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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number.

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide.

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today.

Shit, did billionaires even text?

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead.

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out?

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding.

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway.

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused.

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door.

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building.

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to.

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside.

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional.

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words.

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle.

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good.

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window.

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress.

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically.

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly.

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me.

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on.

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress.

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs.

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline.

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself.

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself.

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine.

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one.

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right.

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap.

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up.

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.”

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one.

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.”

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again?

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something.

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist.

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room.

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but...

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair.

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling.

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat.

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed.

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground.

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless.

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead.

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs.

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff.

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display.

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly.

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened.

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask.

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses.

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone.

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine.

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway.

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important.

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture.

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I?

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place.

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod.

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look.

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it.

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago.

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners.

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem.

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks.

He’s all I fucking think about.

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck.

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him.

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more.

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically.

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days.

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals.

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings.

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars.

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring.

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him.

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book.

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible?

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying.

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.”

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over.

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me.

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside.

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything.

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment.

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping.

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain.

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away.

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake.

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.”

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface.

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile.

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side.

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest.

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago.

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation.

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me.

She’s falling for me.

Which, technically, is the plan.

Technically, everything is going great.

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her.

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture.

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself.

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born.

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily.

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that.

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold.

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect.

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care.

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake.

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet.

And I’m just getting started.

___________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @alpha-omegas @joyceortiz13 @sapphic-beauty @meowsekai @ahappyhistorianreader @courtofjurdan @acalypsot @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @bamchickawowow @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #feyre x rhys #rhysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

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konglindorm · 3 years

Text

Lindworm: Chapter 1

(This is a little over half of the first chapter I had planned to share the whole thing, but then I realized it was 7,000 words. You can buy and read the rest of Lindworm here!)

“Thank you so much for thinking of me,” Marit said, “but really I would rather not marry a monster.”

Marit would not have thought herself the sort of person to talk back to kings, had she ever had cause to contemplate such matters. But then she never would have thought the king the sort of person to sacrifice a girl to a lindworm, and yet here she was, the third victim.

She was only seventeen, and this wedding was a death sentence.

Six months ago, Prince Harald had set out to find a bride, and had been stopped by a great serpent in the road. Since then, the serpent—the lindworm—had eaten two foreign princesses, both after a sham of a wedding. Both women had thought they were coming to marry Prince Harald.

Here, in the forest outside the capital city, rumors had flown. Rumors that they would shortly be at war with both kingdoms that had lost a princess, and rumors, more interesting to their small family with no members likely to be sent to the battlefield, of the lindworm, of why a man-eating dragon would be welcomed to the palace and fed. Rumors that said the lindworm was Prince Harald’s brother, that the king humored it instead of killing it because the monster was family.

Marit didn’t know how much truth there might be to such rumors. She didn’t know how a queen could bear and birth a serpent, but she did know the world was full of strange, incomprehensible things.

The king stared at her, his men standing stiffly by. It had not, of course, been thoughtfulness that led him to her cottage in the woods. Marit knew this, and knew that the marriage was not optional, and that one could not speak to a king in this manner and expect to keep one’s head. But when one has already been sentenced to death, such things as respect for royalty matter very little.

“It is not an offer,” the king informed her when he found his voice. “It is a command, and you may choose to obey or not, but willing or unwilling, you will find yourself before a priest in my great hall one week from now.”

One week, she thought. One week to live the rest of her life. She could run—could she run?

No, if the king was leaving her a few days to say her goodbyes, it was only because he knew she could not run. There would be guards posted. She would be caught and brought back. She would still end the week dead, and likely her father and sister, too, if the king suspected they had helped her. As they certainly would.

Her family—they were away from the house now, deeper into the woods, scavenging. There was little left to eat, their winter stores almost empty by March, and the ground still too frozen to begin the year’s planting. She had stayed behind to tend to the animals, too likely to slow them down after twisting her ankle yesterday, falling from a tree; it had barely hurt, and would be healed by tomorrow. The king would be long gone before they returned, and it would fall to her to explain her upcoming death.

“There will be a bride price, of course,” said the king.

Marit wasn’t quite sure what a bride price was, thought it may be like a dowry—she’d sewn items, slowly, over the last several years for her dowry, but doubted the lindworm would demand her linens as well as her life.

The king went on to explain the bride price, the amount of money her father would be given for this farce of a marriage—the opposite of a dowry, then, and a staggering amount.

It had been a long, brutal winter following a short, dry summer, and for that price Marit may have volunteered herself. Any number of young women may have; it was enough to save not only their own small farm, but those of a few near neighbors. Enough to buy a second goat, a few more chickens, enough to pay all of their debts in the city and have their broken tools repaired.

For such a sum, she would have volunteered. She would have gladly given her life to so dramatically improve the lives of her father and younger sister.

But the king had not asked. The king had demanded, and Marit knew she would resent him for however many days she had left to do so.

He left her, as she’d expected, with guards posted nearby, and she led the animals back to their shed and let herself back into the cottage, not wanting to look at them, their clean uniforms with shiny brass buttons, their polished boots slowly gathering mud, their faces as they avoided her eyes, because they knew, must know, that this was wrong, and yet they were loyal to their king, and would not let her run.

Marit watched through the back window, working idly on her knitting, unable to stay focused on the difficult stitch she’d meant to master this week, until she saw her sister and her father coming out from the woods. She ran to meet them, and hurried them inside before they could ask about the soldiers scattered about. And then she told them.

“Why you?” Greta cried. “Why you?”

She hadn’t asked how he’d chosen her, out of all the unwed maids within walking distance of the palace. She didn’t think she wanted to know why it was her that must die, and not Annette, who had no father to protect her, or Martine, who was more beautiful, or Signe or Gretchen or any of the other girls she knew.

She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who wished death on her friends, either.

Besides, the lindworm had already eaten two women, and there was no reason to expect he might stop at a third. They may all be dead before this ended, Gretchen and Signe and Annette and Martine, and the younger girls, Greta and her friends, all the forest, all the city, someday all the kingdom sacrificed to satisfy the appetite of a monster that should have been killed the moment it showed itself to Prince Harald.

She could only hope that the fathers of the dead princesses would declare war, that they would kill her king and his lindworm with him before the whole country was devoured.

King Olaf had always been known as a kind and noble king. He’d lowered taxes and held festivals and been much loved, before these last six months, and Marit didn’t understand. She didn’t understand how a good king could become a bad one overnight because of one monster.

Maybe it was his son. Marit would throw the whole world over for Greta, she knew, but she’d been at Greta’s side since she’d emerged from their mother’s stomach, been the first to hold the new baby, tiny and wrinkled and red, getting blood all over her vest, as their father had said his goodbyes to Mama, only turning his attention to Marit and the new baby when his wife was gone.

For Greta, for her father, for Mama if she’d lived, Marit would do anything. But if a boar walked out of the woods and claimed to be her long lost brother, she wouldn’t take him at his word, wouldn’t escort him into the city to trample the blacksmith just because he asked her.

She didn’t think the king could hide a paternal relationship with a lindworm for several years. They must have met only when he stopped the prince on the road. And Marit didn’t understand.

She gathered Greta in her arms and listened to the younger girl cry, unable to shed any tears for herself, unsure why. She looked over Greta’s head at her father, and saw the same desperate sadness in his eyes that she had seen when she was five years old, and her mother was dying in childbirth. Her father loved her, but he could do nothing to save her, and they all knew it. He could not defy the king; to try would only make him angry, would likely risk Greta’s life too.

He came and wrapped himself around them both, and Marit thought, but was not quite sure, that he wept too. She sat, dry-eyed, between them, for long hours, until it was time for dinner and bed.

They watched out the window as a new group of soldiers marched in, and the first group left. At least they weren’t expected to feed and board their prison guards.

In the morning they found that the soldiers would let Marit go where she pleased, but one or two would always follow, from a respectful distance. No one followed her sister or father, so they went in three different directions, to the neighbors and to the city, Marit to make her farewells, and all of them to give warning. The king is feeding maidens to his lindworm. Marit is the first; she will not likely be the last. Send your daughters quietly to family in other cities, if you can. Marry them quickly to boys in the village, if you can. We do not know why the lindworm wants weddings, but he does, so make your daughters unweddable.

Gretchen, when Marit told her, said it probably had to do with a dragon’s fondness for virgins. She then said that if the king came to her, she would rid herself of virginity with the first man she could find before she would go to the lindworm, with the whole town to watch as proof, if necessary.

Gretchen’s older brother, the only other person there save the guards, too far away to overhear, made a sound of disapproval in the back of his throat, but said nothing.

Marit wondered if it was too late to try Gretchen’s plan for herself, and concluded it probably was—if the lindworm demanded a virgin, then the soldiers would not let her cease to be one. The small chance of success wasn’t worth giving herself to a man she didn’t want and wouldn’t be allowed to keep. And the kind of man who might cooperate with such a plan would likely not make it a happy experience to cherish in her final days. She reminded Gretchen of the soldiers before moving on to the next neighbors.

Marit spend her days wandering, mostly. There was work to be done, and she helped, or tried to—her father said not to trouble herself with anything in these last few days, and when she insisted, she often found herself too distracted to finish, or at least to finish well, haunted constantly by imaginings of what the lindworm might be like, how it might feel to be eaten. She remembered breaking a finger in a slamming door as a child, the sharp crack of it, the pain. She imagined the pain and the cracking both amplified as an enormous snake swallowed her whole, as snakes will do, and then, bizarrely, imagined cowering on a banquet table as the lindworm sliced her to pieces with a knife held in its tail, popping each slice into its mouth one at a time, sometimes dipping a slice in a butter-sauce first.

She still had not cried, though she had found herself several times laughing hysterically at humorless jokes she couldn’t explain. Greta didn’t need to know about the butter sauce.

When there were two days left before the wedding, she went out intending to collect eggs from the chickens, and her feet carried her, instead, deeper into the woods.

The guards followed at a distance.

Marit stopped when she saw an old woman ahead. She was short, with white hair spilling from her cap, bright and cheerful in a blue skirt and red vest, and she smiled like an old friend at Marit, and asked why she was so sad.

Marit wasn’t a fool. She knew how it was with mysterious old women in forests, knew they were to be respected. Knew how often they carried magic within themselves. Knew that to cross them was idiocy, and that to be kind and respectful could change the course of one’s life.

So Marit told the woman her troubles, and the woman smiled again. “It will be all right,” she said. “If you obey me, it will be all right. Now, here is what you must do.”

Marit wasn’t foolish enough to think she might live through this, but she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the gift of a wise woman in the wood, either, even when that gift was the strangest advice she’d ever been given. Wear ten shifts beneath your dress, have milk and lye and whips waiting in your bedchamber.

She was already going to die; what did it matter if the king’s servants thought her a madwoman?

Ten shifts, though, would not be an easy thing to manage. Marit had two shifts, and two night shifts, which were wool instead of linen, with sleeves too wide to be hidden beneath her dress. She would have to rip them off. Greta owned the same, not much smaller as she was tall for her age, but Marit could not deprive her sister of all her undergarments, so only took one day shift and one night shift from her. That brought her to six, and four more yet to find. She couldn’t buy them; the king’s money wouldn’t come to her father until the day after the wedding. She had her dowry linens, unneeded now, and could use the fabric to make more shifts. But she had two days left to live, and wasn’t willing to spend her last precious moments sewing. With Greta’s help she converted one white bedsheet into a shift, but would sacrifice no more time when she had so many goodbyes to say—to friends, to livestock, to trees and streams and every future she had ever imagined for herself.

She begged one more shift from Olga, whose family was wealthier and who had one to spare for an acquaintance going to her death. Eight shifts, eight, two short, and no time to find more. It would have to be enough.

The morning she was to be taken away, Marit’s father pulled out her mother’s wedding dress and offered it to her.

Marit shook her head. “It should go to Greta. To a real wedding.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” her father said. “Take it, so your mother can be with you, as Greta and I cannot.”

So Marit put on her eight shifts, and she put on the dress. She was a bit smaller than her mother had been when she married, and it still fit despite the extra layers. Greta had wanted to make her a crown of flowers to match, but there were still few flowers in bloom, so she wove the crown from evergreen branches instead, coating her hands in sap, and placed it carefully on her sister’s head.

The three of them waited, solemnly, for Marit to be taken away. There was nothing left to say. All of the goodbyes were finished, all of the plans made. The next morning someone would come from the palace with the bride price and whatever was left of Marit to be buried. Her father would sell the animals and the house, give them away if he couldn’t sell them fast enough, and he would hire a wagon to take them far, far from the capital, to start a new life where the lindworm would never touch Greta. They’d gone over the details last night. Greta had cried again.

Marit still hadn’t cried, and thought she might be able to, now, but would not let herself; she didn’t want her tears seen by whoever took her away. She found she was more angry than sad. She felt a sharpness growing within her. Her life was forfeit, and so too was her sense of obligation to respect, to loyalty. The king, the queen, the prince, the priests who’d performed the weddings and the soldiers and couriers who’d stood by—damn them, she thought, damn them all, and damn the idea she owed them the barest amount of anything.

The king came to fetch her himself, and she refrained from spitting in his face only because of the guards that surrounded him, the fear they might kill her where she stood and cost her father the bride price.

The king was different, not angry and demanding as he had been a week ago, but stiff with an awkwardness that might almost be shame. Marit hugged her father and Greta one last time, and followed him back toward the city, his guards forming a circle around them. She didn’t care that he may feel shame; she had enough anger by now for the both of them.

He was quiet, and Marit didn’t want quiet. Not quite understanding the compulsion, she found herself goading him.

“What will happen after this?” she asked, and the king looked at her, then quickly away again. It was a long walk on foot, and she didn’t know why a king wouldn’t take a carriage, but she didn’t mind the extra time in her forest.

“You will be prepared for the wedding by lady’s maids. The wedding will be in the great hall, and after that we will have a banquet.”

“Not tonight,” Marit said, spurred by the thought of Annette being sent hundreds of miles away to an uncle she’d never met, of Gretchen searching for a man to defile her rather than be eaten. “Not to me. What will happen to your kingdom? After me, you’ll kill off every maid in the country, and then I suppose you’ll have to go to war, and find slaves to feed his appetite? Discipline is important for growing boys, Your Majesty. Learn to say no to your son.”

He raised a hand as if to slap her, and she tilted her chin forward, daring him—let him hit her, here surrounded by a small army, let all these soldiers, already uneasy with their roles, go home and report to their friends and families that their king was a man who struck defenseless maidens.

He lowered his hand, leaving Marit oddly disappointed. It would have been another reason to be angry, and her anger was protecting her from her fear.

The king sighed heavily. “We all do foolish things for our children.”

She wondered if he meant the lindworm, or only Prince Harald, who could not be married until it was satisfied. It didn’t matter—the result was the same for her.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, suddenly exhausted. Maybe a king could afford to do foolish things for his children. Her own father had to be sensible—foolishness would only have hurt Greta. She felt the anger draining away, the fear rising up again. She didn’t want to die.

They arrived at the palace from a side gate, not taking the wide, paved road beneath the cherry trees, where any number of people might have seen their arrival. The king and his soldiers handed her off to a large group of women, some more elegant than others, and she asked him, before he left, what time the wedding would be.

“At eight o’clock,” he said. “Will that give you enough time to prepare?” One of the more elegant women assured him it would, and he told her, “Give the girl whatever she wants. It’s her wedding day, after all.” He laughed, unamused, more bitter than cruel, and then he was gone.

