#it's hard for grapes to be sour enough for me to not to hurt bad bad bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

semperintrepida · 5 years ago

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This Life You Didn’t Choose

Kassandra awoke to darkness and the rough scratch of wool against her nose. It was unbearably hot. Her fingers scrabbled at thick fabric, and she flung the blanket aside only to instantly regret it: sunshine obliterated her sight, and she closed her eyes against the searing brightness, golden halos dancing behind her eyelids. She turned her head, her cheek coming to rest on cool hardness. Wood. She cracked open an eye, blinked back the harsh light, and saw wooden planks stretching out to meet blue skies. The deck of a ship, rocking her gently. She was on the deck of the Adrestia.

If only she could remember how she’d gotten there.

A voice floated over from behind her. “About damn time you woke up.” She knew that voice, tried to think of the name of its owner between the heartbeats that sent her blood banging into the sides of her skull. Gelon.

She groaned. “I feel like death,” she said to the planks at the end of her nose.

“You drank so much, Dionysos himself would have fled in shame. I’m impressed.”

The wood under Kassandra’s cheek was starting to feel hot. She rolled over, closing her eyes as the world smeared into a dizzy swirl and her stomach flopped over like an empty waterskin. When she opened them again, her spear loomed huge in her vision, resting on the deck nearby, and in the background, Gelon sat on a bench near the helm, a coil of rope in her lap and another on the deck at her feet.

“You sure know how to fucking party, misthios. I doubt this crew’s ever seen a show that entertaining, and come to think of it, neither have I.”

“I don’t remember. Anything.”

Gelon’s head popped up from her work. “Really?” she said. Then she lowered her voice. “Not even what you and I did later for the grand finale? Now you’re hurting my only feeling.”

Kassandra blinked. She and Gelon didn’t… did they? She tried to remember, tried to think, but her blood was pounding against her eyeballs as if they were drumheads. She suffered a glance down at herself. She was still wearing her chiton. That was good. She had no idea where her armor was. That was bad. Then she sniffed the air: sweat and sour wine, but none of the musky afterscents of sex.

“You’re full of shit,” she said to Gelon.

Gelon gave her a thief’s grin. “You’re so fun to fuck with,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t you worry — you ended up as chaste as Hestia. Blue-balled most of your crew, though.”

What in Hades had she done last night?

“But if you ever change your mind…” Gelon’s eyes glittered as she peered at Kassandra. “We’d have to sort out who’s on bottom, though, because it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me without a fight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kassandra said, her voice as dry as the inside of her mouth. She pressed a hand against the deck and pushed herself upright. Her head swam, and so did her stomach.

Gelon set aside the rope she was splicing, came over, and offered Kassandra a hand. Kassandra took it, and Gelon pulled her to her feet and over to the rail. Gelon’s hand was solid and square, her leathery skin roughened from the scrape of rope and wood, thickened by salt and wind. So unlike Kyra's—

Kassandra shook the thought away and leaned heavily against the railing. She felt wrung out, her limbs wobbling, Kharybdis in her stomach. She needed water, and to figure out where her armor went.

But first, she’d fold her arms on the rail and rest her head inside their comforting darkness for a while. Just for a little while. Gods, she’d never drink so much again.

.oOo.

Her armor was piled neatly on her bunk. Evidently, she’d been smart enough to take it off before she started drinking. She’d also been smart enough to put a jug of water nearby, not that that plan had come to fruition with her ending up on the deck instead of her bed. She lifted the jug and drank straight from it, tilting her head back and enjoying the cool droplets that spattered against her chest and collarbones. The water put a dent in her headache and muted her heartbeat to a pulsing throb behind her eyes, but her scalp still felt tight and her stomach queasy.

A hot soak followed by a steam bath sounded perfect. She could use the steam to sweat the wine out from her pores. Perhaps she could even sweat away the thoughts of Kyra that clung to her like tar. Lips brushing her cheek. You breathe life into me.

