfied. Looking back towards the expanse of endless plains and drop offs, the woman who had always been there, shut her eyes. “I thought I was the only one. It feels like an eternity since I opened my eyes.”

He didn’t know the depths of eternity, but her empty tone filled him with guilt. “Sorry I’m late, then.”

“You should be. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”

A chuckle passed between them and he moved to join her at the bench. The stone looked old and cracked. It sent a chill through his skin. When she resumed her position, now next to him, she gave no reaction, as if the cold had soaked within her ages ago.  He noticed small things about her: a shine to her eyes, the soft pink of her lips, the way the wind blew strands of gold across her face as she habitually attempted to blow them back. 

They were new and familiar all at once. He resisted the urge to reach out and brush his fingers through the silken strands. A spark inside his mind said this was not the first time he had done so, but that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t existed until today. 

“Will others come?” He asked after another eternity. She shrugged, casting her gaze to him with the barest hint of a smile. 

“I don’t think so.” She said. “I feel this is our place.”

A strange declaration for two people who had never met before, but after another second of forever, he realized it was true. This was their place. It would always be their place.  There was nothing around to prove it, just a feeling of absolute certainty that settled in his gut. 

He noticed light freckling on her shoulders,  finding them like secret constellations and he grinned.  “You have stars on your shoulders.” It was a weird thing to say, but fitting. She was weird. She had always been weird. It was natural to say weird things with her.  Her laugh came out like bells ringing from loud and clanging to low and airy. 

“And you have,” She began, reaching out to tap his cheeks, “two. adorable. dimples.”

He recoiled and frowned in feigned offense, “I am not adorable!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Her eyes gleamed in mischief, “I forgot, you’d rather be handsome!”

He balked, leaning away to feign a pensive expression. Handsome? Is that what he’d rather be called? The word ‘badass’ shot through his mind and he grinned, “Hmm, nah, but close enough!”

Her giggles uplifted him giving the sensation of floating on air. He could hear her laugh forever.  Their laughter conjoined together as natural as the world around them. In that quiet peace, their chuckles slowly died as he nudged her shoulder with his. As normal as breathing, as existing. It took only a few seconds more for him to realize they were strangers acting like old friends. No, friends wasn’t the right word…

“Are you sure you don’t know me?” Her confusion matched his own. Considering his question, she licked her lips, one hand moving to brush strands of pale-red hair from his face. Their movements felt like an age old tale, unrecognized but subconsciously remembered. 

“No,” She said, with a sigh, “I’m sure I’ve never seen you until now, but I feel like..”

He finished with a light breath, “... like we’ve known each other forever.”

“- but that’s impossible,” She waved him  off, cheeks paling. It made no sense. There was no possibility for two people who knew nothing of themselves or each other to be this connected. Was there? Her head bowed in thought, considering his agreement, fingers fidgeting as she tangled them together. “... it… yeah, it really feels that way, though…”

He took her hand then. The urge was not ignored. Fingers touched familiar, slender digits, entwined and clasping tightly to one another. Their silence became thick and brooding. It fell between them like a fog, erasing the beautiful environment around them. There was just him and her, and the connection felt between them. He realized he loved her hand in his. The grip was strong despite its small size; they grounded him and gave him a sense of peace inside his soul he hadn’t realized he was missing. 

Empty pieces of himself clicked together as his eyes memorized her. Passed her freckled shoulders, down the swell of her breasts and smooth expanse of her stomach, down to her thighs and back up again, but stopped, zipping back to her hip. He had missed it at first, but the telltale sign of a scar puckered and discolored the skin on her stomach. His mouth ran dry.

“Is.. that ...new?” He croaked, finding it difficult to speak. She followed his gaze and flinched, withdrawing her hand to move away. Like a broken animal she curled into herself, gnawing her lip rapidly. 

“Yes,” She said, eyes glancing this way and that, “I mean no, I don’t think it was there earlier, but it… no.. It’s.. “ Realization shone in her eyes, “it’s why I’m here.”

With each shift back, he followed, moving slow as shaking fingers reached out to pull her back. He clicked his tongue, voice dropping to a smooth baritone. After little resistance, she relented, sinking into his arms so he could examine the scar. Her back rested against him and hands moved to trail along the skin from beginning to end. He frowned. 

“There’s more.” He whispered, finding older scars, more faded and difficult to see. One on her right, another on her arm, the faintest trace against her neck. Place to place, location to location and each new revelation made his lungs tighten, squeezing the air from him and he struggled to stay calm. Who? Who had hurt her like this?

How many times? How many lives?

It was like the light of the sun flashed into his own mind and he gasped. “Lucy, how many times have you died?” He did not stop to question the sudden use of her name, for that is what she was called, time and time again, in one form after another. This was Lucy and her body mapped out her history like a book. 

She breathed in shaky gasps, memories of times that didn’t exist flashed through her eyes and she twisted her torso, fingers trembling as they traced the planes of muscles on his chest- the touch electrified his nerves with each movement. Up to his neck and cheek, back down to the sharp concave caused by his hip bones. They slowed to a stop, centimeters from his skin, not touching, but just enough for him to feel and burn and yearn. He tore his gaze from Lucy’s scars to watch her hand, belatedly realizing she had paused across his own angry, protruding scar. 

“How many for you?” She asked when her eyes met his, bottom lip trembling. “I can’t count the times, Natsu.”

Natsu. 

He felt a punch to his gut the way the name tore the air from him and stabbed his mind like a hundred daggers all at once. A shriek of his name, faded and lost, laughter, love, friends and family- a jolt of memories shot down his spine. All his, but not. 

He was Natsu, but he wasn’t. Just as she was Lucy, but she wasn’t. He struggled to regain himself, realization crushing through his soul. He took Lucy closer into his embrace, nose burrowing into the curves of her neck and shoulder. He breathed her in while her hands sought desperately for purchase in his hair, bodies meshing close together in an attempt to become one, solitary figure. 

He knew her. He knew her like the taste of his own tongue, the weight of his own limbs. Like breathing, she was every part of him as he was of her. They were separate and not and his memories of a time before he existed struck him until tears formed in his eyes. 

“I couldn’t save you.” Natsu exhaled sharply, voice thick and rough, growling a pain he hadn’t felt until that moment, but had felt a dozen or more times before. 

“No.” She disagreed, voice muffled. “We were unlucky.”

He couldn’t believe it, “Bad luck every time, Lucy?” His grip tightened while soft lips pressed against the back of his ear followed by consoling whispers. 

“Not every time,” She assured him,  voice cracking from the multitude of lives pressing against them, “we never know what will happen in the next one.”

“The next one?” It hadn’t occurred to him that there was more beyond this plain. Existence and time felt elusive. In their current present, Natsu saw no future, only the woman in his arms and the truth. They were together. They were always together. Over and over again and this was their haven. 

Lucy settled against him, sighing as they enjoyed the heat of their own bodies and the wind gently caressed them. The tree blossomed with pink, blue, purple and green petals, thriving with new life over their heads. Natsu could see now, the distance between their garden and many others. Some were connected through small arches and bridges, some were too distant to make out. Everyone of them floated in a large expanse, separated from each other. He didn’t know what lie beyond his own, but he knew its thriving life and gentle breezes was something created between two souls in harmony. 

“When does the next one come?” He asked while thumbing her scar again. Natsu didn’t like it. The prospect of her cycling through another life, earning more scars to her skin. Scars meant she lived and learned, but suffered. 

Lucy didn’t answer. Her silence grew and her hands moved to cup his cheek, tilting his face towards the base of their little hil to the stream of water, cutting off the end of their little world. It weaved through the area and disappeared into the thick brambles of the garden Natsu had traversed through. He had forgotten his failed search for it until then.  Dark gaze narrowed as he looked at its crystalline surface, watched the pebbles sparkle beneath the clear liquid, finally noticing the dirt path, faded as if it were not fully there, just on the stream’s outer bank. 

It was translucent. As if one wrong step would send you falling through it.  “There?”  He asked. They could walk through and be no more?

“Only if you’re impatient.” Lucy moved away, leaving a trace of cold air against his skin from the loss. “You can go at any time, this is just….. A place to rest.”  

Her voice trailed off as he watched her. It felt as if he had heard these words before like a mantra. How many times would they forget? What made them remember? Was it always him asking the questions?  While Lucy marveled at her own knowledge coming to light, Natsu struggled with a need to never leave. 

Why suffer if they could stay? He remembered the feel of her in his arms, more perfect than the garden around them. He could drink in her sweetness, become one with her and never leave. They could enjoy the sunlight and brilliant scents and sights for an eternity or more without pain or fear.  The distance Lucy put between them was excruciating, a second feeling like forever, as if he were dying of thirst. He could be happy here, he knew this, and his hands reached for her arm, intending to draw her close once more. 

Her hand firmly pushed his hand away and he stared, “I’m sorry, Natsu,”She whispered, hair slipping over her shoulders to form a curtain across her face. “I’m so sorry, but it’s best you don’t touch me anymore.”

Natsu balked, “But that’s… that’s…! Lucy we’ve got forever here! What’s wrong?!” Even in a sadness he could name for centuries, she was beautiful. Her hair continued its light glow as shoulders shook from tears he could not see. He attempted to gently touch her shoulder, but the result was the same, “Lucy, tell me what’s going on?”  Why so sudden? 

“I’ve been waiting for you.” She croaked, wiping her eyes to peek at him through her tresses. “I’ve been patient for so.. So very long…!”

His stomach twisted into knots, “I didn’t mean to make ya’ wait Lucy, I just-” Just what? What had he been doing? Fighting? Living?  His memories told him they were joined, but what happened when one died without the other? Why couldn’t he remember after? “I can make it up to ya since I’m here now, you don’t have to be alone anymore-”

Natsu was silenced by Lucy lifting her hand between them, poised in the air for him to see- translucent like the path below them. “What-”

“I waited as long as I could.” The simple truth held between them, but her tears were not lonely tears of anger. They were content, a sad acceptance, “- but this place cannot hold us here forever. It’s a miracle you made it before I had to leave.”

Lucy was fading. The transparency in her hand trailed up her arm like spiderwebs, criss-crossing further and further up until pieces of her faded away,. “No, but I just, I just got here, you can’t leave yet!” Natsu wouldn’t accept it. Couldn’t accept it. Ignoring her pleas, he pulled her in, fingers moving along her arm, as if attempting to use friction to put her back together, “I haven’t seen ya in so long after you... after you- Lucy!”

She caved, hands grasped his face to hold him still and her lips fit against his to say everything they hadn’t the time to say. Lucy poured her emotions, her loneliness, her sadness, her peaceful and calm existence, and every memory coiled between them into her kiss. Natsu tasted tears and didn’t know if they were hers or his. He clung to her, hands pressed against the small of her back, trying to will her to stay with him forever. 

Her teeth tugged and pulled, he responded and drank everything she was willing to give, but the moment ended far too soon. Pulling back with swollen lips and tear stained cheeks, his other half smiled, a hand he could no longer see rested against his heart. 

“Come find me.” She said. “We have many more adventures to live before we’re done and everyone is waiting.”

Natsu’s arms fell to his side. Lucy was gone. 

In his own personal garden his soul came into being. In her own personal garden her soul met his. Together they lived on and on and on, building their Garden into a paradise they would never have to leave. The sky was still clear, but the tree above his head wilted once more. They weren’t done yet. 

He shook at the loss, cried into his hands and stained the ground with his tears. It felt like death, but then there was light, the little pathway shone before him, quietly waiting. He didn’t have to wait. Natsu didn’t have to stay.  As he mourned the loss of her, he stood firm and glanced out to the many other gardens in the realm. 

They needed a bridge, he decided. To visit the friends they made on the other side. Natsu would work on that next. Smiling through his tears, he walked towards the path with a spring in his step. 

When he crossed the stream,  birds chirped and quiet peace continued on, everything stayed as it always had, but his steps crunched in the dirt until there was none and right as he stepped off the edge-

He closed his eyes and knew nothing once more.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Garden Walk

Genre: supernatural horror

Words: 3.7k

Summary: a young woman sees a figure strolling the gardens making an odd sound.

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Content warning: slight blood and injury

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There’s something eating the bees.

You read about the bees disappearing all the time in the papers and on the news every few years in big investigative reports. Usually, it’s all the same alarm and studies about colony collapse and human pesticides and disease spreading rapidly through hives. I know all that and I’m sure it’s real and dangerous and one of the many ways we’re hurting the planet.

But this is different. I know it is, I feel it in my gut and under my skin and throughout my nerves with this itchy burn.

I like to go to the library on my days off. I work in a Bath and Body works shop so my hours are pretty random and my days off vary from week to week.

Still, I usually managed to make time once a week to hop downtown and go to the Fairfield Public library. I either walked when it was nice out or took the bus or Georgia used to drive me when we were together.

I went a lot more often that spring. I was in the process of getting over a nasty breakup and it was hard to be alone in my apartment. After you live with someone for so many years being alone in your own home can feel almost… like a punishment. You have to kill your own spiders in the corner and unclog your own drains and feed yourself old Mac and Cheese with no one to really care.

It was a difficult breakup to say the least and left this ache in my chest that I couldn’t get rid of, but managed to ignore most days. Distractions helped, so I went to the library.

Fairfield Public Library is this massive place that they renovated a couple years ago with new wings and a fresh paint job and better air conditioning. The bathrooms still had weak hand dryers and there was never enough chairs, but they did install some gorgeous immense windows in the central seating area. They’re ceiling-to-floor panels that let in gallons of sunshine that soak the floor and give the whole plan an almost enchanted feel. Some days I would just go in and walk beside them for long minutes with my hand trailing in the light.

The windows weren’t my favorite part of the library though. The inside still smelled a little dry and musty and they kept the temperature too cold for my liking. My favorite part of the library were the gardens outside.

There was a river that ran behind the library and a good acre of land spanning from the back of the building up to the edge of the water. In between the two was a complex public garden. Macy Dickson was one of the librarians and she would talk my ear off about how they used native Iowa plants and local plant fertilizer and set-up hummingbird feeders and plants that ladybugs liked.

I nodded along, but I wasn’t exactly an outdoors kind of person in the way Georgia had been. Most plants looked the same to me, and I was prone to stepping in poison ivy and itching for weeks and accidentally pissing off local Canadian geese and being chased.

These gardens were friendly though, easy. The bushes were low to the ground and the plots held sturdy herbs and a few flowers popping up depending on the time of year. A path wound in and out of red oak trees and honeysuckles and bird feeders until it made its way to a rock garden with stone benches facing it. I would take a deep breathe there, sit, and attempt to feel whatever it is you’re supposed to feel when you’re outside surrounded by tweeting birds and wildlife sounds. I was never very good at being calmed by ocean noises or wind in the trees or anything like that, but to be fair I was never really calmed by anything. I had nervous habits like washing my hands too much and picking at my skin and applying hand sanitizer every few hours like clockwork. 

Maybe those were all the things Georgia couldn’t stand. I didn’t know.

Either way, sometimes that long walk out by the red trees and shrubbery did me good.

It was on a Wednesday in the middle of the week and the dreary weather had broken out into warm air and thin blue skies, I finally got to wear my strappy sandals again and walked all the way to the library. I was going through a reading period that my therapist might classify as “regression.”

One day I had been crying in the nonfiction aisle next to a true crime series and the next moment I found myself inching to the kids section. I crept into the bright wing as if in a sleep-walk and looked over the colorful covers of dragons and a boy and his dog and kids running from spooky shadows and little witches and I picked up a handful of kids chapter books.

I started reading all the books of my youth: Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prairie, Nancy Drew, and Hardy Boys.

I read through them like you shake an old friend’s hand and there was something comforting about the non-threatening stories and consuming words of my youth. Of course, being a grown woman who was almost thirty reading children’s books… didn’t make me feel great.

I dashed into the kids section of the library that Wednesday and picked out two stories: Ella Enchanted and the Princess Academy. There was something so sweet and feminine about the titles that had me swiping them up and carrying them off like a burglar in the night.

I visited the nonfiction section next and picked out a book called “The Knife Man” about historical surgeries and went on my way. I had been padding my check-outs with serious books so the librarians wouldn’t give me funny looks.

In all honesty, the librarians and patrons and everyone I passed probably didn’t care in the least. But I was a nervous person. And sometimes my brain played tricks on me and told me that everyone was staring or thinking thoughts about me and noticing everything I did.

I didn’t make eye contact with librarian as she checked-out my “princess” texts and I slipped outside to the gardens to read in private. I may not have found solace in nature per say, but I did find solace in being alone there. I wondered up the white gravel path past the daffodils and beds of sage.

I sighed into the sweet air and turned to go to my favorite bench with a chunk missing from one of the arms. And then I froze. There were three teens loitering at my bench and they were all on their phones and sometimes glancing up at me.

I clutched my books a little tighter and, as if attached to a string, turned fluidly away from my usual bench and walked up toward the river. I didn’t know where I was going, but I just didn’t want to seem like I was lost or put-off by the teens.

Teens were the worst. They always looked like they knew things and were always exchanging whispers and furtive glances- none of which helped my state of mind. I did feel silly, being scared away like that, but the river was full and glittering and it almost felt worth it.

It took me a second but I found a large stone to sit on and got out of one of my books. I told myself this was better and it was good to switch things up. The afternoon passed in slow honeyed hours as I ate up one book after the next in a way that finally let my nerves rest. I could get lost there, forever, in those other worlds.

I only stopped when I noticed that the sun had gotten low on the horizon and the shadows were winding and long, and I realized I was very hungry.

I dusted myself off, stretched my stiff legs and arms, and turned back toward the library and the gardens. That’s when I saw him.

“Him” is the wrong word, but so is every other word for it. 

He stood on the path several feet away with the sun at his back. The path runs right beside the river and the area is usually empty since it’s at the very back of the garden and tends to accumulate trash like empty soda cans, lost plastic bags, and coffee cups and is not as pretty.

It was just me and the tall figure.

He was skinny, and gaunt and I squinted at him for a moment because he seemed even taller than my father who was 6’4. The figure wore a long jacket despite the nice weather and had a wide-brimmed hat that made his face disappear entirely. It was the type of hat you might see on farmers or adventures, beige and stiff and there was a loose string hanging beneath the chin. He had long, tangled brown hair that fell past his shoulders and hung lankly by his face in greasy clumps.

The fellow was slowly ambling forward, taking loud thunking steps down the path with these hulking dirty boots that were even larger than the rest of him. Something about him unnerved me deeply. He was too tall and he moved too slowly, too clunkily, as if he was gradually moving some great weight. I would even say he was limping, but there were no visible signs he was actually staggering or missing a beat. It was just off.

He wore gloves and I couldn’t see an inch of his skin.

My shoulders rose like the haunches of a cat as I realized he was moving closer and I quickly turned to leave. I heard it as I was striding back toward the building: whistling.

A noisy and bombastic whistling that drilled through me into my core and left a smear there. It was an un-melodic messy tune I couldn’t place. I picked up speed and nearly fell all the way back to the nearest parking lot and other people.

At the time I didn’t know why I thought “other people,” because the man was obviously just someone out on a stroll. But I thought it all the same.

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

I was able to put the man out of my head for a good while. Our stores general manager position opened up and I was up for consideration, though I’m not sure I really wanted it. I was busy taking on extra hours and making sure my cashiers and floors people actually showed up for their shifts and lady’s in floral dresses didn’t make my workers regret showing up.

That sort of thing.

It must have been a month into proper spring when I finally returned. I got a day to myself and my apartment still didn’t feel welcoming or soft. It was always missing something and the ache was just as hungry as before.

I thought about her often. I wondered if Georgia was still making her famous quiche and bragging about her latest road trip she had planned but would probably never take and coloring her toenails a brilliant red color. I had hated the chemical smell of that nail polish during her weekly retouch, but now I missed it in a way you miss snowstorms in the lean months of summer. The hole in my chest gnawed at me and I entered the library and collected three titles: The Girl Who Swallowed the Moon, Julie of the Wolves, and a medical text detailing the history of malaria.

My eyes darted around to check that no one thought this was weird and then I slipped outside so I could breathe properly. I found my usual bench unoccupied and took a seat.

I ate the books up like a hot meal at your family’s house and was even smiling into the glaring sunlight when a whistling came. It was noisy and tuneless and entered my head space like a sharp thorn.

I jerked my head up and looked left and right to find a tall man with a long jacket and dirty lank brown hair standing in the gardens. 

My mouth became very dry and the light was slanting in just the right way so that I could see his face this time. He was wearing these thick, black sunglasses and had a haggered look and very stiff expression.

The worst part about him beside the hellish whistling though was the faint color of his skin. I had seen it in medical texts. Ever since I was a little girl I had a fascination with illness and germs: I hated them, reviled them, detested stink and mess and the idea of tiny creatures that could wiggle inside me unnoticed and change my body in ways I couldn’t control.

But something drew me to stare at pictures of illness over and over again as if maybe looking alone could protect me. That if I read enough about smallpox and studied enough pictures of dengue fever that I could break their power over me.

I’m not sure if it ever worked, but I had one thought as I stared at the man and his yellowing frayed complexion: jaundice. It was the exact same off-yellow complexion that no healthy human being sports. 

I scooted to the edge of my bench in order to get up and quickly hurry along, but the figure stopped in place. He was still out of reach and I had time to leave, but somehow I couldn’t tear my eyes away, in the same way I couldn’t look away from bubonic plague depictions.

He was standing by this wooden lattice work that held vines working their way toward the sun. He was humming his same terrible song and looking down.

I didn’t notice the bee until he put his hand out and the fat yellow creature was scooped into his palm. I didn’t usually notice the bees flying around with their complex paths and busy work that filled them with this determination to be on their way. I liked bees in that way, not just in the “helps the planet” way but how they always looked like they were on a mission.

Me and the man stood there and stared at the fuzzy yellow creature for what must have been a whole minute.

And then the man’s jaw dropped open and he crushed the tiny bee into his mouth and swallowed. I say “dropped” because his jaw shouldn’t have opened like that and it shouldn’t have closed like that either.

It was far too wide, his cheeks too concave, the skin too thin, and there was something crooked about the angle- as if the jaw wasn’t connected in a solid way. He had just gaped open his mouth into a black hole and ate the bee.

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest and eyes went huge. His head slowly tilted up as if to look at me and I didn’t stick around for him to really stare. I turned and fled down the path and as far away as I could possibly get.

I tried reporting it to library security and told the guard some man was eating things he shouldn’t outside, but the statements were dismissed and I could tell were not going to be followed up on it. I went home with that same eerie droning whistle playing in my head.

I had seen something eating the bees.

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

I tried to be rational.

It took several days, but I eventually smoothed out the jitters and settled into a type of shame-faced guilt. I wished I could have talked the events through with Georgia, but we had agreed on a “no communication” policy for the first few months. 

I decided it was just another case of my nervousness and over imagination messing things up. The man at the library was obviously a very sick person who needed help. He was eating bees from a garden after all and his skin was an unnatural yellow. I kept replaying in my head how a “proper” adult would have handled the situation: how I should have went over to gently talk to him or called some sort of hospital.

I gave myself a good talking-to and two weeks later I resolved to visit the library again. It was one of my favorite places and I figured if I saw him again I would try to reach out or get one of the staff to intervene.

It was a proper weekend for once and after I got my three books I went outside and my normal bench was taken by a family. I edged away, shuffling past the wild ginger and squirrels high in a tree and the disturbed rock garden and up the hill to the river.

The path by the river was empty and sunny until I reached the water itself. The figure was there. He was turned away, low to the ground, and facing the plants.

I gulped with great effort and any thought of trying to do the “right” thing went out of my head as I heard the horrible whistling tune once more. He was kneeling next to a Goatsbeard bush, Goatsbeard is a wide thick plant that holds several long white plumes of tiny flower heads.

His gloved hand was hovering over a resting bee on one of the white flowers.

It struck me at that instant that I knew what was about to happen and I really really didn’t want it to. The thought of his thing opening it’s gaping mouth and swallowing that bee was too much for me and prospect of watching it happen again was even worse.

I didn’t think. I just acted.

“Sir!” I used my voice even though it sounded too loud and too forceful in the still air and the quiet whistling still shivered through my spine. “You don’t have to do that. Sir!”

He ignored me and brought his face closer to the insect. My books dropped from my hands to the path. I was running, my hand out and heart pounding as he had scooped up the bee and I couldn’t stand it. It’s bright yellow body was stark against his brown glove and he held it in place as his lips started to part.

“Stop.” I must have stumbled because I lurched forward and fell toward him. I caught myself with the toe of my shoe, but my fingers brushed against his cheek. I’ll never forget the way his skin felt.

My fingers just barely touched the flesh. It was hard though, like cement or marble, there was no give and was cool to the touch. Most of all it was bumpy, bump after bump of puckered skin like running your hand over a warped building wall or a terrible pustule-ridden rash.

The sensation of the bumpy skin was just for moment before one of his enormous hands darted up with quick efficiency and took my wrist in a hard grip. I gasped and he stood up to his full impressive height and grinned.

It wasn’t a grin with his teeth and I still couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark black glasses, but that smile was all I needed to confirm the worst. “Mmph!” I yelped, but not very loudly. I was never very good at yelling, even when I was a child and found a dead raccoon in the backyard or needed to shout at my dad when to turn on the road.

It just yelped once and then stared in rapt terror as my stomach dropped and whole world compounded into that second.

My hand looked tiny in his and the whistling hadn’t stopped. I was close enough at that point that I belatedly realized there was no way he could have been using his mouth to make that noise.

His mouth opened ever so slightly and the sound erupted from inside him and it wasn’t whistling. His thin yellow lips peeled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth, but not blunt teeth or canines or incisors. They were all sharp white shards- like that of broken glass or pieces of bleached wood chips.

They were all slightly different sizes, thin and long and coming into narrow points that hurt just to look at. As he opened his jaw in that unhinged crooked way I heard the sound clearly: a buzzing coming from within him. An unmistakable, low buzz that you hear from TV static. And bees.

It seemed to surge from somewhere deep inside him like a nest of tangled angry sound flooding from his core. It had a frantic quality. Like it was trying to escape.

The waves of humming grew louder and louder as his mouth expanded and I barely registered as he brought my hand up. I broke out of my stupor at the sight of his needle teeth leering toward my skin and tried to pull back with all of my force. I furiously kicked him in the shin, but he didn’t so much as flinch and my toe stung from contact with that same unyielding hard flesh.

He held my wrist firm and his face drew closer and closer with those those same slow deliberate movements. The points of his teeth delicately dug into my fingertips, the ones that had touched him, and a bright spike of pain crashed over me. I think I finally managed to scream.

It was a sticky blur as I lost those fingertips. I do remember the blood running down his yellow chin and spilling down his neck in a steady trickle.

I fell to the ground in shock and my next memories were waking up in a hospital with bandages over the middle and pointer fingers of my right hand. The pad of each was gone.

I shook violently and called Georgia without hesitation. She came right away and drove me home in silence, not forcing me to talk or bring up the future police reports and descriptions I might have to give. We might even be friends again after that first week, I’m not sure.

The police investigated but found no man with that description by the library. The only evidence I had was that the librarians had records of less and less bees visiting their gardens recently.

But nothing more.

I think I’m moving out of Fairfield soon. I think I’ll move somewhere with less gardens and more cement and people everywhere and get a roommate and big dog and start renting my books from online.

There is something eating the bees.

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

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[hopiewrites]

Nobody - OHSHC

NOTE: big, big thank you to the person helping me write this fic, LT! i don’t think they have a tumblr so here is a link to their quotev!

pairing - host club x reader

ongoing series, chapter 3

word count - 4,180

chapters 1 & 2 up now!

-> back to masterlist

03

Forget-me-not Blue

Weeks had passed, and the daffodils began to bloom, welcoming spring into season that April.

(Y/N) was excited, even if things were barely starting to come to life. The early spring flowers had arrived, and that meant the butterflies and bees would start dancing around again, and the cherry blossoms would bloom, and everything would be alight with new life and begin the new year with vibrancy. She couldn't wait until she was able to walk through Ouran's gardens that would be full of roses and lavender and dandelions.