“Is there anything special we can do for you, miss?” asked one of the plainer women, who was likely a maid.

Marit thought of the old woman in the forest. “This is going to sound a little strange.”

All of the more plainly dressed women left to carry out her last request, leaving Marit with a flock of beautiful women whose most simple everyday clothes were likely ten times more expensive than her mother’s wedding dress. They tried to have her out of it, into borrowed silks instead, but she refused. It was the last gift from her father, the only familiar thing in this place. She kept her evergreen crown as well, but let them take it away long enough to clean away the sap, rubbing it from the branches and brushing it out of her hair.

They re-braided her hair into a more elaborate style, stringing in gemstones to match her dress, and applied powders and creams to her face, which itched and made her sneeze. She watched them carefully, picking out one who seemed both kind and fancy enough to know little of a peasant’s daily life. She drew her away from the crowd and explained, in a whisper, “I haven’t any underthings. I only own the one shift, and I left it for my sister, so she would have one to wear on laundry day. I didn’t think it would matter, when I’m only to die tonight, but I’m—I’m embarrassed to have all these fine people watching me, thinking that if the light hits just so they’ll see I’m not dressed properly.”

The woman believed, somehow, that a peasant girl might have come to a royal wedding with no undergarments, and offered to find a spare shift.

“Could I have two, please?” The woman raised her eyebrows, and Marit ducked her head. “It’s a tradition—I know it shan’t be a real wedding night, but it’s a tradition to make the groom work a little harder the first time.”

The woman believed the tradition she’d never heard of, as well, and came back shortly with two more shifts, beautiful, silken things, bringing Marit to the required ten.

The next problem came when she realized the women had no intention of leaving her alone while she took off her wedding dress and put on the shifts, which was awkward for more reasons than the eight shifts she already wore. She explained that she was not accustomed to being seen undressed by strangers, and finally they left her, for the first moment of privacy she’d had in hours, and the last she expected to have in her life.

She took off the dress and put on the shifts. She paused to look in the mirror—a thing she’d heard of but never before seen—and wondered if that was what she truly looked like, or only the effect of the powders and creams. She pulled the dress back on, took a few deep breaths—she had not cried yet, she would not cry now—and reopened the door so that the women could help re-fasten the dress in the back.

They set the evergreen crown back on her head, and took her to the priest that would read her last rites.

The hall where they held the wedding was gorgeous, with shining wood floors and dark walls covered in rosemåling, blue and gold and red. All the court was seated when she arrived, dressed in their finest clothes, looking horrified. She recognized the king and the queen and the prince, familiar from a dozen parades, sitting in the front row. The rest were strangers.

And then she saw the lindworm.

It was the height of six or seven men, white like a maggot, or the mold on stale bread. It had dark wings on its back, too small to hold its weight in flight, and shiny white fangs quite visible even when its mouth was shut. It had no legs. There was a crown balanced at the top of its head, the size a man would wear, which might have been funny if it hadn’t planned to eat her.

It was staring at her with an expression of mild curiosity, recognizable because its eyes were the eyes of a man, over-large, but still small in its serpent head, the same shade of blue as a dozen young men she’d seen in the city.

#lindworm #fairy tales #folklore #Fairy tale retellings #new release #my book #it's almost here #two days #prince lindworm #king lindworm #king lindorm #kong lindorm #wax heart press

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four-loose-screws · 3 years

Text

Warriors of the Skies - FE4 Short Story Translation - Part 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

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Warriors of the Skies

Short Story #3 of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War - The Forested Land of the Lake, by Ginichiro Suzuki

Part 1

On the highlands of Silesse’s central mountain range, spring came late.

But plants had already begun to sprout beneath the snow, so when it melted, the scenery changed in an instant.

The slopes that had been covered in white the day before were blanketed in green the next day; and two and three days later, white, red, and pink flowers of many kinds all bloomed at once.

At the same time, mountain rabbits and wolves, white bearded goats, and other animals all began to give birth.

Pegasi were not animals that lived exclusively in the mountains, but they naturally chose highlands around this time of year to have their babies.

That same spring, Fee turned seven.

“Mommy, there’s a pegasus next to Two Horned Rock!” Fee rushed into the kitchen so quickly that she nearly fell over.

Her mother, Erinys, slowly nodded. “There is? And what kind of pegasus was it?”

“Um… she was white… and had a big tummy!” The girl answered through heavy breaths.

“Was it really that big?”

“It really really was! It almost touched the ground!”

“Wow. Then let’s go to see her in a bit.”

“Aw, why can’t we go now?” The girl looked up at her mother’s face, who was stirring a pot of food. Her eyes were full of hope.

“Why now?”

“Because… If we go later, then the baby might already be born!”

“It’ll be fine. You just saw her for the first time today, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you have no need to worry. A pegasus won’t have her baby the first day you see her land. It’ll be the next day, or the day after that.”

The girl didn’t look happy, but she quickly cheered up and said, “Mommy, can I help you with something?”

“Yes, please. How about you bring in the laundry? By the time you are done, I should be able to step away from what I’m doing here.”

"Okay!" The girl answered in a cheerful voice and left the kitchen.

Fee put the laundry away in their dressers.

When she reentered the kitchen, her mother was just taking off her apron.

"Did you fold the laundry?"

"Yup! I folded everything!"

"You did? Thank you! Then let's go see the pegasus now."

"We can really go now? Yay!"

After climbing a steep slope for about twenty minutes, they reached an area that was almost entirely flat.

Erinys' house was next to a rock called "Two-Horned Rock," and there, they saw a single pegasus. Of course Fee's statement that her tummy touched the ground was an exaggeration, but her midsection certainly was very large.

The pegasus stared straight at them.

"She is a very fine pegasus." Erinys said.

"Isn't she?! She's gonna have a baby soon, right?"

"She is. I'll pack a lunch for you tomorrow, so you can stay by her side all day."

"So, um, I wonder if her baby will be my pegasus." Fee's expression looked a bit uneasy.

"Perhaps. I certainly hope so."

"There's no way the baby won't be mine! Right, Mommy?"

ー

The next morning, Fee quickly chowed down her breakfast, then took the lunch her mother packed and went to Two-Horned Rock.

She worried that the pegasus might have wandered off somewhere in the night, but she was lying down next to Two-Horned Rock.

"Good morning, mommy pegasus!"

Fee waved, and the pegasus responded with a whinny.

Fee sat down on Two-Horned Rock and talked to the pegasus.

"My name is Fee!! And the person who came with me yesterday is my Mommy! Her name is Erinys. Mommy was a super amazing pegasus knight who fought with Prince Sigurd for a long time. She's told me lots and lots of stories about him! And she's told me stories about Daddy too, of course. They were total opposites, but both super amazing people… That's why I'm gonna do whatever it takes to become a pegasus knight. I'm gonna be a super amazing pegasus knight, just like Mommy. So if a "bond" is born between your baby and me, please rest easy, and entrust them to me! I'll do my best to take care of them, so they become a perfect pegasus, just like you are…"

Shortly before noon, the pegasus stood up, and voiced a single neigh.

"Ah! Are you finally gonna have your baby?"

The pegasus didn't answer, instead turning her hind end towards Fee.

'It's just like Mommy said! If you talk to a mommy pegasus, they'll usually trust you… And when they do, they'll show you their backside, and let you watch them give birth…'

The pegasus' labor started soon after.

"Good luck, mommy pegasus! I can't help you… Though if it takes a long time, then I can go get my Mommy!"

But there was no need to worry about that.

Pegasai give birth to smaller babies than horses, so they rarely have complications when giving birth.

First Fee could see the foal's head, still wrapped in its translucent amniotic sac, then about half an hour later, their shoulders came out. After that, a little bit more of their body appeared with each contraction, until they dropped out by their last hind leg.

The amniotic sac tore open, and the amniotic fluid splashed around it.

The mother removed the amniotic sac from her baby, then licked the foal's wet body.

When the foal lifted her head, her and Fee's eyes met.

"Awwww, you're so cute!" Fee squealed without realizing it, enamored by the foal's large, round eyes.

"I've had your name picked out for a long time now! How do you like 'Annand?' It's a really pretty name, huh? I hope you'll like it...

"Annand was, um… my mommy's big sister's name. She already passed away. It's really sad, but she fought bravely and died in battle. That's why I want more than anything to choose that name for you.

"Please let me call you Annand…"

As she talked, the foal stared straight at her.

After a long while, the foal tried to stand.

"You can do it! And look, your mommy wants to give you some milk!"

She failed several times, but finally stood up.

After a bit more time, she seemed to have finally gained her balance, and she drank some of her mother's milk.

Finally, probably because her stomach was full, the foal stepped away from her mother's underbelly, and turned her head.

'Now!' Fee sensed that it was time.

Then, she mustered up all of the love within her body, and called out to the foal. "Annand."

Her mother had told her that this would be the moment that decided it all.

"If you say the foal's name and they turn towards you, then everything will be alright from then on. That foal will become your pegasus."

"And if they don't turn towards me?"

"Then you did not create a bond in that moment. You'll have no choice but to find another pegasus."

"Um, how should I address the foal?"

“Well… there isn’t any advice I can give about how you should call out to them. No one else can ever know exactly how you feel about that foal, right? The only thing you can do is express how you feel in your voice. And how will the foal react to your call…? If you both feel the same, then the foal will turn to look at you, and a “bond” will be born. But if the foal senses that you are not in perfect alignment for one reason or another, then they will make a face like they do not know what is going on. If that is the case, then there is already nothing that anyone can do. From the foal’s perspective, you will become their second mother, so the first impression is everything.”

'Look at me.' Fee prayed, and called out the name once more. "Annand."

At that sound, the foal turned her head.

Their eyes met once more.

Fee's heart exploded with happiness. "Oh Annand! You looked over here!"

The foal stepped away from her mother's side, and she walked over towards Fee, her small wings flapping like those of a baby bird…

Fee jumped down from Two-Horned Rock and met the foal with a hug. "Annand! My Annand!"

Annand licked Fee's face. Fee kissed her nose in return.

"Annand! My Annand!"

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

Sorry you’re not feeling well love!!! Hope you get to feeling better soon :) for the fluffiness, how about softe eskel time where he’s washing readers hair and they’re just lulling off but then eskel starts humming real low and he doesn’t even really realize it so they just let him keep going and AHHH!!!!! I just love him so much 😂

A/N: I definitely didn’t mean to turn this into a 2.5k fic😂 but I combined the two cause it just sorta.... happened? This is from the soft fics for Eskel, Dettlaff, and Regis that I received yesterday!

Warnings: nudity?? a bath?? but just complete fluffiness and softness for my baby Eskel

You peered out of the window, searching what you could see of the large field behind your home. Your eyes scanned the green grass, searching for your witcher.

The sun had nearly vanished behind the trees. A cool breeze took the place of the warm sun. Crickets and cicadas chirped while other nocturnal creatures began to rustle around. Soon it would be dark.

You sighed softly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you debated on going to find Eskel. He’d been out in the field tending to the small herd of farm animals you raised. There were five goats, two babies and three adults, two calves, a grumpy old donkey, a young sheep, and a mare. You were usually busy taking care of them, but Eskel insisted he could handle it for the day. He said you deserved to relax, to calm down. That was easier said than done.

It was only his second day home and you wanted to relax with him. However, you knew he needed to adjust to his surroundings, to switch his mindset from a nomadic witcher to a domestic man with the one he loved. He needed to loosen up. He didn’t want to make you feel on edge because he couldn’t put his swords down for longer than five minutes because he was fearful that something would happen.

You knew he adjusted to being back home by tending to the animals. They had a way of calming him, of grounding him. They reminded him that your home, his home, was safe and that he’d not be in harm’s way on your land.

You let out a little breath and decided to at least go check on him. The last time you had gone to see how he was, it was just after noon. Now with sundown just a few minutes away, you knew you’d feel better if you went to make sure he was okay.

You left your home, not bothering to put on shoes.

***

By the time you found him, it was dark. He was on the farthest side of the field from your home sitting beneath a weeping willow. The baby goats were laying squished between his legs while the adults were on the outside of his legs. One baby calf was curled up against his side while the other was laying by his feet as close to the baby goats as possible. The donkey, sheep, and mare were standing not too far away, curiously watching you.

Eskel heard you long before he saw you. He could hear your quiet steps, the sound of grass beneath your bare feet. The hem of your skirt was pulled every now and again by a weed and you’d tug it carefully to release it.

You stopped a little ways away from him, offering him a soft smile. Thankfully, you could see him with the light given off by the full moon. His features were darkened from shadows and if you didn’t know him, he would look intimidating. But he was your witcher, your gentle giant.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him, messing with the hem of your shirt. You hated to bother him, to mess with him when he was trying to get into the right headspace, but sometimes you worried so much about him that you couldn’t help it.

“Okay.” He answered quietly, casting his gaze down to the goat in his lap. His large hand rested on its back, gently brushing through its coarse hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been away the last two days.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “I understand.”

He said nothing.

You let the silence fill the space between you for a few moments.

“Would you like me to leave you be?” You asked, your voice timid and hesitant.

“Doll, you know I never want you to leave.” He spoke, letting out a soft breath.

“But I know you need this.” Your eyes flickered around the empty field. “If you need more time, I’ll leave. I need you to be okay, and this…. This makes you okay.”

The corner of his scarred lips turned up just a little. He was thankful you were patient with him. That’s all he needed. Someone who was patient and cared enough to grant him his space when he needed it.

“I love you, doll.”

Your heart fluttered.

“I love you, Eskel.”

He looked back down to the goat in his lap.

“I’m ready to go to bed.” He stated, his words a quiet murmur.

You smiled.

“Okay. Do you want to walk back with me?”

He nodded.

You stood to your feet and allowed him to move to you. One large arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you into his side as you both started to walk back towards your home.

One by one, the animals followed.

***

“I’ll go start a bath. How does that sound?” You asked, placing your hand on his arm as the both of you stopped just outside of the barn.

“Good.” He nodded.

“You won’t be long, will you?”

“Not at all.” He shook his head, tired eyes finding yours. You could see it in his golden gaze, see the haziness, see the shadows left behind by a troubled soul.

You gave him a tender smile, fighting the urge to kiss him before leaving.

You turned to go to your house but thick, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist. You were pulled back to him, into his arms. They wrapped tightly around you, encasing you in warmth. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling deeply. You closed your eyes, leaning into him. His hand rubbed your back.

He breathed out, trembling just slightly. You felt him kiss the top of your head. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him back, to let him know how you felt for him. But you didn’t want to spook him.

He finally released you, taking a few steps backwards. You smiled at him. He returned the gesture before turning to go into the barn.

***

You drew a bath with what little magic you were comfortable using. Even after the large tub had been filled with hot water, Eskel had yet to come in from the barn.

You changed into a thin bodice that fell to about your knees. You waited on the edge of the tub, brushing your fingers over the surface of the water.

The sound of the front door opening made you lift your head up, eyes finding the door.

Soon, your witcher entered the room. He no longer carried a sword on his back, and he had taken off his boots.

Silently, you stood up and moved to him. He watched you, yellow eyes curious.

“Can I help you?” Your eyes fell to the laces on the chest of his tunic.

With his nod, you worked to gently unlace his top, slowly revealing more and more of his chest. As the shirt fell open in a deep V, you leaned forward to kiss a scare that stretched across the top of his left peck.

As you took a hold of the hem of his tunic, he lifted his arms, allowing you to pull the clothing from him.

You let the top fall to the floor.

He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on yours as you started to unlace his trousers. His eyes closed and he let out a warm breath that fanned over your face.