Her hands shook slightly as she knelt next to the bunk and dragged her trunk out from under it. Even empty the trunk had been heavy, and she rested her palms against its dense wood and let it steady her before she opened the lid and pulled out a clean change of clothes. Inside, a small wooden figurine of an eagle watched over her belongings, and she patted its head just as she always did whenever she saw it.

She changed clothes, and put on her armor, and when she emerged onto the deck, Barnabas was waiting for her by the hatch. “We might have some trouble, Captain,” he said, tilting his head towards the dock below. “Athenians. Here to talk to you.”

She stepped close to him and spoke quietly. “Can we depart quickly if we have to?” The ache in her head was threatening to flare up again.

“Nearly so.”

“Good. If a fight starts, leave. I’ll catch up to you later.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She strolled to the top of the gangplank. Below her, the Athenian soldiers stood like grapes in a cluster around the gangplank’s stem, ten of them by her count, with their Captain at the front and center. His helm was topped with the oversized crest of blue, white, and gold that all Athenian officers wore. It may have made him look imposing from a distance, but up close, he still had to look up into her eyes.

“Podarkes wants to see you, misthios,” he said without preamble.

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know why, just that he does.”

“I don’t answer to Podarkes — only Perikles, when he’s asking me for favors.”

“You expect me to believe that boast?”

“You can believe what you want, and then you can go back to Podarkes and tell him he has nothing to say that might interest me.”

“And if I insisted you come with me?”

She smiled, even though it made her skull want to split right down the middle. “With only ten men?” Several hands slowly moved to rest on sword pommels, but she held the smile and remained still. “Look. It’s a beautiful day, and I’d rather not spend it creating orphans.” She also had a hangover and was trying real hard not to vomit on his sandals, but he didn’t need to know that part.

He drew himself taller. “Then you can tell Kyra that her execution will be long and painful.”

Slow, steady breath in. Slow, steady breath out. She imagined drawing her spear and carving him up ten different ways, each more bloody than the last, but she knew he’d cast this net in search of a reaction. Her eyeballs were pounding again, and even though her fingers twitched, longing to grab her spear and start cutting, it really was too beautiful a day to spill blood. “I don’t know who that is,” she said.

He opened his mouth to say something but she continued speaking right over him. “Tell me, Captain… How many men did you lose at the fort last night?”

His brow furrowed. “One. Plus a few injured.” The soldiers around him glanced at each other.

“Seems to me things could have been much worse.” She paused a beat, then asked, “Where are you from?” though she already knew the answer by the way his voice held on to his vowels, spreading them out like spilled honey.

“What does that have to do—”

“You’re a long way from Argolis, my friend.” She lifted her right hand and began studying the callouses on her palm. “I spent some time there recently. Beautiful place. It’s a shame you’ve been asked to do all this work on a far-away island that doesn’t appreciate it.”

Silence.

“As it is, you might want to make extra sure your men get paid this month.”

He couldn’t see the looks being swapped between the soldiers behind him but she didn’t need him to. Her words had planted the seed.

“Now, is there anything else you need, Captain?”

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “No. We’re done here, misthios.” He turned on his heel, and his soldiers stepped aside to let him pass, then fell into formation behind him.

She watched them leave. Flexed her fingers, swiveled her head to stretch tense muscles in her neck. Footsteps sounded on the gangplank behind her, and she sensed it was Barnabas approaching before he appeared at her left shoulder.

“Did you hear all that?” she asked him.

“Aye. This Podarkes needs a whipping from the Furies.”

“He’s getting desperate.”

“I’ll call the crew on leave back to the ship.”

“And I’ll look for a safer port.” She was just about to say a farewell when a thread of memory worked itself free and stopped her short. “Did you ever make it to your olive grove?”

“No. I’ve been busy with repairs and crew schedules, and then watching over Iola…” He trailed off.

“Where is it?”

“At the base of the Statue of Artemis. Her blessed right foot points the way.”

“You should go. This afternoon.”

He hesitated. “Will you come with me?” In the morning light, his good eye was the same sun-faded blue as the Athenian banners that flew around the port. “If you feel up to it, that is. I hear Gelon wore you out last night.”