It seemed that the entire school shared her excitement, as the whole campus was vibrating with excitement and joy. The colors seemed brighter and the sky seemed clearer and the spring air was crisp and clean, brushing it's hands through the trees that were budding with new leaves and fruits.

All was well that day. (Y/N) got to spend time with her mother that morning before she had to run off to work, managed to remember all of her school supplies, and even got to finish her makeup on time; she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a cherry wood brown turtleneck and a pleated plaid skirt, paired with the dirty vans she always wore.

She stayed late yesterday to make the food beforehand instead of going in early that morning, so she managed to get two extra hours of sleep, and felt relatively rested.

She decided that the day was good.

Everybody in homeroom was chatting amongst themselves, as usual, while cute drawings of different characters and flowers adorned the whiteboard with little phrases and words next to them. Her head was low as she entered, quietly making a beeline towards her usual desk and pulling out her notebook.

Something scrunched under her papers.

The girl moved her notebook, curious brows raised, and there, on her desk, sat a yellow sticky note, with a sun wearing sunglasses and a little daisy sitting around the neat, swirly handwriting that read;

Come to the club room after classes, We have planning to do~

Just when she thought she'd gotten away from them, they pulled her right back into their grubby hands.

She sighed, trying to hide the slight grin that made it's way to her face. She propped her head up on one hand, staring blankly at the whiteboard at the front of the room.

I wonder what's going on this time.

It wasn't long before everyone got settled and into their seats. Now, all she had to do, was wait.

- nobody -

Everyone is so lively today.

Even more so than usual, the host club's atmosphere was effervescent, seeming to bubble over with what she assumed was excitement – even the guests were basically dancing in their seats.

"So, Kyoya! When will the annual Spring Dance be held this year?"

"Yeah! Everybody has been talking about it already, we're all so excited!"

"Well, ladies, we plan to have it soon, in early May. We're actually having preparations being made at this moment."

"Oh, wow, really!? We have to start looking at gowns, then!"

"Yes, we're looking forward to it! I wonder what the theme will be this year."

Spring Dance?

"That, my dears, is a surprise. Just know that all the hosts have worked very hard to find only the best decorations and catering for our guests."

They all swooned at Kyoya's smooth cut words, alight with his usual false cheeriness. He smiled at his guests politely, listening to their excited rambling.

Huh. I should've figured they would have one. Just slipped my mind. Maybe that's why they wanted me up here, to help with preparations?

"Oh, (N/N)-chan!!! You look so pretty!"

Almost knocked back by Honey's embrace, she hid a giggle, letting him hug her – now that it's been nearly a month, the timid girl has gotten used to her elder's childish mannerisms.

"Hello, senpai. Um, thank you!"

He laughed cutely before letting her go. "So you got Tama-chan's note? I wasn't sure if you'd come visit us today."

"Yeah, I almost didn't see it actual-"

"Oh, Princess! Welcome!"

Yet again, she was scooped up into a pair of arms, but this time, she was twirled around and around and around, before finally her feet touched the ground once more, a pair of warm hands on her shoulders.

Her cheeks were pink from that welcome, and head spinning after that twirl; she still wasn't used to Tamaki's bear hugs. As nice as they were, they always made her chest flutter and twist, as if, suddenly, the only thing that was there was warmth, and a rosy cinnamon scent that she could lose herself in.

(Y/N) smiled.

"Hi, Tamaki-senpai."

"I'm glad you came today! We have many things to discuss, like the-"

"Spring Dance?"

"Oh! Yes. I'm guessing you've heard?"

His hands fell from her shoulders, as his head tilted like that of a puppy, blonde hair shining like gold under the florescent lights that hung in chandeliers from the ceiling high above.

"Well, just now I heard some of Kyoya's visitors talking about it- oh, I think you have people waiting, senpai."

She nodded her head towards the girls waiting patiently with smiles on their pretty faces. The taller nods. "Yeah, I'll tell you more about it later, okay? So don't leave!"

"Okay, don't worry! I'll be right here."

He smiled once again before greeting his guests and walking with them to a table.

She took it upon herself to sit, folded up in a sofa situated at the back of the expansive room, and plugged her earbuds in to block out the chatter that echoed. Plucking her journal out from her bag, she balanced it on her knee, continuing a sketch she'd been working on recently–a myosotis plant, more commonly known as forget-me-not's.

Small flowers, known for their symbolism of faithful love and reminiscent feelings; their color, known as "true blue," was the color of trust, loyalty and truth. She chose these flowers for an assignment in her art class, the project being on symbolism in everyday objects.

She was a bit of a nerd for those kinds of things.

From beside the focused girl peered a curious ginger over her shoulder. A pair of honey eyes roamed across the paper, watching as her hand moved and twitched, careful yet messy in a way he hadn't really seen before.

"What're you drawing, (Y/N)?"

Music drowned out his words, earbuds nestled safely in her ears as she just continued what she was doing, unbothered.

He decided to tuck his voice away for now, watching the pencil as it dragged across the paper, quietly. He moved closer, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he crouched, propping his arm on the armrest of the chair, head leaning close to the oblivious girl's shoulder.

He'd seen those flowers before, overflowing in the pots that sit right outside his mansion's front doors, serving as a welcome whenever he arrived home. He never realized how pretty they were until that moment.

Soon enough she turned the page, and from the corner of his eye he saw a nonchalant smile pull on her cheeks - she wrote a message in her book.

How long have you been spying on me?

Kaoru chuckled, then pulled out an earbud of hers.

"About five minutes now, actually."

"Hm. You're such a stalker, you know that?"

Closing her book she turned towards the younger twin, headphone swinging and smacking Kaoru in the face as she moved; she held back an embarrassed laugh.

"Those are forget-me-not's, right?" His head tilted, lights reflecting in his eyes like constellations.

She lit up. "Yeah. I'm just doing rough sketches for a project I'm working on... I'm pretty excited to start painting it."

"That's right!" The girl jumped at his exclamation, dropping her journal with a thud, "We've never seen your paintings before. When will you show us your winning masterpiece, (Y/-"

"What's this?"

Her cheap journal was plucked from the floor by slim hands, mischievous eyes studying the contents of the page that had revealed itself from the prior fall.

"Wai-"

"Ooh, I never took you as the obsessive type, (Y/N)."

Kaoru stood abruptly from his crouch and walked over to where his twin was in front of the poor girl, lips falling open, just a bit, just enough to suck in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"And for Tamaki, no less!"

Imprinted on the thin pages of her grimoire, was an unfinished portrait of none other than Tamaki Suoh, eyes sleepy and hair a mess, but a smile as bright as the very sun. You could feel the warmth he radiated through the page.

What took Kaoru by surprise was how much detail was put into the whole thing, even if it was a bit sloppy. It looked like it held every color in the world, even though the only thing that was there was the dull, grey lead of the pencil and bits of eraser shavings caught here and there.

She jumped up and tried to snatch it out of the taunting male's hands, though he just held it over her head.

She felt like crying; nobody was supposed to see that.

"What are you all doing?"

None other than the king himself asked, taking long strides towards the twins. Hikaru couldn't get enough of this. For one reason or another, he felt acid deep down in his stomach that bit at him from the inside, but on his tongue was the sweet taste of hell's fire, and he would deal with the burning of his conscience later.

"Seems like you have another fan, boss! Look at this."

Though, the girl wouldn't give up that easily. She jumped up once again, eyes glaring holes through the auburn's head, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He almost considered giving it back. Almost.

Tamaki was there now, and it felt like everything was in slow motion for her. Yeah, maybe she was being dramatic, but she couldn't help it. That was private and special to her, not to mention how embarrassed she'd be if he saw it.

(Y/N) disregarded how she was now chest-to-chest with Hikaru Hitachiin, and how pink dusted his cheeks as his eyes slanted down at her own ones in a silent declaration of war. The tips of her toes kissed the marble of Ouran's floors as she leaned against the much, much taller male in effort to get back what was rightfully hers, but he only stretched his arm out further, completely ignoring everyone else's presence in the now emptying room.

In that moment, nothing mattered to either of them. There was nothing else but each other and the mutual feeling of a bloody red.

...Save for the other club members of course, who watched the whole ordeal with amusement.

Kyoya sipped on his earl grey. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hikaru is flirting, wouldn't you agree?"

Haruhi's hand clasped over her mouth in an effort not to laugh. She hummed in silent agreement. "Yeah, I'd definitely say so."

"(Y/N), you drew this...?"

It was those words that were the rain that washed the fire to ashes,  though the biting heat lingered even when she pulled apart from Hikaru. His glare snapped to the wall as he avoided eye contact. Her skin was red with embarrassment and anger, blood boiling and burning her from the inside. The older twin only stood, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together with an angry pout plastered on his rose petal lips.

Though, what she didn't know was that Hikaru was nauseous with the nasty aftertaste of guilt, pitchforks stabbing at his lungs, making it hard for him to do anything but clench his fists and bear it. He didn't care about how he made her feel. Why would he? She was just another one of Tamaki's stupid fangirls.

Right...?

He couldn't keep himself from glaring over at (Y/N) one last time.

- nobody -

Tamaki cleared his throat, clapping his hands together as all the hosts gathered and watched him.

"So, as many of you know, the annual spring dance is upon us, and we've already booked the grand hall for the ceremony."

(Y/N) listened curiously from her seat beside Mori, whom she felt safest by at the moment. He didn't ask questions; he didn't pry; he didn't do much of anything, really. His quiet presence was cooling against the fire raging red underneath her skin.

"I thought we should all gather to choose a theme. Last year's was royalty, and the decorations and dress code played off of that."

That's so like them. The girl grinned quietly to herself, finding their predictable nature entertaining. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

The girl hesitated, just for a moment, swallowing Hikaru's thorny glare like sour medicine.

"What about a vintage theme?" She spoke.

"Vintage theme...?" Tamaki questioned aloud, tilting his head slightly, just like she noticed he'd always do when thinking.

"Yeah. Like age old antiques, soft colors, lace, the like. Unless you've already done something like that, I mean.."

"No, no. Actually... That's a really good idea, (Y/N)," Kyoya flipped through his little black book, jotting down the girl's idea.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

(Y/N) shifted at the sudden voice beside her, quiet but not shy. Mori wasn't even looking at her, not sparing a single glance her way, his face bearing the same sea glass expression.

She took Mori's words to heart, those words he probably thought nothing much of. She then elaborated her thoughts, a little clearer, a little more confident.

"I think it would be really elegant, not to mention economical. We could maybe even visit a few antique shops for some of the decorations."

No one added anything in, silently willing her to continue.

"Soft colors, like cream and periwinkle and mauve would do. Maybe we can even make some kind of dress code."

Still, no one.

"...I don't know."

"That's a wonderful idea, (N/N)-chan!" Exclaimed Honey from his cozy seat on Mori's lap.

"Yeah, we've never done anything like that before. It could be really pretty," added Kaoru.

Kyoya chimed in, "Any other ideas?"

"Nope! I think this is what we're going for this year, my dear Kyoya!"

As the hosts scattered amongst themselves, Honey tucked his arms snugly around (Y/N)'s legs with a wide, sweet smile; too wide, too sweet. In the moment, though, the girl was caught up in catching butterflies in her stomach. They listened to me, she thought. Her hands subconsciously found their way around the short male's small frame, as they tended to these days.

"(N/N)-chan, do you wanna walk with us outside?"

A sheepish smile stretched her lips as she replied. "Can't, senpai. I have to prepare tomorrow's food."

"Oh, about that, (Y/N)."

Honey reluctantly loosened his hold and marched back to his tall companion. Kyoya stood at her side now, tucking his phone away safely into the pocket of his trousers.

She hummed, listening.

"We're not opening the club tomorrow, so you don't have to have anything ready. Just go home and get some rest."

(Y/N) turned her head to peer up at him. His eyes were unfocused, looking out at the blooming colors of spring outside the windows. She didn't understand what he was thinking or feeling, or if he was feeling anything at all for that matter.

In that moment, he reminded her of the darkness that separates the stars.

- nobody -

The walk home was full of life, unsurprisingly. Wildflowers and green grass lined the roads, honeybees buzzing happily as they kissed the flowers and danced with butterflies. There was still a few hours of the day left, judging by how the sun was strung in the sky, so instead she decided to walk to a local park. It was small and well-worn but very peaceful, with its rusty swings and small pond.

Ducks waddled around in and out of the water. Birds chirped back and forth in the few trees as a lady struggled to keep her small dog from chasing a poor squirrel scurrying around the base of an oak.

Settling on the swings, (Y/N) took a second to unwind. The wind was soft and carried the scent of wild roses as it soothed her skin. There were yellow daffodils happily swaying by the pond. Everything was okay in that moment.

In a swift movement the girl kicked off her shoes and hopped out of the swing, laughing at herself when she stumbled. The grass felt like silk on her callused feet as she stepped towards the large rose bush, crouching to smell its pink petals. Carefully, she plucked one, two, three, four roses and skipped away to gather a few daffodils, cattails, and dandelions.

For mom, when she gets home.

Right as she was about to steal a pinecone from its branch, her phone vibrated annoyingly in her pocket.

2 new messages from " the host club 👑✨💞"

Since when was I in a group chat??

Ignoring it, (Y/N) decided to check it out later. How did they even get her Instagram though? It didn't matter, she figured. She'd probably spent far too long at the park, anyway, if the creamy orange beginning to color the sky was any indication. It was time to head back home.

With all different kinds of plants gripped securely in her dirty hand, she retrieved her discarded shoes and gingerly walked back towards her neighborhood.

- nobody -

It wasn't until (Y/N) found herself sprawled across her bed and once more attempting to wrap-up her forget-me-not sketch that she remembered the notifications she had received from the host club prior.

The mixed bouquet of wild flowers she had managed to concoct was placed on her mother's nightstand, along with a note on which she had scrawled a short but sweet message the moment she arrived back home. Aside from that, the only things she had her mind set on were homework (regardless of how little she was assigned), dinner, and sleep. It's true, she was tired,  a bit hungry as well, but she still chose to squeeze in some relaxing time to comfortably let her pencil dance across the designated page within her journal.

It almost amazed her how lost in thought she would find herself whenever she decided to let her creative side flow as freely as it did. It's as if she would switch over to autopilot and let nothing but her hand take control while her mind soared with an intoxicated sort of vigor as it explored every idea that subconsciously came to her head.

It was for this exact reason that it took her several moments to register the lit-up screen of her phone lying atop the cluster of unmade sheets just inches away.

Setting down her pencil, (Y/N) diverted her attention to the rectangular device and awkwardly shifted positions before picking it up and unlocking it. The number of messages from earlier had since multiplied, a prominent 61 plastered on the corner of the application.

haruhi.fuji: Well I know of a few thrift shops around near my apartment. You can find all kinds of hidden gems there.

haruhi.fuji: Don't know about antique stores though, but (Y/N)-chan might know of some.

tama_king: Thrift stores????

(58 more messages)

The corners of her lips upturned just enough for her to notice.

She opened the app and scrolled through the messages, skimming through notifications and following each member back. Well, accept for Hikaru, who hadn't even followed her in the first place. Hesitantly, (Y/N) typed out a message, then deleted it, then typed it out again, then deleted it. The girl sighed, chewing on her cheek, trying to decide what to say.

tama_king: Look (Y/N)s online!!

Well, leave it to Tamaki to point her out. Said girl settled for a simple greeting.

(username): hi everyone!

haruhi.fuji: (Y/N), we were just talking about what kind of decorations we should get for the spring dance.

(username): oh, well i figured we could just go looking through local shops to find authentic antique decor

haruhi.fuji: Like all of us out shopping together??

tama_king: That sounds like fun we should go see all the commoner shops together!

(Y/N) suddenly had regrets. All eight of them, six of which all likely hadn't ever even heard of a thrift store before, out and about? Even if she was starting to grow used to the lot of them, it was a whole other thing to be seen out in public with them. It wasn't that (Y/N) was embarrassed of them, but more so bothered by how much attention they seem to bring towards themselves. The socially awkward girl wasn't sure if she could handle that very well.

(username): i mean, sure??

haruhi.fuji: That sounds... ;;;

(username): yeah ik, migjt not be the best of ideas i've had huh

(username): *might

She quietly laughed to herself, trying to shake off the dread that was already piling on her shoulders.

tama_king: No, it sounds like a great idea!!

The "Oh, what have I done," slipped past her lips as she saw none other than Kyoya himself finalize the plans.

KyoyaOotori: I see you three have been planning an outing?

KyoyaOotori: And when are we all going to do this?

It was funny, because she could practically feel him shaking his head through the screen. Maybe the two of them were more alike than she had originally thought.

She decided then that she might as well go through with it.

(username): well, earlier you said i didn't have to prep for tomorrows guests, so i'm free tomorrow after school.

tama_king: The host club was planned to be closed tomorrow for preparations to be made for the dance. i'm sure our lovely guests wouldn't mind. so Kyoya, is tomorrow okay to go out shopping?

KyoyaOotori: I suppose that it would be a good learning experience to see what low-budget commoner living is like. So, yes, that sounds just fine. I'll make sure to let the others know.

It looked like all had been settled, so she switched the device back off and let it sit to the side. The sound of the door clicking shut and the A/C being tampered with alerted the young girl of her mother's arrival home, so she skipped into the doorway to greet her.

She looked tired, just as she always did, with the same empty smile and hollow eyes. (Y/N) hugged her and in a small voice, said hello.

"Heya, Pumpkin."

There was nothing else to be said as the woman kicked off her shoes and walked into her room, no doubtedly to sleep until she had to drag herself back out to work again. (Y/N) hoped she liked the flowers she had picked out for her.

Sometimes there is no worse feeling than guilt that will eat one out from the inside.

She felt as though the way that things were running in her house functioned like an unbalanced scale. Her mother always came home exhausted and worn-out as the result of working from dawn to dusk, and it hurt the young girl's heart to see her in such poor condition. It wasn't extremely often that she would even get the chance to say hello, and rarer still that she ever had the time to hold a good conversation.

They both loved each other more than life itself, and (Y/N) knew that better than anyone else, but with all the overbearing work her mother put up with, day and night, everything just seemed...

Unfair.

Bitter and unsavory thoughts aside, one glance at the clock on the microwave reminded her of the looming drowsiness she felt gradually washing over her. It had been a long day, and the next was certain to be even longer.

With this in mind, she experienced little to no hesitation before striding off towards her bathroom to ready herself for what she hoped to a good night's rest. Once she was curled up under the cotton sheets and had her stuffed animal of choice in a loving grip (not caring about how childish she may have seemed), the bluish light of her phone caught her attention as she slowly and reluctantly lifted up one eyelid.

Reaching for the device resting on her night stand, she opened both eyes; given how she hadn't really been exposed to the darkness of her room for a prolonged amount of time, it didn't take long to adjust to the screen's luminescent glow as she focused on the message displayed on her lock screen. A single notification was shown, and (Y/N) couldn't help but allow a small smile to make its way onto her face once she had processed what it read.

haruhi.fuji: Good luck tomorrow, (Y/N). Hope you'll be able to handle a few hours out with those goofballs.

[mileycfan4eva33]

Fandom: SVU

Title:Epitaph Song

Chapter: 1 Down South

P O V: Amanda Rollins

Billy's Diner

Loganville, GA 2020

(A/N: Thank you as always for the readers who take the time to review, favorite or follow. As usual I own none of these SVU characters just my original characters. All others belong to NBC, Dick Wolf and Wold Ent. Jessie, Billie do not exist in this fic, I am still deciding if Noah dose or not. If you have a preference as to if you want Noah in it or not hit me up reviews motivate me.)

"Oh, Air Condition, thank God! It's hotter than a roasted pig on a skewer out there." Olivia Benson's laugh is light and airy as we enter the restaurant. "Oh, Amanda, I love your expressions, don't ever change. Seriously your southern drawl is so cute. Don't ever lose it."

"No worries, Olivia; it's been nearly ten years since I moved to New York. I haven't lost it yet." "Thanks again for coming down south with me. It means a lot."

"Your welcome Amanda, are you feeling any better since this weekend?" Shaking the soreness out of my weary bones I feel a yawn snaking up my jawlines as I try to fight it off to no avail, the yawn is relentless in its attempt to escape.

"A little thanks I am still tired and nausea I don't know why I slept all weekend, yet I still feel dizziness not as much as this weekend, but I am still weakened almost as if I am drained of all energy." Sliding into the booth, I lean back against the cool plastic backboard. "I'm sorry for calling out on you this weekend, Captain."

"Amanda, please, stop don't worry about it your health is too important don't apologize." "I am sorry, Liv, not just for this weekend, but now we're both away from NYC."

"Because your dad passed away, Amanda, we're not here on vacation. Kat and Fin understand, and Chief Garland sent two detectives to help out, SVU is covered. Please take some of this concern and apply it to yourself; you lost your dad. I know you haven't been close to him in years, but he is still your dad, give yourself the allowance to mourn, Amanda. Don't hide your emotions down and pretend that everything is perfectly fine."

"I don't think it's hit me yet, Olivia. I just don't feel anything." Olivia's hand slips over my hand as we lay them on the table, waiting on the waitress to come over to us. "It will Amanda, I don't know when sweetie, it may take weeks, days, months, but it will hit you. I just want you to know that I am here, honey, whenever you want to talk."

"Thank you, Liv; I appreciate this jester I know we haven't always been close, but I love the friendship that has been built over the last four years." "As do I Amanda. I love the trust that we've built within each other, the respect. Where is the waitress?"

"Liv, it's the south; we take our sweet time with everything, ain't no rushin' in the country life."

"You ever miss living down here, Peach?" "Honestly, Liv, there are parts I miss like my family, friends. I miss the comfort in knowing there is always someone here who will have your back. What I don't miss is everyone knowing everyone else business."

"Is that a true thing? Everyone else knows each other's business?"

As if God was given me a clue incomes Betsy Jane Rose "Oh, my bless my heart Amanda-Taylor Rollins, is that truly you?" I pick my head up, gritting my teeth as she comes flying inside the restaurant arms wild "Betsy Jane Mary-Sue it sure is, wow child it's been yonders since you've rolled back into these parts."

"Oh, I am so sorry about your daddy, such a shame bless your heart honey-bee."

"Oh well, how sweet of you, Ms. Betsy, so very kind of you thank you, how did you hear about my daddy's passing per se? We didn't put it in the Tribune or online."

"Oh, Sugar, you know how these things work, Lord, who needs that dingy old paper when we gave word of mouth. Has it been that long Darlin? Surely you remember the good old Betsy-Jane- Mary-Sue train."

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Oh Amanda, let me enlighten you wow New York City has slapped you silly, child. Anyways So Mary-Jo Higgins oh heavens I was born at night, but not last night! Duh, of course, you don't know who Mary-Jo Higgins is, well back in our days of youth she went by Mary-Jo Robins, so any who baby, Mary-Jo is now an RN."

"That's a Registered Nurse, by the way." "Yes, Ms. Rose, I know what an RN is."

"So yeah Mary-Jo works a that's Loganville Medical Center where your daddy was brought to by the Ambulance. So Mary-Jo was there when he passed bless his heart so Mary-Jo well you know good ol' Mary-Jo never could keep a secret so of course, she told her Mama who had to run down to the Salon to say to Ms. Sue who of course told the whole Salon."

Both of us laugh, "How did you find out, darlin?"

"Oh, you know this little thing called HIPPA they like to notify the Next of Kin, and since my parents you know divorced many moons ago, that would make me the eldest child his next of kin, since he hasn't gotten to remarry yet."

"Speaking of kin-folk dear, where is that sister of yours? She straighten her life out yet? Kimberly coming on her own?"

"No, Ma'am, I'm afraid she ain't gonna make it, you know the whole being in jail thing it kind of puts a cramp on a person's freedom. Thank you so much for coming over though, I sure don't want to keep you."

I don't give her a chance to answer quickly, sliding back into the booth turning to Olivia. Just as our waitress comes over. "good afternoon- honey pies, what can I get you ladies?" after we order, I lean back as Olivia starts to laugh, unable to hold in her amusement over Ms. Rose any longer. "So that's how news travels down south Captain." eagle eyeing Betsy across the room, I can already see she's on her cell phone. "Well, the whole damn town will know I am back soon enough." "that has to be frustrating, Amanda." "Oh, Liv, you ain't got a clue. Every day dealing with women like, is there any doubt about why I got out of here faster than a bat out of hell."

I stay silent about the other reason I left Georgia as soon as I was old enough my sexuality there's no room for differences here in the good old south. No way could I tell Olivia this though she has no idea I am a lesbian. "So, is your Mom coming?" "Lord, no Liv she's up in NY taking care of Mason, Mama said she was sorry the son of a bitch died, but she dumped his ass years ago, let his new hussy handle the affairs."

"My dear new sister, who I haven't even met yet. She's handling everything as per my dad's living will."

"Amanda, I am so sorry." "Don't be Olivia, I am fine." "Of course you are." I don't reply not because I don't have the response in me but because the doors burst open and a vast mass of people come pouring into the already packed diner.

"Amanda! It is true! You are back!" Tommy Jake Edwards "TJ" calls out "Yo Ms. Betsy Jane was right boys. Good Ol Rollins is back in town." there are rumblings from the entire group of men "Liv meet the former jocks of Loganville High School Pyro Red Devils who ruled LHS's halls from 1996-1999."

"Rollins, how can you sneak back into town and say nothing? Yo, Rollins, that is rude! I thought we were your boys!"

"Bump that T-rolls, I am pissed forget these clowns, I am your cousin! Uncle Jimmy is my kin-folk too. Where's my love?"

"Hey, Jensen, I just got back into town like literally ten minutes ago. I'm sorry it's been crazy these last few days. My head is still spinning. I haven't told anyone yet, sorry, truly."

Jensen's arms wrap around me tightly. "No worries, cuz. I got you. I am sorry I know you and your Pa wasn't close but damn it still sucks." "Thanks, Jensen, yeah, it does."

Coming out of his hug, I'm met by his brother Blake who I hug as tightly. "Yo boys will catch you later going to hang with family." the rest of the crew waves blowing me kisses as Liv, and I make room for these two. "Hi. I'm Olivia Benson, Amanda's boss, and friend."

"Oh honey-child we know who you are, we've heard all about you now haven't we Blake?" "Oh, yes, Yes, we have well let us introduce ourselves since Miss. Amanda has the manners of a pig. I am Blake Yankee; Jensen is my twin brother; our Mama is Amanda's dad sister."

"Were you three close growing up?" "Oh, tighter than chili papers, Mama, us, and our uncle TC's kids, our cousins Alonso and Scottie, are coming in tomorrow." "They called us the Rollin- Yankee-Terrors." Sipping my sweet tea, I groan, remembering all the names the seven of us use to get growing up. "don't tell her that she is my boss."

"Oh relax Junebug, it ain't like I told her about the time you put laxatives in Ernie Reynaldo's cornbread when you were ten and locked him in the outhouse for the whole day and told our teacher he ran away to the circus."

Olivia laughs so loudly. I feel my temperature rise in my face. "You what?" my face buries into the palms of my hands. "Yo, boy, that was nothing. Remember when we were twelve, and Kyle Kane told Manda she was uglier than a burnt barn, she took his pants and underwear while he was changing and threw it into the river."

Both boys bang on the table laughing, shoving each other as Olivia arched an eyebrow in my direction "Oh, yeah I do, she let the anger seethe inside all week till Saturday when the whole town was gathered for the annual fishing competition. When Kyle's dad was with the reporter for Atlanta news, Kyle comes walking bare-ass naked; the entire town saw him walking his little dude swinging in the breeze. Kyle was grounded for months. "

My embarrassment only increases as I lay my head down, groaning while all three laugh. "Oh, God, even as a kid, Amanda, you were a rule-breaker and a little shit-head." I feel Olivia's hand stroke mine laughing as she hangs her head down tears running down her face, which a lovely rose color.