He surprised you by tenderly kissing your lips. It was chaste and his touch didn’t linger, but you were okay with it. Now wasn’t the time for heated making out. Now was the time to get Eskel calm enough so that he could rest tonight since he didn’t the night before.

You moved away from him as he took off his trousers. You went to the tub, dipping your fingers in to test the water. It was still hot, but you wanted to warm it up more. Reciting a spell under your breath, you felt the heat in your fingertips first, then with a flick of your wrist, the heat was directed to the water.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Eskel told you.

“And have you got into a cold bath?” You cocked a brow. “No way.”

“I could’ve done it.”

He knew how much you hated using magic, how you much preferred to do things on your own, the way a normal human would.

“It’s okay.” You assured him. “Come on.” You patted the side of the tub.

“Will you get in with me?”

“If you’d like.” You nodded.

He slipped into the tub, letting out a breath and releasing some of the tension that stiffened his muscles.

You got in behind him, not bothering to take off your bodice. You sat on the stone edge of the tub, your knees parted so he could settle between them with his back to you.

Your hands came up to his shoulders, working the thick muscles there as best as you could.

“Doll, you don’t-,”

“But I want to.” You softly cut him off, pausing the massage for a moment so you could lean down to his ear. “Let me do this for you, Eskel.” You kissed the space behind his ear. “Okay?”

He nodded, leaning back against you just a little.

As you worked at loosening up his shoulders, you leaned forward every now and again to kiss his warm, tanned skin.

Once you were content with his shoulders, you moved to pull the band out of his hair. The short dark locks fell to rest on his shoulders.

“Can I wash your hair, love?” You asked him, resting your hand between his shoulder blades.

He nodded once more.

You reached beyond the tub to retrieve the mug you’d brought into the bathing room specifically for getting his hair wet.

You dunked it into the water and then carefully poured it on to his head.

With you sitting behind him, you didn’t have a good judgement of wear to pour the water so you accidentally poured it right on the top of his head. This soaked his hair immediately, but also pushed his dark hair into his face.

“Oh my- Eskel! I’m so sorry!” You tried not to laugh as you moved around him.

“It’s okay, doll.” He assured you, chuckling softly as you brushed his wet hair from his face.

He wore a gentle smile on his lips.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” You told him, brushing his hair back a little more.

“It’s okay.”

You smiled and picked up a chunk of soap sitting on the stone edge of the tub. You lathered your hands up so they were nice and soapy, then you began to work the soap into Eskel’s hair, careful to avoid his eyes.

With him facing you, he didn't bother closing his eyes. Instead, he watched you.

You smiled just a little, gently scratching his scalp with your blunt fingertips.

“You’re blushing.” He stated, pulling one hand from the water to reach out and touch your cheek. The pad of his thumb was warm and gentle as he swiped it across the apple of your cheek.

“Because you’re watching me.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” His voice became quiet and his brows drew together.

“No, no. Just…. Nervous is all.” You explained, shaking your head softly.

He nodded as best as he could while you lathered his hair up with the sweet smelling soap.

“You’re concentrating really hard.” He teased a little.

“Because I don’t want to get soap in your eyes.”

He chuckled softly.

Once you were satisfied with the amount of soap and bubbles in his hair, you picked up the mug and instructed him to tilt his head back.

Much more carefully this time, you poured the water of his hair. You repeated the action a few times, raking your fingers through the soaking strands to make sure you got all of the soap out.

“Can I do yours next?” Eskel asked, brushing one hand over his hair to squeeze out the excess water.

“If you’d like.” You nodded.

“Sit on my knee.” He said.

You nodded and settled down on his knee. You tilted your head back a little but the water came down quicker than you expected.

You gasped, not expecting to be soaked that quickly.

“Oops.” Eskel did his best to bite back the grin on his lips.

You looked over your shoulder at him, pouting.

“That was on purpose.”

“I love you.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of your shoulder.

You get better knowing that he was slowly coming back to you, that he was transitioning. Once in a great while, it would take him days to settle down when he returned home to you. Those times always worried you. You feared he’d leave and never come back.

You turned back around so he could wash your hair properly. He was careful with you, not wanting to hurt you or accidentally pull your hair. You leaned into him more than you probably should’ve, but he didn’t mind.

He noticed the way you slowly started to slump against him, to use him for support. From the sound of your heart rate slowing, he could guess that you were falling asleep.

He began to hum to himself, needing to fill the silence.

Just as he finished rinsing out your hair, you started to lose your balance on his knee.

“Easy, doll.” He placed his hands on your hips when you jolted awake.

“Eskel?” You muttered sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“You’re tired, doll.” He easily lifted you up so you were on your feet and then stood up behind you. “Let’s get out and get into some warm clothes.”

You nodded and started to get out of the tub. You retrieved a clean towel from the stool nearby and passed it to Eskel. Your soaking wet bodice was discarded, left to hang over the back of a chair.

You took the second towel and wrapped yourself in it, then you took Eskel’s hand and guided him back to the bedroom.

You parted ways, but only because you both needed clothes. You tugged on a pair of undergarments and then a large tunic that fit you rather loosely. It was Eskel’s at one point but you’d stolen it from him.

You dried your hair with the towel as best as you could, then climbed into bed.

Eskel was right behind you, slipping underneath the blankets and quilts, seeking out warmth.

You settled on your side facing him. One of your arms was folded beneath your head while your opposite hand came up to his chest.

“Will you hum to me again?” You asked him quietly, peeking up at him through your lashes.

“Of course.” He nodded, urging you to move closer to him with a hand on your back.

You scooted closer to him, tucking your nose into his chest.

“I love you, Eskel.”

“Love you too, doll.” He kissed your damp hair before he began to hum, the pleasant noise lulling you to sleep.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration shadow-hunters-love @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire

#eskel x reader #eskel fluff #the witcher #eskel witcher #the witcher fluff #kacey answers #fluff ask #1200 followers celebration

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

DUMPLING ch 53

Welcome Back everyone!

Night fell upon the camp as they finished their meals. Keral and Farris hammered out a rough strategy, as the ranger was certain they would come upon the main estate sometime the following day.

“My hope is we run into the damn house by mid-day,” he said, twirling a stick between his fingers. “We’ll get our message sent out to Warren and might borrow some of the men there fer an escort back to the castle or wait fer one to be sent up here to collect us. What I want to avoid is missing the estate all together, because just a few miles passed here we’d start to hit the top of the moors. And if ye think trudging through the woods is unpleasant, you’ve never had to hike through the moors during winter.”

“How long would it take for a message to get to the castle?” Nenani asked.

“Dependin’ on what variety of birds he keeps, could be as little as three hours,” Keral explained. “But if all goes as I hope it does and we get a message sent tomorrow afternoon, then Warren should be readin’ it by late tomorrow night.”

“I just hope he manages to keep his temper and not send out the army after us,” Jae said. His shoulders were hunched up, and he stared down at the dirt, not quite looking into the fire.

“Aye,” Keral agreed, grim-faced. “Probably the one bad trait he got from his father. Doesn’t happen often, but if he gets right and proper mad, Warren could put old grumpy britches here to shame.”

Keral jerked his head towards Farris and earned a swift punch to the shoulder. He winced, rubbing the offended area.

“Eh? Ye see that?”

“Like I said before,” Farris replied, his expression teasing even as he held up his fist in warning. “Still have a few of these in reserve fer Mum.”

“I’m gonna have to send her a letter and clear all this nonsense up.”

“Ye should. One of these is fer only writing to her three times a bloody year.”

“I have a very demandin’ job. Sometimes it don’t allow fer letter writing.”

“Ye have time to distill that whiskey of yers but not to write to yer own Mum. Ye at least send her a bottle?”

“I’ll have ye know I use that time to write performance reviews. I ain’t just sittin’ on my arse and pickin’ my toes. And ‘a course I send her some!”

“Wonderful. Then ye should have no trouble adding in a letter fer her then too.”

Keral glared at his brother. “Just what are ye wantin’ me to tell her? ‘Hello Mum. Arrested a few fellas yesterday fer trafficking and murder. Issued seventeen court summons to folks who’ve been caught planting traps on their land and some on other folks’ land too. But good news is that it ain’t as bad as it used to be. Still haven’t caught the bastard we think is supplying the traffickers with funds and means to be moving all these poor little sods across county lines, but who knows. Tomorrow’s another day. Love yer darlin’ baby boy.’ Somethin’ like that, eh? Nice and cheerful news fer our ol’ Mum to be reading. All the things her son gets up to.”

Farris stared but did not say anything. He studied the face he had known best since birth, and below the thick beard and jokes and grins he recognized the frustration and pain in Keral’s words. He reached out and Keral leaned away as though expecting another punch, but Farris merely placed his hand upon his brother’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I ain’t downplayin’ yer work, Keral. That’d be the last thing I’d ever say to ye. You of all folks...I’d never tell ye yer work wasn’t important,” he said. “I get why ye wouldn’t want to tell her all that. Gods above, ye know I do. But it might do both her and you a bit of good to just send a letter fer the pure sake of it. Come up fer a breath of air.”

Keral took a moment to regard his brother seriously before saying, “If I promise to write to her when we get back, will ye stop punchin’ me?”

Farris grinned and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Sure, I will. Soon as ye write that damned letter.”

……………………………….

Nenani pushed aside her blankets to adjust her belt, and the motion caught Keral’s eyes.

“Little attached to that dagger if yours, eh?” Keral asked, the side of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. Nenani met his eye then turned away, feeling called out.

“Just seems like it’s a better idea to have it around then not,” she replied.

Keral laughed, but Farris was nodding emphatically. “Not a bad idea to my mind.”

“S’why didn’t ye give that old goat of a mage a good stab fer nabbin’ ye?” Keral asked, his eyes still shining with mirth.

Nenani shrugged. “Didn’t really get a chance to. And those bubbles are tough.”

“She tried to stab it and it didn’t work,” Jae threw in. He, Haiyer, and Nenani were all bunched together near the base of a tree. Haiyer, having eaten both his potato and piece of bread, was staring off into space with distinctly droopy eyes.

Nenani leaned forward to frown at Jae. “Yes it did.”

“No, it didn’t,” he answered back. “Remember? You tried to stab it, it didn’t work, and then you did that weird magic thing and made the blade glow.”

Nenani’s expression lit up with recognition. “Oh yeah! I did do that.”

Jae grinned sardonically at her. “Yeah, and then you fell on me.”

The excitement in her expression died instantly and she wilted with embarrassment. “Oh yeah...”

Her shame was felt all the more acutely when both Farris and Keral fell into a raucous bout of laughter. It wasn’t too long after that Keral announced he would take the first watch, and they settled in for the night. Farris, not being very picky about his sleeping arrangements, propped himself against a tree truck, crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. The three humans adjusted their blankets before laying down. It seemed as though it only took a few moments before Haiyer was sound asleep beside her, but for Nenani sleep seemed illusive.

Staring up at the underside of the canopy, she watched the shadows shiver and dance with the movement of the campfire. Though they had had a pleasant dinner and evening, she still never let go of the notion that something, or someone, was watching them. She could just make out Keral’s outline from his position just outside the clearing and beyond the reach of the fire’s light. His blue coat allowed him to blend in very well with the dark.

“Ye should try and sleep, lil’un,” Farris told her in a whisper, and, craning her neck, she saw his eyes were still closed. “Yer fidgetin’ again.”

“Sorry,” she whispered back and tried to settle into her blanket. There came a sigh and then the rustling of leaves that drew her eyes back to Farris. She saw that he was leaning forward with his hands reaching out for her, and a feeling of yearning pulled at her.

“Come on,” he said with a thin smile. “Up ye get.”

As carefully as she could, Nenani got to her feet, still clutching a corner of her blanket, and Farris scooped her up. Leaning back against the tree, he settled her on his chest and laid a hand over her. Though the nagging feeling was still there, she felt far more at peace, and as she laid her head on his chest, Nenani felt the first tugs of sleep.

………………………………..

They set out the following morning, just as the first splashes of color could be made out through gaps in the trees, a little more refreshed and eager to get back to the castle. Keral led them through a weaving path that, to Nenani’s eye, seemed aimless and arbitrary. It was as though Keral was a hound, trying to get a good sniff of his query while following an invisible trail that only he could make out.

They found the first body only two hours after starting off.

At the bottom of a large tree, nearly invisible within the twisting roots, was a face of a young man. Dark of hair, pale faced, and – curiously enough – there was a notch taken from the top edge of his left ear. Almost as though it had been bitten off by a small creature. Haiyer had been the one to spot the body when, seemingly out of the blue, he told Keral, “There’s a sleeping man over there.”

Keral extracted the small prince from his pocket and surrendered him to Farris. Turning his head, he said to Jae in a quiet voice, “Best get down too, lad. Not sure what we just happened across, but ye may not want to see.”

Looking nearly as pale as the body in the roots, Jae climbed up over the ranger’s shoulder so that Keral could pluck him up and set him back down on his own feet. Jae turned to go stand closer to Farris as Keral moved forward towards the body.

When he was close enough to study it properly, Keral only found more questions. The body was fully encased in the roots as though they had grown around and under it, only the man’s head peeking out. But the time that would have taken to occur naturally would have seen the flesh and muscle of the corpse succumb to rot and decay, to say nothing of the scavengers that would have made an easy meal of it.

“Whatever this is, it's not natural,” Keral said, keeping his gaze affixed to the dead human. “This stinks of magic interference.”

“Ye think whatever did this poses any kind ‘a threat?” Farris asked.

“Hard to say for sure, but I’d rather not find out,” Keral answered as he rose back to his feet. “Best we move on before whatever is responsible for this comes around.”

Less than ten minutes later, they stumbled upon two more laying together at the base of a tree. There were not nearly as many roots as the first, and the pair looked to be a mother and child. The woman was middle aged, but thin and sickly-looking, with hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. She looked far more corpse-like than the first or the smaller one to which she clung. Round-faced with thick curls of dark hair was a small girl of perhaps five or six. She looked as though she were merely sleeping in the woman’s arms.

“Why are they sleeping like that?” Haiyer asked, trying to peek around Farris’s fingers to get a better look, but he turned his body and Haiyer made a sound of annoyance.

“They’re not sleeping,” Keral said as he crouched above the pair, staring down with a grim face and hard eyes. “Same as the last.”

“Just what have we come across?” Farris asked, his eyes bouncing around as though expecting the trees to answer him.

The trees said nothing. But someone else did.

“You should not be here,” said a voice from high above them. It came out like the viscous hiss of a disturbed cat. Their eyes moved up to scan the trees, looking for the source. “This is hallowed ground. Only the blessed may walk here. You’re filthy. And I smell fire on you.”

“Who are you?” Keral asked.

“Someone who wishes to see you leave,” the voice replied. Keral’s head swiveled to his right and he stared up at a particular tree. “You’ve disturbed the garden.”

Farris snorted, not having seen Keral’s line of sight, and continued to look about. “Garden? Looks more like a graveyard.”

“They are the same,” replied the voice. “Death is the road that returns us all to the green mother.”

“So you did all this?” Keral asked.

There was no answer.

Farris looked as though he wished to reply, but Keral silenced him with a hand and then said to the voice, “We’re just looking for a house. Big house. Belongs to a Vhasshalan lord by the name of Brennan. Think you might be so kind as to point us the right direction and we’ll see ourselves out?”

The voice did not answer right away and the silence was heavy,

“Follow the smell of blood,” it suggested at last. “You can’t miss it.”