“I did not sleep with Gelon.”

His eye sparkled above his grin. “How do you know?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Well, she said we didn’t,” she offered.

He burst into laughter. “And you believed her?”

She waved both hands in front of her in a gesture that said enough. “This is not up for discussion,” she said.

Barnabas chuckled the entire time they traded farewells, and he’d planted just enough doubt that she couldn’t help but ransack her memory while she walked briskly through the port and into Mykonos City, heading for the baths. What if she had slept with Gelon? Judging from Gelon’s reaction, there were no feelings involved, no expectations to reset, no bruises to soothe…

Kassandra blew out a long breath. She’d been a fool for drinking so much. She should have gone out to the city and found someone who stirred her blood enough to want to bed them, to let the slide of skin over skin and the mix of breath into breath cut away her longing. How hard could it be to forget someone she’d known only a couple of weeks?

She wandered the maze of staircases and narrow streets that made up much of the city with only half an eye on where she was going, and it was only after she’d passed through the entrance to the baths that she realized she’d been gritting her teeth the entire way.

.oOo.

The midday sun blazed overhead as she reined Phobos in at the perimeter of the Spartan camp, its not-quite-summer heat cut by the sea breeze that blew in from the water.

The Spartans had planted their banner in a small cove surrounded by steep, rocky hillsides. They’d conceded the high ground in favor of a camp right on the beach, but no Athenian in their right mind would want to descend those slopes fully geared and armored. The only practical access was from the beach she stood on.

Large barricades fashioned from sharpened poles were positioned strategically across the sand, acting as a funnel to draw everything that approached the camp towards a single point guarded by sentries. She nudged Phobos into a walk, and raised her hand in greeting.

“I’m here to see Thaletas,” she said.

“You’re welcome here, Eagle Bearer. Go on in.”

She rode Phobos to the remnants of an old shipwreck that stuck out from the sand, and then she dismounted and looped his lead around one of the protruding timbers.

Her soak in the baths had helped her headache fade to a dull band of tightness behind her eyes, and her stomach had settled somewhat, though it was still more sour than hungry. She felt clean at least, but if there were dark circles under her eyes and a lack of color to her skin, it couldn’t be helped now.

As she entered the cove, Thaletas’s voice rose up over the wind, booming with the cadence of command. He stood on what was left of the deck of another wrecked ship, giving a speech to the dozen soldiers he had left.

Seeing him was like pressing down on a bruise, and she was reluctant to come here even though she’d told him she would. But she had another reason for subjecting herself to the ache: she wanted to know what kind of man Thaletas was, beyond their brief interactions in passing. Who was he when Kyra wasn’t around?

“The Battle of the Three Hundred?” he was saying. “Leonidas was lucky to have that many men!”

It really was a very pretty speech, and when he was finished, she clapped, slowly, ignoring the irritated stares his soldiers shot her way as they dispersed. Apparently they liked him well enough to feel protective of him.

He jumped down from his makeshift platform onto the sand. “Kassandra. I didn’t think you’d come here so quickly.”

“And miss such a fine speech?”

“Athenians give speeches. Spartans give orders.”

“What was the order for today? Hold this beach?”

She was trying to rile him up, but all he gave her was a tight smile. “We’ve had little to do while you’ve been running around setting things on fire.”

“It takes effort to smoke out a human sized rat.”

“Indeed. Burning down the fort was genius, but making Kyra go in there alone was a huge risk.”

“Kyra rose to the challenge.”

“What if something had gone wrong?” It was unlike a Spartan to worry about such things, and even more so to admit it out loud. His feelings for Kyra had some depth to them, then.

“Failure isn’t one of my habits.”

His eyes searched her face, looking for something. “I suppose I should expect no less from the granddaughter of King Leonidas.”

So he did know who she was. “How did you find that out?”

“A tale from Korinth, where they say Kassandra of Sparta chopped the Monger down to size in single combat. Kassandra the Eagle Bearer, the long lost granddaughter of kings.”

“I am not ‘of Sparta.’ I’ve been exiled for twenty years.”

“Sparta still remembers you.”