I only pick my head up when the food arrives, feeling my whole body shiver and jolt as I lean back, smelling the greasy food. Reaching for the ketchup, I pop a fry in my mouth. I still can't shake this feeling of being drained or the tightness in my head.

"Oh My." another voice pops into my world as I see Mr. Jason Axson and Mrs. Janet Axson coming in with their two kids Christopher 17, Savannah 14. her voice cuts through the air. "How are you, Sugar?' "I am just peachy; thank you, just enjoying dinner with my family, here."

"Oh, of course, we don't mean to interrupt. You could use the food; obliviously, you are mighty thin sugar. Your daddy was right; they are working your tail to its bone up there in that big city unless you are sick again, darling."

"No Ma'am, I am right as a peach as I said, but I am trying to enjoy my dinner." "Yeah, Janet let these nice folks eat; worry about our own family; I do apologize, Miss. Amanda lovely to see you again, we shall pop in at another time."

Olivia's eyes stare right into mine. I know she's wondering about the "Are you sick again" line my face flushes as I look down, avoiding her eyes and the question. Another part of my past she has no idea about, My stomach rolls as I think about all the secrets and pressures I have on top of me, none of which Olivia needs to add to her plate.

"I need to use the bathroom, I'll be back, excuse me." getting up I start to head there, of course, a two-minute walk becomes ten as I am stopped by multiple people offering their condolences. My back hits the wall just as another wave of dizziness hits me; I do everything inside of me not to show it to anyone, I can see Olivia's eyes on me from across the room. Yet it isn't Olivia who catches my attention, rare I know.

This time, Savannah's voice so young, scared, and nervous. I am standing right next to their table as I hear Savannah say. "Mama, Daddy, I have something to tell you." Savannah's beautiful emerald eyes glisten as she stares at her parents. "I am a Lesbian, and I plan to come out this weekend at the prom."

Savannah's courage freezes me. I am forty and don't have the courage she has at fourteen-years-old. I can't think fast enough to react before her mom is out of her chair, smacking Savannah across her face. "You are not gay! Stop your lying, you fifthly whore! Who put these lies in your head? You are a good girl, a good baptist girl. Take it back!"

"No Mama, I can't I won't because I am gay, and yes I am a good girl, I am a baptist and MVP for the last two years in all the southern regions. I will play at college, and I will go pro, and my sexuality won't stop me from doing any of that."

"Fool, of course, it will, but you won't have to because you are not gay!"

"Mama, I am please just listen to me. Stop being such a bitch."

Her dad jumps up, grabbing at Savannah as I react, finally racing towards Savannah as Jason starts yelling. "Don't talk to your mother that way! Ever! No daughter of mine will be a sinner! I could deal with you being pregnant, not this! This is unforgivable. You either get over this phrase you little slut or you are OUT OF THIS FAMILY! Let's go now, Christopher, Janet leave her."

I hurry towards Savannah, who is trying with her whole body to remain strong as her family walks out. I know her face is stinging from the assault, but it's nothing like the pain in her soul. The rest of the restaurant sits there, not offering to help just turning to their families. My hands connect to Savannah's as I help her sit down "Sweetie, I am so sorry that your parents reacted to you."

"It's okay, ma'am, I excepted this. It was so so stupid-crazy to even except for any different outcome."

"No honey, it isn't it's not crazy or stupid to except unconditional love from your family; that's what parents are supposed to do. Of course, you wanted to tell them living in secrets, hiding who you are, it's exhausting. The if only or what-ifs or the I should have's, they take their tolls."

"It's 2020, not 1990 times have changed; maybe the south should catch up." My hands rub Savannah's back softly. "I'm from here honey, so I get it baby-girl I know how scary accepting your sexuality is, I know how painful it is to hold this all inside, to feel as if you ain't normal simply because you don't feel fireworks when the popular jocks kiss you."

"I knew that when I was thirteen, I felt it already I was great to hang out with boys all day when it came to playing ball, or telling dirty jokes or pulling pranks, but when it came to who I was attracted to sexually or emotionally, guys they just didn't do it for me. I could feel myself gravitating toward girls in ways that I didn't with boys."

"Don't let your sexual identity label you or define you—whether it be as lesbian, bisexual, asexual, or another term—how you choose to label yourself is not based on a checklist. You can still be everything you just told your parents; you can play any instrument you want to learn, you can be the best damn softball player this world's ever seen."

"Savannah, I started figuring it out at thirteen, but I didn't let myself act physically until I was 16, I kissed a girl at a party for the first time, and it was magical. Everything flowed so naturally, my body just knew what to do. I reacted to her in a way that felt right—the way I had always envisioned the first kiss to be. I tried saying I was bisexual for a quick minute and even had sex with several guys to prove that I wasn't an abomination the way the church, my family, and everyone else in this town always said gay people are. Still, I could feel myself gravitating toward girls in ways that I didn't with boys."

"Did your family accept you?"

"I don't know I never told anyone I was too scared. It was a different time back then before it got better or internet support. There were no Gay pride parades even now at forty living in NYC, a place filled with cultural and sexuality differences. I am still living in that small-town mindset. I can't tell anyone. I can't even tell the woman who I am madly in love with who I know is so accepting of people. Because I am still afraid that even with an open mind as beautiful as Olivia's, I am afraid she'll reject me."

"Savannah, I know this feels like the end of the world right now, it's not I am right by your side. I will support you; you can stay with me. Will get through this together."

"Thank you, Miss. Amanda. Thank you so much. I think you should tell this Olivia lady how you feel. Even with my parent's rejection, I feel such a weight off my chest; I feel as if I can finally breathe."

"Amanda, maybe you should listen to Savannah, she seems like a brave young lady, and I love women who are strong in body, mind, and spirit. You have a very sexy strong body, and I know your mind is sharp, so if you get some balls Amanda and tell me how you feel face to face, I think we might be able to make a beautiful connection, of our minds, souls and our bodies." Olivia's voice completely freezes every sense, emotion and body function inside of me. I can't speak, think, move or even breathe.

Did she just hear me confess my deepest feelings for her?

[yumapii]

[Event Story] Sweet Trick Trap [12/12]

Parts 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

{ heavy number of screenshots because it aids but also i’m biased }

Takaomi: Hakka, can you replay the events of that time through the Yume Mic? You should be able to recall it more calmly. 

Shigure: Understood. 

// I hand Hakka-senpai the Mic, and the scene of Maki-senpai and I entering the room appears- // 

[memory] 

Senri: EHHHHH?! Why are you raising your legs? 

Chizuru: If you don’t get down, I’ll trample over you.  

Senri: Gyowaaaaaa?! 

Minato: Wow. 

[stage] 

Takaomi: Pause it, take a good look. 

Senri: Ah?! 

Yuma: It’s not a swarm of Killer Bees.  

Shion: ...Honey Bees. 

Takaomi: Shibasaki, were there any stingers left on Maki’s wounds? 

Shinya: As I’ve answered you before coming here, there were stingers left behind and I removed them. 

Senri: Stinger…? 

Takaomi: Leaving their stingers behind after stinging is a characteristic of Honey Bees. After I heard this from Shibasaki, I was able to confirm the movement of Honey Bees. 

Senri: ( I thought this guy shirked off but he even went to ask Shibasaki-senpai such things… ) 

Yanagi: By the way, the sudden influx must have been because they migrated, right? Why did the Honey Bees leave the greenhouse when it was such an ideal environment for them? 

Takaomi: Not after the hole appeared, since the neighbouring Hornets are their natural predators. 

Touji: What do you imply? 

Shion: … Even though they are both bees, you mean to say they attack each other? 

Takaomi: To the carnivorous Hornets both fully grown Honey Bees and their larvae are grub, so a populated nest would be the perfect hunting ground for them. 

Shion: Poor Honey Bees, Hornets are the worst. 

Takaomi: After losing their nest, the Honey Bees sent out some scouting bees to look for a new place. Once the scout found somewhere good, they were to call the rest of their group. 

Yanagi: Did I accidentally bring one of those back? 

Takaomi: That’s not exactly it. Hakka, rewind the scene. 

Shigure: How far back? 

Takaomi: Right when the stupid rabbit enters. 

Shigure: Understood. 

[memory]  

Chizuru: Kasuka, I’m coming in. 

Minato: Huh? Chizu and Senri. 

Shigure: What a rare combination.

[stage] 

Senri: AH! 

Shinya: Huh? What? What’s going on? 

Takaomi: Sharp eyes, at least you’re good at something, stupid rabbit. Look closely at Ushiwaka. 

[memory] 

Minato: You see, Shigure was tutoring me. Do Senri and Chizu want to study too? 

[stage] 

Yuma & Touji: Oh…! 

Minato: Wow~ There’s a little Mr Honey Bee on the flower on my head. 

Mikage: You’re kidding, you mean you didn’t realise? 

Minato: Not at all~ 

Shinya: You didn’t realise either, Shigure? 

Shigure: To be honest, I didn’t really pay attention to Ushiwaka’s flowers. 

Takaomi: So basically, the culprit who led the bees in is basically Ushiwaka. 

Takaomi: The greenhouse, strawberries, Honey Bees, bee nests, the hole in the wall, Hornets, the vacated nest, the scout. That’s how the invasion happened. There you have it, the truth. 

Takaomi: Now don’t distort it again. 

// There was silence in the dream. // 

Senri: ( A-amaz… ) 

Touji: Shishimaru-kun! I was touched! Wasn’t that a gallant figure! 

Yuma: Great detective. 

Jin: No, not yet. 

Takaomi: ….. 

Jin: There is yet more contradictions and mysteries afoot. 

Senri: Huh? 

Jin: For there to be that many bees, even if they had intruded into the dorm, they shouldn’t have been able to survive. 

Takaomi: They had an environment to thrive. The air vents in Ushiwaka’s room is connected to the store room, and there’s a huge number of flowers there, meaning they were all set in terms of nectar. 

Senri: ! ! 

Takaomi: Yeah that’s right stupid rabbit, I’m talking about that ridiculously gigantic Flower Stand you merrily brought back! 

Senri: ( Stop! If you say my name at a time like this then I’ll sound like the true culprit! I’ll become the Last Boss! ) 

Senri: Bu-but still! The flowers had already wilted a long time ago, right, Yumapi? 

Yuma: Hmm… Based on their condition, I don’t think they would have produced any nectar… Besides, when I went into the storeroom to take the cardboard, I don’t think I encountered any bees. 

Takaomi: Here. 

// Shishimaru presented something on his palm. // 

Mikage: Remote controller? 

Shigure: That’s the one for aircons in the dorm, right? 

Takaomi: Yuma, yesterday you said the electricity was being wasted leaving the air con on, didn’t you? 

Yuma: Yeah, it was a waste so I turned it off. 

Takaomi: The room had cooled significantly. Honey Bees become inactive in low temperatures, so they reverted to hibernatory state. By the way, they aren’t active at night either. 

Yanagi: Oh so that’s why I never saw any either. 

Yuma: Either? 

Yanagi: Sometimes I use the Black Dorm storeroom as a rendezvous spot with some Kitties, but I never saw any bees either. 

Yuma: Then, the one who left the air con running was you…? 

Yanagi: Yup, probably. I likely forgot. 

Takaomi: Meaning this case, just as the stupid rabbit said, has multiple culprits. 

Takaomi: Hanabusa who cultivated strawberries and left the air con in the storeroom on. 

Yanagi: Haha, sorry. 

Takaomi: Shibutani who released Honey Bees to help with the cultivation on his own accord and then didn’t do a good job keeping them in check. 

Kasuka: I just wanted Yanagi-kun to be able to eat delicious strawberries… 

Takaomi: And why was there a hole to begin with, huh, bastard with the poor hand-eye coordination? 

Shinya: I’m sorry, I will reflect on my actions. 

Takaomi: Don’t put flowers in your hair all willy nilly. 

Minato: Ahaha, next time I’ll give Takaomi some flowers too. 

Takaomi: Also, how could you not tell whether you were stung by Honey Bees or Hornets, make better judgement. 

Chizuru: Of course I know that. Whether Honey Bees or Hornets, they’re both enemies of Jin-san, they’re just objects to be eliminated. 

Takaomi: Not being able to differentiate that aspect really delayed the case. 

Jin: I see. You did well on your own. 

Takaomi: I wasn’t alone. 

Senri: ( ! Shishimaru is looking at me… ) 

Takaomi: Without the stupid rabbit’s actions, I would never have realised the fact about the greenhouse, or the two species of bees, or the storeroom. 

Minato: Meaning, it’s the birth of a detective couple~ ♪ 

Senri: Shishimaru! I also accept you as my partner- 

Takaomi: The most problematic person is you, idiot rabbit. 

Senri: He’s hot then he’s cold?! 

Takaomi: You were right that there’s more than one culprit. Yet, you knew about your own stupid Flower Stand but you tried to lie and cover it up. 

Senri: Oof! 

Takaomi: The mystery is solved. We know where the nest is, there’s no need for explosives. 

Jin: You’re right. That was some fine detective work, Shishimaru. 

Takaomi: I eat this much for breakfast. 

Senri: ( Why is only Shishimaru getting praised~? Even though I also worked hard~? ) 

// A few days after the end of the “Killer Bee Incident”. // 

[scene: lounge] 

Shion: This Honey Facial Pack is amazing. 

Shigure: The speed at which Ryuuou Corporation commodifies a product is truly fascinating. 

Shinya: I’d like something like Honey Handcream too. 

Mikage: Please consider: candy. 

Touji: If Mikekado-senpai attains any more beauty, surely world domination is not far out of his grasp.*

Yuma: chew chew Strawberry, delicious. Are you having any, Shishimaru? 

Takaomi: No way, but you sure can eat that all day, man. 

Minato: I found Takaomi~ You know, the girls really want to talk to you. 

Takaomi: Hah? 

Yanagi: You see, thanks to Great Detective Takaomi, the dorm is safe from blowing up so you’re the talk of the town. Must be tiring. 

Takaomi: Not interested. 

Minato: Hey, where’s Senri? 

Yuma: Nito is going through Dream Torture. 

Takaomi: That guy’s honestly such a helpless idiot. 

[scene change: dream] 

Senri: Aha, hyahaha! 

Chizuru: Remember, you’re not getting out of here until I hear a sincere apology from your mouth. 

Senri: I’m sorry! I just wanted to be popular, I won’t be so flippant about playing a High School Detective again! 

Chizuru: One more time, without laughing. 

Senri: That’s impossible! ! No, not there! Ahahahahaha! 

Senri: WAAAAAAAAAAA! I’M SORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRY!

--

* i couldn’t think of a natural way to say this in english but here touji is jokingly accusing shion of aiming for world domination with his beauty

[fereality-indy]

The Kids Are All Right Ch3 Revelations

“Ok, so you’re saying this show is a sequel to one from when your parents were kids that may or may not be an alternate reality.” Melody asked after she brought some drinks and chips into the Shack’s TV room hoping to help calm down Debbie.

 “Yeah, Mrs. Ramirez. Mewni was apparently one of the dimensions that Great Grunkle Ford passed through while he was gone. And Mom and Dad know stuff about this show that some of the most obsessive fans don’t even know about.” Debbie said as she her friends watched Nova and Connor at their respective houses, both fretting over a school dance. Connor was being told by Jack that He should just ask Nova to go and Nova was being teased by her brother Sol that she should ask Connor to go before Missy does. “There’s even a Jason and Linda Conifer that shows up once in awhile. Though they only have one child, a boy named Tyrone. And he looks nothing like Ran.”

Mentioning the son of a possible alternate version of her parents reminded Debbie that her parents were out looking for her brother. They’ve been gone now for, she looked at her phone, ok only fifteen minutes but it felt like forever. They’ll call if they find him right.

 “Of course they will honey,” Melody said as she saw that Debbie didn’t realize she had said that last one out loud. Too much like her father there.

 Outside

 “What do you mean sir?” Meaghan asked from Antonio’s arms as she saw Ran’s mother tighten her grip on the weapon she had readied.

 Ran jumped in between his parents and Meaghan. "Whoa, Mom. Dad. Calm down, what’s going on with you two?”

 “She may be dangerous Ran, come to us.” Wendy said motioning her son to come to her side.

 “Sorry mom, but she needs help and I promised to help her. I told her we would help her.” Ran said staying put.

 “Step away Ran, she’s not what she seems.” Dipper said as he tried to aim his taser for a better shot at the girl.

 “Not gonna happen, dad.” Ran said as he kept himself between the taser and Meaghan. “She needs help and I promised her that I would do just that. So what if she is different, so’s Harry and MB. But that doesn’t matter. She trusts me to help her, so now I need you two to trust me.”

 At the mention of trust, Dipper flashed back to his own childhood and how he learned despite initially being told to ‘trust no one’ that he had to trust family and friends. He tried to instill that in his own kids and he would be a hypocrite if he didn’t trust in his son now.

 He lowered his taser and motioned for Wendy to stand down. “Alright Ran, we’ll trust your judgement for now.”

 “Thank you dad, you won’t regret it.” Ran said as he ran over and hugged his dad after he had put away the taser.

 “Well I still have a question about that whole marriage deal,” Wendy added as she joined in on the hug.

 “Oh, it is simple. Where I come from there are many stories of our people being tricked into marriages by your kind.” Meaghan replied from where Antonio was still holding her.

 "Dood, that’s messed up. Forced marriages are illegal.” Antonio said as he started heading towards the Shack now that things had de-escalated. “Where exactly do you come from that you are hearing this type of information?”

 “That’s barbaric.” Wendy agreed as the rest of the group joined up with them.

 “Well I personally haven’t heard of any stories happening in my lifetime, but there are many legends of it happening in the past.” Meaghan answered in a way. “But as I said, Ran would hear nothing of it.”

 “Of course he wouldn’t, the lil Dood is a great guy. And besides that, he’s too young to get married anyways.” Antonio said as they finally cleared the woods and made it to the grass pasture. “If you want I can let you down to walk or I can still carry you up to the Shack, it’s up to you. It sucks that whoever stole your clothes took your shoes also.”

 “Well I have no problems walking barefoot in grass,” Said to the gentle giant who was carrying her.

 As soon as he let her down Ran was at her side. “I’m pretty sure Uncle Soos has some sandals or something in the Shack that you can have. I’ll pay for them if need be.”    

 “When has my dad ever charged you guys for anything.” Antonio said with a playful slug to Ran’s shoulder.  

 “I know, but I didn’t want to assume anything.” Ran replied as he rubbed his shoulder, not noticing the look of concern from Meaghan. But it wasn’t missed by his mother.

 “Yeah, cause when you assume something, you make an…” Antonio replied before Wendy stopped him.

 “Stop right there. It’s bad enough that Stan taught you kids that, you don’t need to repeat it. No matter how good of advice it is.” She said shaking her head as they made it to the  grounds just outside the Shack.

 Dipper had been quiet and observing things during the entire walk back to the Shack. And now the test to see if his son was right to trust the ‘girl’, the barrier around the Shack will prove if she has any harmful intentions. As they passed through the perimeter of the barrier, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The ‘girl’ seems to be fine for now.

Meanwhile Across Town

 “Thanks for watching our little Genie for us, Stacey.” Pacifica Northwest-Pines said as her daughter ran up and hugged her.

 “Oh, it was no problem, Mrs. NP.  She was an angel as always.” Stacey said as she made it to the mother and daughter.

 “That sounds like my girl,” Mabel Northwest-Pines said as she came out of the kitchen with a bag of popcorn.

 Leaving Pacifica’s embrace, Genie made a bee line for her other mother. Mabel held out her arms only for Genie to snag the bag of popcorn instead.

 “Yep, that’s my baby girl.” Mabel said as Genie popped some popcorn in her mouth before finally hugging for her.

 “So Stacey, do you have any plans for the evening?” Pacifica asked as she joined her family. She then leaned over and gave her wife a kiss.

 “Well mom and I are supposed to be having dinner with the other half of the Pines family, you know their bi-weekly get together, where me and the kids watch a movie while they go ‘play cards’ afterwards.” Stacey replied with air quotes, a habit she had picked up from her ‘Uncle Soos’.

 “What’s with the air quotes?” Mabel asked genuinely perplexed.

 Stacey gave a questioning look towards Genie before a nod from Pacifica got her to answer, “Well every one has heard the rumors. How when they’re out together the three of them are inseparable. I mean, I get asked how my Dad is and they’re not talking about the one I’m named after.”

“Well he and Wen-Wen did practically help raise you.” Mabel said with a smile, remembering the first time she saw Dipper holding baby Stacey.

 “I know. And I’m not saying I would be against it, if it is true.” Stacey said as she began to pick at a piece of lint she seemed to suddenly find interesting. “I guess I just wish they wouldn’t try to hide it.“

 “Well you guys are already family either way. I mean, you’re there for all the big holidays and the family vacations.” Mabel added as she knelt down and hugged her daughter, stealing her bag of popcorn back in the process. Then she continued as she looked between Stacey and her wife, “Besides, if there was something going on there Dip would tell me about it. Wouldn’t he?”

 Pacifica shrugged as she thought about all that had been said here.

 Back At The Mystery Shack

 Ran was coming down from his dad’s work room in the attic. The whole family keeps a couple of spare outfits in the rooms closet and after assuring his sister that he was alright and apologizing for the fairy mouse incident he had went up to grab a new Hawaiian shirt. As he reached the bottom of the stairs Aunt Melody and his mom were coming out of the break room wit the newly dressed Meaghan. Uncle Soos and Aunt Melody had insisted that she could grab whatever clothes she wanted, she had on one of the question mark shirts, a pair of shorts that Uncle Soos on hand for one of the displays, and a pair of sandals. She was carrying his folded up shirt close to her chest.

 “Sorry we didn’t have any thing else for you to wear dearie.” Melody said as they were coming closer to Ran. She seems to have slipped into a protective momma bear mode as she added, “To think that someone would steal your cloths like that. Is there anything else we could do for you? Call your parents maybe? Are they staying at motel?”

 “Oh, no. My parents are at home. And there’s no need to bother them.” Meaghan said with a start as she shook her head. She quickly broke away from the older ladies and made a beeline for Ran.

 Holding out his shirt she said, “Thank you again for helping me.”

 “Oh it was no problem.” Ran said as he rubbed the back of his neck. Looking at the proffered shirt he added, “Why don’t you keep it for now.”

 “You mean it?”, Meaghan replied as her face brightened and she hugged the shirt tight to her chest.

 “Yeah, can’t have you judging Gravity Falls based only on someone stealing your clothes.” He replied with a smile. He then began to blush as he realized everyone was watching the two of them.  

 “Oh, there’s no worry about that. I already know there are good people here.” Meaghan said as she started putting Ran’s old shirt back on with a smile. Once she had it on she took one of his hands as she added, “I’m actually in town to find two of them, maybe you can help me.”

 Ran was about to respond when Debbie appeared at his side as if by magic. With her hands on her hips she looked at Meaghan and asked,  “So you met my little brother while out in the woods while completely naked, what are you some kind of nymph or maybe a rusalka?“

 “Debbie!” Melody called

 "Sis!” Ran said as he elbowed his rude sister.

 “Well she may need to work on her delivery, but I have to admit I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Dipper said as he entered the room. After ha look from his wife he added, “But we can worry about that later, you said something about my son helping you to find a couple of people in town, Why don’t you give us the names and we can all help you?”

 Meaghan looked around at the people gathered in the room. She really didn’t like so many people knowing what she is doing, but if Ran and his family trusted them. With a sigh she started, “Well I have been sent to speak to Lady Gwendolyn and S...”

 “Stoneworker!?” all four Pines kids called out at once.

 “Well no.” Meaghan continued with a shake of her head, “Not Stoneworker. I’m looking for Lady Gwendolyn and Sir Mason of Gravity Falls.”

 “Isn’t that you two doods?” Soos asked while looking at a slightly shocked Wendy and Dipper.

 “Well yeah, it’s been a few years since we used those titles.” Wendy said as she finished processing that her son’s new friend was looking for her and her husband to begin with.

 “Oh My Gosh, a mason is another term for a stoneworker. How did I not see this before now. Our parents are Lady Gwendolyn and the Stoneworker.” Debbie said as she seemed to completely forget about her worries from just moments ago.

 “Told you they were in love.” Ed said to his brother with a playful shove.

 “And I never really denied it.” Ricky replied as he grabbed Ed in a headlock.

 Meaghan walked up to Wendy and Dipper then dropped down onto one knee. “As an emissary of King Mermando, I offer my life up in service. Please accept me as a squire.”

[saibalray]

CINEMA (WORKING TITLE)

1. THE PHONE CALL

Ray had just woken up from the bed in the morning. He brushed up his teeth. Then he prepared a cup of tea at the kitchen of his Chandigarh apartment. Then he came to his room and opened the laptop. He was clueless about what to do since his 5th novel just got released. Now he was planning to work on his sixth one. He had the idea in his mind. It was slowly taking a shape for the last few days. However, he was listening to a soothing music, when a phone call from a lady came at around 7 o’clock.

-        Hello.

-        Yes. Who is this?

-        Good Evening.

-        Good Morning!

-        I’m calling from California.

-        Yes tell me.

-        My name is Stella. Is this Ray?

-        Yes.

-        Okay. I have read your blog.

-        (Excited) Okay, how was it?

-        It’s great indeed!

-        Thanks!

-        Yes, now I have a proposal for you.

-        And what is that?

-        Can you write a cinematic novel out of your poems?

-        (Excited) Yes I was exactly thinking about that!

-        Yes, I know you can do it. I will fund this project.

-        Some poems are in Bengali?

-        I know I have read them too with the help of a translator.

-        But I have a question.

-        Okay.

-        Why are you interested in this project?

-        Because I am interested in male psychology.

-        I am also interested in female psychology.

-        So, are you gonna do it?

-        Yes, of course. But I have another question.

-        Yes tell me.

-        Who will direct the movie?

-        Of course you.

-        Yes, I won’t give it to anybody.

-        But on one condition.

-        I hate conditions!

-        Listen to me first.

-        Okay, tell me.

-        Yes, you won’t put name of any brand in your writing as you did in your previous novel.

-        That’s exactly what I want now.

-        Yes, it has to be pure.

-        And I won’t give it to anybody to direct.

-        I know. How could you? They are your people.

-        Are you gonna come to India to meet me?

-        Yes.

-        When?

-        I’ll tell you soon.

-        Okay, I will wait for your call.

-        Thanks, bye bye.

-        Bye.

-        Take care!

-        You too!

This was great indeed. Ray felt excited. He was now waiting for the call and thinking about how to plot the story. He finished the cup of tea and phoned his parents in Kolkata as he does every morning.

2. THE IDEA

After a long time Ray browsed through his Bengali blog. He put most of his diaries on this blog. The poems, he used to write on these diaries, were actually mere documentation of his feelings. He wrote poems always as a method of catharsis since the day his father taught him how to write poems. He still remembered the incident of his first faulty rhyme. His father before going for shopping told him how to rhyme. He simply collected some lines from his text book that ends with the same sound and put it together one by one. When his father returned, he showed him that. His father told him that he had to devise his own lines. This was the beginning of the journey. He did not remember what his first poem was since he discarded many poems as he did not like it. But the first diary was still there. In the beginning he had a habit of writing anywhere. But then his father gave him a diary. That was his first diary. He was mostly driven by his father’s teachings and girl friends that aroused feelings in his heart. In the primary school he had a special relationship with a girl Nabanita. She left because of her father’s transferable job. However, that time the media was not so connected and his father did not allow him to get too much influenced by the television. So his relationship with Nabanita was pure and platonic. After primary school, as Nabanita left, he got closer to another beautiful girl Madhurima. She was his main inspiration behind the first diary. His family had a close relation with their family. She was pretty indeed. But he never told him that he wrote poems getting inspired by her since he was afraid of his father. However, this girl had a tendency to play with the mind of other boys. He even fled with a tall boy, and her family rejected him afterwards. But Ray’s father taught him literature. So his feelings were really restricted within poems. He cherished the beauty and kept on writing and fell in love with poems. That was the beginning and till now it was going on. But as Stella asked him he was really brainstorming how to put the poems in a cinematic way. Let’s try some tools of cinema. He thought of montage. But it was not suitable for a poetic treatment. Poems could not be treated as playback since it was unlike songs. Mise-en-scene was the only way to deal with poems. Since she told him for a poetic treatment, she thought when he would make the movie; he would do it like Tarkovsky. ‘But let’s first write the novel’ – he thought. He always wrote poems in rhyme except a few in prosaic styles. After a long time he found a way to start the novel. The senses of the Bengali poems would be translated in English. The rhyme form might have been lost. And then he would describe his fantasies around the poem that could be shot. That would be the best way to write this novel he thought. Next morning Stella phoned again.