Keral’s expression hardened and his lips drew thin. “My nose ain’t as good as it used to be. How about a heading?”

A pause.

“You’re too far east. Two fingers past the sun at noon and walk straight. The white moss grows on the north side.”

“Thank you,” said the ranger with a bow of his head.

“A warning. If you are still here come nightfall, the others will not be as kind, and they might decide to add you to the garden. And also, do not let the little one eat anymore of the ironwood sap.”

“What?” he asked, looking back at Haiyer. “Why not?”

“It will weaken his magic.”

“The little one doesn’t have any magic.”

There was a long silence and then a rustle of branches. Keral’s head swiveled up to his left and then he saw him: human, dressed in grayish green and brown clothes that helped him all but melt into the tree bark behind him. He was young and thin limbed, but with large brown eyes. Across his forehead was a smudge of ash. He met Keral’s gaze without fear.

“I forget sometimes how distant you giants have made yourselves from the earth. Strange you cannot feel his magic. I could the moment you all stepped inside my forest,” he said and then pointed to Nenani, his brow furrowing. “And the smell of fire on that one there is so pungent I was convinced the woods had caught flame.”

“Thank you. I’ve got one more question,” Keral said, gesturing to the dead woman and child. “The notches in their ears. Your lot do that?”

The boy scowled. “They’ve been marked. For what purpose, I cannot tell you. But they all have them. Their spirits are weakened and often soiled when they come here. The roots purify them so they may find peace in the hereafter.”

“You call that purifying their souls? Looks like fancy fertilizer to me, boy,” Farris said with a sneer. “Disrespectful. Coverin’ them all in roots.”

The boy did not react to the accusation. “You are of the mountain. I do not expect a rock to understand the ways of a tree. The roots preserve their mortal shell. If you were to remove them, their bodies would crumble like dirt.”

“So you collect dead people in this garden of yours?”

The boy cocked his head and regarded Farris with a curious expression as though he had just decided something.

“This is how we remember them. Honor them. Mourn them. You have your ways and we have our own. It does not change the meaning. Giving love to the loveless. Care where there was neglect. Peaceful forever sleep where before there were only endless nightmares.”

Farris’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth to reply, but the boy slipped behind the trunk of the tree and was gone. The giant stared and then snorted in disdain, rolling one shoulder. Still inside the pack, Nenani watched the spot where the boy had gone and knew he had left. The unsettling sensation of being watched left as though it had never been. What a strange person, she thought. She remembered what he had said.

That she smelled like fire.

“Who the hell was that?” Jae asked in a low voice, his eyes still watching the trees for any sign that the boy would return.

“Don’t know,” Farris said. His eyes fell back to the dead woman and child, entangled in the roots. “But he has strange notions I don’t much care for. I’ll be glad to leave.”

Keral walked up alongside his brother and nudged his elbow with his own. “Well, at least we managed to get a heading out of the lil’ fella.”

Farris did not move or speak and Keral’s grin faded.

“Farris?”

The kitchen master’s eyes snapped to attention and he turned to his brother. “Let’s go.”

Keral nodded. “Alright.”

BONUS ART!

#Dumpling #G/t story #g/t #giant tiny #Fantasy Story #fantasy giant #Nenani #Farris #Jae #Keral #Haiyer

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reginaofdoctorwho · 3 years

Text

weird shit that would probably have something to do with me in a horror movie

no one wanted this but i’m bored and found a bottle so you’re all getting it. yes these are all true. check the tags, if u think i’ve missed something please let me know!

there was a murder (technically, i don’t really count it as a murder) next door when i was four years old on christmas morning

the weird antique glass bottle i found half-buried in the woods in the woods yesterday with living bugs in it that made no attempt to leave it once i uncovered it

there is a local cult in the next town over. this is not the same as the local cult that was in the other town over where my mom grew up

random completed animal skeletons in the woods behind our house, i’m talking prey and predator, both laid out like in a goddamn scientific diagram. for a while there’d be ones in the middle of our yard, always the same type of animal, always just the bones and nothing else, laid out like it was posed. this has been happening for over half a decade and we have no fucking clue how, why, or who is doing it

the screaming from the woods that i’m going to assume is a fox

my sister almost dated a murderer. his niece or something is in my class

there is a house that is now part of a “local ghost tour” that belonged to my great+ grand parents during the civil war where my great+ aunt died allegedly murdered by her husband who is actually blood related to me. family history says she died of childbirth, which given that it was the 1800s... probably is true

there was an actual murderer in our family a few generations back but he married in and killed his wife and her sister. they didn’t find out about it until they read his journals after he died where it apparently told everything he did and they decided. “well, that wouldn’t look good for the family, and they’re already dead anyway” and just kept it hidden??

the fact we have my great great grandmother’s dress from probably 1890s or 1900s. even more so the fact that i fit in it. if this was fantasy horror (vampires, some immortal thing or ghost) i’d be fucking dead or cursed

fairly certain i was possessed by the ghost of a puritan as a kid

my family seems to have a curse with babies and nurses? my great uncle died when he was born because long story short, hospitals were the new hot thing, he was perfectly healthy, then a nurse dropped him and he died instantly. my sister died when she was a toddler and the hospital actively tried to delete her hospital records to cover it up and ended up getting fined by the state for it. the nurses responsible were not arrested or punished in any way.

my family all has fucked up connective tissue, in my brother it was bad enough he had to get a steel bar in his chest so it wouldn’t cave in.

the many times i have almost drowned, sometimes due to intentional actions by humans (my dad, it was my dad)

this in addition to the other fucked up shit he did before the divorce when he still lived here, including but not limited to: killing my mom’s favorite pet goat, hanging its skull in a tree, and leaving the body in the woods. not letting his kids learn how to cook. anytime someone asked him to cook he’d put as much pepper/hot sauce in as he could (even for like, scrambled eggs) and give it to the youngest person, usually a toddler. this was me at times. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening murder. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening burning. purposely locked the basement from the inside so we couldn’t get the gaping hole in the stairs leading to one of three kids rooms fixed. tearing up pictures of the kids whenever my mom did something he didn’t like. i had more here but i tried to cut it down a litttle

people have threatened to murder me before. one time a girl didn’t threaten, and actually acted like she was starting to like me, but her cousin read her diary or something and found out she was planning to commit a lot of murder, and told her parents and she got sent to a psychiatric ward for a couple weeks

my mom lived down the street from a family that got axe-murdered by one of their two sons when she was a kid. the murderer did get out on an insanity plea and is still in the area. also their neighbor’s mom “lost her mind” (how the story was told) when she had to protect their kids while her husband went over to try to protect the non murderer son when he got home from school and ran over screaming about his brother trying to kill him and had killed their parents

also she knew a girl who almost got kidnapped by this really fucked up traveling serial killer that has his own wikipedia page that is,,, lengthy. the girl had [alleged] mafia ties, and the guy ended up dying shot by police despite them being told to bring him in, which sounds kinda suspicious

long story short i’d probably be the sequel where one comes back

apparently i go to the “bad” school, which i found out in a coffee shop when i overheard two girls talking about how one’s dad went there and how horrible and dangerous it is

school fights are weird. either they don’t happen or they come freakishly close to murder. people slam heads into lockers, stomp on bones, drag people by hair along the ground. one time in my brother’s class a 4′9″ girl sent a 6′2″ football player to the hospital. there was video of a fight a couple years ago that’s still around. it was brutal, but also one of the girls fighting was taking one for the team in it and got the other kicked out

we don’t have a ceiling in all of the third floor, and the cafeteria has 2. this is not relevant in any way, but it’s important to me that you know this

also the guys kept ripping the heating vents/radiators/whatever off the walls in their bathrooms and got almost all the bathrooms locked. including the girls’ ones.

also everyone kept punching holes in the walls so on some of them it’s just,,, metal sheeting down the whole hallway

there are so many fucking shootings in the next town over. literally five years ago it was this nice place where kids would go on history tours, i did when my sister worked for that group. now there is pretty much one business that has not been held up at gunpoint, and if u look up to the serial killer bullet point, it is for v similar ties. it’s a pizza place and if u ever stop by u gotta try it

women in my family have weirdly good intuition but every couple generations we get doubtful. my great grandma didn’t want a hospital birth but decided “hey it’s the hot new thing for a reason”, my mom switched churches based on nothing but intuition and it turned out someone was a pedophile there (found out years later), i instantly could tell my friend’s boyfriend was a pos and wasn’t surprised later when he told her he’d murder and dismember me in front of her, and upon meeting him told him he was a fucking coward and couldn’t do it. he broke up with her a month later.

i was really good friends for a while with two guys that burned a building down. yes they were arrested. i was friends before and after the fire. they’re pretty nice, but this girl they used to date (at different times, they were brothers, yes it was fucking weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved except her but that’s it’s own thing) said some fucked up shit and it was the closest i ever got to starting a fight. anyway i’m still friends with both on facebook. one of them shares a lot of king of the hill memes

speaking of that fight, i 100% would’ve tried to kill her in that moment. u know that john mulaney quote like “i didn’t understand how a person could want to kill another person. then i got cheated on, and i was like ‘oh, okay.’”? that was me, but replace “cheated on” with she told me it was good my five year old sister was dead because she was a waste, and told me she hoped i’d die of covid”. it was mainly the sister thing. i couldn’t move because if i did i’d start a fight with the [way] above mentioned shit.

my family has a literal feud with a local farming family. i mean, we keep farm animals (sheep, goats, chickens), these people have that, pigs, and crops too. the feud was because their great uncle (or great grand uncle, i’m a little fuzzy on the details) published an autobiography (despite not being anyone famous/important) and in it talked about when he was friends with my grandfather and how creepy my great grandfather was (this was the one with the dead firstborn son) because he kept newspaper clippings of the Lindbergh baby’s kidnapping and murder pinned to a board on the wall of his office/basement. also because he was a child of german immigrants who wanted to fight against nazis in WW2 (how suspicious [sarcasm]). members of their family are in my grade. they charged my sister for almost half an extra pound of goods, too, which just revitalized it.

i live by corn fields. i am surrounded by cornfields. (joke one)

i was friends for a while with this girl whose baby teeth,,, didn’t really fall out completely? she was 17 the last time i saw her in person, she’s probably 19 now and judging by her facebook pictures they’re still Like That. she had a very symmetrical mouth/teeth, which made it weirder. just to clarify, she had some of her baby teeth pushed forward and up, so they kind pointed out a little? and all her adult teeth. she was literally so pretty.

a teacher who is v sexual with his female students came into my english class (he is a science teacher) to demand why i wasn’t signed up for his class. we then both became increasingly passive aggressive and he told the whole class where i live with specific directions and landmarks. the guy sitting next to me had to try to tone things down despite being obviously confused as to why it was even happening (me too buddy). he lives down the road from my sister. when my niece had her birthday party at our house i was outside setting things up and he slowed his car down and honked at me. fuckin creep

#tw child death #tw animal death #tw arson #i guess?#tw shooting #tw murder #a lot of that one actually #tw child abuse #tw violence #let me know if u think i should tag anything else #no one wanted this #except for me #tw cult

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toomanyfandoms02 · 4 years

Text

Tap Tap Tap // Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary ~ Three little taps becomes something much more when his best friend is in the clutches of an unsub.

Spencer Reid × Reader

Word Count ~ 2.4K

SPENCER

Y/n had discussed with me many times that she knew what she was getting into with this kind of job. She had been used as a human shield by unsubs, along as a sedutive measure for many male unsubs (and one female). But she had yet to go through something unmatchable to the rest, more traumatic.

But I guess it had to happen sometime, huh?

Y/n was an amazing profiler and agent. She always wanted the best for people. This also meant she was often getting in trouble for trying to take things into her own hands.

We had a few suspects for this particular case, but it was clear y/n wasn't convinced that any of them were the right ones. She was very smart and stubborn, and she definitely wasn't going to stand for convicting an innocent. Since this was all going on in Vorginia, she had told me that she felt responsible to keep everyone here safe, she didn't want any more people in our home state being murdered or injured because "She couldn't figure out a seemingly simple case."

Wednesday morning was pretty normal. I had come in early and was sitting at the round table, reading 'War and Peace.' For the twelfth time. The rest of the team began piling in. I looked up from my book, peering around the table. I wasn't being teased for reading War and Peace, where was y/n?

"Has anyone spoken to y/n this morning?" Hotch asked, leaning further onto the table. Everyone shook their heads. My heart dropped into my stomach, where is she? I immediately scrambled to my feet, exiting the room and calling her.

It went straight to voicemail.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to pull myself together, calmly walking back to the room.

"I'm going to her house to check on her. Is anyone coming with me?" JJ grabbed my jacket, throwing it to me. Hotch nodded at me as we began to leave.

I was always a careful driver, speeding actually killed around 10,000 people last year. But this was important, I had to know she was okay. I could tell JJ was on edge by the way she was gripping the seat and looking out the window.

Once we arrived I knocked softly on her door. JJ was going to all the windows to see if she could see inside, any sign of struggle. Once she came back around the house, I fished the spare key that I have from my pocket, I carried it with me everywhere.

"Do you, have a key to her house?" She smiled, clearly trying to lighten the situation.

"She gave it to me a few months ago, she said I could come over any time."

"If you wanted to come over any time, you could just knock."

"She was also worried something like this would happen, and she wanted me be the one to quote on quote 'save her' if the situation had risen. She trusts me." She smiled and shrugged, pushing me into the house.

It didn't take much searching before we found a file on a man named 'Carl Desmond'.

"Here. It says that he had 3 siblings. All three have restraining orders against him, but it's not listed why. That's probably why she was so suspicious of him. He could be taking these kids and reliving a childhood life with them. Three kids at a time. I'm not seeing anything on his address." I quickly dialed Garcia. "Garcia can you look for an address on Carl Desmond and send someone there? JJ and I are going to keep looking around the house."

"Yes of course." Cue the sound of vigorous typing. "It looks like he currently resides on 162 Bradbury Lane. I'll let Morgan know."

"Thank you Garcia." As soon as I set my phone down it began to ring again. "Reid."

"It's Morgan. I really think you guys should come back, you need to see something." I grabbed the file and left the house.

I let JJ drive back this time, I was a little out of focus and I didn't want to put us both in danger.

Once we arrived I rushed into the conference room, where I saw everyone but Hotch sitting patiently.

"We sent Hotch to Carl's address." Morgan began fiddling with the projector. "This was sent to Penelopes computer a bit ago. She's really trying to figure out where it came from but it's proving to be pretty difficult." He clicked a button and a distraught, and tied up y/n was presented on the screen. There was a deep voice that came from behind the camera.

"You have five minutes. Say your goodbyes."

"He has sympathy." I said, tapping my foot.

"Hi guys. I'm alright." She was shaking, and clearly not alright. I stepped closer to the screen. "I just wanted tell you guys some things. Garcia, please never stop being a ball of sunshine, I don't know what I would do if you changed. You make everyones day better. And tell Kevin that if he breaks your heart, I'll haunt him." My I could feel the air caught in my throat, I knew she meant that as a funny morbid joke, typical of her. But I didn't even want to open my mind to the possiblity of her death. She doesn't believe she is getting out of this.

Penelope began to cry, "Of course baby."

"Morgan, I admire you so much. You have so much drive and motivation, it's inspiring. Whoever replaces me, make sure you inspire them just as much as you do me." Morgan sat down slowly, nodding.

"Hotch. I couldn't have asked for a better leader. I knew I could come to you with anything and you will help me with it. Thank you for everything." He tried to remain unphased, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Emily, I'm sorry that I had to leave right as you got back. I never got to tell you how much I missed you, because I missed you so much. Can you take care of bink bink? Her and Sergio can have kittens together." Emily was now laughing through her tears.