All those years, and the same twinge still spidered out from her heart when she thought too hard about Sparta, a mix of curiosity and longing. She was always careful to keep it from lingering. “The Sparta that wanted my brother and I dead? 'Duty to Sparta before all else, duty before family,’” she spat, the words like knives in her tongue. “I’ll never abide by Sparta’s rules. Exile suits me just fine.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge us all as simple limbs connected to one mind. All of Sparta knows your story, and many would say your survival shows the true will of the gods. They’d welcome you back.”

Another Spartan had said something similar to her: Brasidas, back in Korinth. He was probably the source of the tale Thaletas had heard, too. “Are you trying to recruit me?”

“I’d be a fool not to. Your methods are unconventional, but effective. And I judged them wrongly.”

She dipped her head, acknowledging his admission. “Glad to see you come around,” she said. “But I doubt you asked me to come here just to tell me that.”

“No. I was hoping you could help me with a… small matter.”

Interesting, that bit of hesitation. “Go on,” she said.

“I lost a helm when the Alekto — my ship — sank.”

“Not just any helm, I take it?”

“It was my pater’s.” He looked away, as if embarrassed. “I was hoping you might look for it, if you ever found yourself near the wreck.”

A family heirloom. She understood those. She tried to imagine not having her spear, and couldn’t. They’d have to pry it out of her dead fingers. “Where did the wreck happen?” she asked.

“Not far from here, along the beach to the west.”

“What does the helm look like?”

“Bronze, like the Korinthians wear, with a red crest and the initials 'MT' scratched inside at the base of the neck.“

"I’ll find it.”

“I’ll be in your debt if you do,” he said. Then his eyes settled on the hilt of her spear where it rose above her shoulder. “Is that truly King Leonidas’s spear?”

“Yes.”

“My pater… He pried that helm from his pater’s head at Thermopylai.”

Thermopylai, where three hundred Spartans fought and died and became legends.

The two of them stood silently, in the company of the ghosts they’d summoned, thinking of the expectations that had been thrust upon them just by being born of certain blood.

.oOo.

One glance at the shattered remains of the Alekto told Kassandra that diving into the wreck in search of Thaletas’s lost helm would only waste her time. The ship had been picked clean, with every rope, scrap of metal, and plank of wood small enough for a person to carry ending up part of a scavenger’s windfall. Only the spine of the keel and ribs of the hull were left jutting out from the shallows.

She watched the waves splay around the exposed timbers, and thought of vultures, and how they gorged themselves on flesh until they were so fat and heavy they could hardly move.

The scavengers, whoever they were, probably hadn’t gone far.

Behind her, the forest stretched down from the hills to dig its roots into the sand, and where the beach ended, a veil of shadow hung from a thick canopy of palm fronds and pine boughs. There was no birdsong, no rustling of animals in the underbrush — only the crash of waves and rasp of her own breath.

She was not alone here.

As she considered her options for what to do next, a familiar call sounded high above her, and she extended her arm out and waited for Ikaros to arrive. Soon enough, the air beat against her face and hair and shoulder as he came in for landing, his wings stretched wide to slow him down. Then his weight settled onto her wrist, and he looked at her with his piercing gaze.

She scritched her fingers under his chin and murmured sweet words to him that would ruin her tough reputation if anyone were to overhear them. He chirruped happily and shimmied from side to side, and she smiled at his pleasure, content to stand and watch the sea for a while.

Ikaros suddenly pointed his gaze behind her, towards the forest. His posture remained relaxed, and he tilted his head in curiosity, and then, between the sound of the waves, came the quiet squeak of feet sinking into dry sand, the steps quick and light.

“Who is it, Ikaros?” she asked. “A wood nymph?”

The footsteps stopped, followed by an indrawn breath that belonged to someone far too young to be much of a threat. Kassandra turned around slowly.

A child was rooted in the sand, chewing a thumbnail on a dirty hand and staring at her with wide eyes in an equally dirty face. He couldn’t have been older than five. His hair was cropped short and full of pine needles, and he pulled his thumb away from his mouth just long enough to ask, “Are you the Eagle Bearer?”