-        Hello, this is Stella here.

-        Yes, yes I have saved your number.

-        Okay. Did you find a way out?

-        Yes, but it’ll take time since I have to translate the Bengali poems.

-        Yes, that’s true.

-        But only the senses will be translated since it’s very difficult to translate the rhyme as it is.

-        Yes, I know. Every language has its own sound and that cannot be translated.

-        Hmm.

-        I have a surprise for you.

-        I’ll transfer a decent amount as advance to your account.

-        Okay.

-        Tell me how you want to receive it.

-        I’ll send you a link. Tell me the amount.                          

After that Stella told him about the amount and he sent a request online. And the amount got credited soon.

3. THE POEM ‘ARRIVAL’

The earth is dancing, the sky is dancing,

My heart is dancing.

I’m getting unstable by shaking it

With flower.

The river is babbling.

The butterfly is calling.

In the dawn to bathe

The holy girl is going.

The sky is very red.

The flower is getting relaxed.

The bees are drinking honey

Making their heart satiated.

Meanwhile the holidays

For one month is coming slowly.

On the raft the goddess

Is flying in slowly.

Relieving all the Goddess Madhurima

Is coming in.

Because of that I’m

So impatient.

4. THE FANTASY OF ‘ARRIVAL’

After writing this poem, he felt to fly with Madhurima across the sky. Then after coming down on the earth, he wanted to hug her. Then he wanted to go far away from the town. Then he wanted to touch her. After that he wanted to sleep with her in the catkin bush hiding from the nonsense of the crowd of the small town.

5. THE POEM ‘IN THE GREED OF PUJO’

The ‘Pujo’ is coming       The catkins are dancing

                   Just look at that.

In the desire of honey     The Shefali flowers

                  Falling on the ground.

The birds are flying          The river is flowing

                 It’s the time of autumn fair.

You and me                     Are playing only

                 The game of stealing mind.

I caress the dream         Inside my mind

             They may not come true.

Amid the Pujo               We will again build

             The days of dreams.

6. THE FANTASY OF ‘IN THE GREED OF PUJO’

He wrote the poem before the famous festival of Bengal. Everybody buys new clothes during this time. The relatives gift new clothes this time. And the lovers dream to be together this time. So he wanted to travel from pandal to pandal with Madhurima. But that time the society was too conservative. Every decent couple was scared of the old people. So they could not be together during the Pujo. But they wanted to travel from pandal to pandal together.

7. THE SPLIT RHYMES OF NEW YEAR

7.1 Amid the falling leaves

            The new sun is rising.

            See in the whole world

            The New Year is waking.

7.2. Wish in the New Year

               All is well.

                Let’s call the light

        Of New Sun.

7.3 On the new day the new card

     I am sending to you.

     Wish the new love with the new

     Become fulfilled.

7.4 Wish the dream of staying well

     Be mixed up with you.

     Wish our adda become

     More happening in the form of new.

7.5 Wetting it in syrup of love

     I give you the letter.

     Let the attire of friendship be dazzled

     In the new year.

7.6  Forgetting all, opening up the heart,

     Knowing only the new,

     I give you all my love

     Only to you.

8. THE FANTASY OF THE NEW YEAR

It was new year. So the poems naturally celebrated the new and the new love. He wanted to refresh their love. He used to design greeting cards cutting the art paper and drawing cartoons on it. And then he used to gift to her and all his friends. So, he gifted a card to her expecting to refresh his hidden desire.

9. THE POEM ‘SILENT LOVE’

On that side blooming a white rose

A tree is giving its look.

On this side there is a bee hive

And the bees are singing with hazy tone.

When it’s dawn, the bees go to the tree

Dancing with the queen.

The mindboggling smell of flower –

The bell of heart starts ringing.

He wants to say something.

But he hides his face from the flower.

He goes time and again and comes back.

The mind is dreamful.

He thinks too far –

How to tell the flower what he thinks.

Probably the flower’s mind also swings

On the lap of bee’s imagination.

The tale of this intense love –

Who will tell by any chance?

Who will tell? Who will tell?

Who will tell unmindfully?

10. THE FANTASY OF ‘SILENT LOVE’

Actually this poem he wrote since he could not tell her that he was in love with her. So he used to go to her every day. He used to play with her. But he could never tell her that he was in love with her. She also did not know what love was actually. She enjoyed playing with her. But it was the innocence of puberty that attracted both of them towards each other. But they did not know what to say. They were crazy to be fused with each other. But they were scared and unmindful.

11. THE POEM ‘LET IT BE SALTY’

In the teen if the touch comes in,

The touch of falling in love and coming close,

‘I’ll sit by you, I’ll come close to you’- if the mind thinks,

They stick to each other, and they will not listen to anyone.

People say, ‘O my god, the brat is totally spoiled’.

The brat says, ‘Damn it! I have just started to taste it’.

The age says ‘Leave the lecture, this is our demand.’

‘Just fifteen – how can we forget the new fun?’

This is true, this is true – the glue of raw jackfruit!

Is it so easy to remove even if you make the dog lick?

The dog also follows rule, the tether is true.

But this brat continues to dance on the rope of love.

The green tamarind is so sour – you eat with salt.

So let it be a little more, even if it’s the raw age.

The raw age is very sour; so salt is inevitable.

Let the love be salty; what’s so harmful in it?

This love may not stay in the old age.

So the memory should stay there as the heart wants.

A little bit of sweet meat, who wants to eat?

Let the small memory be salty –only it will be tasty then.

12. THE FANTASY OF ‘LET IT BE SALTY’

This poem was written after he read a novel of Bankim, where the old writer was describing how it felt to cherish the memory of teenage love. He was totally influenced by that novel. His uncle gifted it to him. So he wrote this poem to forget the pain of not being able to disclose the love to her girl friend. He forgot the pain temporarily by reading Bankim.

13. THE POEM ‘LOVE BEGGAR’

All the secrets

I’ll pour off.

I’ll forsake the shame.

Pull me close

And give me love

Full of your heart.

I want love.

I want madness.

I am mad for you.

Give me love,

Only love.

You just give it to me.

Squeeze me with your

Naked hands and

Blood red lips.

Whatever I have

Snatch it all

And give me your love.

If I get love

I’ll go and

I’ll leave all.

I’ll go to the land of sun,

Where the dream oozes.

14. THE FANTASY OF ‘LOVE BEGGAR’

He was crazy for her girl friend. He wanted to leave home with her. He wanted to go to someplace else far away from the daily life. Dreams that defy the reality he wrote as this poem. He wanted to go to somewhere, where there will be no disturbance to dream big. But he never wanted to be alone. He wanted to explore dreams that were unreachable for the reality. He was impatient to get her girl friend. He was telling himself that he could do anything to get her as a life partner. But he was clueless under the blue sky like a beggar. He was begging for her love.

15. THE POEM ‘BUTTERFLY’

Butterfly The showy colours of your wings,

               The style of yours on the flowers,

                Are too sweet.

                At your eyes I put my eyes

                And there is the rain of

                Happiness.

Butterfly   Looking at you

                 I feel calm and

                 I keep on dreaming.

                 I lose my way suddenly,

                 The chariot of mirth full of

                 The smell of love

                  Flies in my heart.

Butterfly      Your dazzling dance

                    And the makeup on the flower –

                     Make me hypnotized.

                     I see you and I think where

                     Is the key of your mind.

                     I feel like opening the lock.

Butterfly      On your breast the music is dormant.

                    My heart floods with emotion -

                    The sight of your eyes.

                    When your heart dances

                     The new song of love

                     Gets created.

Butterfly       On your wing the new song

                     Makes my heart filled

                     With the sweet smell of honey.

                     My mind wants you

                     Loving you all the time

                     In the rhyme of love.

Butterfly       Your heart and my mind

                     Will stay together forever

                     Looking at the world.

                     Faraway there the sky floats on air

                     Starry eyes come to see.

                     Along with our heart.

16. THE FANTASY OF ‘BUTTERFLY’

Her nickname was butterfly. He used to call her with this name. He used to cherish looking at her. Every time he looked at her, his heart used to become full of emotions. He used to think of how to praise her. Thus he wrote this poem.

17. THE POEM ‘FIRST MEETING’

Going along without goal

Suddenly I saw on the way

Standing, who are you?

The moon like face of yours

From my heart everything

Just squeezes away.

The soft smile of your red lips –

The love flute plays in heart –

Please tell me who you are.

Who is this enchantress of the dreamland?

At the first glimpse,

She snatched my heart.

With soft eyes and polite smile

You looked at me with love.

-only seeing that

I am flooded with love tide.

So with stormy heart

I am looking for you.

18. THE FANTASY OF ‘FIRST MEETING’

It was a complete imagination. Though he met her before and played with her before and gossiped with her before, he dreamt of a dream date with her. And that reflects in the poem. It was a dream to meet her as for the first time.

19. THE POEM ‘THE FIRST’

The known eyes are lost.

Nobody knows where.

Yet, in the dream in every morning and evening

They call me.

At the warm red lips

And vibrating cheeks

The heart got stuck

Many days back.

In this life I can’t forget

The enchantress.

For her there’s this touch of love

And dreamful pain.

For her the dreamy seven hues

Fall on the heart

And makes it crazy, mad

And dizzy very often.

With the rhyme of honey

And sweet smell, she came close.

In the mind that comes

Every time with illusion.

I love that sweet smile

Till now during spare time.

All pain gets relieved because of

That memory.

Who will understand and who will make me understand why the mind is shaky.

The heart is still wet with

The juice of first love.

20. THE FANTASY OF ‘THE FIRST’

He was writing this poem in Kolkata sitting at a mess. By this time he joined a reputed college in Kolkata for higher studies. He left his home. But he would go frequently to his home town so that he could meet her again. This was starting of getting distant from her. Far away from home he missed her too much and always he would be eager to go back home just to see her. This first love would make her completely homesick.

21: THE POEM ‘DREAM’

You are the hope of weary mind;

Without you active eyes are blind.

You always smear pale faces with freshness;

You are the love of minds, vexed and hopeless.

You give both eyes a new happy sight,

You are the mirth and sorrow at midnight.

I feel crazy to cuddle you turning off lights;

I find lost songs in you every day and night.

Only you can allay my heart's agonies,

You are the elixir, I love you like a beast.

22. THE FANTASY OF ‘DREAM’

He felt lonely out there in the big city. He was uncertain about his future. So he was clueless about how go back to her girl friend. He was anxious about losing her any day. So he was trying to relax himself. On one hand there was his girl friend and on the other hand there was his dream. This was the time when these two emotions started clashing with each other. It was not about choosing one among them. It was about how to handle these two. So since he missed her and also he dreamt about her every day, he wrote this poem. This was very critical to understand this poem. Very precisely in her absence, he surrendered to his dream. It was like meditating in the crowded lonely city. When nothing was there, he had his dream.

23. THE POEM ‘I JUST LOVE YOU’

Amorous butterfly you have come

And stood before me.

Seeing you the harp of my heart

Is playing loudly.

Suave smile, white face

And bright eyes

Make me mad.

So sweet is your frown.

You are sweet, you are the creation.

Seeing you I feel happy.

I see you there and in dream.

I feel so happy.

So for words of your red lips

I come time and again.

Forgetting everything, opening heart

I just love you.

24. THE FANTASY OF ‘I JUST LOVE YOU’

He returned home in a vacation. Again he saw her out there. But he was afraid to approach her. The distance by now had grown more. She used to go by their house. She used sit on the culvert in front of her house. He used to sit with his friends. Everybody wanted to know his feelings. But the distance started to grow more. He understood that slowly she was going away from him. But she did not want it. He did not want it. But he could not tell it to her too because he had to score good in the examinations. And love was seen as a poison for concentration. But he could not tell anybody that he needed her to score good marks in the examinations. Since for more than seven years she inspired him to write poems and scoring good marks in the examinations. So her absence and his shy mind made everything impossible for him. He just could not reveal it to anybody.

25. THE PEOM ‘AT YOU’

I came to your heart

With a lot of hope,

As the Autumn clouds

Float on the sky.

To me your eyes

Are a wonder

You are more beautiful

Than the flower I guess.

I have travelled a lot.

I stopped at you.

Don’t refuse. Please call me

At you.

26. THE FANTASY OF ‘AT YOU’

This poem he wrote after returning from home having failed to tell her about his desire. So this was the beginning of his insecurity complex. The idea that his father would retire from job soon and he had to stand on his own feet made him totally insecure in the lonely city. Though his relatives were there in the city, he could not feel homely since they remained busy with their jobs. Only a retired maternal aunty used to call her at her place time and again. He used to argue about the world order with her husband. But whenever he met any new girl, he thought that he was not suitable for her for either she was too beautiful and had a great future or she was from a social background that could not be afforded by him.

27. THE POEM ‘TO YOU’

With a little make up and smile

You looked at me.

Seeing you for a moment

I look for your face

Here and there.

At your gestures and postures

I am mad and crazy.

So, I keep hope and

I scoot to you

Asking for your heart.

At your song and your ego

The dam of my mind gets broken.

Losing track in wild forest,

I scout for your eye balls

Madly.

The flower is your friend.

You are butterfly amazing.

Will you feel angry

If I look at you

A little bit more?

28. THE FANTASY OF ‘TO YOU’

Again he could not see her because of the distance. He wanted to see her face that used to relax her. But there was no other way out to go to her except during the vacation. Even the higher study made him too busy. He started watching movies in cheap theatres. He started visiting his relatives’. But nothing satisfied him. He used to pack his bag six months before any vacation. It was simply unimaginable for any practical human being. But he was that homesick. He was crazy for her. He was anxious for his career. His heart was pounding every second for her.

29. THE SPIT RHYMES

  29.1 The boat of love swings slowly

          On the blue sky.

          My mind has been lost

          To the butterfly.

  29.2  The seven hues are calling

           Tearing the breasts of blue.

           Let my heart be lost

           In the ocean of love.

  29.3  I will come close, I will sit by you

           And I will smile.

           I have become too ardent

           Loving you.

 29.4 For whom I do so many things,

         She does not care.

         Others only show consolation

         That’s not fare.

  29.5 I see in wonder

          How two of your eyes

          Make me purblind.

  29.6 The heart swings inside chest.

          The emotion of love gets spilled

           On the crazy mind.

           Looking at you for a moment

           The flute of mirth is playing

            In silent heartshire.

  29.7 They know we are uncontrollable

           We are dangerous.

            The great lord got vanished

             Because of us.

   29.8 Two of our tiny hearts

            Might be too close.

            Yet, there must be a distance of

             Rustic tune.

 29.9 My dreams float like a cloud

         Inside your eyes.

         They smile with the tune of love.

         The ignorant mind gets lost

          Loving you forever.

 29.10 The shadow of mirth, the warm illusion

            And the colours dreamful

            Hit my heart and makes

            My heart crazy.

 29.11  Time and again, round and round

             The illusion of memory

             Fill my heart and makes me

             Forget all the give-and-takes.

30. THE FANTASY OF ‘SPLIT RHYMES’

This was written again, when he returned home for a vacation in 2003, which means he was in the final year of his Physics Honours course. He saw her again but from a distance. He was now clueless about what to do. So he was writing split rhymes to create an illusion of happiness within himself. At the same time he did not believe in god since first he was a student of Physics and second his father told him there would be no god to save you when you grew old. So it was better to work hard for a safe future. This is the beginning of the illusions that he would keep on creating from now onwards – a futile effort to keep the happiness intact inside by means of illusions that would keep on breaking and getting built up inside the mind time and again.

31. THE POEM ‘EAGER’

In the limit of limitless sky

On the thinking boat of love ocean

Floating with the crazy mind

Let my heart find the love.

Let my heart float away

Anywhere today.

Crazy in happiness,

Warm touch and warm stream,

The cold body is all screwed

After the hug.

Let my heart float away

Anywhere today.

Leaving all the shyness,

Shaking the shape of body,

Let the moony night

Find the warmth again.

Let my heart float away

Anywhere today.

Let it go to hell today.

Let it be lost with a love-tune.

At the limitless horizon

There’s the call of seven notes.

Let my heart float away

Anywhere today.

32. THE FANTASY OF ‘EAGER’

This was a flash back poem, written in 2002. But he posted it on the blog after the ‘Split Rhymes’ that were written in 2003. Now he wanted to have sex with her at night, especially a moony night. He wanted to hug her and feel the fragrance of her body. This was the result of his desire to get fused with her at a moon lit night. This was the manifestation of his pure sexual desire that he would hide from the society. So, yes, the fantasy of the poem was certainly having a holy alfresco sex with her under the moon. He would write this kind of poems time and again whenever he felt the urge.

31. THE POEM ‘ONLY YOU’

Let the night come, if it really wants to fall.

The smile of your red lips will flash in moon light.

The bright eyes are as if the flame of revolution.

Looking at those I’ll tell the words of my heart.

You are there at every nook and corner of my heart.

I just think when I’ll be able to reach your heart.

I beg of you to give me a place at your heart.

Take my love filling your heart fully.

Today a pair of lips told you the words of my heart.

Are your red lips gonna tell everything is futile?

If it happens so, just know that I’m gonna die!

I could not win your heart – that’s the defeat.

32. FANTASY OF ‘ONLY YOU’

This poem was suicidal. He was getting scared sitting far away from home that he would certainly lose her. So he was declaring his defeat.Nothing was more important to him now than her. He was giving a hint of committing suicide. But nobody read the poem. It should have been read  by her. But that was not possible. So he was rolling the life with dwindling hope and amplified doubt. This would make him skeptical about the intentions of girls.  This would result misunderstanding the girls soon. By this time he was studying in a boys’ college. But he was extremely introvert especially about her hidden desire towards girls. He would discuss about world order loudly with his peers. But he would not share his fantasy for girls with anybody. It would reflect only in his poems that nobody till then read.

33. THE POEM ‘I’VE LOVED’

I’ve loved you my dear.

I’ve loved you.

You’ve played me. So

I’ve loved you.

You’ve got the crazy fragrance

Of my disheveled hair.

You’ve slipped upon my

Suave beauty and

Thus you’ve aerated my heart.

You’ve seen my beauty.

You’ve got my soft touch.

With all the madness

Your heart got the mirth.

Whatever I have,

I’ve given you all.

You’ve played me. So

I’ve loved you.

34. THE FANTASY OF ‘I’VE LOVED’

This was an important poem. In his childhood his father made him a member of the local library, where he got introduced to some women writers. He read about feminism. He read about women by women. Now he was recalling them. The colourful teenage made him quite mature about women at a very early stage of life. So he could not be a feminist since he had experienced close contact with girls including his girlfriend before. Except Madhurima he had some other girls as his friends. However, now sitting far away from home, he was trying to understand what Madhurima could feel about him. Thus the poem got created. He wrote on behalf of her. He tried to imagine her feelings. He tried to put himself in her shoe psychologically.

35. THE POEM ‘LOVE MEANS…’

Can "You-are-mine-and-I-am-yours"

Strengthen the love-bond?

Love means all are close

You and I are vagabonds.

36. THE FANTASY OF ‘LOVE MEANS …’

In heart he felt like a vagabond or mendicant. He wanted to travel to unknown lands with her girl friend and meet new people. This is the imagination. But in reality he was travelling alone - sometimes with his friends, sometimes with his relatives, sometimes with his parents; but never with his girl friend -thus the poem.

37. THE POEM ‘THE SPARROW’

A sparrow has just learnt to fly.

She starts her new life by throwing

The chirp of freedom to the blue sky.

One day she goes out to make a new nest.

In the dusk, she gets a shelter inside a hole

Of a big tree bent over a small pond.

When the sky shows its reddish dawn-soul,

She wakes the tree up.

A tiny shiny fish moves up and down there

In the water of the pond; the tree sees and smiles.

As the sparrow joins, today they feel happier.

At the arrival of a new friend they become cheerful.

All are excited and joyful.

The time becomes ruthless suddenly.

The tree that gives flowers and fruits all the time

Is relieved of life untimely.

The pond is filled by soil in no time.

Alas! Where is the tree and where is the fish?

All is buried now in the darkness of time.

The helpless sparrow starts her journey again.

Now she comes to a nearby city. There

In a huge palace inside a small hole

She builds her nest; she cannot get her share

Of left-over food there any more since

The number of beggars keeps increasing.

She cannot tolerate the pain of life there.

She starts flying madly to find a shelter.

She gets irritated by the shrill sound and smoke

Of factories and cars.

At last she gets a permanent shelter.

While flying through the city, she gets hit by a bus.

She sleeps forever on the dust.

She gets fused with this huge earth.

38. THE FANTASY OF ‘THE SPARROW’

By this time he wrote quite a number of poems and read more than that. This poem was a result of his reading poems vividly and the benevolence taught by his father. This had nothing to do with his girl friend. It was a poem that he wrote to practice his writing skill. And this was probably the first poem that he wrote in a prosaic style. That’s it.

39. THE POEM ‘NEW YEAR FROM FAR AWAY’

Remember our tales.

Remember our pains.

Many words of heart and mind

Of the lost hundred days,

In the ray of New Year,

Let’s celebrate again.

With all these now we will talk

Through letters.

40. THE FANTASY OF ‘NEW YEAR FROM FAR AWAY’

This is a poem for Easa, another girl, who was his classmate and now she was staying in Odisha for higher study. They used to send letters to each other. She was a good student. So, he wrote this poem for her.

41. THE POEM ‘GO THE WAY YOU SHOULD’

The eastern sky is calling now.

Keep walking my friends.

Rain or storm,Happy or sad,

The morn or eve -whatever it is -

Let’s go ahead my friends.

Don’t look back even for once.

See the tinge of red.

The scarlet sky is calling you.

The horizon is radiant.

Look ahead my friends.

Even if you find no one now,

Go alone my friend.

In severe pain, with eyes aflame,

Just don’t be upset.

Let’s go ahead my friends.

All the words that are unsaid

Speak out my friends.

All the slogans that ring inside-

Now and then-

Shout out my friends.

Let the hindrance come closer.

Why to be so afraid?

The sound of conch is out there

Amidst the shocking deaths.

Cross each turn with your head

Held high my friends.

42. FANTASY OF ‘GO THE WAY YOU SHOULD’

He was now writing letters to Easa regularly. But he was not in love with her. She was a good friend from his home town. Opposites always attract. So it was kind of that – a good friend of opposite sex. By her letters he was trying to reduce the inner pain that he could not share with anyone. He was fed up with Madhurima since he felt ‘enough is enough’ kind of emotion inside. He was unable to bear the pain anymore. He would feel this emotion afterwards also and this emotion would produce some of the poems later. So he wanted to cheer up himself by writing this poem.

43. THE POEM ‘GO AHEAD’

Losing way in dense forest

Looking at bereft heart

The mind gets burnt.

Leaving the nostalgia

Go ahead towards the light.

The address will be found.

You are not the only one, who lost the way.

There are many talents like you –

You’ll find there ahead.

Let the mountains and rivers come.

Keep going my friend.

The dream will be found.

Don’t be afraid of the unknown.

Keep no hesitation

While going ahead.

On the way in the mud

If you fall and get stuck,

Call the unknown.

Forgetting all the pain

With the light of free mind

Go ahead all of you.

Leaving the nostalgia

Go ahead towards the light.

The address will be found.

44. FANTASY OF ‘GO AHEAD’

He wrote this poem, when he dreamt big. He wanted to face the unknown people and unknown places. That was his father’s lesson. His father told him to prepare for struggle. His father told him that life is a struggle. If he does not study well, he won’t be able to travel places. So listening to his father’s words, he wrote this poem. All you needed a pen and paper to dream big. So this poem was a dream that he saw from his study through the window towards the culvert where the pretty girl used to come and sit.

45. THE PHONE CALL

After a few days when he was feeling tired of writing, Stella phoned him in a morning. She said,

-        Good evening!

-        Good Morning!

-        How do you do?

-        I’m fine, just a bit tired of writing.

-        I know that’s quite natural.

-        Yes.

-        Can you do one thing?

-        What?

-        Mail me whatever you have written so far.

-        Okay.

-        Actually I am really eager to see what you have done. It must be interesting.

-        I don’t know.

-        Okay fine. Just send me the write-up and take rest for some days. I’ll text you my email id.

-        Okay.

-        Take care. Bye bye.

-        You too. Bye.

After a few seconds of the conversation, Stella texted her email id. And he forwarded a soft copy to her. Then he phoned his parents since it was the time of pandemic and lockdown. Then he prepared his breakfast and had coffee with it. He did some office works from home. In the evening he went for a stroll in the park. He phoned his friends. Then at night he slept after talking to his parents over phone. Next morning Stella phoned him again,

-        Good evening.

-        Good Morning.

-        I read your draft.

-        Really!

-        Yes.

-        How is it?

-        Pretty unique and unconventional.

-        Thanks!

-        But you skipped some poems written in 2001 I guess.

-        Yes, it’s not complete yet. Some of the poems have similar fantasies…

-        No no! I want to know all the fantasies. Don’t skip any single poem.

-        Okay, I’ll do something about it.

-        Yes please. Did you have your breakfast?

-        No.

-        What are you gonna have?

-        Butter toasts, coffee, orange and banana.

-        You should take eggs also.

-        Yes usually I take that. But I am scared for the situation of lockdown. So we have become a little bit of economical now.

-        Okay.

-        Who were there in your family?

-        My parents and my sister.

-        Did she get married?

-        Yes.

-        Okay. Where do they stay?

-        They stay in Kolkata. I mean Calcutta according to British pronunciation.

-        Yes, I know. And where do you stay?

-        I stay in Chandigarh.

-        Okay. That’s nice.

-        Won’t you ask how big the apartment is or what is the cost of bearing me as a producer?

-        (Smile) No, I am not that kind of a lady! My purpose of asking you these questions was just to make you feel relaxed. I know what you deserve. These queries have nothing to do with our deal.

-        Okay.

-        Now listen to me carefully.

-        Okay.

-        You keep writing. After the lockdown my manager will come to India to sign a contract with you.

-        Yes that’s better since I do a job.

-        Yes and if you need more money, just write to me.

-        I don’t write for money.

-        I know dear. But money is necessary. Keep it up. Goodbye!

-        Goodbye.

She cut the phone. He went to prepare breakfast. But his brain became active again. He was thinking about how to incorporate the skipped poems in the draft.

-        ary. Keep it up. Goodbye!

-        Goodbye.

She cut the phone. He went to prepare breakfast. But his brain became active again. He was thinking about how to incorporate the skipped poems in the draft.