"Rossi you have been an amazing mentor. I have learned so much from you, and I wish I could cram my brain with more cases you were willing to tell me about." Even Rossi looked emotional.

"JJ, please make sure Spence is ok when I'm gone." JJ close dher eyes, squeezing her fists shut. "Don't let him do something stupid. I can't watch him struggle again."

"And Spence. God, I don't even know what to say. You are my best friend, I never wanted this to happen. I wish that yesterday when I stopped you mid-fact telling, because I was looking over a case, I wish I would have let you tell me about the wonders of mountain goats for the rest of the 7 hour flight. You never fail to amaze me. I know, and everyone knows, that you're a genius. But it still baffles me how much you can fit in that head of yours. Never stop rambling about what makes you happy. It's your best trait." I felt a tear slip from my eye, I was now sitting. Listening closely to every word she said.

"I love you all so so much. You are the best family I could have ever asked for. Thank you for everything." I looked down at her hand, she tapped three times on the arm of the chair. That sent me into a fit of sobs.

*"Ok, so how do you feel about I love you's?"*

*"The three-word phrase is laden with all sorts of meaning; saying it signals that we're officially committed, we prioritize one relationship over the rest."*

*"Of course you would know so much about the phrase." She playfully rolled her eyes, shifting into her other foot. "Listen I say I love you, or love you, a lot. And a lot of times it is to my friends. Now, the whole team already thinks that we are dating or something." My cheeks flushed at the statement. "But I do love you Spence, and I thought we could make up a silent code thing for me to say it!" She smiled giddily. "So, if I tap you three times like this." She tapped my shoulder rhythmically, "It means. I. Love. You."*

*"I actually think that's very creative. Ancient scripts and languages have been understood using decoding and deciphering techniques, most famously the Rosetta Stone of Ancient Egypt. In fact, codes and ciphers have determined the outcome of politics and wars throughout history. There are thousands of types of hidden messages." I rambled a little, having just read about some kinds of codes last week.*

*"Well look at us, making history." She smiled, tapping my hand three times playfully*

After that, y/n would tap me three times before going into any dangerous situation. Or whenever we would hug. She even made me a little keychain that read *tap,tap,tap*.

"I'm sorry." Was the last thing she said before the video ended.

"The guy who has y/n is the unsub. She was onto him, and he took her. She probably went to find him and he took her." I was trying to pull myself out of the state I was in. I knew they wouldn't let me help.

"We sent SWAT to Carl's house and no one is there. They are investigating further now." Hotch relayed his information to us. I slid the file from y/n's house over to him.

"This is what she had on him."

"Garcia, search for relatives of Mr. Desmond. They may know any alternate locations he visits."

We had gathered many family members numbers, the last one we were calling was his aunt.

"Hello?"

"Hi is this Miss Melanie Desmond? My name is Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI."

"What's this about?"

"I'm calling to speak to you about your nephew Carl. We believe he may be involved in a string of kidnappings. We cannot locate him at his home. Does he stay at any other place?" I had just a hint of hope in my voice.

"He sometimes tidys things up at his parents farm. My sister died 2 months ago, so he's been taking care of it. I can give you the address." That must have been the stressor.

"Yes please."

Once jotting the address down. I texted it to the team and began on my route to the farm.

It was only about 25 minutes away. 15 minutes in, Morgan and JJ were caught up with me, driving right behind me.

Once we hit the driveway, my nerves were through the roof. I didn't want to walk in on my best friend dead. I just wanted to hug her ~and kiss her~ and tell her everything was going to be ok.

I nearly stumbled out of the car, heading into the house with Morgan while JJ and Emily started off to the barn.

Morgan kicked the door down, announcing that the FBI was here. I immediately noticed blood on the white tile floor of the house. My stomach churned at the sight.

"Carl Desmond?" I called into the house. I heard light footsteps coming from a room over. Once I turned the corner I could see y/n laying sideways on the floor, still tied to her chair. Morgan motioned me in there as he continued to search the house.

"I'm going to need a medic in the house, but don't send anyone yet, I'm not sure if it's safe." I spoke into my mic. I shook her shoulder a bit.

Nothing.

I put my finger against her neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, and stronger than I had expected. I began cutting the ropes around her wrists and ankles. I scooped my arms under her weak frame and pulled her into my lap.

"Y/n? Please be okay." I shook her shoulder a little, trying to lightly wake her and not scare her.

"Spence?" She looked up at me with squinting eyes. She sat up quickly, wincing and holding her head.

"Woah woah slow down, you probably have a concussion, don't move too fast." I held my hand behind her head. She pushed forward, throwing her arms around me.

"I knew you would find me, I just wasn't sure I would be here for it." I could feel her tears on my shirt. She tapped my back three times.

"I love you too." She pulled back, looking at me with a crooked smile. "I don't care who hears it anymore. Everyone can know I love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You always want to her me talk about random facts, even if you have no idea what I'm talking about. When I'm sick of people asking me if I 'can actually read that fast' you tell them everything about me, proudly. I love you, so much." She leaned her forehead on mine.

"Thank god." She leaned forward a bit and connected our lips. I could taste the tears that she had shed for hours and even in the past few minutes. Some tears were even sliding down my cheeks. Even though I didn't have much to cry about now. My everything was back in my arms.

"I knew it! Pretty boy and y/n! Get it man! Hey y/n remember that dream you told me about?" Morgan winked, coming around the corner with a cuffed Carl Desmond. Trailing along with the three missing children. I almost jumped away but y/n kept a tight hold on me.

"Shut up Derek." She growled, furrowing her eyebrows at him.

"What dream?"

"Nope, we aren't talking about this right now. Can you carry me to the medics?" She flashed me a cheesy smile.

I shook my head at her with a smile. I leaned down and kissed her one more time. "You really are lucky I love you." I picked her up bridal style, taking her to the ambulance where there was a medic waiting to help her. I noticed multiple smirks from the team. I set down, wrapping a blanket around her.

"So, a dream, huh?"

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg

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anneshirleycuffbert · 5 years

Text

Anne’s letter to Gilbert - #3

[for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!]

Dearest Gilbert,

Thank you for the chamomile tea. It could not have come at a more perfect time.

Half the girls have caught colds and I am afraid I will be next to fall victim to their sickness, seeing as Diana has contracted it. Nevertheless, I swore to love her as long as the sun and moon shall endure. When I was an orphan staying at the Hammond’s–who had three sets of twins! three!– I nursed them all back to good health when they had croup. A cold is nothing compared to what the Hammond children went through that bitter February, so I’m positively certain we shall all be well in no time.

I believe taking care of someone because of and despite their illness is one of the most beautiful and valiant things a person can do in their lifetime. I suppose that is what began to soften my heart to you that day I came by to drop off your books whilst your father was ill. From the short time I talked to him, I felt that he was kindred. May I ask, do you miss your father terribly?

Marilla and Matthew do their best to hide their aging and all that entails from me, but I know better. They are not getting any younger and I dread the day that will inevitably come when I will not see Matthew feeding the goats or Marilla making her famous plum puffs. When my imagination conjures up the image of an empty Green Gables, I must stop myself then and there lest I plunge into the deepest depths of despair and never escape the nightmare. I’ve never told this to anyone, not even Diana. How my greatest fear is not being able to pursue my passions, which are too numerous to count if I tried, but of losing my dear Matthew and lovely Marilla. I was afraid that no one would understand, but I think you do.

I haven’t made my mind up yet which is worse, for a person to never know love or for them to have known it and lost it. But when I am at risk of letting these pesky thoughts run my heart to the ground, I think on the happy things. Matthew polishing his most unusual radish and Marilla and I buying material for my dress. I think of the day you and I marched to the town hall and protested for the right for freedom of speech alongside our classmates. I think of you, Gilbert Blythe, and how you love me despite my many faults and flaws. I’m still pinching myself.

Bash was most elated to see me when I visited, and Delly has much grown since the last I saw her that you’ll have trouble deciding whether to laugh or cry the day you return. Although she is still a baby, I see dear Mary more and more in her. She possesses an unusual resolute wisdom and I patiently await the day when I can converse with her and unlock all that lies in her imagination and mind. And Elijah– oh, he adores his baby sister. He takes her for morning strolls around the farm so that Bash can sleep in after long days of working. Miss Hazel, Elijah, Delly and I walked all the way to where the stream meets the Lake of Shining Waters and found Miss Stacey fishing with some of her students and Rachel Lynde, of all people! Miss Stacey sends her warmest regards and a reminder to keep the promise you made to her.

Jerry certainly made a point to tease me about you. I asked him about the post script he wrote to you, but he infuriatingly would not reveal its contents, saying that I must learn to accept that I cannot always get what I want and I should thank him for teaching me this lesson. The nerve! I didn’t thank him, of course, but I will keep his words in mind and practice them by refraining from asking you to divulge the information I desire. To answer your question, Jerry had made it a habit to spell my name without an E and one day I was made to believe he did it for the purpose of annoying me, rather than simply being ignorant to the proper spelling–which I may have been able to tolerate–so I might have snapped at him. Okay, I did snap at him but he only found it hilarious. Now he overcompensates with a capital E.

As for your request to visit me at Queen’s and escort me to Avonlea, you have my enthusiastic approval. Please be advised that Mrs Blackmore has strict visiting hours for suitors, who may only visit between the hours of 2:00-4:00pm on Saturdays, in the parlor. (But I wouldn’t be too worried because Mrs Blackmore has already taken a liking to you, and I suspect it’s because chamomile tea is her favorite.) The girls and I have become much acquainted with the parlor, for many students at Queen’s have developed a taste for the Avonlea scholars. Mrs Blackmore, it turns out, has quite a number of redeeming qualities under her intimidating exterior. She has a no-visiting policy for suitors during exam season and when there is sickness in the house. One of the benefits of having half of my housemates ill near exam season, is that we finally have a respite from the boys who’ve made it a habit to visit.

I do feel sorry for Moody and Ruby, who I never knew until recent how devoted they are to each other. Ruby, one of the fortunate spared from sickness, was caught trying to sneak out of the house after hours. We all presume it was to meet Moody under a nearby willow tree, but Mrs Blackmore has no solid evidence and therefore no collateral to prohibit him from visiting again once we’ve all recovered from our colds. I think Mrs Blackmore does not really want to expel Moody Spurgeon from the house, because when he visits he usually plays us a few songs on his banjo and Mistress Mang–our term of endearment for her–dearly loves music.

How are you and Benjamin Frederick Wright getting along? I am intrigued to meet him. Dr Emily Oak, as well, for as you said, she is a kindred spirit. I figure she must be if she’s worked her way, beating all, to become a doctor working at an acclaimed university.

I joined the Poetry Reading Club and the Writing Club and found many kindred people there. Yesterday I was asked by one of my professors to consider joining Theatre and another to think on applying to be one of the editors for the Queen’s Verdict, the college’s newsletter. I’m still thinking on it, seeing as I’m already in two extra-curriculars. And, as you very well know, the last time I was involved with a school newspaper, there were many negative consequences. I don’t think I could bear to disgrace myself in Charlottetown.

I hope you aren’t holing yourself in your books and studies for too long, Gil. It’s important to take time to be at leisure and refresh your soul. Promise me that you’ll take a walk, talk to your classmates, and try something new. Maybe explore the city with your dear roommate. I heard they have a camera at U of T, so if you ever get the chance, have a photograph of yourself taken! In regards to your all-inclusive apology, it is wholeheartedly accepted. The slate has been wiped clean.

As I write this letter, I am sitting under one of my favourite trees in all of Charlottetown. I will introduce you to her when you visit me. Oh, how I wish tomorrow would come sooner than later because then I would be one day closer to seeing you again. But I must admit, I do appreciate our correspondence via letter, as it helps me filter my words and choose them carefully. I’m afraid of how I might act and what I might say when we are reunited, given my horrible habit of callously spewing out the words I think in the moment I conceive them. I miss you terribly and I do not trust myself to act proper when I see you in person. But Mrs Blackmore is determined to make a lady out of me yet, so only time may tell.

Take care of yourself, Gilbert. I love you. Come home someday.

Anne

P.S. word of the day: Retrouvailles - the joy of reuniting with someone after a long separation. (A bosom friend who is studying French is just as handy as any foreign vocabulary dictionary)

P.P.S. Oh, darling Gil, do you not know? In order for a duel to be classified as such, there needs to be a prize. I propose the loser gives the winner a kiss. And as Rachel Lynde says, pride comes before the fall—so pucker up, Slateface. I hereby engage in this long-distance duel.

———————————————————————

lolol I know I said I wouldn’t be posting during exams, but writing this was like a mini-break from studying so I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what your favorite part of the letter is!

This is Letter #3! for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!

#i miss them sm already im crying #anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirbert letters #awae letters #gilbert blythe #anne shirley cuthbert #anneshirleycuffbert #anne x gilbert #awae season 4 #awae spoilers #awae fic #renewannewithane #renew anne with an e #renew awae #awae:dlu

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pug-bitch · 4 years

Text

Smiles every day (One-shot)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez and...another pairing but you’ve guessed by now :D

Rating: PG, but as always my foul mouth couldn’t help itself and let some bad words slip through the cracks :p.

Word count: about 2,500

Notes: This is set after the events of my previous one-shot, The Parent Trap! So, roughly 2+ years after the events of Book Two. I can’t help myself, I thought I would just not spoil anything in terms of Book Two, but I’m sure you guys are already seeing pretty clearly in everything I’m doing by now, so… let’s just enjoy this :D I hope you like!

*****

‘Knock knock!’

Maxwell peeks his head through the door before Amara can respond, and he’s immediately greeted by an overly excited Yoda.

‘Hey love,’ Amara says with a smile, ‘come in, don’t mind the mess.’

Maxwell looks around, thinking that the place is immaculate compared to his on a good day. Especially now. ‘Don’t get up!’ He warns, lowering himself to hug Amara where she’s sitting.

Ever since she and Drake told them about the pregnancy, after their return from Philly, Max has been completely overprotective of Amara, treating her as though she may break. Nothing bad can happen to his Little Blossom.

‘Can I make you some coffee? I was just doing some work, but it’s time for a break anyway.’

‘No!’ Max protests, ‘I can do it.’

Amara rolls her eyes. ‘You and Drake are exactly the same. I’m three months along, I’m not ready to pop yet. I can still make a coffee.’ She closes her laptop and gestures for Max to follow her to the kitchen. ‘That’s why I sent Drake to work. He hasn’t been at the restaurant since we got back, and he really needed to get out of my face.’ She chuckles.

Maxwell smiles warmly at her, all the while absentmindedly petting Yoda. ‘Sorry, Little Blossom. I completely understand his point of view, though, we both know how you can overdo it, so—‘

Amara holds up her hand to shut him up. ‘Alright, that’s enough pregnancy talk. Tell me about you, instead. How’s the big move-in treating you?’

Maxwell can’t contain his smile. ‘Oh, just awesome. I’m realizing how ready I was for this. We’re starting to really get our bearings, after all, it’s been a month now, and Callie seems to be really in love with the house, and the proximity to the Beaumont estate and the animals… We’re just having a blast.’ He pauses. ‘Amara, there’s something I need to tell you. Show you. I guess.’

Amara turns to him and hands him an espresso cup. ‘Yeah?’ She asks worriedly.