46. DOWN THE MEMORY LANE

Summer was knocking at the door. Here in Chandigarh the summer is always horrible. It reaches at least 46 degree Celsius every year. It makes everyone suffer a lot every year. However, till now the weather was okay.  So he was scared about the summer. Yet, he woke up in the morning. The sun ray was coming through his window. It was no longer pleasant and it had started to show its might slowly. So far the sun was enjoyable. He used to slide the curtain to open his window every morning. But he could not do it anymore. Now it had started to become hotter. This year he would definitely buy an air conditioner. But he had a doubt about what would happen post lockdown. He might get a better job with a better package. In that case all these gadgets like washing machine, geyser, air conditioner, television would be a burden. So till now he was living with minimum gadgets. However, the warm sun was rising behind the buildings hinting a dry followed by a sultry summer. And he was having a cup of tea. After writing a chapter he would prepare his breakfast. After spending a whole day for thinking about an idea about how to include the previous poems he could not get anything new. So he decided to stick to the grammar of cinema. A cut away would be a nice choice he thought. ‘So let’s cut away down the memory lane’, he thought. The name of the next poem was ‘During the Pujo’. Pujo was a huge festival in Bengal. And everyone liked this festival. So he would also enjoy the festival. Every year during this time he would get excited to mingle with people and have fun. Everybody did that. Precisely no body participated in this festival as a religious being. He participated in all the festivals like Pujo, Eid, Muharram, Christmas etc. But he never followed any rituals but eating since he was not encouraged by his father to do so. His father never told him not to go to the festivals. But he said that every progressive idea helped toward a better world. So he was too innocent to understand the propaganda behind these festivals. Now he knew it while writing this draft. He would translate the poems related to festivals. But it had nothing to do with religions, especially the organised propagandist divisive ones. He was taught to celebrate festivals but not the rituals that would culminate to division of humanity and civil war. That’s never accepted. Now he felt that all festivals could be there without the propaganda behind it. That had to be removed at any cost. He liked humanity, festivals, celebrations, parties. He would go to anywhere to attend any festivals. But he would not follow the rituals that were connected to propaganda and controlled by a particular religion. In fact he felt that people should have worked together to remove the religions from the festivals. Then everything would have been alright.

47. THE POEM ‘DURING THE PUJO’

I will be here during this festival.

I will be nearby.

I will see how much you can dress up.

I will see how much you can smile.

I will see who looks better -

The goddess or you.

May be I said something too much.

Forgive me, forgive me dear!

If you cannot do it,

You rather be angry.

I will see you from a distance.

I will see how you look.

The light of moon beam on pink face –

That’s also not so bad.

48. FANTASY OF ‘DURING THE PUJO’

He was studying in a high school and the festival was coming. He was excited to see his girl friend in new attire. He wanted to see her from a distance since he could not propose her till now. He was afraid of her. He always thought what would be her reaction – positive or negative – in case he proposed her. He was not prepared to take no for an answer. And he was scared of his father. So he always thought twice before committing any nuisance. So he wrote this poem as if he was prodding her with words on the culvert where they met almost every day.

49. THE POEM ‘TOMORROW’

Through every vein of mine

Sending the warm flowing addiction,

You are living happily.

You thought I’d get addicted

And stay dizzy as always.

Probably I am like that today.

But did you think that forever

I’d stay like this?

You did a blunder if you had thought so.

The poison that you injected into me

Is eating up me now slowly.

It has burnt and provoked me

Like an angry tigress.

Today I am excited.

I am clad with the fire of revenge.

You thought you would sleep quiet

In the light of falling afternoon.

And you would stay happily.

I’ll not allow that.

In the high summer

On the dry desert

On  the great pyre

Slowly I’ll burn you

Bit by bit.

With poison I’ll burn your body.

Then I’ll throw your body

On the burning chest of hot sun.

The hunger of the history

Will be satiated then.

50. FANTASY OF ‘TOMORROW’

This poem was the result of many things. He was studying in class eleven. In the morning with his father he used to hear German Bengali, Chinese Bengali and British Bengali radio news. And he used to discuss those with his father and friends. Then he used to play with his girl friend. Since then he was worried about the downtrodden people of the world. By this time he read Hegel, Feuerbach, and thus Marx. He read an English version of Das Kapital. As a result he conceived of the future world. This poem was about a revenge that symbolised a world after revolution or any other radical change.

51. THE POEM ‘FOR LOOKING AT HER AT ONCE THE FIRE OF LOVE’S BEEN KINDLED AT THE HEART’

Why did you look at me

That way for a moment?

Crazy is my heart dear

And I’ve become mad for you.

I’m mad, I’m eager.

The heart is having a storm.

Where’ve you been lost dear?

Take me back at your heart

I can’t bear it anymore.

For the soft touch of your eyes

I’ve lost my whole memory

But your presence there.

With the touch of your red lips

At your soft naked eyes

I’ve surrendered my heart.

I’ve surrendered to you.

I’m mad for you.

So I rush to you.

Just sit by me and I’ll tell

That I love you.

52. FANTASY OF ‘FOR LOOKING AT HER AT ONCE THE FIRE OF LOVE’S BEEN KINDLED AT THE HEART’

This was again the desire to be closer to her. He was looking at her every day. Now he wanted to kiss her openly at the place where they used to meet every day. Closer and closer he wanted to come.  But it was not possible at a conservative society for a young boy of reputation. On one hand the desire, on another hand the society. Kissing openly in public was considered vulgar in India. But that was exactly what he wanted to do. Just a kiss under the afternoon sun and everything would have been solved.

53. THE POEM ‘OUR TALE’

The conspiracy of pain -

All the consolations are false.

We’ve heard enough theory

About life.

We’ve seen a lot of pain.

We’ve seen people dying.

They’re fighting against hunger.

Yet, the heart is full of hope.

So many scars at the heart

We’ve kept intact like gun powder;

When it is kindled,

The horizon will be burnt.

But the sun will rise again.

Don’t give up my friend!

Hold the tether tight.

The sun is hot and blooming.

53. FANTASY OF ‘OUR TALE’

This was the real story of them, which means the boy friends. They did not like to study. They did not want to hear any sophisticated theory about life. They were hopeless. They were impulse driven. They wanted ready-made solution about their future and career. So they were giving a damn to the establishment. They were watching pornography. They were shouting aloud at the adda. They were dismissing all the theories. They had become complete cynics. But he ended the poem with a hope as he always did. Again he even did not show this poem to his friends. He was so possessive about his poems. At that age he did not know the reason. Now he realised that he was introvert about his poems since the origin of it was mainly his girl friend. He grabbed his poems so tight as if they were his girl friend.

54. THE POEM ‘THE RACE OF BRAWLERS’

A shabby cottage with thousands of holes on the roof,

Everything inside is visible with a little effort,

It’s more if it’s called a house, it’s even more, if it’s called a cottage –

Just like a house of cards or a brittle bottle.

It’s monsoon. So it’s going to fall soon.

After that there will only be sky over the head.

No income - without food they spend the days.

They have nothing, but the naked child has clay at least.

With the clay he builds up mountains and cuts the river before

Along with the memory of grass flower that he saw somewhere

In the imagination his tiny mountain is much bigger.

Beneath the mountain there are many boulders.

His mother sat to cut the stones on the lap of barren mountain.

He is playing with the thin grasses with full concentration.

He is smiling at her mother. The mother is smiling at him.

Suddenly someone cries aloud, and the smile is gone.

The mother’s eyes are wet and blood trickles from her hand.

The little child without getting it starts to cry aloud.

Unmindfully her hand got thrashed by the hammer.

The fancy traveller gets irritated and calls her the race of brawlers.  

55. FANTASY OF ‘THE RACE OF BRAWLERS’

This was poem completely driven by his altruist philosophy. By reading philanthropic philosophies he discovered his hidden sympathy for the downtrodden class. And he used to visit mountainous Bhutan often for picnic or travelling. There he saw these workers cutting the rocks. So he fantasised this poem.

56. THE POEM ‘LOVE’

Catkins get a swing.

The flower Shefali wakes.

Unknown jungle birds

Are chirping here and there.

The Sun uncle opens the eyes.

The tiny grass flower gets a swing.

On your pink face the soft sun –

The heart flies here and there.

On the sweet day with the happy song

Let the door of my heart open.

From my tiny heart

I give you a gift.

57. FANTASY OF ‘LOVE’

He wanted to gift her something. But his father was strict about money and flexible about creativity. So he did not have money to purchase a gift for her. He was also feeling shy to tell her about love. So with all these emotions, he wrote this poem for her. All he could give was love and poems. He did not tell her about the poem again. But he wanted to go to her and gift something really rare. But he was not sure whether the poem was rare or cheap.

58. THE POEM ‘LOVE YOU’

For you

I’m mad.

So, I’m looking for you.

With care

I’ve put you there

Inside my heart.

Dishevelled appearance –

In the juice of youth

You are wet dear.

If I get you

I’ll give up

All the shame I have.

When I’ll meet

You there

At the love night,

You will see

How happy

It’ll be.

I’ll sit by you

I’ll come to you.

Love flute will play.

Touching your heart

My love

I’ll tell you

I love you.

59. FANTASY OF ‘LOVE YOU’

He wanted to meet her at a special night without being ashamed. It means he wanted to be free with her. He wanted to meet her in a quiet night with a special ambience. And yes there was a hint of sex. But it was not only sex but also the ambience.

60. THE POEM ‘LOVING YOU’

Loving the mankind

I’ve known the earth.

Loving the blood

I’ve known the struggle.

Loving the sweat

I’ve known the sorrow.

Loving you

I’ve known myself.

61. FANTASY OF ‘LOVING YOU’

This was a philosophical poem. He wanted to say if she was not there he could not explore his inner soul. If she was not there he could not experience the emotions that were hidden inside him. The mankind, the earth, the blood, the struggle, the sweat and the sorrow could be experienced everywhere. But knowing the ego was not so easy. Because of her he could discover his ego. And with that ego he would travel different places keeping her memory within.

62. THE POEM ‘THE OLD’

That playground of run-from-circle and the rows of mango trees

Have got lost one by one and filled with the concrete jungle.

So many known faces and lines of known smiles Have got lost and I’m alone there from horizon to horizon.

The close friends got lost and the far got closer.

Quarrelling with the far, I’ve gone to new land.

Wherever I’ve gone to get happiness of mind,

I’ve got shocked seeing thousands of hungry stomachs.

Walking a long distance, I’ve stopped by you.

But still I doubt whether Madhurima is there on my way.

63. FANTASY OF ‘THE OLD’

This was a very interesting poem. Till now he had not left home town. But he was always interested in reading books outside the syllabus. So slowly he developed a philosopher inside him. That philosopher was writing this poem. This was a prediction made by the philosopher within with a slight hint of skepticism. He was being a realist that when he would leave home, he was going to encounter a reality that was not going to be all sweet at all. So he was ending the poem with his girl friend’s name that symbolises his skeptisism about achieving her. He was not so sure about his future be it the marriage nor be it the career. From this poem onwards his subconscious would be dictated by his wisdom that he achieved by reading and hearing and the reality that he would experience every day.

64. THE POEM ‘THE SOUND OF THUNDER’

The thunder roars and I hear it with my ears

            The thunder pen cuts the lines

On the chest of sky.         The scared people

                        Shut the door.

The suave moon’s     and       The free night’s

                        Heart losing light

Gets destroyed                       In a moment

                        By the raging storm.

In the stormy wind         The traveller in the end

                    Loses his path.

One step ahead                 Two steps back

               The lightning in the dark.

On the river water             There will be soon

                      The raging waves.

On the sky                       With dishevelled hair

   Which beautiful lady shows it wrong!

By the angry look           of the disheveled hair.

                The heart is pounding hard.

When you will look         On the opposite side

                          Of the dark hair.

You will know that           You love only this

                               Lady.

65. FANTASY OF ‘THE SOUND OF THUNDER’

This was a poem about a rainy night influenced by his girl friend. He was sitting in his study. It was load-shedding. So there was no light. Only a hurricane light was lit. The sky was clad with dark clouds. Lightning was happening. And thus he compared the nature around with her girl friend.

66. THE POEM ‘SEEING AT ONCE’

The red long scarf is flying in the air

With the red rose.

Into the shy eyes of the princess

The heart’s got stuck.

The beggar eyes do not shift

From the immaculate beauty.

Seeing her at once

The heart is filled with mirth.

On her shiny moony face

The sap of beauty falls.

I wish I look at her

For a thousand years.

67. FANTASY OF ‘SEEING AT ONCE’

This poem is again out of the eagerness of seeing her. He missed her. He was preparing for his final board examination. After the examination, he would prepare for higher study. And after getting the result, he would go to Kolkata. And the fear of distance and the desire of seeing her continuously produced this poem.

68. THE POEM ‘THE LOST YOUTH’

In the new fun of new monsoon,

In the new dawn with the smell of shefali,

In the new hue of the new sun,

In the colour of rose petals and

In the happy nature’s craziness,

I’ve seen you with my full heart.

On the tribal girl’s limbs and body,

With flowery ornaments,

In the suave manifestation of moon beam and

In the cool wind of dense forest

I’ve seen you with my full heart.

Keeping the eye on that of a doe,

At the shy golden face,

When the deer looks with

Full concentration,

In the flood of its hearty passion

I’ve seen you with my full heart.

Beneath the starry sky,

Sitting with you in privacy,

With the touch of your uncrowded hand,

With the touch of your uncrowded hand,

I’ve forgotten everything.

Even then I’ve seen you in the

Suave manifestation of moon beam.

Today I don’t see you anywhere,

Afraid and scared, have you left

This earth dear? Probably

On the chest of a faraway star

Immobile is your sight.

That’s why I no longer forget everything.

That’s why the immobile sight of yours from

A faraway star makes me think

Time and again.

69. FANTASY OF ‘THE LOST YOUTH’

A very close uncle of the colony gifted him a book of Jibanananda, a famous poet of Bengal, on his birthday. His poems were ornamental with details. He started reading those poems. That was his first introduction with this Master post-Tagore poet. So in his heart he was always scared of losing her girl friend one fine morning. This emotion got fused with the style of Jibanananda. But he was also aware of the fact that he did not even know the details of Bengal as this Master poet did. So his inferiority complex grew inside and he did not show it to anybody since he felt it was not as great as the Master poet’s creations.

70. THE POEM ‘WISH’

Wish

With the force of a kick,

Tearing all the tethers,

In the land of hues,

With a crazy mind,

Through the dust,

Flying and flying,

Losing way and finding way,

With the smell

Along the heart,

Wish with you

I get lost in

The land of love.

71. FANTASY OF ‘WISH’

He wanted to experiment with the poetic styles now. He thought of a poem that was a one liner. He was still preparing for his final board examination and he was experiencing the burden of study. So he wanted to run away with his girl friend. This emotion and the pressure of study produced this experimental poem.

72. THE POEM ‘YOUTH’

A little joy, a little pain,

A few coloured words,

Joy, sorrow, weep, smile –

With all these we love.

Hard again simple and easy,

Sweet, salty, a bit poison,

A bit white, a bit black,

Dirty, grey or good,

Amid all there’s the light of hope.

We are bad, we are good.

73. FANTASY OF ‘YOUTH’

This was again a poem about his friends collectively. He was young and his friends were also young. His girl friend was young too. And he loved all of them. So he was writing a poem about their youth that was going through different experiences and incidents in their lives. It was colourful indeed!

74. THE POEM ‘WHO KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED’

Today the moon looks good.

The grass flower calls me closer.

Hearing the chirps of jungle bird,

My heart becomes jolly.

Who knows what happened!

Joy pours into my heart.

Amid the joy with the love song

The heart plays the rustic tune.

In the forest’s creepers and trees’ leaves

It wakes up with the chirps of birds.

In soft sun on the love ocean

My heart gets lost.

Wish I exceed everything

Destroying everything -

Breaking the shackle

Wish I get lost in the mirth.

Across the sky and air

The fragrance of love makes it crazy.

Wherever I look it’s all joy.

I’m mad for you.

Under the moon beam in the suave evening

Amid this limitless joy

Everything looks good.

Who knows what happened today!

75. FANTASY OF ‘WHO KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED’

This was a simple poem about happiness. It happened often when he got excited about the nature, peers and girlfriend. And when he felt less pressure he used to feel like this. In fact the time of the poem was very important. It was a flashback poem written in 2000 a year before the previous poems. The date was important since in 2000 he was in class eleven. So the pressure of study was less as the board examination would happen in 2001. So this year was the playtime for him. He was enjoying everything around. A little bit of study, a little bit of football, and a little bit of meaningless gossiping with girl friend – and everything became wonderful.

76. THE POEM ‘RUSTIC LOVE’

Every morning a boy and a girl

Used to make mountains and play together.

The boy used to draw with fingers on the earth.

The girl used to say, ‘I don’t understand what you do!’

The boy used to say, ‘There’s no meaning I just love to draw!

Please bring the water and let’s build a fancy hill again.’

When the girl used to make garland of shefali,

The boy inserted one of them into her hair.

The girl used to rush to her mother to show it.

The mother used say, ‘You are looking really nice today!’

Then and there she used to run to the boy and say

‘Please insert another into my hair.’

Her hand was clayed and the heart was full of fragrance of flower!

This way they love each other.

If you wish to call it love, call it so or not.

The simple clay hill was much bigger in the imagination.

The barren mountain was green in the imagination.

There was a narrow stream, where pearls were flowing.

How did it matter that the stream was small and narrow?

It made the unwilling boulders move.

This way when the girl used to think sitting there,

The boy used to ask, ‘Please tell me what you were thinking so tight.’

The girl used to say, ‘There’s no meaning I just love to imagine.

Let’s bring the water and build a new mountain again.’

New mountain, new soil, new imagination –

This way they love each other.

77. FANTACY OF ‘RUSTIC LOVE’

His home town was surrounded by villages and rustic lives. If the sky was clear the third highest peak Kanchanjangha was easily visible from the north end of the town. Now he was reading literature vividly. He was playing with his girlfriend and thus he had his imagination. So, he imagined a rustic love and put it in words.

78. THE POEM ‘SWEET SMILE’

How sweetly you smiled

Looking at me –

I felt relaxed O my

Darling of dreamland.

Into my mind you have

Inserted the touch of beauty.

Over the suave soft smile

The heart is flying.

Looking at the red smile

Of moony face,

My whole day got spent

Thinking about you.

Floating with your

Blood smeared wet lips,

I don’t know when

I fell in love with you.

79. FANTASY OF ‘SWEET SMILE’

He was seeing her girlfriend almost every day. He loves to look at her. They talk about many things –sense and nonsense. This poem revealed his desire to see her smile time and again. He used to imagine her face at night before going to sleep. Her face was a remedy for his concentration. Thus he had a fetish for her smile. Her face and her smile used to increase his attentiveness.

80. THE POEM ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR’

New year, new light, new new hopes,

Split smiles, split words, split love.

In the fragrance of new flower the heart is unmindful.

For the new fun of new year the courtyard of heart floats across.

When the butterfly asks the flower, ‘Could you give me a little bit of honey?’

The flower says, ‘You can take as much as you want.

Let the New Year be happy. Then I’ll be happy too.’

The mankind appears to be really trivial then.

Did they ever have such a big heart?

In the New Year you and I put on new dresses.

Where is the New Year of the beggar kept?

You and I have a new year and thus the new hope.

Did he have no hope except frustration?

We do have fun, but please look after them too.

The downtrodden class needs a bit of help too.

Only then the New Year with the new hope

Will travel along happy tear of our heart.

81. FANTASY OF ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR’

It was said before that he started reading philanthropic philosophies at a much younger age. And he had the charm of her girlfriend that influenced her to write so many poems. This was the last poem of his ‘First Diary’ according to the blog. There were many other lost poems that he could not upload in the blog or discarded. But this poem was produced by the mixture of philanthropic philosophy and the charisma of her girlfriend. So his soul had now been taken over by philosophies along with the presence of his girlfriend.

82. THE MAIL

Now he felt a bit relaxed since he finished working across the poems of his ‘First Diary’. Now it was time to inform Stella about the progress. He also needed a bit rest. He had a small blister at his ankle. He had not been wearing shoes since the lockdown begun. But he started evening walk at the park.  Summer was coming soon. Amid all these he wrote a mail to Stella,

“Dear Stella

   I have finished working on the poems of my ‘First Diary’. Please have a look at the attached file and reply soon.

Thanking you

Ray”

Thus he attached the draft with the mail and clicked on the send button and sent it to her email address. Then he got up from the chair. He went to the bathroom and took a bath for at least half an hour. Then he had lunch and lay on the bed. He could not usually sleep during the day time. He also had problems regarding sleep at night. Slowly he was getting rid of insomnia. These days he was sleeping well at night with a light dose of sleeping pills. He was feeling better now since he finished at least a chapter of the draft. So he was happy. But he did not know what to do. He knew Stella would call back after reading the draft. So he was waiting for her call.

83. THE GREY DIARY

He was now waking up late. In the evening he was strolling in the park. He was doing a bit of office work. This way a few days passed. He was now browsing through his blog. He was studying a bit for a distant learning course that he was doing from a university of Hisar. But he was not being able to concentrate properly. He was a very bad multi-tasker. Slowly he was learning multi-tasking these days. At last Stella phoned him,

-        Good Evening.

-        Good Morning.

-        How do you do?

-        Fine. I was waiting for your call.

-        I know.

-        Have you read it?

-        Yes.

-        What do you think about it?

-        I loved it. But I have a few questions.

-        Yes tell me.

-        What do you mean by ‘cut away’?

-        It’s nothing but inserting something from a different time and place within the narrative.

-        Okay. It’s complicated. I know only about cutaway collars (smile).

-        What’s that?

-        It’s the collar of a formal shirt.

-        Okay. That’s interesting.

-        Yes. I think I have understood the ‘flashback’ only.

-        Yes, it’s like going back to past.

-        Yes.

-        Did you enjoy reading the draft?

-        Yes, absolutely.

-        That’s enough for now.

-        Okay. Are you tired of writing?

-        Yes a bit.

-        Take rest then.

-        I was thinking about my ‘Grey Diary’ now.

-        The second diary?

-        Yes.

-        Okay. Keep thinking.

-        I am facing a problem.

-        What’s that?

-        I have categorised some of the poems from my diaries in different sections while uploading on my blog.

-        Don’t worry; I have gone through your blog. Stick to it and use the cinematic tools as you did before. I love your blog.

-        Thanks.

-        What’s the situation in India now?

-        Pretty bad. Lockdown till 3rd May.

-        Okay. Do you have a printer?

-        I have it in Kolkata. But not here.

-        Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll sign the contract soon.

-        Okay.

-        Do you need more money?

-        No. But I don’t know the exact market value of my work.

-        Leave it to me. I know it and I won’t cheat you.

-        Okay. Thanks.

-        And I think you know that market economy is crashing everywhere.

-        Yes I wrote it in my last book.

-        Exactly.

-        So everything will be redesigned now.

-        Yes, true.

-        So don’t worry about the economy. Take rest, think and when you feel like writing, do it.

-        Okay.

-        Just stick to your blog. And tell me if you need more money.

-        Okay. I have another question.

-        Tell me.

-        As a reader are you feeling bored of the format?

-        As in?

-        Like ‘the poem and the fantasy’ format. Is it not getting repetitive?

-        Absolutely not.

-        As a young woman, I am really interested in the fantasy.

-        Okay.

-        I told you before that I’m interested in male psychology. You are writing exactly what I want to know.

-        Okay.

-        I’m not forcing you. If you have something new in mind, you can incorporate that. But I do want to know about the fantasies behind your poems.

-        Okay. That sounds nice.

-        Yes, keep it up.

-        Another question?

-        Yes tell me.

-        Don’t you want to know about the girl?

-        No. I want to read it in your draft.

-        Yes, that’s the way it should be.

-        Exactly. Any more questions?

-        No, I got the point.

-        Yes, now do it the way you want to do it.

-        Yes, I need some time.

-        Nobody is forcing you. Just keep it up.

-        Okay. But…

-        But what? Tell me don’t hesitate.

-        The second diary…

-        Yes the ‘Grey Diary’…

-        Yes, that’s mainly about frustration.

-        Yes I guessed that. So…

-        So I was thinking whether it’ll be fine to depict it as it is or there should be some extra flavour to spice it up.

-        (Excited) No no no, don’t just spice it up. I told you it has to be pure.

-        Okay, okay. I got the point. I’ll write it as it is.

-        Yes. That’s better.

-        Okay, thanks a lot!

-        I’ll call you soon.

-        Okay.

-        Bye.

-        Bye.

84. THE POEM ‘IRE’

Fearing the death, the naked life lives cowardly.

The time whips hard on bare body.

The poems become lost with no value for it.

In the heart there remains cowardly ire.

The protest gets lost in the labyrinth of power.

As shadows demand, the life is climbing up the ladder.

At the day-end weary mind closes eyes in fear.

The greed of seeing light in dark dream is there.

Sound after sound make a riddle to be inert.

The silent lamentation of incomplete poem

Encroaches the unknown chamber of heart -

The ire of failed spark in soaked gunpowder.

85. FANTASY OF ‘IRE’

When he was writing this poem, he spent almost two years in the campus of his film school. He was a studious hardworking student. He attended almost all the classes regularly. He completed the projects successfully so far. But he was uncertain about his future. He was continuously hearing about the struggle of upcoming future. He was a guy, who wanted peace and happiness. But Indian economy was slowly moving toward privatisation as a result of the fall of Soviet Union.  His teachers were silent about it. As a film school student he started reading Eisenstein, Ken Dancyger etc. He was becoming trained in tasty and good cinema. But Indian Film Industry was highly driven by bad hybrid low cinema. That made him frustrated. He wanted to protest against everything. But he felt helpless since he could only write a poem with a pen and paper. Cinema cost patronisation.  Neither he was from a rich family nor he found any opportunity of sponsorship. Thus he imagined the ire of failed spark in soaked gunpowder.

86. THE POEM ‘SMELL OF THE FLOWER, BOKUL’

I know you think

My greed is there for your eyes.

You think that my five senses want to touch you.

I don’t disagree.

You wriggle back often.

Yet, both of us rush to each other

And come back too

With invisible alibi.

This way many years were spent.

Today suddenly it is raining.

The babbling sound of Ichhamoti

Fills the heart.

Believe me after almost years

The memory of your essence

Has covered me completely.

The smell of a treeful bokul flowers in the river water.

87. FANTASY OF ‘SMELL OF THE FLOWER, BOKUL’

      Amid the frustration about future career, he was surviving with the memory of his girlfriend. He was busy with study. He was writing for a little magazine. But whenever he was alone, he reminisced about his girlfriend. She was going away from his life. But his heart was not being able to forget it. On one hand his dream that was continuously being challenged by the establishment. On the other hand his fantasies about his girlfriend. He actually became busy with life and tried to forget her. But his memory, his heart and his brain were continuously telling him about her. This was making him homesick very often. But he was struggling hard to get out of this. After a spell of busy life, one fine morning she returned to his memory in a rainy day. Ichhamoti is the name of a river that is there at his mother’s ancestral place, Basirhat. So far he visited the place several times. So he recalled that. He also recalled the evergreen Bokul tree that was there at his hometown opposite to the gate of his high school. He was thinking about all these things randomly and becoming homesick.

88. THE POEM ‘TWO OF US’

Two of us stare

At each other.

Yet we are scared;

What if something happens?

89. FANTASY OF ‘TWO OF US’

      Again he was recalling his heydays of the past. Now he was getting more mature. And he had watched many movies so far. He had been reading a lot. So he was recollecting the memory of how they stared at each other and if they met again, probably sex could happen.

90. THE POEM ‘TWO OF US’

That day both of us stared at each other.

Both of us wanted to get close to each other,

But somewhere the desire faced obstruction.

I had greed in my eyes.

Probably your eyes had it too.

Yet there was the desire to get close.

You flew with your showy wings.

I flew with my dreams.

We could not get close to each other.

91. FANTASY OF ‘TWO OF US’

     This poem was the extension of the previous poem. Both the poems were written on the same day. Now he was trying to get rid of his sexual desire. He was writing about a tentative real conclusion of their love that originated in a small town and did not get ripe because of the society especially the old people, who tried to impose their dreams and ideas on to the younger generation. Their orientation was different. Except his father and teachers, all the old people of the town were screwed with the idea of running after money. Thus she would probably get married to a dumb mediocre merchant in the near future.

92. THE POEM ‘FROM THE GARRET’

From the garret, I saw the city.

Suddenly a drop of water flew in.

Cloudy sky,

Cool wind.

Hug my body tight. It felt good.

Wish to get wet.

Yet I can’t.

From the garret I saw standing

Wet road, wet cars.

93. FANTASY OF ‘FROM THE GARRET’

     The girls would come to him indeed. This poem had nothing to do with his girlfriend. The times were changing. He met a girl Sumana, who left the film school since she was shocked by the ragging. She used to invite him often to their rented house in North Kolkata. He used to phone her too. Now he forgot all the conversations with her. All he could remember that she mentioned about rain and garret once. Again he put him in her shoes and wrote this poem for her.

94. THE POEM ‘NO FIRE ANYMORE’

Why do you come time and again?

I  acquired the skill

Of dreaming alone.

I fell in love  with the grey life and

The eye of the bird.

No fire anymore,

Only there are smoke and ash.

Cloudy sky,

Cloudy river water,

On the grey canvas the black birds –

Flowers fall down,

The lone bald tree,

Monotonous sorrow in the heart.

Yet, it’s raining again.

Why do you come time and again

With wetness?

I recall the childhood, I feel overwhelmed

To get wet soon.

Yet, no fire anymore,

Only there are smoke and ash.

95. FANTASY OF ‘NO FIRE ANYMORE’

      Now he became busy with life. But the beauty of nature was making him romantic. He was trying to get rid of his feelings. But he was not being able to do so since he started to meet new girls in his life. And in every girl, he was now finding love. Living away from home, he was looking for his girl friend in every girl. That was the beginning of a new journey. He would keep looking for a girl, who could inspire him in writing poems.

96. THE POEM ‘ROTTEN CORPSE’

I’ve lost my way in the middle of the sea.

My boat is directionless.

The sun sets in the west.

The darkness of fear, depression, anarchy

Becomes denser slowly.

The storm rages on.

I’m the lone boatman in the middle of the sea.

The throat becomes dry.

The salty water hits the eyes.

The eyes get burnt.

In the dark I sit grasping the oar.

Yet in the end it is not saved.

Everything turns upside down.

The deadly effort to float –

Yet, it goes down slowly.

In the land of pearls and jewels,

There lies the rotten corpse.

98. FANTASY OF ‘ROTTEN CORPSE’

   This was his state of mind in the same year. He was doing everything to get settled down properly in near future. He accepted the fact that he had lost his girlfriend. So he was hopeless now. He was trying hard to survive. He was studying in one of the only two national film institutes of the country. But he could see no future. He was utterly frustrated. So he compared himself with the rotten corpse. The film school was happening. But he did not have money in his pocket. He was surviving with a little bit of money that his father was sending to him every month. But that was not the real crisis. He never wanted money since he thought that he would get a better living by pursuing his passion. But he was seeing no way out. And the capitalist world did not believe in creativity, sympathy or kindness. It was hard to sell the passion. In fact it was a matter of debate about where and how to sell the passion since that was what the market economy all about. So he was clueless about his future. But it did not stop him from creating art. He started writing the novel ‘Orange’ among all these. But his heart was going through ups and downs. He had a dream to make a cinema out of ‘Orange’. But he did not know how. After finishing the draft of Orange, he would mail it to some studios in Hollywood and the draft would get leaked soon. After a few years he would find that the concept of the great banyan tree was stolen as home tree in a movie by a famous award winning director. And Orange would change the world soon. But he would not get anything out of his creativity. His frustration would continue.

99. THE POEM ‘LET IT BE HAPPY’

Let the butterfly take bath in the dew drop of dawn.

Let the smell of shefali flower be smeared with her.

It does not matter if I can touch it or not.

Let the earth be happy.

100. FANTASY OF ‘LET IT BE HAPPY’

    This poem was about his sacrifice. He wanted to touch her girlfriend. But she was staying far away now. He was not sure whether he would be able to touch her again or not. So he was being realistic and happy about life.

101. THE POEM ‘THE FAMILY MAN’

These days I don’t feel angry or happy.

I don’t feel repentant or arrogant.

All the emotions remain immobile inside.

I commute to office and go for shopping.

I act along the whole day

Not because I’m in distress or sorrow.

This has become my habit.

The sigh has become my habit.

To lose has become my habit.

To be weary has become my habit.

And also not seeing after seeing it has become my habit.

Sometimes I feel how about breaking the habit.

Thinking that it was not a bad idea

I go to Darjeeling.

Something more?

I don’t think it’s possible in this life.

102. FANTASY OF ‘THE FAMILY MAN’

    This was again a poem he was writing on behalf of others. He saw the daily lives of his teachers. He saw the daily life of his cousin brother, who was a brilliant student but he did not leave Kolkata as he fell in love with the city. These people neither ran after money nor got involved in any kind of out of the box idea. He saw the clerks in his film school. They were also same. They were family lover. Though they were very much aware of the politics and world order, they chose a peaceful family life in the city of Kolkata. So he was putting himself in their shoes to hone his skill of poetry writing.

103. THE POEM ‘THE EYES’

He loves the two eyes like a fool.

He loves them ignoring all the thoughts.

One day he thinks that

He will go closer.

Then he will stare, for a long time,

At those eyes.

But he has no spare time.

So the wait begins.

But he cannot go closer.

The sight gets blurred in the dust of history.

The smell of heated stone in hoofs of horses,

The smell of rotten corpse,

Surpassing all these there appears the fragrant perfume.

Yet, he cannot go close.

The sight gets blurred.

The mind becomes eager.

The smoke becomes denser.

The blood becomes hot.

The eyes disappear slowly.

He scouts like a fool.

The perfume becomes harsher.

He becomes calm.

The eyes disappear gradually.

He becomes calm.

104. FANTASY OF ‘THE EYES’

      Again the pain for her girlfriend returns. He wanted to say that among all he was still looking for those eyes. He was recalling the medieval history that he read in his school life. But nowhere could he find them. He was frustrated and slowly accepting the fact that he had to lose her. So he was pacifying himself by writing this abstract surreal dreamy poem.

105. THE POEM ‘TIME OF LOVE’

Keeping the expectation of love

In the heart,

It surrenders everything to the security.

The craziness of power play

Has to be seen with wide awake eyes.

The time of love is only there

Within the dream.

106. FANTASY OF ‘TIME OF LOVE’

     He was busy doing the course at his film school. He was unlike other students, who took things casually. He took every lesson so seriously that he had no spare time at all. Meanwhile he was noticing the power play of his teachers. They used to blame each other. He did not like it since his father was also a teacher. So it appeared to him as a power game. He was also aware of politics. So he thought that he could not do anything about it since he was so insignificant a being that he could not even have time for love because of these powerful teachers. So he wanted to dream about love. The sleep was only the time, when he could think about love.

107. THE STRESS TALE

      These poems were reminding him the old days of struggle and suffering. He was again going down the memory lane. But all the memories were not pleasant. So he was feeling stressed within. Stella guessed that. So she phoned him,

-        Hi

-        I’ve not finished the Grey Diary yet.

-        I know.

-        How do you know?

-        I mean I guessed that.

-        Okay.

-        Are you feeling stressed?

-        Yes, a bit

-        I guessed that.

-        How?

-        It’s quite natural since you’re recalling your past now.

-        I did it while working on the first diary too.

-        Yes, that was not about frustration.

-        True. You are a clever woman.

-        Whatever; do one thing?

-        What?

-        Send me whatever you’ve written so far.

-        Okay.

-        May I ask you a personal question?

-        Why are you being so formal?

-        Okay, let me ask you directly.

-        That’s better.

-        Are you married?

-        No

-        Do you have a girlfriend?

-        Yes.

-        Where is she now?

-        She is in Mumbai now.

-        Okay she belongs to Mumbai…

-        No she belongs to a suburb of Kolkata.

-        Okay.

-        So I guess she is also stuck now.

-        Yes.

-        What’s her name?

-        Dipabali.

-        What?

-        Leave it you can call her Dipa.

-        Yes, I’ll call her Dipa.

-        Yes.

-        Okay send me the draft. I’ll call you soon.

-        Okay.

-        Bye.

-        Bye.

He sent her the draft immediately and waited for her reply. She read it quickly. The next morning she phoned him again,

-        Hi

-        Have you read it?

-        Yes, it was frustratingly great.

-        (Smile) Yes, that’s how it should be described.

-        Now tell me one thing.

-        What?

-        Do you know the Governor of California?

-        What a great question! How would I know?

-        You should know.

-        Okay.

-        He is my friend. His name is Gavin.

-        Where are you now?

-        I’m in Chandigarh.

-        Which state is it?

-        Punjab.

-        Okay. Can you just spell it?

-        Yes.

-        Wait for a second.

-        Okay.

She brought a pen and a diary and asked him again,

-        Okay now spell it.

-        Spell what?

-        (Smile) You are really frustrated and getting forgetful too.

-        Yes true.

-        Spell the name of the state, where you are staying now.

-        Okay. P for Peter, U for umbrella, N for Norway, J for Jordan, A for Afghanistan, B for Boston.

-        Okay. Do you know the name of the governor of this state?

-        No I know the name of the chief minister.

-        Is he the elected chief of the state?

-        Yes, he is equivalent to your Governor.

-        Okay.

-        What’s his name?

-        Amarinder Singh.

-        Please spell it.

-        A for Australia, M for Monday, A for Afghanistan, R for red, I for India, N for New Zealand, D for Doll, E for Egypt, R for red. That’s his name. And the surname is Singh.

-        Yes I know many Singhs.

-        Why are you asking these things?

-        You won’t understand.

-        Okay.

-        Take rest and keep writing. I’ll call you soon.

-        Okay.

-        Bye.

-        Bye.

     She cut the phone. After a few seconds the car cleaner called him. He got down the stairs with the key and opened the car door for him. And then he walked up the stairs to his apartment and phoned the laundry man so that he came and collected the used clothes for washing and pressing.

108. THE POEM ‘THE MAD’

Looking at the sun in the east sky, the mad pundit thinks

It could’ve been burst in the middle of the sky.

The colours would’ve sprinkled and have made the clouds wet.

The clouds would’ve got shrunken becoming sweet cakes.

If the cakes fell on the ground after a shake in the sky,

The breakfast could’ve been done with only those things.

Every morning, thus, he used to look at the sun.

Every one would think that he was busy in worshipping the sun.

109. FANTASY OF ‘THE MAD’

    It was a pure nonsense poem. There was a proverb in Bengali that if one had food in his stomach, he could tolerate a lot of pain. At the same time he recalled the nonsense poems of Sukumar, a famous Bengali nonsense writer, whom he read in his school life. Coincidentally he visited a sound studio of one of his teachers for an internship programme, where he saw huge posters depicting the poems of this famous poet. At the same time he was facing problems with food in the campus of the film school since till then there was no mess facility in the hostel, though later the administration would give it a thought after an agitation. With all these experiences he tried to write a nonsense.  

110. THE POEM ‘WHITE FLOWER’

The calm smoke in the tea cup; Sitting by the window

He looks outside with calm eyes.

Nearby a white flower beneath a green tree

Is lying being wet with dew in the calm morning.

Beautiful, beautiful and beautiful is she -

Far better than war, cry, lamentation and the world.

111. FANTASY OF ‘WHITE FLOWER’

      It was a flashback poem written in a December just after joining the film school. December is the time of soothing winter in Kolkata. So the weather was pleasant. But the world was busy with war. People were dying for nothing. Most probably it was the time of Iraq war. So he did not like people dying, crying and lamenting anywhere in the world. Thus he wrote this poem.

112. THE POEM ‘IT’S SMOKY ALL AROUND’

It’s smoky all around.

Inside the spark smoulders

Slowly and slowly.

The blue sky and the green earth

Get lost in the world of smoke.

It feels like to talk

With the ghost, god, and spirit.

It feels like to dream all day long

After the sleep.

In the dream there is a well.

Below there are snakes wriggling.

It feels hungry.

The sleep gets broken.

The unstable mind scouts for fairy tales.

With beauty, humour, palace and wealth

There arrives the prince of dream.

With the princess he gets fused

After love, touch and lone affair.

For a moment sweet air flows inside.

It feels good.

Yet the quest does not stop.

Searching and searching in smoke of weariness

Two eyes get closed.

113. THE POEM ‘IT’S SMOKY ALL AROUND’

    This was again a poem he was writing for those, who love fairytales and look for their Mr Right. Actually he was again trying to research on her girlfriend’s psychology that was totally driven by the fantasy of good look. He was also not an exception. He liked her. But now he realised that he liked her not only because she was pretty. But it was mainly because of the discourse of his childhood and puberty. Had he not spent time with her, he would not have fallen for her. It was not only the beauty, it was something more. She believed in god due to her orientation. But he was strongly driven by other materialistic philosophies. So now he understood that only with beauty one could not survive for a long. Actually the dream, hunger and beauty were correlated. Thus this surreal poem to explore the fantasy of her girlfriend.

114. THE POEM ‘LET THE FOUNTAIN FLOW’

Let the fountain flow on your body.

Let the fountain flow in my mind.

Let the fountain flow babbling babbling

With the taste of elixir.

Let the bud bloom at night.

Let the stars smile

After a long period of time.

115. FANTASY OF ‘LET THE FOUNTAIN FLOW’

     This was again a poem to cheer him up. He was studying in the film school. He was attending classes regularly. He was doing the projects. Amid all he was meeting new girls, who were making him nostalgic about his girlfriend. So he missed her and he was recalling her by writing this poem about wet beauty. He wanted to see her wet in water. He wanted to hug her with his wet mind. He wanted to be all wet in a starry night.

116. THE POEM ‘SUDDENLY THE BODY GETS WET’

Soul and soma want to part way.

The desire travels in the land of sound, colour and light.

The smell of flower seems good.

The red light makes it feel crazy.

From the bee hive a drop of honey

Suddenly falls on the tongue.

Suddenly the body gets wet.

From the river there comes the sound of rain.

117. FANTASY OF ‘SUDDENLY THE BODY GETS WET’

    This poem was the result of watching cinema. The cinema was technically created out of the three components sound, colour and light. Cinema was basically an illusion of reality that affect directly on the mind. Mind can fly everywhere. But the body was an obstacle to its imagination. So they wanted to be separate. At least he felt like that while writing the poem. Other lines were the ornaments that he used to decorate the poems.

118. THE POEM ‘BYPASS’

In front of my film school

There is the wide E.M. Bypass.

On the divider a mad woman

Used to stay with her ‘belongings’.

Along the Bypass the car used to go.

The buses and bikes used to go.

And quite often she used to shout.

One day upon curiosity I asked her,

‘Why do you shout?’

She just laughed at me.

‘What’s the history behind her laugh?’ -

I thought like a fool.

I didn’t think that like the skyscrapers

By the bypass,

This history has no market value.

119. FANTASY OF ‘BYPASS’

     He saw a dishevelled shabby nasty mad woman residing on the divider of the road E.M. Bypass in Kolkata. His film school was situated by this road. So he thought of this poem since nobody cared about the mad woman. He heard the stories of many talented people becoming mad in the end of their lives. He was unsure about his future too. So he wanted to write something about this.

120. THE POEM ‘BYPASS-1’

The standing girl on the bypass –

I like you.

I like your hair,

I like your attire and your glance,

Suddenly

I like it too much.

The momentary joy,

The momentary frustration.

Yet everyone moves on.

I also move on, hopeless.

121. FANTASY OF ‘BYPASS-1’

    As mentioned above, he was now looking for her girlfriend everywhere. As he used to eat at the street side food shops till the administration brought in the mess facility, he often used to travel along the sidewalk of E.M. Bypass. And like every young boy, he used to look at the beautiful girls. He started to develop the fetish for the appearance of the girls. Every time he saw a girl, he wanted to talk to her and play with her like he did it with his girlfriend in his childhood and teenage. But it was not possible since in the unknown city everybody was unknown and every encounter was unknown. So he was afraid about the unknown girls as every gentleman was.

122. THE POEM ‘BYPASS-2’

When I walk by the Bypass,

I see drain, dusty jujube tree,

And jungle flower.

I see stray dogs,

The perfume that walks by

Comes and shakes the dream.

Bypass of dust, green, and garbage –

By it there are the nascent skyscrapers.

123. FANTASY OF ‘BYPASS-2’

      This was a poem of Japanese style. He was learning Nihongo in a nearby university. There his teacher introduced him to Japanese poems. From there he learned the styles of visual description. Later he would also write a few haikus. So this poem was a visual description of the Bypass that he experienced everyday - nothing more or nothing less.

124. THE POEM ‘LET IT BE CALM’

Let the blue survive in the sky.

Let the mustard field be yellow.

Let the green come back again.

Let the mind calm down, calm down and calm down.

125. FANTASY OF ‘LET IT BE CALM’

    His mind was unstable since the busy world was unstable. The city of Kolkata, like all other cities, were congested and disturbed with human crowd. So he wanted fresh air and nature to be back. Somewhere down the line this torture of ‘civilisation’ on the mother earth had to stop and the mind needed to be refreshed.

126. THE POEM ‘GOOD’

The just unjust have gotten confused.

The colourful lights were everywhere.

The seven hues of the evening have

Settled down with full might.

Violet is good, blue is good.

Green is good, yellow is good.

Orange is good, red is good.

The time of liking them has just gotten limited.

127. FANTASY OF ‘GOOD’

    This poem was the extension of the previous poem. He was getting so busy with life that he could not cherish the beauty. Like every people around he found himself becoming mechanical.  He was simply jeopardised with busyness. He wanted to get rid of that.

128. THE POEM ‘GREY SEA’

The grey sea -

Again there is darkness.

The five senses suffer in fever.

Invisible lamentation.

For whom and why?

The failed question

Time and again.

129. FANTASY OF ‘GREY SEA’

     This was a flashforward poem. When he was writing this poem, he left the institute. He went to Mumbai and returned from there back home in northern Bengal. Then he again shifted back to Kolkata. Without a job, he felt frustrated. He was doing freelancing. Meanwhile he suffered in fever for a few days. He had had this disease of cough, cold with fever, since his childhood. He also had problems in his tonsils. But he had a habit of documenting feelings as poems. Thus he wrote this poem.

130. THE POEM ‘THE PAST’

The heart becomes empty. Lamentation!

The storm rages. The mind becomes blank.

Many words return anew.

There were mistakes in calculations.

But there was no escape.

There was no possibility to return.

The time laughs in persiflage.

Frustration and nightmare circle the life.

Where is the end? Where does it end? –The mind keeps scouting.

The debris of history spreads its hands.

The past – that’s only the wait of time.

131. FANTASY OF ‘THE PAST’

    By this time his girlfriend got married. His brain accepted it. But his heart did not. So he was being pessimistic about everything. He thought that it was a mistake to leave his home town. It was a mistake to come to Kolkata for higher study since his school life and childhood was so rich. He scored a bad result in his college life due to the absence of his girlfriend. Then in the film school all the minds appeared to be polluted with the dream of quick success. He neither wanted success nor the fame. He only wanted to get back to his girlfriend and thus to his home town. This was a suicidal poem. The last line revealed his intention that in near future he would commit suicide. But poems would make him alive. Had he not been able to write poems as catharsis, he would have definitely committed suicide.  So he was telling that everything would be the past.

132. THE POEM ‘FOR YOU’

For you I can write

Pages after pages.

In a moment I can fill

Thousands of diaries.

For you I can draw

A lot with water colour.

For you I can become

A failed poet.

133. FANTASY OF ‘FOR YOU’

     Frustrated with life, he started preparing for a civil service examination. He hated sound and cinema that ruined his life. Thus he joined a reputed coaching centre in the city of Kolkata. There he saw a pretty madam, who used to teach political science. It did not happen for everyone. But this madam aroused the feeling inside him again. Thus he wrote this poem.

134. THE POEM ‘ALMS’

Many words cannot be told

Since those do not sound well.

The heart gets heavy with unknown weight.

It’s said that weeping makes it light.

I don’t know. The eye water got vapourised many days ago.

Cacophony all around –

People die again they enjoy.

So what?

I live in an isolated island.

My happiness has been lost many days before.

I hate the alms of kindness.

135. FANTASY OF ‘ALMS’

   This poem showed the bitter truth about the unorganised film world, where employment happened by references. So he got his first job in his film school itself as an intern. But the job was totally manufactured and given by the higher authority though the requirement was there. As a result of the job because of too much of travelling due to the conspiracy of a teacher and a few of his batch mates, he developed permanent backache for the first time. After this he went to protest against it to the head of the department. He said that he had been taken in this job to clean the shit. His subordinate teacher, who sent him for a production assistant’s job to Pune via Chennai, said to him that he was there to bear his orders. He wrote a note against him. In reply to the note he used the word ‘request’. For the first time he realised that it’s nothing but a political game being played by his superiors. And when he texted to the teacher, who referred his name to the administration, about whether his contract would get renewed or not, he simply said ‘no’. Now he realised the game being played against him. Since then he hated sound and any of the people, who were bossy and acquired a higher post with higher salary. He would simply not talk to them until it was not extremely urgent. Yes he developed a complex that told him continuously to hate the bossy higher authority. And it would not go so easily.

136. THE POEM ‘MELANCHOLIC’

For a long time I have not swum in the river water.

For a long time I have not talked to you.

For a long time I have not felt the air by the calm river.

For a long time I have not met my Nepali friend.

I’m not feeling well. I’m not feeling sleepy.

In the cloudy mind it’s raining cats and dogs.

137. FANTASY OF ‘MELANCHOLIC’

     He met a Napali police officer once while travelling by a train to his home town. He was a nice guy having a great passion for cinema and music. He would take him to Darjeeling several times to build up a film school over there. This plan was still going on. But due to his jobs, he had been travelling across the country. So he was missing him. He was missing his girlfriend. And he was missing his home town. So he was feeling sad and melancholic.

138. THE PAUSE

    Again he was tired of going down the memory line. So he took a bit of rest. He was not awaiting any phone call. He simply wanted a peaceful break. But Stella understood it. He was struggling to translate the poems since they were reminding him about the days of his frustrations. The Grey Diary was all about that. And it was the longest one. The year 2007 and 2008 were most frustrating to him. He had no clue about the future. He was surrounded by fake success mongers. So he paused for one day. The next day when he was sitting to write after the breakfast, at around 10 o’clock Stella called him,

-        Hi

-        Yes.

-        What are you doing now?

-        Just sat for writing.

-        And you were not being able to write.

-        Yes.

-        It happens. Take rest.

-        Yes. It’ll take more time than what I expected.

-        Don’t worry. Take your time.

-        Yes, it’s going more and more depressing. I’m just thinking of finishing the Grey Diary as soon as possible.

-        No no. Take your time. It has to be pure and truthful. Don’t do anything in hurry.

-        I have contacted Gavin.

-        Who is Gavin?

-        My friend and the governor…

-        Yes you told me that.

-        Yes

-        You contacted him about what?

-        I told him about you.

-        And what happened…

-        He said he would do anything to materialise our dream projects.

-        Why? Don’t you have the money?

-        Yes I have. But your Orange got stolen, right?

-        Yes.

-        So, we need a little bit of political help.

-        Okay.

-        Gavin will soon contact Amarinder.

-        Okay.

-        You take rest and try to write and don’t leak what I said to you.

-        Okay. I’ll not leak anything. In fact so far I did not tell anything about this project to anyone.

-        Yes, that’s better.

-        How is your girlfriend?

-        She is fine.

-        You know what happened near Mumbai?

-        No. What happened?

-        Mob lynching.

-        I did not get the news.

-        I knew it.

-        When did it happen?

-        Two days back. Call your girlfriend and check whether she is safe or not.

-        Okay. I’ll call her right away.

-        Don’t get panicked. The situation is under control.

-        Okay.

-        Just ask her how she is doing.

-        She did not tell me anything about it.

-        May be she does not know about it at all.

-        She is eating and sleeping in Mumbai.

-        She should do it.

-        Yes, what else could be done in this situation?

-        Yes, true. Just call her and talk as you did it before. Don’t feel panicked or give her panic.

-        Yes, true.

-        Good night.

-        Bye.

    Stella cut the phone. Immediately he called her girlfriend in Mumbai. She was preparing breakfast. She told her about the news. She also did not know it. She said that she would call back after watching the television. After a few minutes she called back and described the situation to him. She added that people did not understand their own good. More than hundred people had already been arrested. However she told him not to worry.

139. THE POEM ‘NEARBY, GLISTENING THE HEAVEN’

Nearby, glistening the heaven,

-the sea of sensation.

It feels weary after running for ages,

Whole body is naked, busy, disheveled and cliché,

Though the sandy beach sparkles and the daylight softens, it sweats.

It sweats till the perspiration mixes with tear.

The eyes burn in pain.

Sparkle of sand fades away somewhere,

The sea water is softer, glitzier and glistening more and more,

The naked life runs, to dive into it, on the shore.

Slowly the sea comes closer,

And slowly her time runs up toward the end.

Nearby,

Glistening the heaven.

140. FANTASY OF ‘NEARBY, GLISTENING THE HEAVEN’

   This was a poem about uncertain future. After writing this poem, he read a real story in a newspaper that an aspiring model committed suicide in Howrah. This sparked insecurity inside him since he was also going to work in the same profession in near future. He felt that he was close to the massive Indian Film Industry, but he had no clue about how to enter the industry. He saw the big studios in Mumbai as his teacher took them to the studios as part of an industry tour. But he also added that the people working there were getting alms of money except the head engineer. These stories made him feel isolated, insecure and frustrated. And just then this news of suicide appeared in the newspaper. A dream to be big in the tinsel town got extinguished. So his imagination followed the suit, which was not at all expected. Thus he again felt really unhappy about it since he could have been the subject to this fatal expectation. This story made him cautious about the future.

141. THE POEM ‘UNATTACHED’

Poetry, poetry, poetry -

Holding the pen the burnt mind sits idle.

Yet, a single line cannot be written.

The sadness within is kept by

The immobile words.

Only the heart gets churned up,

The eyes are tired of looking at things,

Whether it’s bad or good,

Incidents happen everywhere.

Unattached, uncommitted mind

Live fearing the death.

142. FANTASY OF ‘UNATTACHED’

      Almost two months he could not write a single poem. But now he got a little bit of spare time. But he became inert. He was not liking the place where he was being for the time being. He was facing a block. He asked for a new mattress from the warden, but he had a tendency to serve the students from rich background. And he was seeing this typical ‘production’ mentality everywhere in the film school. This was how this world ran. He would be a silent spectator to everything. And always he would not be able to write it down.

143. THE POEM ‘MY FILM SCHOOL’

Challenging many odds

My film school lives.

Amid the good, bad and joy

The conspiracy of living gets lost.

From the sky on the lake water rain falls.

The eyes get satiated with the smoke of water.

Yet, a drop of water oozes often

From the corners of two eyes.

With a heartful of frustration the helpless bud,

Lives in the hope of blooming someday.

144. FANTASY OF ‘MY FILM SCHOOL’

    He was a silent spectator of everything happening around. He was reading Rumsey and McCormick, Glenballou etc as a sound specialization student to prepare himself for the future war. He was facing many odds in his film school life. Yet, he had a tendency not to give up hope. After every depression, he tried to cheer him up. And all he had a pen and a paper to do that. This was his weapon to rectify all the odds. So he wrote this poem of hope keeping the reality intact. This poem summed up all his experiences in the film school.

145. THE POEM ‘BUBBLE’

In deep dark of the blue sea

A bubble goes up to the sea surface,

Where its death is

Waiting.

146. FANTASY OF ‘BUBBLE’

      Again he was trying to write a poem in Japanese style - but this time with a touch of life. Every poem is related to life. But here it directly meant that the life would end soon after experiencing everything around. There was no other way out but to reach the sea surface i.e. the top and die. That’s the destiny of every life. No dumb astrologer was needed to predict this thing.

147. THE POEM ‘LIVING CORPSE’

The living corpse, lying in fever,

Does not lament anymore.

There is no love in unspoken words.

There remains only remnant of gunpowder.

A shore of ocean floats

In the unwinking callous eyes.

A lot surpassed,

Remaining - a lot more.

Weary mind seeks rest,

Within the womb of night.

Yet, the heart throbs day and night.

The living corpse awaits a painless retirement

Of the heart machine.