Max wrings his hands together nervously. ‘Wow,’ he whispers, ‘this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I, um… you know how much I love your brother. More than anything. And, you know, I may be a little… out of control sometimes, and I may not be the most mature.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I guess you could say I’m a bit impulsive. Like when I bought Bradley Cooper, for instance, I mean, great decision, he’s the best goat I’ve ever met, but at the same time, I did buy him on a whim at the farmers’ market one morning.’

Amara squints at him as she steeps her tea. ‘Babe, get back on track.’

Maxwell chuckles, tapping his pocket to check it’s still there. Oh boy, he thinks, if he’s already nervous now, how is it gonna be tonight? ‘Yes,’ he continues, ‘you’re right. So, as I was saying, I’m usually pretty impulsive. But this isn’t impulsive. It’s thought through, it’s been on my mind for the past few months, and, if I’m being honest… for the past two years, really.’ He takes a deep breath and puts the box on the table.

Amara’s eyes are like saucers. ‘Is this…?’ She stammers.

He nods, and pushes the box towards her. She takes it tentatively.

As she opens it, her eyes fill with happy tears. ‘Maxxie… this is so lovely.’

He breathes a bit more easily. ‘Yeah?’ He asks. ‘You think he’ll like it?’

Amara nods furiously. ‘Oh yeah. He definitely will.’ She hands him the box back.

Maxwell can barely keep himself together as he takes another look at the ring he picked for Michael. A simple gold band, classy like the man he loves. He closes the box and pulls another from his other pocket. ‘Now there is something else that I’d like you to see. It’s a little… out there. Don’t hold back on feedback.’

Amara wipes a tiny tear and holds out her hand to take the little box. It’s small, light purple, made of velvet. When she opens it, she gasps. ‘Oh Max, it’s so lovely. Fuck, this is so thoughtful.’ She takes the little pendant in her hand to get a closer look.

Max nods. ‘Phew. I didn’t want to leave her out of this decision, so I had this engraved for her. Is it too much?’

Amara admires the delicate gold pendant, on a intricate little chain. The pendant is a lovely oval, with an engraved peacock, and the words ‘We are family’ etched on it. On the peacock’s head, three teeny-tiny aquamarine stones.

‘Fucking hormones,’ Amara mutters as she wipes away more tears that keep coming. ‘Callie will love it.’

*****

Amara closes the door behind Maxwell and takes Yoda in her arms. ‘Are you excited too, baby?’ She whispers, kissing the little corgi’s head. She plops down on the couch to snuggle with the dog, who’s all too happy to get so much attention.

As she’s halfway done with her episode of Schitt’s Creek, the front door opens. ‘Hey babe,’ Drake says with a smile.

Amara sits up. ‘Hey hun, you’re back so soon!’

Drake throws his jacket on a chair and joins her on the couch. He ruffle’s Yoda’s hair and gestures for Amara to lay down in his arms. ‘I missed you.’

Amara smiles as she nuzzles into Drake’s neck. He might be annoying and overly worried, but he’s her pain in the ass. ‘I missed you too,’ she whispers as she kisses him deeply. ‘How was the restaurant?’

Drake smiles. ‘Pretty good. They barely need me over there. Rashad’s got the situation under control as always, and the kitchen team is awesome. They said they’d handle things whenever I can’t be there.’ He kisses her hair softly. ‘I’m lucky to have them.’

Amara smiles. She’s happy to see him so happy at work. It wasn’t a given when he opened his restaurant a year ago, but everything worked out for the better, and now he can fully enjoy the perks of doing what he loves. Plus, Rashad’s investment money was nothing to scoff at.

‘What about you, babe?’ Drake asks. ‘What have you been up to?’

In her comfortable state, she almost opens her mouth to tell her about her own morning and about Max’s news, but she refrains. After all, he asked her to keep it to herself until Michael has given a response. Not that he would ever say no, but she has to respect Max’s wishes.

She clears her throat. ‘Oh, you know. Yoda and I just hung out. Watched Schitt’s Creek. I did some studying for the Cordonian detective exam. The usual.’

Drake frowns and nods. ‘Hm. Good.’

Shit, she thinks. He knows she’s lying. Quick, she needs to change the subject. ‘Oh, and look, I did some research for the nursery, and I think we should go with this.’ She opens a new window on her laptop and shows Drake some furniture options.

Drake smiles and puts his hand on her already growing bump. ‘Fuck,’ he says, ‘this is so exciting, I can’t wait to meet our little Peanut.’

*****

Drake is slicing some peppers to dip in his homemade hummus while Amara is making some mocktails. Out of solidarity, he’s not drinking during her pregnancy either, so they have gotten quite creative with Amara’s cocktail book. Tonight, they’re having virgin piña coladas.

He hears a car pull up into the driveway, and looks through the window to see Michael’s Honda. ‘Hey babe,’ he says to Amara, ‘your brother’s here with Max and Callie.’

Amara stops the blender and gasps. ‘Yeah?’ She asks excitedly.

Drake raises an eyebrow. They saw them yesterday, why is she so excited all of a sudden? ‘Y-yeah. We might wanna make a little more drinks.’

Amara can’t contain an infectious smile. ‘Mmhm,’ she nods, biting her lip.

‘Alright, weirdo, I’m gonna go open the door,’ Drake chuckles.

Callie is the first one to come in, and she throws herself in Drake’s arms. ‘Uncle Drake!!’ She exclaims. ‘It smells good in here, what did you make?’

Drake hugs her back and laughs. ‘I’m making hummus, and some veal stew.’

‘Yay!’ She yells, throwing her hands in the air.

Michael and Maxwell aren’t far behind, and they both hug Drake as they come in. Callie facetiously mimes zipping up her mouth, and plops down on the floor next to Yoda.

Maxwell clears his throat and says, ‘Hey guys, um, sorry to come by unannounced—‘ he winks to Amara, who looks like she’s about to explode out of excitement— ‘but… we have something to tell you.’

He looks to Michael, who continues, beaming with joy. ‘So, today, Maxwell proposed to me, and…’ he shows off his left hand. ‘Obviously I said yes. We’re getting married!’

Drake’s jaw drops. ‘Guys!’ He exclaims. ‘Congratulations!’

Amara jumps up and down. ‘I’m so happy for you!!!’ She wraps them both in a warm hug. ‘Congrats!’

Drake joins in, as he struggles to keep his shit together. ‘Guys, this is such great news.’ Oh no, he thinks. It’s coming. ‘I, um…’

‘Babe, are you okay?’ Amara asks with a look of concern on her face.

Drake nods, fighting back tears. ‘Yeah, I’m just… shit.’

Callie shoots him daggers. ‘That’s a dollar in the jar, Uncle Drake!’

Drake can’t stop the tears from falling. ‘Sorry kid. Sorry guys. This is just so great, I don’t know what the… what is wrong with me, it’s just…’

‘Awwwww, Drakey,’ Maxwell squeals, ‘you’re too cute when you’re emotional!’

Drake takes a deep breath. ‘Shit—sorry, I know, another dollar for the jar—guys, I don’t know what’s going on with me, it’s just…’ he pauses and sighs. ‘You’ve been through so much together, and Max, seeing you with Callie has been so inspiring.’

Michael wipes off a tear. ‘Drake, come over here. You need a hug.’

They all laugh as Drake complies.

Callie taps her aunt’s leg. ‘Hey Auntie Amara, can I sleep over?’

Amara giggles, ‘Of course sweetie, tonight?’

Callie nods. ‘Daddy and Max are going to a restaurant to celebrate.’

Michael breaks away from the hug and grimaces, ‘Oh yeah, right, that’s partly why we came here… is it ok for Callie to stay here tonight? Max got us a reservation for three, but Callie doesn’t want to go…’

Callie nods. ‘It’s very boring. I’d rather be here and eat some veal with you.’

Drake chuckles. ‘Sure. The more the merrier.’

Maxwell jumps up and down. ‘Thank you guys! We tried my brother, but um… there was an incident.’

Callie sighs in an exasperated way. ‘Auntie Amara,’ she says gravely. ‘Bartie threw up on my shoe.’ She pauses dramatically. ‘On my shoe.’

Amara gasps. ‘Oh wow, well we can’t have that! I promise you no one will throw up on you here.’ She turns to Michael and whispers, ‘Thank God my morning sickness is over.’

Michael laughs. ‘Good thing! Guys, we really appreciate it, and sorry for the late notice.’

Amara shrugs. ‘No problem. I had a hunch this would happen. Come on, Callie, let’s get you situated in the guest room, and then we’ll have a mocktail, ok?’

Callie claps in excitement. ‘Yay, a cocktail!’

Drake looks at his wife disappear into the guest room with their little niece, and turns to the guys. ‘Sorry again for the… whatever the fuck that was. I’m so happy for you guys.’

Michael claps Drake’s back. ‘No worries, Drake. It’s nice to see you so in touch with your emotions. Welcome to being a dad…’

Drake chuckles. ‘Yeah, I can’t even blame the hormones, but here we fuckin’ are. About tonight, do you guys want me to call my buddy at the Portavira Inn? See if he’s got a suite available? Since we’ve got Callie…’

Michael looks at Maxwell, and they both nod enthusiastically. ‘Thank you, Drake,’ Maxwell says, pulling him into another hug. ‘That’s so sweet! We’d love that.’

Drake grabs his phone. ‘Alright, let me give him a call, then. Take a seat, you guys can have a little hummus with us before leaving, right?’

*****

Once Max and Michael have left, Amara, Drake, and Callie sat down for dinner, punctuated with endless chatter from Callie, and little excited yaps from Yoda. Amara looks on to her little niece with love. She could get used to this.

As Amara gets up to clear the table, Drake stops her in her tracks. ‘Nope, Suarez, you’re going on the couch with your niece to rest. I got it.’

Amara almost protests, and then remembers that she’s about to insist on doing dishes, which is essentially insane. She nods and kisses her husband on the lips. ‘Thanks, babe. Come on, Callie, let’s go color!’

‘YAY!’ Callie exclaims, as if she couldn’t ever run out of energy. ‘Auntie Amara, can you paint my toenails while I color?’

Drake peeks his head from the kitchen. ‘Um, I don’t know if nail polish is safe for a pregnant woman, hun.’

Amara takes a deep breath. ‘Drake Walker. If you take nail polish away from me, I got nothing left. Please chill out.’

He holds his hands up in defeat. ‘Alright. Sorry. Overprotective mode deactivated.’

Callie giggles. ‘Yeah, chill out, Uncle Drake. Auntie’s not gonna eat the nail polish. She’s not stupid.’

Callie picks a gold nail polish, which Amara gleefully applies on her niece’s toes. Callie sticks out her tongue as she applies herself to coloring a drawing of a cow in a field. Amara looks up at her little niece, all smiles. ‘So babe,’ she asks. ‘Did you like your necklace?’

Callie nods enthusiastically. ‘Oh yeah. It’s so beautiful.’ She fishes it out of her top and shows it off to her aunt. ‘I love the little peacock. It’s so cute.’

Amara oohs and aahs as if she’d never seen it before. ‘It’s gorgeous, sweetie. Were you surprised, today?’

Callie shakes her head. ‘No. Maxxie asked me last week if it was okay. He said it’s my decision. I said of course, because I love having as many daddies as possible.’

Amara’s heart skips a beat. ‘Yeah?’ She asks, her voice breaking.

Callie nods. ‘Yeah. It’s scary having just one daddy. Papi’s in my heart, but he’s not here everyday to cheer up Daddy or play with me, you know.’

Shit, Amara thinks. It’s gonna take a lot of focusing on the nail painting in order not to cry to this one. ‘I know, sweetie,’ she manages to say. ‘But remember what your necklace says, right? We are family. All of us.’

Callie beams. ‘Yeah. I know. I like that.’ She pauses. ‘Besides, living with Maxxie and Daddy is so much fun that I want it to continue forever. That’s why I said it’s okay with me. Daddy was really sad before he met Maxxie. Now he smiles every day.’

Amara gasps for air. Nope, she can’t cry now. Poker face, Suarez. ‘That’s right,’ she says softly, ‘and Daddy also makes Maxxie really happy.’

Callie smiles. ‘That’s true! Maxxie is always smiling.’ She looks up at her aunt. ‘You used to never smile. Like, never never. And then you came here to Cordonia and you smile all the time. It’s nice.’

‘You’re right,’ Amara chuckles. ‘It is nice.’

Callie points at Amara’s belly. ‘And I think he’s gonna smile a lot too. Because I’m gonna be the best big cousin ever.’ She pauses. ‘Unless he throws up on my shoe.’

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. ‘Yeah? We’ll do our best to avoid it, then.’

Callie giggles. ‘I’m excited to see him, I think he’s gonna be cute.’

‘You got that right,’ Amara chuckles. ‘So, you think it’s gonna be a boy, huh?’

Callie makes a face and snorts. ‘Oh yeah. But you should now that I’m still gonna paint his nails.’

*****

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#drake walker x amara suarez #one shot #dramara #drake walker x mc #drake walker #trr fanfic #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara

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emeraldspiral · 5 years

Text

So I went to see Maleficent 2 with my friend yesterday. It was pretty meh.

The plot was super thin and it felt like nothing really happened for most of it and nobody had an arc. In particular, Maleficent does very little to drive the story and could basically be cut out of it for a solid hour in the middle. It was like someone wrote an outline, and then did one or two drafts filling in basic details like the names of the main characters and how things were going to move from scene to scene, but then they just called it good instead of continuing to flesh it out. Like the script was 90% placeholders.

Other random assorted thoughts;

Why didn’t the fairies break the windows or go after the redhead bitch right from the get go when she started dusting everyone?

Why didn’t the dark fae fly in a different attack formation, like try approaching the castle walls from above instead of flying low and then up and making themselves easier targets?

I legit thought Maleficent was with them when the attack started and did a double take when they cut away to her still with the dying guy and was like, “What the fuck? It was night when they got attacked and it’s the middle of the day now. Has she just been at that guy’s death bed for 12 straight hours when the warhawk guy’s entire plan was 'We can win even though we’re outnumbered and outgunned because we have her'?”

Also, I don’t really like that Mal is more powerful than other fae just because she was born that way. I thought she was a sorceress, someone who studied magic to get more powerful, not someone who just coasts on her innate abilities. It would make more sense with her having had to fend for herself and defend the moors from a young age and then losing her inhibitions about tapping into darker magic after her trauma.

WTF was with the comedy ending for the queen? Everything was super dark up until that point, building up to the same kind of brutal end they gave Aurora’s dad in the last movie. But instead she just gets turned into a goat with the caveat that she can be changed back whenever they decide she’s been punished enough.

The little porcupine girl was totally pointless. The first couple minutes of the movie where they introduced her and she fucks around with Aurora for the bit were the worst part of the movie. The forced whimsy and bad CGI were straight painful to look at.

They really just retconned their own movie by having Maleficent suddenly hate Philip and disapprove of his relationship with Aurora when she was all for it in the last movie.

Maleficent barely speaks and does nothing for most of the movie, particularly in the middle. All she does is look at stuff and listen to exposition and people talking about what they want her to do without interjecting with any of her own opinions or doing anything to advance the plot for like, an hour.

The story’s supposed to take place over three days but it seemed like only one or two passed.

Thought the one warhawk fae was going to turn out to be the one attacking humans instead of Maleficent at the beginning since all we saw were the horns and we got no confirmation when the queen was confronting Mal about it at dinner. I thought he’d turn out to be in cahoots with the queen or at least give a reason for Mal to reevaluate her position, but no such twist occurs.

Thought other fae would be more important because they had cool designs and the cameras focused on them a lot, but then they had no lines and did nothing.