148. FANTASY OF ‘LIVING CORPSE’

     Again he fell ill amidst the loneliness of city life. Though this poem sounded quite like the poem ‘Rotten Corpse’, it was different. He used to feel feverish whenever the season got changed. As told before he had some minor health issues that occurred during the season change time. He did not like this illness. And for a moment he felt like dying. So he just wanted to take rest after having medicine.

149. THE POEM ‘TRIVIAL HEART IN THE CROWD’

It’s a trivial heart in the crowd.

Hopes often peep up.

The explosive of dreams disappear in pain.

Helplessly two eyes stare.

The body is as busy as machines.

At the end of the day,

It’s the television that satisfies.

Yet the unsatisfied heart sits in vain,

Silently in urban air.

150. FANTASY OF ‘TRIVIAL HEART IN THE CROWD’

     After experiencing the big bosses of the institute, he felt a crisis within. In the common room of the hostel there was no television. So he missed the television. He tried, but he could never accommodate himself with the life of the new city until his cousin brother would take him at their adda of a little magazine. Even there new erudite people used to come and he was a mere listener in every case. That time enriched him indeed. At the same time it made him lonely in the city. He wanted to speak. But he could not. So he felt like a trivial heart in the crowd.

151. THE POEM ‘REMIND ME’

When my friends move away from me, so bless me that

I do not have time to wonder.

When close ones leave me slowly, so bless me that

I do not have time to cry.

Only after walking a long distance

In a strange crowd of known faces,

Keep reminding me that

I am a trivial drop of life among millions.

152. FANTASY OF ‘REMIND ME’

         So far he had written many poems. He had read some bad poems of some infamous poets. He just could not imagine how these silly poets got famous. He wrote poems to document his feelings. What more could it have to be unique? He never wrote for fame. He started writing at a much younger stage. He never struggled to become a poet. It came to him naturally. But he was seeing the arrogance of some poets, who really got famous by writing nasty dirty mediocre poems, which had neither any meaning nor connected to their lives. But they got famous rather infamous. But he never wanted to be like them. He wrote poems only when he felt an emotional upheaval in his heart. It was the documentation of his feelings indeed. So he was scared to end the life like them. So he never showed his poems to anyone but once to a very senior script writer. And he always wanted to be with people. He just did not want to be like them. It was always better to be a trivial heart in the crowd.

153. THE POEM ‘BUSY YOU’

Though I know you are busy

With your work in your country,

Far away far away,

Yet closer and closer you come

By the tension of the rope of letters.

With the storm your name

Flies in along the sky.

Travelling the world becoming tired,

You’ll come to me -

Thinking that I am waiting

For you here.

154. FANTASY OF ‘BUSY YOU’

    This was a long story. He went to Busan, the then Pushan, of South Korea to attend a workshop. There he met a pretty girl Tamara from Belarush. Later she would write letters to him. He would reply to those letters from his home town. And he would publish a magazine with her pictures and some of his selected poems. So he wrote this poem for her.

155. THE POEM ‘THE ANT’

The ant swims

Against the current

So that he can reach

The grass flower bloomed

On the riverbank.

156. FANTASY OF ‘THE ANT’

     This poem again indicated his inner wish to get back to his girlfriend and thus his home town. So he was imagining a tiny ant’s effort to defy the huge river current and go against it to enjoy the beauty of the grass flower.

157. THE POEM ‘ON THE SEA SHORE OF MADRAS’

The light of the world will go out slowly.

With reflections of the dense clouds on the breast

The waves hit the sea shore

Of Madras.

158. FANTASY OF ‘ON THE SEA SHORE OF MADRAS’

     This was a poem conceived by a sea beach of Madras. He got a scholarship to stay and study in Chennai. Before his final diploma film in the institute, he got the chance. The head of the department advised to go for the course as his director delayed to start the final project. So he spent all most six months in Chennai. There he met new friends, both girls and boys. They would inspire him to write again. Actually in Bengali, the Madras was pronounced as Madraj after her British name. It would become Chennai post independence. So he used the word ‘Madraj’in the Bengali poem actually.

159. THE POEM ‘I’M WATER’

How do I tell you that

I’m water.

I’m destined to flow.

You’re the goose.

You came and played on me.

I saw with happiness

While flowing with speed.

Certainly you thought this was my hoax.

But how do I make you understand

That I’m the river water?

160. FANTASY OF ‘I’M WATER’

     This poem was written after travelling to Korea and Madras. This had made him curious about the new places. So he was comparing himself with river water and trying to convince her girlfriend that he was not playing any hoax with her. But the journey of life had taken him away from her, though this emotion was temporary. Soon he would feel homesick again.

161. THE POEM ‘IF YOU CAN…’

If you can hold me tight;

I want to be stable.

In the palm tree like the weaver birds

We’ll live together.

I know the storm will come.

The nest will be ravaged.

Yet, hold me tight.

I want to be stable and

Look at the blue sky with my wondering eyes.

162. FANTASY OF ‘IF YOU CAN…’

     This poem again expressed his desire to be stable and to form a family with his girlfriend. He would start writing his next novel ‘InFaTuAtIoN’ within a month. In this novel he would try to describe his feelings for opposite sex as infatuation. This novel would be highly misunderstood, misinterpreted and used as an untold source of cheap cinemas. But he wrote this story at the backdrop of his home town. He would gift it to some of his friends as well as sell it to some people. However, he wanted to be stable. But he did not know how. His future was uncertain and he could not marry anybody because of financial instability. His father got retired. He would leave the institute very soon. Amid all these he tried to forget the love of his puberty as infatuation. This poem was his desire to marry his girlfriend. And the novel was his counter intention to forget the affair he had by calling it infatuation. The different forces were working inside him. He was developing multiple personalities. One person in him wanted to be stable in life. But the reality was telling him that it was not possible. So he developed another mature pragmatic writer in him. The novel was the result of the head-on collision between these two personalities. And the immature lover created the poem.  

163. THE POEM ‘THE DRIZZLE, CONTINOUS’

Depression, tiredness, and the smoke of cigarette –

In the bitter mouth there’re the tasteless buds.

In the brain the non-working sparks

Run like a barren sperm.

In the hole of sexuality there’s the failure.

Only picture, blood red rose and

Smell-less wall paper.

Different from cry, laughter –

Undefined feelings below the eyes.

Yet, after a long time

It feels good to see the continuous drizzle out there

On the lake water.

164. FANTASY OF ‘THE DRIZZLE, CONTINUOUS’

      This was a flashback poem. He was writing this poem just before he would start writing Orange. This was the time when the idea of Orange was slowly developing inside his brain. But he was not being able to pen it down. He started a little bit of smoking and occasional drinking in the institute. So he was feeling frustrated in his brain. This poem was an abstract description of his state of mind.

165. THE POEM ‘IT CALLS CLOSE’

The smoke in black hair,

On the lips there’s the explosive of rotten cigarette.

Yet, into the eye balls the heart builds its hut.

It calls close

And closer.

166. FANTASY OF ‘IT CALLS CLOSE’

   Again it was an abstract poem. He was sitting in the tea shop on the opposite side of his institute. He was gossiping with his friends. He was smoking a little bit. Occasionally he was drinking in his room with his teachers. Especially the production teacher used to come to his room occasionally. He used to take him out to the clubs of Kolkata often. There they used to chit-chat with wine and food. This poem was the result of the burning desire to create something.

167. THE POEM ‘WHAT’S SO WRONG IN IT!’

If he suddenly feels ostracised, what’s so wrong it?

What’s so wrong in it if the solitary mind lives in the solitary sky?

If it does not live, what’s so wrong in it?

From the infinite vacuum to more vacuum

Walking a lot of distance, panting in tiredness,

Just before the death if he finds a chunk of

Childhood,

What’s so wrong in it!

168. FANTASY OF ‘WHAT’S SO WRONG IN IT!’

      He could not remember where he conceived this poem. But it was clear that he was still in the quest of his childhood. Momentarily he felt lonely. And he had a complex that always drove him to think that he might die tomorrow. So he did not care anything at all. He used to respect people. But he had no fear as always. But when the people, he loved and respected, betrayed him, he felt sad and lonely. It used to happen quite often in the institute. He did not like this phenomenon at all. And whenever he felt betrayed, he used to feel lonely and go down the memory lane to his childhood that was pure and jovial. Thus this poem got conceived – a momentary frustration.

169. THE POEM ‘WHETHER IT FEELS GOOD OR BAD…’

Whether it feels good or bad,

To live is the destiny.

Counting the pains of love,

In the dream of acquiring the ultimate state of mind,

Getting absorbed is the peace.

In the weight of dream, hope and wait

The courage to love is dim.

170. FANTASY OF ‘WHETHER IT FEELS GOOD OR BAD…’

     The lover inside him spoke again. The factors of real life were hiding the lover time and again. He wanted to say that the institute gave him dream. But the same institute snatched his love from him. At the same time dream was there. But no straight way to reach the dream was visible. So it was bringing frustration in mind. But one had to live with all of these. So it was a moment of nothingness in life that would continue for a long period of time.

171. THE POEM ‘IN THE LAND OF JOY’

In the same boat, reaching the village of joy

They met each other.

They talked, they felt good, and they could focus on

Creating the joy.

In the end of the day, they had enough weary spare time.

Beneath the moon beam,

Amidst the workers,

They talked for a while and they had the wish.

They had a little time.

Meanwhile the task of creating joy got ended.

In the same boat, crossing the river

Both of them hugged each other.

It felt good, it felt happy, and the mind became empty.

172. FANTASY OF ‘IN THE LAND OF JOY’

     Till now he had not hugged any girl. So this was his imagination what could happen after he hugged any girl. So the platonic love, the imagination might get lost – that was his doubt. He was not from a culture that would simply copy anything from the west like the copycats do. He was well aware of the Western Civilisation. But he was never taught to copy them without any justification. So he was just from a culture that did not allow couple to hug each other in public. It was the culture of Indian subcontinent. And he was not crazy for a hug. He was rather crazy for sex that was what couple should do. He was simply not into the half culture of the half pants.

173. THE POEM ‘THE EYES’

A pair of eyes that want to

See me time and again –

Let’s finish the life looking for them.

If they are found, what will be left?

174. FANTASY OF ‘THE EYES’

    This was again a philosophical poem in the quest for two eyes that were crazy for him. Actually he was looking for a true love without conditions. And that was not possible in the labyrinth of the system that he was living in now. So his skepticism grew more and more. In fact in a world, where everyone seemed greedy for success, true love did not exist. So he was predicting that he would not find a true love in this life.

175. THE POEM ‘THE AIR COMES AND KISSES’

The air comes and kisses the whole body.

The naked homeless mind floats into

The deep darkness of dream.

In the greed to taste the flawless joy

The flower falls on the mud.

It rolls up and down in crazy mirth.

The petals get torn one by one.

In the storm, water, mud clad night

The air comes and kisses the whole body.

The naked homeless petal floats into

The deep darkness of dream.

176. FANTASY OF ‘THE AIR COMES AND KISSES’

    This poem was about the desire to have sex. He was not rich. He stayed far away from home so he was homeless. And the word homeless was quite akin to Bengal. Post independence India got divided by the conspiracy of the British. Thousands of people got homeless due to the partition. The most affected states were Punjab and Bengal. He belonged to Bengal. So the word homeless reminded him about the partition. He read the history. He heard about it from his parents. So he also felt like one of them as a Bengali. So the word homeless was very important for him. Now far away from his home, he felt like a homeless.  And as a homeless young man he also had the desire to have sex. So he wanted to have sex now. But he was afraid of the dark consequences too.

177. THE POEM ‘BOKUL’

See my friend under the Bokul tree how the Bokuls drop.

The leaves of the Bokul tree, how they move up and down.

The cold wind comes and softly touches them.

Suddenly a drop of rain falls on my bare skin.

I wish after calling I tell you with the open heart

See my friend under the Bokul tree how the Bokuls drop.

178. FANTASY OF ‘BOKUL’

    This was a fun rhyme. He was recalling the Bokul tree that was there opposite to the gate of his high school. By now he had mastered the art of rhyme. So he was imagining two girls were playing underneath the Bokul tree and enjoying the nature and fragrance. So it was completely his imagination. This poem was a result of the Bengali rhymes he had read so far plus his imagination and attraction toward girls.

179. THE POEMS ‘UNCOVERED’

     He finished ‘Grey Diary’ according to the blog. So he sent a mail to Stella attaching the updated draft. After that he took a refreshing shower and shaved his beard. Now he thought of relaxing for a few days until Stella called back. After almost two days in the morning Stella called him,

-        Hi

-        Hi, good morning.

-        Good evening. What’s up?

-        Nothing much, just relaxing a bit.

-        Okay, that’s great.

-        Have you read it?

-        Yes.

-        And how was it?

-        Fantastic.

-        Thanks!

-        Are you in touch with your family?

-        Yes over phone.

-        How do they do?

-        Bored of the lockdown. But they are fine.

-        How is the situation in India?

-        Lockdown till 3rd.

-        After that…

-        No one knows, what’s going to happen.

-        Situation is worse in here.

-        You have any idea regarding what to do in this situation.

-        I have no clue. I am also tired of this situation.

-        Yes, everyone is suffering due to the virus.

-        Here in India the daily wagers are suffering a lot.

-        How did you get this information?

-        My dad called me in the morning.

-        And what did he say?

-        In Kolkata, the daily wagers are facing huge trouble.

-        That’s quite natural.

-        What are the governments doing out there?

-        No idea. In this situation every news agency is busy promoting the leaders.

-        Did you get any information regarding the food stock of India?

-        Yes, one of my friends said that the central government had sent rice grains for eight months to West Bengal government.

-        You mean to the state where your family lives?

-        Yes.

-        That’s great.

-        No but it was not getting distributed properly.

-        Okay.

-        And what about Mumbai?

-        Cases were increasing every day.

-        Yes same here.

-        Okay. Take care.

-        I think it’s all happening due to this strange economy.

-        Yes true.

-        So what’s your suggestion at this stage?

-        I don’t know. All I know everything is under threat.

-        As in?

-        As it happens in every congested city.

-        What do you mean? Tell me specifically.

-        For example take any congested city like New York, Tokyo, Mumbai or Kolkata.

-        What about them?

-        In these cities people commute like cattle in local trains.

-        Yes true.

-        That’s under threat.

-        True. What about villages?

-        There is no proper village anymore. In villages the farmers don’t want to farm anymore because of rapid urbanization. And most of their families have migrant labourers, who are now stuck in different states far away from home.

-        What are they saying?

-        What to say madam? They are coming out to the streets saying that anyway they are going to die.

-        So they are not afraid of the virus.

-        No longer.

-        That’s gonna be dangerous man!

-        Yes. I guess more danger is ahead. Everybody has a right to live comfortably.

-         In USA also enough food is there. It just has to be distributed properly?

-        And the GDP driven market economy won’t allow that.

-        Yes, that’s where we are stuck. What about Tata?

-        He is an exceptional man. But again people could not wait for the mercy of the rich. Not every rich is benevolent. It’s the right of the people to live a comfortable and better life. This point has to be noted.

-        (Smile) Yes. Noted with thanks. Now calm down.

-        Are you going to work more on this draft?

-        Yes, why not?

-        No I was thinking that everyone is getting upset with the situation. So I should not force you.

-        You have never forced me.

-        Thanks. What next you want to work on?

-        On the poems ‘uncovered’.

-        The section ‘open’ or something like that?

-        Yes, this section consists of poems both from ‘The First Diary’ and ‘Grey Diary’.

-        Okay.

-        Yes, But these poems contain limitless unrestricted fantasies.

-        Okay.

-        So I categorised them in the section ‘Uncovered’.

-        So it’s gonna be explicit now?

-        Yes kind of.

-        Great! You are going great.

-        Thanks.

-        Another thing I wanted to tell you.

-        What?

-        Gavin phoned Amarinder.

-        Really?

-        Yes.

-        And what did they talk about?

-        Nothing much. I did not hear the conversation. But he said that you should keep in touch with your friends, who read your books.

-        Yes, I am in touch with at least two friends, who thoroughly read my books.

-        That’s enough.

-        Why? Are you going to take it to the court?

-        Yes something like that may happen.

-        That’ll be great. And ..

-        Yes tell me.

-        I sent my books to National Library of India and Asian Film Academy Archive in Busan too.

-        That’s fantastic.

-        Thanks.

-        Let’s wait for the normalcy. Everything will be alright.

-        I hope so. And till now I don’t need any more money from you…

-        (LOL) You are a gentleman, indeed.

-        Thanks.

-        Okay. Bye for now.

-        Bye.

180. THE POEM ‘SHAMELESS’

The heart cries for joy, the old stops it.

Can’t think what to do and where to go.

Seeing the soft smile, blood red lips, warm body,

Tell me dear how to stop it, the wish spreads its wings.

My blood is primitive, my body is crazy.

Shameless is my creation, how do I hate it?

The callous heart keeps looking to the path of great time –

When will the thunder fall on the artificiality?

The laughter of the old will be burnt and destroyed.

The civilisation will smile again with a lot of greens.

The warmth will be aroused and the joy will be flowed.

The will will fly again, nobody will stop.

In the land of joy at calm and cold night,

I will do whatever I want with my love.

In the sky the moon will smile blue and calm.

On this earth the flute of limitless joy will play.

With the infallible honey of Mahua and in the make-up of madness

The Dunduvi will play on the land of greens.

The empty bereft basket of heart will be fulfilled.

With the hues of lust every sorrow will go.

The stream wet with moonbeam will make the soma wet.

The dream of love will be aroused in the suave, cold and slippery body.

On the earth there will come the primitive nudity.

The civilisation of Monu will be destroyed.

So, let it go, let the old go, let it go to hell.

We will stay back unshackled and float in the river of joy.

181. FANTASY OF ‘SHAMELESS’

    Now he was reading about Monu and Batsayan. As it was told before he would not take anything without proper justification. So he was totally discarding the idea of Monu that said sex was a duty to produce child. He liked Batsayan more since he told that sex is fun. In this poem he was throwing venom to the community of orthodox old people, who were the unsaid obstacle to have an intercourse with his girlfriend. He simply hated them. This poem was written in his teenage in his ‘First Diary’.

182. THE POEM ‘THE CHANGE OF TIME’

The wish is there in my marrow, the shame is thus gone.

I want to live the way I want with my own religion.

Whatever the blood-flesh-heart-mind tell, I do.

I am free, not shackled, but I keep dying in love.

The fire is on my eyes and in the body there’s the heat.

Whenever I want I’ll burn the ultimate youth-mind.

The tide will come close, the mind will become crazy.

The garbage of the dead river will be washed off.

Come and lick the will deadly and regretless.

The cry and smile, fire and spring, are fused in one body.

The heart is indifferent toward the shout, slogans or protests.

With the sorrow and joy the lamentation of heart got mixed up.

I know that and I follow that and I hear the song of heart.

I’ve been sitting here for thousand years, awaiting you.

The wish peeps through the corner of eyes and mind.

The change of time will come to break the old make-up.

Enough is enough, impatient, no waiting anymore.

The vagabond will create his luck with his own hands.

183. FANTASY OF ‘THE CHANGE OF TIME’

      Again this was a poem from his “First Diary’. This was the beginning of his puberty. He was experiencing change in his body and mind. The sexual desire was growing inside. He was becoming crazy to have sex with his girlfriend. But the society is stopping him from doing that. So he was writing this poem. It was told before that the emotion, enough is enough, will produce some of his poems. And this one was one of them.

184. THE POEM ‘THE RHYTHM OF LIFE’

I will go with you to a new land far away

With the make-up of a vagabond leaving the shackle.

I will go far away leaving behind all shame.

I’ll go filling the heart with infallible rhythm of life.

Running to the deep forest with the call of green

I’ll play with you, the princess of my heart.

The sun will see, the moon will see, the star will see

What a joy flows along the two hearts!

Sinking in the beauty-ocean of the eternal beauty,

I’ll scout the jewel of heart time and again.

For a thousand years what nobody could see,

That wave of the unknown land will float us across.

Floating in tide we’ll leave the notorious bond.

How does it matter if the fools keep on brawling with each other?

The beauty has called me, I will for sure respond.

Leaving the false attire, I’m coming, just wait my dear.

The heart wants, so I’ll leave the decent eyes.

With the seven hues, on the body river, I’ll play love -holi.

185. FANTASY OF ‘THE RHYTHM OF LIFE’

     This was a poem about running away from the eyes of the society to a new land, where nobody would be there to dictate them. But that was not possible in a society, where people were bound by the so called decency. This poem was against the decency – a desire to play with the body of his love in a new land. Actually he wanted to be alone with his girlfriend and taste her body. But again the society was bound by the ‘decency’. So he felt to be 'indecent' with his girlfriend.

186. THE POEM ‘IN HEAVEN-HELL’

You want to tether the light with the rules, the fire with the society!

With the force you want to stop the evergreen spring!

Every effort will go in vain; you will die rotting-melting.

The rule of the free was written by the nature.

The moon and sun will bring in night and day.

The joy of love will be fulfilled with the spring.

The flowers will bloom on the earth till the light is there.

In the dark tell me how the flute can play!

The heart gets filled with the music and happy wine.

The cry and pain get lost in the sound of laughter.

So,

In heaven-hell with blood-smell let the decent race live.

Smeared with grace, in the wild joy, let the night be spent.

187. FANTASY OF ‘IN HEAVEN-HELL’

        The love made him realise that life was not all about happiness. It cannot be so called pure or holy. This idea of holiness was a pure contradiction to the human life. And he thought of sex and he wanted to have sex. So he was protesting against the norms of the society that were preventing them to have sex. As a solution he was telling how to live both in hell and heaven at the same time. That was what life is all about. It simply could not be just pure and holy. It had to be a mixture of the both.

188. THE POEM ‘CONFLICT’

In the conflict between soul and soma and the primitive friction,

The limitless joy within the limit exists with the love-bond.

In the body the joy of love has reached the epitome.

So, the mind is shameless in the ocean of love.

The suave river, wet body, primitive nudity

Bring in heavenly joy and extreme madness.

Underneath the fountain in the fusion of two bodies

The scarlet green nature plays with the tune of ultimate joy.

Decent-indecent bargain is happening in full swing.

The mind does not know, the heart does not hear sitting out there.

189.  FANTASY OF ‘CONFLICT’

     This was a poem about the conflict and touch. He was eager to touch his girlfriend vividly. In the puberty as the sexuality gets ripe, he felt the urge to have sex with her girlfriend. But only having sex does not mean anything. So he was talking about primitiveness, where there was no shame. Absolute pleasure under the scarlet sky in the green nature would engulf them. They would also be nude to explore the friction of the two bodies. That was what he wanted to do.

190. THE POEM ‘INDOMITABLE’

The sky, adorned with seven hues of rainbow,

Smiles in the new joy-dense dawn with dreamollusion.

The life rushes to get lost having no destination.

The desire floods across the mad heart.

The slim river’s dream friction on well-built stone –

The cold life gets satisfied with the warm touch.

On the chest of deep dense hill with ups and downs

The soft light strikes upon with fully mad joy.

When the happiness and joy flood breaking the dam,

How could the dove-duo not respond?

191. FANTASY OF ‘INDOMITABLE’

     He was now describing a proper backdrop for sex. This poem was all about sex metaphorically. He compared himself with a stone and his girlfriend with a hilly stream. Again he was comparing her with soft light and himself with a hill. This way he was describing the desire along the poem. He was trying to say that everything was conducive for a fusion. So how could they not respond to it?

192. THE POEM ‘THE WISH’

In the fountain-wet, soft-sweet, lotus-smell of body,

The sad mind dances with the rhythm of the warmth.

Amid the life of seven hues, there is the wish –

If the warmth does not touch it how could it play?

The heart day-dreams and the mind spreads its wings.

The birds in the sky keep on flying.

In the dark forest the deer runs after the doe.

In the shy eyes of the doe the wish plays.

The spring wind strikes the green leaves.

Amid these the wild goose finds the geese.

With the rhythm of light, shadow, soft wind, and calm waves,

The love gets spread across the pores of the body.

Across the sky, wind and nature with the call of heavenly desire,

The wave of love is running today, who could stop it?

193. FANTASY OF ‘THE WISH’

     This was a poem taken from his life and dedicated to all the lovers of the nature. He always found animals are purer than human beings. And the love is also unconditional. It was only possible, when one became part of the nature. So he was comparing the lovers with the deer, the goose etc. He was also challenging the establishment by saying that no one could stop this wave of love. It was pure, unconditional and natural.

194. THE POEM ‘VIBRATION’

The body looks for supplement, the will spreads wings.

Inside heart, therefore, the shape is imagined.

From sky to universe to the road of cosmic time,

As a feel for body, the existence remains confined.

The just-unjust  - calculations -  would have got confusing,

Had the humankind not found a shape, amazing.

Zero and infinity are quite an enigma.

Between them there lies the pain of soul and soma.

The allurement of dreamy joy and invisible illusion -

Everywhere there is a chemistry, hidden.

The creation of new is always in pain -

The irresistible, impassioned, vibration's rain.

The vibration is old gold - the root of creation.

The vibrated is, therefore, in quest of  jubilation.

195. FANTASY OF ‘VIBRATION’

      This poem had a long story. He was studying in a reputed college in the northern   suburb of Kolkata. Now the reality was it was a boys’ college. So, they always missed girl friends. A girls’ school was there by their college. But he did not have any interest in the girls of that school since till now his girlfriend was unmarried. By this time he completed the manuscript of his first book ‘Hotya’. As a friend he used to visit another reputed university, where his school mate Purabi got admitted. Now he was studying Physics. He was meeting Purabi with his friends. And in this process, he fell in love with Purabi. Why he had no idea? In the course of time Hawking’s work on string theory got published. He read about it and discussed it with his friends. From this theory and the love and affection toward Purabi, this poem was born. This poem was like a child of them, yes Purabi and him.

196. THE POEM ‘FREE’

Jumbled-up all the fun.  

The disease is called 'Think-not'.  

A vagabond still believes though,  

The horizon is earshot.

 A girl weeps sitting there.  

Of the fact she is aware  

That she is alone unlike others.  

Nobody is there for her.  

The drunk vagabond notices  

And then he beckons her.  

She senses danger.  

Yet considering a stranger

She comes closer.  

The vagabond asks,  

- "Why do you weep dear?"  

- "I've been looking for days.  

But I can't find a peer  

Of my kind.” She says.  

- "Why do you search dear?  

The time will flow away."  

- "I think of so many things  

That I wanna share someday."  

- "Why do you think like a fool?  

If you don't, you'll get all,  

Whatever you want and long  

 - a handsome plastic doll."  

-" I don't want all those."  

-" Then what? Only voice?"  

-"You are right - a free voice.  

Would you hear? I'll say  

What I thought till today."  

-" No dear. I'm diseased."  

-"What disease? What's the name?"  

-" 'Think-not' - a rare disease."  

-"How is it? Symptoms?"  

-" Time kicks, pinches and  

Slaps hard on and on."  

-" How strange? Dangerous?"  

-"Yes, very contagious.  

The whole town is suffering.

That's why I am fleeing  

To a land where there is no time."  

-"Where is the land of no time?"  

-"Still searching, still searching.  

I haven't yet found the thing."  

-"Would you take me with you?"  

-"Where would I take you to!?  

It’s not possible, I guess!

Tell me how I can spoil your flowery face.  

I'm in a complete mess -  

No house, no address.  

I have only one friend -  

The dust of the road to no end.  

People call me mad.  

Some call me drunk and bad.  

As they say I don't fit  

In their great land.  

Also, I never wanted to stay with them.  

Yet, my heart clings to my homeland.  

-"Then why did you leave?"  

-" There came the epidemic  

Ruining the rythm of life.  

The disease is called 'Think-not' -  

A very rare type.  

This disease touched me and  

I left my homeland  

To look for a remedy.  

I'll go wherever I can find it.

Can you show me the way to the land of remedy?"  