Even the two fae who were important, the warhawk and the peace dove guys, were completely two-dimensional and a microcosm for the whole film. Like, the dove and the king and Philip and Aurora are all, “We shouldn’t kill people, that’s just going to piss them off” and the queen and the warhawk are like, “Peace is for pussies. I say we commit genocide.” And that’s literally all anybody has to say on the subject. There’s zero depth to it. That’s what I mean when I say it feels like everything that was written was a placeholder for a later draft that was supposed to flesh everything out more.

I honestly don’t even know why they gave the queen a backstory about her brother being killed by fae to explain her motive. Like, the two sides were already enemies. They didn’t need to explain why anyone else on either side personally didn’t like each other. All that backstory did was make me think it was building up to a reveal that the queen’s dead brother was a character we knew, but then he wasn’t.

Why did the queen need to spread rumors about Maleficent? That wasn’t something that needed explaining. Everyone’s racist, you could’ve just said they heard the story about Aurora being cursed and passed it around for 16 years and just didn’t believe it when Mal broke the spell. But even then, how could people not know? Like, it was known that Aurora woke up and became queen of the Moors and that Maleficent raised her and cared for her as her godmother. Why would people think Mal was evil when the person she supposedly cursed and then left to die was alive and well and freely associating with her? Also, why would Philip not correct those misconceptions?

Why did destroying the needle break the curse on the king when Mal wasn’t able to break Aurora’s curse with anything other than a kiss? Were they too afraid of Chinese homophobes to let Philip kiss his dad?

Why was Warwick Davis torturing and killing his own kind?

Tomb-bloom sounds like toon boom.

Who the hell were those baby fae at the end? Did Maleficent have kids?

What was with that one shot of a cradle when she was being rescued? Some sort of repressed memory? Begs a lot of questions about how Mal ended up alone running things in the moors while the rest of her kind were aware of her but just hanging out in their own place.

It’s called “Maleficent Mistress of Evil”, but she doesn’t do a damn thing throughout 99% of the movie, let alone anything evil and the story isn’t driven by people thinking she’s evil, it’s driven by Philip and Aurora’s impending nuptials.

Costumes were great though and Angie looked hot as fuck.

#maleficent #maleficent 2 #maleficent mistress of evil

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queer-starling · 5 years

Note

Flower ask: also all of them. you get to suffer with me >:3€

oh darlin’ we’re in it now huh

Alisons: Sexuality?

homogay

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender?

she/they | all gender will be shot on sight

Amaryllis: Birthday?

sept 23rd

Anemone: Favorite flower?

monkshood

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show?

stranger things or ghost adventures

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger?

like? distance? a couple miles probably

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep.” William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Aubrieta: Favorite drink?

wild cherry capri sun

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

ima change that to ‘kiss the last person u thought abt kissing’ bc YES

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love?

*jenna marbles voice* hell yeah!!

Baneberries: Favorite song?

waiting for the end - linkin park

Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

chaos

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it?

i have too many to list !!! brandi, kasey, you, liz, ivy, nick , just to name a few!!

Begonia: Favorite color?

blue uwu

Bellflower: Favorite animal?

foxes !! and opossums

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

night time babey

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

either a fox or an opossum or a raven, i think

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

i wanted to be a vet !!!

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children?

theyre ok as long as theyre not screaming and/or mine

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why?

i don’t liike vomit bc. nastey (trauma i think) and i don’t like old ppl well. i dunno why? they’re just so old and fragile and helpless and sometimes they’re really mean and idk i think it’s like something to do w death or something LMAO idk. also i just hate the idea of becoming old and having to rely on other people ?? hhh

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood.

i was bullied a lot

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?

realistically? probably playing dead by daylight with my girlfriend ADFSGRHYUTR

Buttercup: Relationship Status?

happily taken

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go?

ireland, scotland, alaska, greece

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved?

whenever my friends or family tells me they love me but esp when u text me goodmorning or when we say our goodnights sorry im gay haha

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?

i have. uuuuhh 6

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?

no!!! i want some tho :(

California Poppy: Height?

i think im like. 5′5 or something? give or take an inch ?

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

oh absolutely. my house is haunted as we speak

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?

bmth hoodie and pajama pants w foxes all over them. i just woke up lol

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight?

yeah i always keep one on in the bathroom

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged?

my sister bc she came home from college yesterday

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

ask me in like. a little over a month from now ;)

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

FONT??? the animal crossing font

Columbine: Are you tired?

oh absolutely

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

thanksgiving, christmas, seeing my gf, magfest

Coneflower: Dream job?

idk if it’s a job but i just wanna own like. a ranch that takes in all sorts of animals and takes care of them

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert?

introvert

Crocus: Have you ever been in love?

ooooh yeah

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about?

i mean. depends on what they want/need. distance wise? i’d travel the known universe for u

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it?

he was a plaid teddy bear his name was Stanley!!!! i miss him :( but now i have Little Moon God as my favourite stuffed animal

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

Libro

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering?

Working in Yellowstone is something I’ll never forget

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?

well. hmm. i was gonna say flying to yellowstone but maybe driving to north carolina by myself bc driving long distances alone to places i haven’t been before gives me hella anxiety (i’m better now)

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)?

i don’t pay rent in this house to listen to their opinions lmao.

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to?

you, i think, when we said goodnight last night!!! EDIT: you this morning!!

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?

being bad at dead by daylight

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

dead by daylight

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month?

(little over a month now but uhhh) GOT A UH ......GIRL.....FRIEND ...... GOT TO VISIT GIRLFRIEND ........ and got the windshield finally replaced in my car

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?

i dont know! so far ive laid in bed now im at my computer answering this. not too bad. my shift is only 4 hours today.

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

for the most part, i’m pretty content, yeah

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

MOVE OUT

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life?

my friends, my mom, my sisters, my girlfriend, my bastard dog

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?

metal

Hellebore: How do you show affection?

what does this mean. physically, i’m very affectionate, i just. don’t show it alot bc anxiety/i overthink. that and i constantly tell ppl i love them and what they mean to me

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of?

whoever is reading this

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day.

wake up next 2 a cute girl. take way too long to get up. go climb mountain w cute girl. vibe on mountain w cute girl. go to waffle house 2gether. gome home and vibe. play video games or watch a movies/tv w cute girl.

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time?

i like to make art or play bideo jame

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

oh gosh i dunno. the ones i’ve known the longest are kasey and brandi, and i’ve known them both around/over a decade i think. we met in middle/highschool!

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

you, ivy, liz

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

so many

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?

idk man but i remember when you said u had a crush on me and then i posted a selfie and u were like ‘OH NO SHE’S CUTE” and like ??? idk i think that was definitely the first compliment to ever shock me LMAO

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

6.9/10

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

my tattoos

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGGViLwHEUk

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

i liked to play zombies ate my neighbors on the sega genesis !!!!

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid?

eliza !!!! we lost touch a few years after i moved away :(

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for?

ima be real everything makes me feel guilty

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?

aaaaaa the whole abi/moon incident

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name?

my name is fox. it means i like foxes

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it.

northern virginia babey !!!! that place fucking sucks!!! but everyone who lives up there thinks they’re hot shit.

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

i had a bunkbed and i think the walls were pink

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?

😬 i’m just gonna say i’m much happier now and i’m coping with life and shit a lot better

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

she’s sweet and funny and i love her so much!! she always does the Most for everyone, sometimes to the point where she isn’t concerned abt herself and i see where i get it from. but yeah my mom is great, my dad doesn’t deserve her

Onions: Tell about your dad.

source of a lot of trauma and why i have so many issues regarding men. i don’t wanna talk about him anymore LOL he doesn’t deserve the attention

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents.

my dad’s mom is becoming senile and i think she’s racist and queerphobic. my mom’s parents disowned her a few years ago so we don’t talk to them anymore

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable?

i dunno. i don’t try to remember my birthdays. whenever i can go to busch gardens for my birthday i usually have a lot of fun there.

Peony: What was your first job?

if you don’t wanna count working w my mom as a florist, target was my first job back in 2016. i found my name tag the other day , actually

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any?

WELL, i know you followed me on here first. and then twitter?? but we didn’t really start talking until stranger things 3 came out (thank u stranger things) PHYSICALLY, we didn’t meet until fursonacon (haha. i remember when u texted me that u got to the hotel and i came down to help n i saw u unloading yr car and it was then that my brain was like OH NOOOOOOOO and my heart was like OH YEEEEAAAAAAAH)

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

physical, mental, or emotional? i play a video game or listen to loud music

Pink: Where is home?[

somewhere in appalachia i can feel it in my stupid soul

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change?

idk man i’m pretty content w where i’m at now so

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them.

chester bennington

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

i have a waife and we have many great pets and we live in a log cabin in the mountains or in a nice victorian in a small town or something IDK but we’re happy and that’s all that matters

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child?

God

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life?

my mom, me best friends, my girlfriend

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

my girlfriend’s laugh because it’s THE cutest shit and then when she giggles??? oh my heart

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

oct 23rd, 2005, we brought Fat Boy Zack home !!!!

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory?

July 22nd, 2016. i was 2200 miles away

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?

to be holding my girlfriend >:(

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

hhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without?

those i hold dear

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

enough, i guess?

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning?

my girlfriend

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job?

it’s fucking BORING and TOO EASY and they don’t pay me ENOUGH but i can get away with so much shit there so ima still go, ima still go

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing?

all of the flannels currently in my possession

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.

mountains, woods, forests, cabins, autumn, cryptic, occult, victorian, edwardian

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you?

if someone gets me a gift i’m legally required to execute them

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now?

this 40hr workweek i got coming up

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called?

i have not read in So Long

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

Moved out away from here lol, we’ll see

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself.

i’m a furry

that was SO LONG im sorry i also put you through that but THANK YOU ENJOY READING ILU

#littlecation #ask #long post

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anotherhawk · 5 years

Text

Death for Immortals Ch2 - Good Omens Fanfic

Previously titled ‘5 times Crowley died carelessly and 1 time Aziraphale made him care’

Chapter summary: 140 years after the flood the last of the children Crowley saved dies peacefully in her bed, surrounded by family. He doesn’t take it well.

Read it on AO3 or under the cut.

2863 BCE

The last of the kids died at the age of 140, surrounded by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. He waited outside the house until the wailing started, an olive branch clutched tightly in his hand as he shredded the leaves into pieces too small for any human to see. That was it then. No more reason to hang around here.

Her name had been Anurash and her mother had thrust her into his arms as the waters rose, begging him to save her, to give her a chance at life. He'd held her in his arms, miracled milk to feed her with, kept her hidden deep in the bowels of the ark with the other frightened kids for far more than forty days and forty nights of cramped, foul-smelling darkness, until the rain stopped and the waters finally receded. A hundred and forty years. That wasn't too bad, was it? That was a lot longer than a lot of humans got. Mind you, Adam had lived to be nine hundred and thirty, so maybe it wasn't as good as all that. Maybe that was the difference between a human made by the Almighty and a human made by other humans?

He glanced skywards. “What, is it a patent situation? Knock-offs aren't allowed to be as good as the original? Keep going like this and in another thousand years they won't even make it to fifty. Where's the sense in that? If you want them to be better you've got to give them time to grow, don't you?”

A couple of passers-by stared at him. He scowled back and they flinched and quickly hurried away, whispering to each other.

Right. Eyes. Evil demon eyes that they were supposed to shun. It had been a long time since he'd been anything other than a stranger in this town, even though he had largely been responsible for building it. Well, there hadn't been much other option, had there? The oldest of the eighty-seven kids he'd managed to save had been fourteen, and most of them had been a good bit younger than that. What the heaven did they know about building houses, planting crops or digging wells? Only what their parents had got to teach them before Her Upstairs got tetchy and decided hey! Time for no more humans without my seal of approval.

He'd seen the rainbow. It was beautiful. But even now, well over a century later, the kids still found bones sometimes when they played, and those bones had had names, once upon a time, and were they really so despicable that they deserved to be washed away and forgotten?

Anyway, he'd built this town for the kids, and for the first dozen or so years he'd lived among them, making sure that they knew what they needed to take care of themselves. Even after that he hadn't been willing to stray too far. He'd stayed to watch the kids he raised grow up and raise kids of their own, all in absolute defiance of the Almighty, of course. Little humans who shouldn't be alive, running around, growing, with all their questions...it was self-evidently evil, except...except it wasn't evident enough to Beelzebub. As far as they were concerned he should be tormenting, or at the very least tempting, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to his kids, at least not in any way that Hell was going to approve of. And even after they'd grown up he hadn't wanted to wander too far afield, just in case the kids might need him, and in this part of the world there was only the two groups of ark survivors left, and Aziraphale was keeping a close eye on Noah's lot. If he'd thought he could get away with it he might have claimed credit for Noah turning to drink, but honestly he had nothing to do with it. 1

So Hell wasn't happy with him. Just yesterday a goat had looked up at him with glowing red eyes and told him he needed to improve his job performance of face the consequences. No specific consequences had been mentioned, but no doubt someone somewhere had something in mind already.2

A shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Aziraphale. “Crawly? I thought that was you.” Further sounds of grief came from inside, catching the angel's attention. “Oh, dear. One of yours?”

“Yes,” he answered, without thinking about it.

“I see.” Aziraphale gave him a look of deep disapproval. “Well, it sounds as though there's a lot of people mourning her. I hope whatever little scheme you wound her up in was worth it.”

“What? No, she wasn't...I. Hngh.” He flinched. Her death hadn't been his. Neither had her life, really, she'd lived that for herself. “What are you doing here, angel?”

“Official business. I'm here to offer a few blessings.”

Cold iron seized his spine. “Oh, really, thesse people are worth Her blesssings now?”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Everyone deserves Her blessings, Crawly.”

There was a small herb garden growing in pots on the doorstep. He grabbed the closest plant, violently uprooted it and threw it as hard as he could at Aziraphale, smacking him right in the chest and leaving a trail of dirt down his white robes.

“Well, really,” the angel sputtered, miracling the mark away with a wave of his hand. “I hardly think there was any need for that.”

Part of him wanted to apologise. Part of him wanted to throw another plant, maybe even include the pot this time. Most of him just wanted to crawl into a deep hole in the ground somewhere and stay there for the next millenia or so. “Don't know why you're so surprised. Demon, remember? Your mortal enemy and all that.”

“Immortal, I think you'll find,” Aziraphale said with a sniff. “And I'm fairly certain that 'mortal enemies' aren't supposed to throw plants at each other.” He did the finger quotes. Crawly resolved to recommend that a special place in hell be set aside for people who do the finger quotes.

“No,” he agreed nastily. “They're probably supposed to lob flaming swords at each other.3 You go first. Oh, wait.”

The door behind him slammed open. “Gentlemen, please. This is a house of mourning. For the love of God, please take your petty quarrel somewhere else. Have you no decency?”

Aziraphale was stammering out apologies. He sighed and stood up. “Not lately,” he told Rubat, Anurash's granddaughter, and he turned and walked away.

The angel didn't follow him. He told himself he wasn't disappointed.

Right. Well, then. He wiped a hand down his face, harsh enough that it hurt and looked round at the familiar faces walking by. Most of them didn't give him a second glance. A couple of them caught his eye and shrunk away. Anurash had always loved his eyes...she'd used to call them suns. He remembered chubby baby hands clapping together joyfully when he made her that doll, remembered her first steps, always rushing, always in a hurry, always wanting to see everything, remembered all the questions – why does the moon change, why can't I see my eyes, why the flood, why, why, why – and he remembered Luka, the streak of dirt seemingly always across his face no matter how often he wiped that sticky face, and he remembered Teth, and he remembered Saul, and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered.

There was nothing holding him here now. Nothing holding him back. Everyone expected him to be evil – and he was evil, he was a demon. Might as well live down to it.

Three hours later and six fights had broken out, three marriages had ended, the blacksmith had been persuaded that there was more room for showing off making weapons rather than farm tools, the hunters had been persuaded that the farmers didn't respect them enough, someone had stolen the entire store of apples and set them fermenting, the pigs had been set loose in the granary and the inn was on fire. 4

It was chaos. There were shouts, smoke, recriminations flying everywhere and children crying in the street.

There were children crying in the street...

A hand closed around his upper arm and Aziraphale pulled him round. “What on earth are you doing?”

“My job.” He didn't look at the angel. The child on the street was clutching a doll in her chubby hand, her parents nowhere in sight. There was a streak of mud across her face.

“You don't...what's wrong with you?”

He shrugged the angel's hand off and gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Popular opinion says everything.”

“There he is!” A screech from down the street. Running footsteps, a whole mob's worth.

“The evil one walks among us!”

“Get him!”

“I see him! I see the demon!”

They were coming from all sides now. He took a couple of steps back. “Lovely seeing you, Aziraphale, but I really have to be going.”

He ran. The mob chased him, parting around Aziraphale like they didn't so much as see him, and the angel just stood there like a rock in the river, and Crawly ran. Hands grabbed out at him as he passed, punching, hurting, and stones hammered into him. Black blood ran down his face, dripping into his eyes. If he reached the river he could just turn into a serpent and escape that way.

He didn't make it. They cut him off, knocking him to the ground, kicking, punching, stamping, and he shifted, slipping into a snake, trying to slither away, and the last thing he saw was the blacksmith raising a sword above his head and bringing it down.

Aziraphale carefully buried the little broken body on a hill overlooking the river and tried to ignore the feeling of being utterly alone in the world. He'd seen the demon die and he hadn't done anything. There hadn't been anything to be done, it wasn't for him to interfere, and if he had interfered it would have been to smite the demon out of existence once and for all. Obviously. No, he had nothing to feel guilty about, it was just that he didn't like seeing the humans moved to such violence, that was all.

He scattered the last shovel of soil on the small grave and stood awkwardly for a moment. “I'm sorry,” he said at last. “I don't know what happened today, but I think, maybe, there was something else I could have done. I'll do better next time.”

There were two people he could have been speaking to. He didn't think either of them were listening.

1He did feel it was a reasonable enough reaction to the trauma of witnessing divine genocide, however. He'd even turned to it himself a time or two. The one time he'd actually managed to get to sleep since the Flood he'd had to face the memories of all those desperate hands clinging to the side of the ark until one by one they slid away.

2The goat had chewed on his sandals afterwards. He wasn't sure if that had been the hellish influence or the goatish one.

3Crowley had never actually been issued a sword, flaming or otherwise.

4You might think that this is rather a lot for one demon to achieve in three hours. But even if he had mostly passed unnoticed for the last century Crowley had been living alongside these people. He knew where the buttons were and how best to press them. And, like any act of self-harm, once started it was incredibly difficult to stop.

#Good omens #my writing #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #death cw #self harm cw #ineffable husbands

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hungergames-fanfic · 5 years

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The Reapings

Word Count: 2606

Today is reaping day. A boy and a girl will be chosen at the Plaza, in front of all of Panem, and be put to fight for their lives in an arena. The winner will bring riches and fame back home, or so that’s what president Snow says on the propaganda commercials. District 10 hasn’t had a victor in over a decade.

For the 4th Annual Hunger Games, daddy’s uncle Amos was chosen as a tribute, cause people still weren’t used to the idea of the games there were riots on the street. A lot people died in my family leaving only momma Bilmin and daddy alive, daddy was a newborn. My best friend Efrain’s daddy, who was just a little boy himself got shot but survived, a story Efrain loves to tell. While all of this happened, the government still took uncle Amos, who was sixteen at the time. Being all alone, mourning the death of her husband and family, momma Bilmin was forced to watch uncle Amos survive the games. He killed the most tributes, a goal some careers claim to wanna surpass, or so Efrain says they say, and came back home as that year’s victor.

With his wealth, uncle Amos bought miles of land and divided it into two with a road seven miles long making it a detour from Bloques, where the poor live, where momma Bilmin and daddy are from, to Littleburg, where the heart of District 10 sits. Here live the rich, where momma and her family is from, shopping centers, hospitals, the Mayoral building and more are located. Uncle Amos also purchased cattle, daddy says back then they only had two of every animal. Cows, goats, chickens, horses, pigs and even sheep, but we don’t have sheep no more. He also built momma Bilmin a pretty house on the land and then years later, before I was born, he killed himself.

No one talks about uncle Amos or watches the games at our house cause it makes momma Bilmin cry a lot. So much so that last night I could hear her from my room, so I spent the night with her. She hugged me until we fell asleep. This morning I woke up to the smell of a thousand types of food.

Cause momma Bilmin knows what it’s like to go to bed hungry, with our money, she cooks big pots of food and feeds those who flock to us. Usually, on the mornings she’ll hand out her famous honey walnut bread to those who walk past our road, but on reaping day, she cooks a grand meal. This year she’s baked bread and a cinnamon version of it, two types of rice, an orange one with tomato and basil that’s a little spicy and a yellow one, which is my favotire cause it has eggs, vegetables and beef, but I’m not eating meat no more. Not after I seen where it comes from. Momma Bilmin also cooked a big pot of beans with bacon and sausage a long with another pot of mashed potatoes and cheese. Enough to feed up to a thousand people or more if portioned correctly.

Cause momma is Mayor Sotto’s secretary, she’s all about appearance. Today she wears an elegant dark blue pantsuit. It makes her look so pretty daddy wont stop hugging and kissing her. She tells him to stop with a smile on her face and makes him wear a tanned suit, threatning with “you ain’t gettin’ any honey” if he wears his cowboy hat. Daddy takes it off so fast it makes me laugh. I watch them from the mirror, where I stand and stare at myself while momma does my hair.

Momma’s made me wear a pink dress with itchy white socks and shiny white shoes I only use when I wear dresses like this. She makes a braid from the top of my head to the back, turning it into a low pony tail and adds a big bow to it. I hate the way I look. Can’t even go out to play when I’m dressed like this. I stare at my reflection wishing I could dress myself. I wonder what i’d chose if I were allowed. Then again, i’m only ten years old and can’t take a bath without supervision.

“Oh, my Dora you look so precious”, momma says kissing my cheeks. I don’t think I look like her, her skin is lighter than mines, but I do have curly hair. The curls aren’t as coily as hers though, just a little thicker in shape. I don’t look like daddy or momma Bilmin either, daddy is too dark skinned and his hair is straight, he looks like momma Bilmin but her skin is as brown as mines. Her hair is just as straight as his, too.

“Miss Esperanza”, Vano, Efrain’s cousin, knocks on the door frame. He clears his throat and takes off his hat showing off the waves on his hair. Unlike most days, him and Eddy, Efrain’s older brother, are dressed presentable and clean, that’s cause they’re both still eligible to be a part of the reapings. “We ready to go”, he says.

The reapings don’t start until one in the afternoon, but cause momma needs to be at work early, momma Bilmin will be feeding people and the boys have to sign up, we’re leaving early. Daddy’s gonna stay behind though, says last year someone stole a couple of chickens while we was in Littleburg.

The ride to the Plaza is boring and takes a lot longer than usual. The roads and highways are packed with new and old vehicles, run down wagons that look like they gon lose a wheel on a bump and horses carrying up to three people. Everyone wants to get there before noon since the peacekeepers are a lot more abundant and meaner on this day. Sometimes they break into homes in search for those that haven’t left yet and beat them out on the streets as a warning for others to hurry up. At one point, on the road we see a man getting frisked while his wife screams at peacekeepers tryna hold her back. This day is stressful as it is, peacekeepers always make things worse.

When we arrive to the Plaza, momma gives me a kiss on the cheek before leaving. She always asks if I wanna go inside the Mayoral Building with her cause there’s air conditioning but I like to stay with momma Bilmin, she doesn’t tell me to shush and sit every five seconds.

Left with just her while the boys go and sign up, I make sure to keep momma Bilmin safe. There’s always somebody ungreatful. Next to our wagon, people form a long line on the sidewalk waiting to be handed a plate of food, I help hand forks.

“Ain’t that some shit, Bilmin!”, an old man stands a few feet away eating some of the bread she’s made. “The youngin’ look just like’em”, he laughs. Momma Bilmin doesn’t look at him, she clears her throat and nods. I’ve seen this look on her before, she wants to cry. Mad at him, I scream “go away!”, he just laughs. “Same attitude too!”, he blurts outs in a laugh that turns into a gross cough.

“Come on, John, move along”, another old man says. A plate in one hand, pulling on the gross old man’s shirt with the other.

“Hey, I lost my Isabella to the games too, we’ve all lost family. You ain’t seen us cryin’ when they names be mentioned. Besides, all I said was the little girl look like Amos”, he goes on but the other man pulls him away. Too late, though. The damage has already been done and momma Bilmin has tears rolling down her face. Is that why momma Bilmin cries when she looks at me? Cause I look like her baby brother?

“When I get bigger I’m gonna beat him up”, I tell her whilst giving her a tight hug. I hate it when she cries. It’s not fair cause she doesn’t deserve to be sad.

She smiles at me, gives me a kiss on the forehead and stares for a little too long before her upper lip starts to quiver and more tears roll down her face. This happens a lot around this time, too. It just takes one look and I make her cry. I wish I could change my face. “Please don’t cry momma, I’m sorry”, I apologize wishing I could stop making her so sad. She rubs my back, wipes her tears and keeps on feeding everyone.

People come and go, they wish us blessings, some cry with thanks and others give us little gifts like handmade jewelry, pretty clothes or micellaneous items. None get my attention like this one though, it forms a big smile on my face the second I spot it. Like a trade, a woman hands momma Bilmin a black, fluffy puppy. “Issa boy, gon grow real big, Geller keepin’ the momma and she real good at guardin’ the house”, she informs. “Polomir need himself a guard dog, been hearin’ ’bout a lot of coyote attacks lately. If anythin’ it’ll eat it and not y’all’s cattle”, she chuckles. Momma Bilmin laughs and denies the pup but the lady wont take it back. She giggles when I beg to please keep it. “Listen to the baby, Bilmin, don’t deny me my gift to you”, “oh, alright, fine. Just don’t let’em near the pots of food”, momma Bilmin snaps a me.

By noon, through intercoms placed in every corner, poles, buildings and trees, we hear Mayor Sotto ask those eligible for the reapings that they have an hour to sign up. This makes a lot of teenagers scatter towards the Plaza, only a block away from where we’re stationed.

In the distance, on my skittish horse, Milk, I spot daddy galloping through the crowded road tryna get to us. Excited to show him the puppy, I hold it in the air and jump.

“Hey Isa!”, I hear an old familiar voice, “that your dog?”, Efrain asks. Seeing him walk towards me with his family makes me so happy I almost fall off the wagon but Jenae, his aunt gently pushes me back. “Careful, Isadora”, she warns helping Efrain and Abie up here with me. Compared to the last time I saw him, pale and near death, skinny and weak, he looks a lot better. “Been back outside playin’ with everyone on the block, Wendy was askin’ ‘bout you and Arielle. Says y’all ain’t go to school yesterday”, he says almost like he’s asking why. I wave my hand in the air, showing off my now dirty yellow cast, I don’t give him the same “it hurts” lie I give momma. I don’t wanna lie to him, so I let him assume on his own. Besides, I don’t wanna tell him about Ari and me not being friends no more. Instead I show him my new puppy, who I’ve named Bean cause he ate all the beans that spilled out the bean pot.

The name makes Efrain laugh. “I’d name him Edwin cause that boy’s hair just as shaggy”, he says. This makes me laugh cause it’s true.

Just like me, Efrain is dressed his very best. Although his clothes are too big for him and practically sun bleached, comapred to the rest of his hand-me-downs, he looks sharp. His curly hair has been bathed in oil making it look wet and shinny, his big gray buttoned long sleeve has been tucked into his brown pants held by red suspenders. His cousin Abie, who’s a year younger than us, wears a gray buttoned up long sleeve too, on her waist she wears a red belt that matches Efrain’s suspenders. Her curls, a lot finer than his, are also oily and shinny in the sun, slicked back with her baby hairs forming waves on her forehead. “Momma thought it be cute if we dressed the same”, Efrain says.

“I look cute”, she snaps, “you look like you need more sun”, she rolls her eyes. Her momma pinches her shoulder. Efrain chuckles.

Next to the wagon, on the street, Efrain’s daddy and momma, who came in her wheelchair cause people gotta be literally dying for them to be allowed to stay home, linger whilst talking to daddy who looks very uncomfortable. While her husband Otto helps momma Bilmin hand out plates of food, Jenae laughs and constantly puts her hand on daddy’s arm.

On top of the Mayoral Building sits a large television screen, it turns on to show a blue image. It slightly rocks back and forth but doesn’t fall. In patterns, all the other televisions around the area start to turn on too. The one above a one-floor shop turns on to show the same blue, another standing on a pole at the corner of the street turns on to show blurry images that turn clear. On the side of a big, wide complex building, a holographic image shows the same, from this one, I watch. On it, Mayor Sotto waddles up to the microphone. He’s short, balding and wears a suit too big for his own good. Behind him stands momma looking ever so pretty. Next to her is Tate Langdon, our only victor. He wears a black suit jacket and jeans with a black cowboy hat that matches. Next to him stands Jai Ngyuen. He’s from the Capitol and wears an all white suit that makes him shine bright. His hair and eyebrows are just as white along with his make up. “Goddamn clown”, I overhear Otto say under his voice.

Clearing his voice, Mayor Sotto begins. He dictates the same story from every year, I recognize it cause its one we read in our history books at school. He explains how Panem came to be, mentions the dark days, uprisings against the Capitol, District 13’s obliteration and the start of the Annual Hunger Games. The camera zooms in on Tate, who the mayor mentions as one of our victors along with “and may he rest in power, Amos Wyetka”, he reminds us of uncle Amos like he does every year. Through the crowd blinded by the sun, the camera goes on and on as if showing off our thousands of possible tributes. Once the mayor is done talking, he wipes the sweat off his shinny bald head with a hankerchief and stands next to momma. I glare at daddy who has a smirk on his face while watching the screen.

“Happy Hunger Games!”, Jai’s shrill voice makes the microphone screech. “And may the odds be ever in your favor”, he shakes his head and raises his arms excitedly. Giggling, fixing his tie, he smiles wide showing his perfect teeth. People in the crowded streets look at each other, some shake their head, others murmur to one another. Daddy turns to look at Efrain’s dad and both chuckle nodding their heads.

On stage, Jai walks over to a glass ball containing the male names. Like every year, he plays shuffling the papers, taking a lot longer than he should. Raising his hand in the air to show the folded piece of paper, two more fly out and fall to the ground. He picks them up, dances with and spreads them in his hands, choosing the middle note. Excitedly he practically skips back to the mic and opens it. Clearing his throat dramatically, he calls out the name of this year’s male tribute.

“Eduardo Oxoro”, Efrian’s oldest brother.

#the hunger games #hunger games #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #isadora wyetka #polomir wyetka #esperanza wyetka #momma bilmin #mrs oxoro #efrain #jenae #vano #eduardo #tate langdon #jai nguyen #age 10

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