-"You are diseased, indeed.  

You are diseased, indeed.  

You have lost your sight  

And the creative mind.  

The land you are looking for  

Is by your side.  

Tell me wanderer,  

'Will you take me with you?' "  

-"Wait a bit, wait a bit.  

Let me just think a bit.  

Who are you and  

Why did you come across?"  

-"I am at a loss  

And I want a free voice."  

-"I am at a loss  

And I want a free land."  

-"If we unite and explore,  

There will be sorrow no more."  

-The vagabond looks  

This way and that way for nothing.  

The flowers are newly bloomed,  

The grasses are soaked with the jewels of spring.  

The freedom comes walking close  

So easily!?  

The mind becomes burden-less,  

Wonderful, wonderful

So easily!?  

Splashes of lake water;  

Mirth in heart's chamber.  

The horizon is put today  

Inside two eyes.  

The chirp of happy birds,  

The tune of happy flute,  

The hymn of young woman  

Are heard inside.  

The sight is of no control.  

The vagabond thinks, 'let it roll.'  

- "On this colourful day  

It will take us,  

Through the serpentine way  

To a little happy nest."  

-"In that nest there'll be light -

The light of our eyes.  

The soft and blue light."  

-"The free light, the open light,  

The moon light, the star light,  

The calm and the lost light  

of free taste."  

-"The joy, the free hope and

The free thoughts will come  

One after another doing good to us and  

It'll be the best."

-"Where are you free girl?  

Please spread out your hand.  

Let me touch and let me be  

Blessed in free land."

197. FANTASY OF ‘FREE’

     This was a poem written when he was studying in the institute. This poem described his mental state. He could not propose to Purabi because he was uncertain about his future. He moved away from his home town. He could not propose to his girlfriend too. So he was now looking for a girl, with whom he could talk and who was like him meaning she had a vagabond mind. So he was anticipating a meeting that could change his life completely. Since his childhood he was a thinker. Besides studies he used to do a lot of things like playing football, drawing, reading story books and a lot more things. Everything was stopped after leaving home. The city Kolkata took away everything from him in the name of struggle. The huge syllabi of the university, the fear of failing in the examination, and the pain of living away from his girlfriend made him completely inert about life. After 2001 his life was complete anathema to his childhood and teenage self. However, he was surviving in a way or other. The cinema institute gave some breathing space though. But it was very little compared to his childhood. So he was imagining an encounter with a girl of his type.

198. THE POEM ‘FIRE’

The fire is inside me, the fire is my spell.

I feel like playing with the fire.

I have waves of joy in my smile, light in my eyes.

The body is full of mind blowing warmth.

That’s why I am arrogant, I don’t care.

With hard feet I trample on the old.

Who will stop me; let me hear who will stop me?

The dream is calling me from the sky.

That’s why I walk ahead without looking back.

Let the free mind rush to me seeing me there.

I’ll no longer keep anything hidden in my heart.

Like a kite I’ll shout underneath the blue.

199. FANTASY OF ‘FIRE’

      Again this was a poem written by him on her behalf and thus for all young adolescent girls, who wanted to shout out and show off. It happened in the puberty. The nascent sexuality drove young girls toward attention. Some of them became attention seekers. This poem just described their mentality at a glance. Her girlfriend was also one of them. As described before she fled with a handsome guy to explore her sexuality as she probably did not get it from him. But later her family managed to bring her back to normalcy. He felt jealous obviously. But later he realised that she expected something from him, which he did not understand. He would realise it much later, when he grew up and there was distance between them. But anyway this was a real story. So she would not wait in reality. And he would keep on struggling for a better job. And both of them would part away in the course of time. Neither was it a fairy tale nor were the cheap movies that she loved to watch. So in reality she might get a happy family. But he would not get it so easily.

200. THE POEM ‘I’LL BE PRIMEVAL’

I’ll be primeval, I’ll be mad, I’ll be savage today.

Under the moon in the silent night take away my attire.

I’ll roll on the grass; I’ll sink into the blue water.

I’ll only call you forgetting all staffs.

The sound of falling leaves, the obscure darkness-

Only you and I and our bond of the warmth

Will bring in the ultimate moment and the night of limitless joy.

The calm mind will be unstable and the unstable will become mad.

The moonbeam will fall on the wet body time and again.

With the touch of joy, suave light, it’ll bind the body.

That body will remain waiting for you.

With its nude touch your heart will be filled with joy.

I can’t wait anymore, please come close to me

With heart, mind, body in make-upless make-up.

201. FANTASY OF ‘I’LL BE PRIMEVAL’

    This was again a poem that showed his love for the nature. The primal life of human civilization was attracting him. He wanted to run away from the daily life. He wanted her touch. So he was imagining the pure beauty under the sky and into the blue. The moonlit night attracted him. The green grass attracted him.  With all these he was creating a space where the pure love would happen. He wanted to cherish the feelings of heart and body together. So he was offering her his pure nudity. Now it was time for her to come close with her primal charm.

202. THE POEM ‘WITH THE DREAM’

I’m the soma-hearted, soma-minded, soma- meditating yogi –

The consumer of heart, soul, soma and dream.

My joy lies in consuming the heart in addition with soma.

Where to get a space for mind and the day-night of the joy.

Dreaming a lot, travelling more, I’ve come in the end.

Time and again I’ve fallen in love with the soul and soma.

Yet, where it gets stuck with what nobody knows.

Everywhere the shyness drags me behind.

The dreamy-dense-diffracted mind comes down suddenly

Smeared with the dissatisfaction of heavenly wild joy.

Yet, the mind does not hear, don’t know why, can’t get it properly.

Only I fill my empty heart with the dream.

203. FANTASY OF ‘WITH THE DREAM’

    He was totally driven by materialistic philosophy. So he was mocking at the so called spirituality that was nothing but an illusion to get rid of the real desire. He simply thought that if he had desire, he should have worked to achieve it. But the norms of the society were stopping him from achieving that. The illusion of spiritual philosophies was nothing but redundant garbage of the society since no man could ever claim that he never masturbated. So this was where the soul and soma were related. So he wanted to give a damn to yoga, meditation and other methods that prepare the mind not to achieve the desire. He felt that his mind should have worked toward the desire. To him it was all fine until he was not hurting anyone. Having sex was not a taboo for him; of course it had to be consensual. But old monks of the society did not understand it. He believed in playing games, doing physical exercises but yoga. So he was calling him a soma-meditating yogi, which was an oxymoron phrase indeed. He was mocking at the idea of meditation and yoga, indeed.

204. THE POEM ‘WARMTH’

What starts with seeing, becomes ultimate with friction.

So every mind lives the life while the body burns.

Urban, rustic, wild, civilized get fused in the same joy.

Without warmth living is not possible for this life.

It’s beyond-beauty illusion, a unique sensation.

To express it in words is simply a mad’s job.

With the touch between the bodies, it gets aroused.

It makes the weary body wet in warm love sap.

In birth, thought, dream, sleep the silent warmth

Arouse the eagerness to live time and again.

At spring night on the bed in primal fusion

The warmth writes the bond with flawless rules.

So,

Why to live with machines, spells and cults

Only if you get fused in joy, you’ll understand.

205. FANTASY OF ‘WARMTH’

   After writing so many poems about sexuality, now he was feeling that it could never be expressed in words. So the puberty driven sexuality was telling him that there was nothing more important than to have sex at a spring night. And all the people, be it rustic or urban, could never escape this enigma of desire. That was simply mind blowing to experience sex. But it was again not possible for the norms of the society. So he was writing this poem.

206. THE POEM ‘BODY’

In the eyeballs there’s the well adorned thunder spark.

In the lips there’s the instigation of happiness.

On the shaved cheeks there’s the assurance of softness.

To fill it with happiness, the warmth is calling.

In the high and wide shoulders, there’s the wave of peace.

On the upper body with the muscles the dream talks.

On the two chests the lungs move up and down.

Afterward there’s the wavelike smooth desire.

Within this there’s an immobile silent hole.

Its soundless call is severely savage.

With limitless addiction  the thin waist is bound.

In the shameless lower part there’s the enigma of hips.

The call of fire-spring by the valor with the infallible supernatural

Is staying all alone at the same place silently.

With a little touch of warmth it wakes up.

And the impatient woman gets the sheer thrill.

Along the healthy thigh, the beauty of muscles -

To touch them the fairy is always eager.

So, in severe heat at the call of fire, the eyeballs are stable.

The heaven of joy, where will you flee without touching it?

207. FANTASY OF ‘BODY’

     This was again a poem he was writing on behalf of his girlfriend. He wanted to explore her fantasy. Thus he was writing a description of the body of a man. He was now delving into the fantasy of a woman. This poem was about how girls want to see a man. It was an abstract poem about the body of a man. That was quite interesting for him. It started with his girlfriend’s psychology. But the poem became universal. One might recall the Vitruvian man of Da Vinci. But he wrote it in his puberty much before knowing about the Vitruvian man. In fact it was an abstract poem, not as direct an approach as Leonardo drew it. However, critics could say anything. But he wrote it to explore the fantasy of his girlfriend. Later he would also write about the body of a woman.

208. THE PHONE CALL

      The weather was sunny here. He was busy writing the draft. After finishing the poem ‘Body’, he took a bath. Then he prepared the breakfast and had it with coffee.

     He did not expect it. But Stella phoned him.

-        Hi

-        Good morning.

-        Good evening.

-        What’s up?

-        Working on the draft.

-        That’s great.

-        Actually I’m impatient to read it.

-        Wait for a few more days.

-        Okay.

-        Actually this section was tougher than the ‘Grey Diary’.

-        I know.

-        How do you know?

-        My translator told me that.

-        Yes. So it’ll take some time.

-        Okay.

-        What’s happening in California?

-        Nothing new, situation is quite complicated now.

-        Why?

-        Because of lockdown.

-        Yes that I know. But is there any new development?

-        Yes, each and every person is being tested here.

-        That’s nice.

-        Yes. But life is getting boring.

-        Yes true. Don’t worry, everything will be alright soon.

-        Hope so. What’s happening in India?

-        Home ministry relaxed the lockdown from today.

-        That’s great. So you can shop now.

-        Yes, but not at malls.

-        Okay.

-        Yes, only the local shops will be open with restrictions.

-        That’s nice.

-        Yes, I’ll go for shopping soon.

-        You should.

-        Yes.

-        Could you please send me the draft?

-        Yes, but the ‘uncovered’ section has not been completed yet.

-        Don’t worry. Take some rest. I’m feeling bored in here.

-        Okay. I’ll send it soon.

-        Just send it now. I am crazy to know about your explicit fantasies (smile).

-        Okay. As you wish.

-        Okay. I’ll get back to you soon after reading the draft.

-        Okay.

-        Till then you take rest.

-        Okay.

-        Good night.

-        Bye.

Stella cut the line. He sent the draft to her. After two days, she phoned him in the morning.

-        Hi

-        Yes, I was just awaiting your call.

-        I know.

-        Have you read it?

-        Yes, it’s fantastic. I just loved it. You really have the guts.

-        Thanks.

-        It’s gonna be a path breaking work, I’m telling you.

-        I always try to be unique.

-        I know your life is unique.

-        Are you going to make a movie out of it?

-        Yes that’s the real purpose.

-        That’ll be great.

-        And you will act in this movie.

-        I’ll decide that.

-        No I insist.

-        But I’m fat and bald now.

-        Don’t worry. Try to reduce your weight and rest of the things could be worked out.

-        It’ll not look realistic.

-        It’ll.

-        Okay. Who will direct the movie then?

-        You.

-        How is it possible?

-        You know better than me.

-        Okay, I’ll devise a plan since you insist.

-        That’s better.

-        Okay.

-        But finish the draft first.

-        Yes, that has to be done at any cost.

-        Cost is my headache. You just keep working on it.

-        Okay, thanks.

-        How is your family?

-        All good.

-        Nice.

-        Good night.

-        Bye.

209. THE POEM ‘FAIRY TALES’

These norms rules bonds appear to be intolerable.

Whatever we want, we’ll do. We have no restraint, fear.

If I wish I will fly in the sky.

If we wish we will get fused secretly.

Wish is natural to me and the blood is mad.

I’ll write the fairy tales of life anew.

210. FANTASY OF ‘FAIRY TALES’

    This was again a poem about his hidden desire. He wanted to run away with her in a secret place and have sex. But he was restrained by the society. He was predicting that he would write the fairy tales anew since the fairy tales that people read so far did not have a realistic approach. They were simply full of fantasies to become princess and prince. But the conclusion of these fairy tales was always a happy ending, which was quite against the real life. Actually he was predicting that he would write Orange sooner or later. That’s the fairy tale of today.

211. THE POEM ‘IN SCANTY ATTIRE’

On the nude body a little darkness and littlest clothes –

Today, the definition of beauty is in the mould of mini and micro.

Anew, in new make-up, in new fun

The primal joy smiles through the scanty attire.

The blue sky, wild green, or the colour of fire,

Whatever the styles of the designer’s smart cut,

It’ll hit the market with success with its appeal.

Ah, in the scanty cloth there lies the pure happiness.

Scanty dress, scanty shape, but yet not scanty.

On the breast it takes care of the fire of illusion.

Sometimes it’s mysterious, sometimes it’s mad.

Looking at a glance, the heart gets mad.

When the cleavage between soft joys start on warm breast,

It binds him suddenly midway –

The duo joys get more and more mysterious,

The mad heart with eager eyes sees without speech.

If it drops from the shoulder a bit,

If the cloth moves a little bit on the soft breasts,

Forgetting the argument, brawl, huff, esteem

Beggars, pseudos, honests, dishonests – all rush in.

In the night in solitary room, with you my love,

While diving into the ocean of love I also wish that

In arm-amunition-clotheless scanty attire,

Let me see you at a happy night sitting by there.

212. FANTASY OF ‘IN SCANTY ATTIRE’

     This was a fantasy that every man had. He was a voracious reader. He used to read anything that was there in front of him. He used to collect the sensual photos of celebrities from news papers and magazines. He had a diary, where he used to paste them. In this poem he was discarding the idea of pornography by Picaso, since he was getting pleasure out of watching the celebrities in scanty attires. So now his young mind was being crazy to see his girlfriend in scanty attire. It was just an ordinary fantasy that every young man had. Later he would realise that it was not an easy task to make a good pornography though since sex was a transient in the average daily routine of life. So it was certainly not easy to deal with the transient and make a good piece of cinema out of it so easily. There was a huge chance to get shocked by the transient. However, he wanted to see his girlfriend in scanty attire.

213. THE POEM ‘HOT AND SOFT’

Hot hot wish of

Soft soft youth –

With this there is the unsaid

Heart’s beating.

The bodyful of sparks

Look for heap of explosives.

In the wait of explosion

The heart is silent.

The pure explosion

Has no fear of sin.

In the warm river

Let the tide and forbidden

Storm come.

214. FANTASY OF ‘HOT AND SOFT’

    He was feeling the urge again. So he was awaiting an explosion. It was his desire to have sex with his girlfriend that was getting stopped time and again because of the norms of the society. So he was simply comparing his urge with the sparks and the ecstasy with the explosion.

215. THE POEM ‘MAKE-UP TALK’

Flying the hair, arrogant, trembling the red lips

I walk the way I want. The flood of the youth

Flows on the soft body with the warmth.

Looking at that thousand eyes talk about me.

At waist the jeans stops after a slip,

After the showy top the navel peeps through.

I walk with firm steps like a horse.

After every step there is the smooth soil beneath.

Swinging the clothes, I walk with a different gait,

When I wear sari, see-through, of the colour of my wish.

The colour of shoes matches with the transparent sari.

The obscure body comes up at the night of joy.

On Saturday at calm night nobody can stop me.

Just below the waist slipping a bit the make-up ends.

On smooth thighs there comes the flood of soft light.

I dance leaving all the senses of holiness or sin.

On the sea-shore, when I run in dremolluison,

I flaunt all my beauty behind the touch of a bikini.

I play with my love in the water of sun set.

I become unstable, when the night arrives.

Ultimate, soft and hot, the attires of my night –

I put make-up on my darling as I want to do.

After that the creator knows what the state of my love is.

My beauty is the result of curd, sandal and cucumber.

Eye liner, mascara, body lotion,

Lipstick, massage oil, foundation,

With all these I have my world amidst the family works

I always look for a better self as I want.

216. FANTASY OF ‘MAKE-UP TALK’

     Again this was a poem written on behalf of her girl friend. He belonged to a middle class family. She belonged to a middle class family. And both of them have fantasies that were discussed so far. Now he was writing the fantasy of her girlfriend about make-up. Every girl liked to wear make-up as her girlfriend did. So he wanted to write poem regarding all the young girls, who loved to feel a bit arrogant, a bit confident after wearing the make-up. This poem was basically a result of reading the section, where the tips about how to look better used to be published, of a typical commercial news paper as he was facing problems with pimples. His acnes made him worried about his look. He did not understand that was quite natural in puberty especially for the boys and girls with oily skins. So he started reading about cosmetic and herbal treatments for skin along with fashion. Thus this poem came into play.

217. THE POEM ‘SOMA’

Those enchanting eyes are filled with dreams.

The blood red lips are smeared with cry and smile.

Stable voice, sweet tune, suave soft body –

Even in the dream, seeing them the mind wants to rush in.

About those stormy breasts, what’s the mystery?

Thinking that time passes, there is no laziness.

The hot-soft-mango-like frozen two joys –

With touch, love, beauty they fulfill the desire of a man.

In the land of light, the soft suave plane

Has got the mine of beauty along the space.

In the waist there flows the stream of thin river.

With the touch of it the sagacity of the old becomes silent and immobile.

The fire lies there within the mysterious chasm.

Along the mind and heart from body to body it binds the society.

For the trembling thighs and the weight of the hips

Ages after ages the mankind feels febrile.

The soft, supple, wet, suave, light danger -

With this rhyme the limbs of her are kept in order.

218. FANTASY OF ‘SOMA’

     After the poem ‘Body’, he was now describing the female body, achieving what is his fantasy, of her girlfriend. So as a result he was writing this poem on behalf of the race of men, who always dreams to have sex with a perfect female body. This was an abstract description of a female body. He was also warning that if one delves too much into the soma of a woman, it might become fatal. But nothing wrong in writing poems about her, painting her picture, marrying her or even having sex with her in case it was consensual. Everything is okay. But it could be dangerous to handle a bimbo. That’s all what he wanted to say.

219. THE POEM ‘AT THE NIGHT OF JOY’

Let all the sorrows go away

At the night of joy.

Let the rain fall along the body

Now and today.

Let it soak all the limbs

Of yours and mine.

With the wet make-up

We’ll mate.

The night will wake up.

220. FANTASY OF ‘AT THE NIGHT OF JOY’

   This was again a dream to mate with his girlfriend in a rainy day. He was trying to conceive a perfect place an environment for their sex to happen. But he could not do it since he was an introvert in nature. He could write pages after pages, but he could not tell his girlfriend that he wanted to have it with her. He was often very unsure about the conclusion of their love as fairy tales did not exist in reality. He could not remember exactly when he wrote the poem. But it was still showing that he was feeling upset. Whenever he was upset, he would write something to cheer him up. Thus he wanted to create a space and time that would be conducive to their mating.

To be continued ...

[hoodoo12]

Violations and Consequences (5/6)

SFW. Orc/human. The hunt has begun, and gods need their tributes.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

After straightening near the fire pit, locking the goats in their separate pens for the night, and helping Ghath secure the horses near enough food and water but close to the cabin, for a moment you looked around the clearing and wondered how you were supposed to sleep tonight.

Then it suddenly dawned on you that you hadn’t upheld your promise of a tribute to Stendarr! Clucking your tongue at yourself, you went inside to collect the offerings. Ghath followed you.

The boy watched quietly as you gathered what you needed in a pocket created by your skirt, then silently followed you back outside. Your shrine wasn’t dedicated to one Divine in particular. It was just a flat piece of slate raised to knee height. You used it as you needed to, and tonight you set a broken, curved bit of mudcrab armor, two dried blue flowers and a purple flower, a small bee you’d found dead near the stream, and a drizzle of milk on the rock. You added a thin smear of honey too.  

Returning to the still hot coals in the firepit, you lit a feather and carried it back to the slate table. You knelt and dragged the smoldering feather in an intricate design over your offerings. Barely speaking you said your thanks to the God for looking over you today. You repeated it until the feather was burned away. Setting the charred remainder on the rock as well, you left the rest where it was.

Your nephew stood to your side, observing it all without interrupting. When you got to your feet again, however, he asked what god you prayed to.

You explained to him Stendarr, one of the Nine Divines. He was unfamiliar with them, of course, and had many other questions.

“Is what you offered specific to Sten-darr?”

“No. I choose what I think is appropriate for each Divine when I pray to them. Their acolytes, priests, and priestesses would tell you differently if you went to a temple, however. I’m sure they believe there are precise offerings to present to each of them. But I think the Divines see into our hearts, into our souls, and know my intentions are pure.”

“I’m sure he’ll like the honey.”

You flashed him a grin and agreed. Although used more frequently than sugar, honey wasn’t that common. You’d found a honeybee hive earlier in the year and it had taken some ingenuity to retrieve some of the sweet treat. Ghath probably thought it a waste to smear it on a rock.

The boy didn’t say anything more about it. You figured he was taking the opportunity to ask questions that he would be shushed for if one of his Clan was around. His next query, however, surprised you.

“Did you and Grar get married in the eyes of these Divines?”

At that question, asked innocently, you couldn’t help but smile again.

“We did,” you admitted.

Of course the boy would only know of the Orcish rites you participated in during the Clan gathering. He had no reason to know you’d also persuaded Grar to agree to a short ceremony under Mara’s eye. A traveling priest from the Temple who came to your old village seemed delighted when you’d requested it. How his facial expression fell when you presented Grar as your groom! It made you laugh to think about it, because you weren’t sure who was more reluctant or felt out of place: the Orc or the man of the cloth!

So you’d had two wedding ceremonies, and were married under the eyes of two gods.

That reminded you that you wanted to send praises to Malacath as well. Cutting Ghath off before his next question of the Divines left his mouth, you told the boy you wanted to honor the Orc God tonight as well.

The Orc pup looked startled. “You want to worship the Orc-Father?”

“I want to pay him tribute. I’m less familiar with what may be appropriate, though. Will you help me?”

Ghath chewed his upper lip between his just-noticeable tusks. His eyes, like all Orc’s, were dark and in this lighting, unreadable. He shifted minutely from one foot to the next, demonstrating his discomfort. You, however, were determined and didn’t apologize or rescind your request.

Finally he pushed the hair that had fallen into his face back behind his pointed ear as he nodded.

“Thank you! Do we need an altar? Is there a specific type of rock to use, or will slate do?”

“I don’t think it matters. The Orc-Father isn’t concerned with rocks.”

The boy said it so seriously laughter bubbled in your throat. Wisely, you kept it contained behind your teeth. “All right,” you said instead. “If rocks aren’t important, how about plants? Or other things?”

Ghath thought about this for a moment. “I’ve never seen a permanent altar to the Orc-Father--”

“Then we’re off to a good start!”

“--but when someone calls on him, there’s always lavender,” he continued, ignoring your interruption..

“I have lavender. What else?”

Once again he bit his lip. He exuded an aura of mild distress, which told you more than ever he was still a youngling, no matter how much he had wanted to go with his mother and uncle. An adult Orc was expected to be confident, especially in front of others. Finally, when whatever internal war was too much for him to contain, he blurted out,

“The Orc-Father doesn’t need accolades and petty tributes! He expects vengeance for wrongs, and blood to be spilled! He gives his blessings to Orcs who abide by his code, and turns his back on those who do not!”

His speech was so passionate you were taken aback for a moment. You’d learned a little about the Orc God, and what Ghath just told you was obviously something that weighed heavily on him. You thought about exactly what he was saying, then stepped closer to the boy who was as tall as you. You put a hand on his elbow and felt him tense. Casual touch was not common or encouraged in the Strongholds. Still, you weren’t in a Stronghold and you weren’t an Orc. You didn’t release him.

“Ghath, Grar and your mother are following Malacath’s tenets. Volesh protected me, like Malacath would protect his people, right? And they are hunting the other man. So there is no verging from his path there.”

He nodded, reluctantly. “But Grar left the Stronghold! He spurned a traditional life, and that only a Chief may have wives! He wed you!”

Ah. A vital component of the doubt he’d been struggling with.

“Yes. Yes he did.”

“And if that displeases the Orc-Father, he may not look kindly on the hunt and . . .”

You heard the words unsaid. “Ghath, I’m worried too. But Volesh lives a traditional life, and even if Grar doesn’t live in the Stronghold, he’s honorable. Maybe the Divines and Malacath manipulated us both to bring us together, for reasons beyond our understanding! We can’t dare to understand their workings.”

It wasn’t the most comforting of reassurances, but it was the best you could come up with. Ghath frowned as he digested your words.

“So I’m not an Orc,” you shrugged. “I didn’t convert your uncle. I didn’t make him turn away from his upbringing. I just want to offer something to Malacath, to laud him too, as my husband’s patron. I don’t believe that any god would look down on a tribute, given freely.”

You let your Blood-kin have time to think through all of that. You dropped your hand and stood silently beside him, and finally he looked up. The firelight caught his eyes as he lifted them.

“Usually there is a skull. The Orc-Father likes bones, to show his triumphs, but skulls most of all,” he told you, agreeing to help without stating it. “Also armor or weapons from an enemy, or some artifact from a victory is presented too.”

“Hmm . . . let me think about that,” you mused, then told him you were going to gather sprigs of lavender you had stored inside the cabin.

When you returned, Ghath had cleared a small area of twigs and grasses down to the bare dirt. He’d leveled and smoothed it as best he could. Across from him was the head of the kid that had been killed by the bandit. He explained that it could double as the skull and although it wasn’t a normal victory token, it at least died during the struggle. You nodded. You handed him the lavender which he set at intervals in the dirt, all the flowers pointing inward.

Even if he insisted he’d never seen a permanent altar to his God, Ghath seemed confident in his movement and placement of each piece of the offering. It was simple compared to what you knew of some of the Temples and altar displays for the Divines, but for a god that held honor and vengeance above all else, it was good.

Before kneeling, you went back to the firepit and found a waterskin that had been left on the ground. It was light; there wasn’t much left in it. Ghath raised an eyebrow to you as you returned with it.

“Orcs like ale, so Malacath would like ale too,” you explained.

He had to concede that was probably true, and didn’t stop you from pouring some into the dirt  in front of the goat’s head, in the center of the ring of lavender. You didn’t empty it; instead, you took a swallow from the bag and offered it to your nephew too, who repeated your action.

Then you both sat quietly for a moment.

“I don’t know any ritual prayers to the Orc-Father,” Ghath admitted quietly.

You nodded, with a slight shrug. Like you’d done at the altar for Stendarr, you murmured your gratitude half under your breath, and asked for Malacath to guide Grar and Volesh to victory. Ghath didn’t say anything that you heard.

After what felt like a proper amount of time to kneel, you got to your feet again. The boy stayed on his knees for a bit more, then joined you. You both left everything where it was, and retired to the cabin.

You helped Ghath lay out his bed roll before settling into your mattress. It always felt too wide, like a sea, without Grar anchoring you. You had no way to know when he and Volesh might be back, and you made one more silent prayer to any god that might be listening to give them wings to return more quickly.

In the dark, Ghath said,

“I don’t think I want to live in the Stronghold either. I don’t want to fight my father to become Chieftain.” His voice was so soft some of the words barely made it to your ears, and you had the feeling if you said anything, he’d stop talking altogether. “I asked the Orc-Father for permission to live my own life, like my uncle. I asked him to understand that I would still honor him, but if I stayed in the Stronghold, I would never be permitted to take a wife.

“I want a wife like you.”

You continued to hold your tongue, because you weren’t sure if his words were even meant to be answered. After a few more long moments, Ghath’s breathing steadied and slowed, and you knew he was asleep.

 tbc . . .