Kassandra was wrong: the voice was that of a little girl, one who appeared ready to bolt at any moment. Kassandra lowered herself onto her knees and smiled. “Yes, I am,” she said, “but my name is Kassandra, and this is Ikaros.”

“Ikaros,” the girl repeated. She stepped closer, but kept outside Kassandra’s easy reach.

This girl hadn’t come here on her own. “Did the others send you because you’re the brave one?”

She shook her head. She’d either drawn the short straw or been deemed expendable.

“Are you scared?”

A nod, and the girl’s eyes tracked from Kassandra’s face to the hilt of the spear at her shoulder and the sword at her waist.

“Then you’re the bravest of us all.”

The girl gave Kassandra a tiny smile and stopped chewing at her fingers.

“What’s your name?”

“Thea.”

“Well, Thea, are you here to hire a misthios?”

The girl giggled. “No.” She looked down at her toes, half-buried in the sand. “We wanted to see if it was really you. The one who’s helping the rebels.”

“Who’s we?”

Thea turned and waved towards the forest, and children materialized from the trees, running out across the beach in whirlwinds of gangly arms and legs.

Moments later, Kassandra was surrounded by a dozen children chattering with excitement, each with a hundred different things to say. Ikaros kept swiveling his head from the children to Kassandra and back, and she ruffled his chest feathers before letting him take flight, much to her audience’s enjoyment. It triggered another onslaught of questions, all jumbled on top of each other.

She gestured for silence and said, “Hold on, hold on,” and was surprised when a dozen mouths closed and a dozen pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. “How many of you have questions?”

Every one of them raised a hand.

This was going to take a while. She picked one at random, pointed at him, and said, “Ask.”

“If you’re the Eagle Bearer, then you’ve met Kyra, right?”

She blinked. Apparently, there would be no escaping Kyra’s ghost on Mykonos. “Yes, I have.”

“What’s she like?”

“Hey! That’s two questions,” Thea said, lifting her voice in protest.

Kassandra looked at the boy and said apologetically, “She’s got a point,” before nodding at Thea and saying, “So what’s your question, then?”

“What’s Kyra like?”

Hero worship, is what it was. Kassandra had to snort with amusement, despite how every mention of Kyra clanged against her heart, making it ring hollow and false like a piece of miscast bronze. And now a dozen shining, expectant faces wanted her to describe their hero in glorious detail.

“She’s smart. Very smart. Fierce, too, and braver than anyone I’ve ever met,” she said, none of it even close to describing the real thing, the essential Kyra, the way her muscles slid over her bones with no wasted movement; the way she could go so still, as patient as a Sphinx; the way her tooth caught on her bottom lip when she grinned, which happened often when she was relaxed and never when she wasn’t; the way her mind sliced problems into chunks and put them back together into solutions…

“Is she nice?” one of them asked.

Then the gates opened, and questions came at Kassandra all in a rush.

“Can she really shoot an arrow through a man’s eye from a hundred paces?”

“Did she burn the fort down all by herself?”

Kassandra held her hands out again. “Hold on,” she said, waiting until the chatter died down. “I’ll answer your questions, but first you’ll have to answer one of mine.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the shipwreck behind her. “What happened to that ship?”

One of the older boys spoke up. “The Athenians made it wreck on the beach.” He was close to Phoibe’s age, his body still catching up to his spindly limbs, and his eyes looked at her from under dusty curls.

“Where did the stuff on the ship go?”

“The Spartans took a bunch of it with them.” He started bouncing his weight from foot to foot, while his gaze kept shifting between Kassandra and the wreck.

“I’m looking for something that was on that ship,” Kassandra said. “A helm. I don’t care about the rest of it.”

His bouncing stopped. “We took all of it.”

“You?” She gestured at the assembled children.

“Well, we helped. The big kids tore it down and we dragged it back to camp.” No mention of any adults.

“Will you take me there?”

The children glanced among themselves. “Meli might get angry,” Thea said.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine once this Meli and I have a chat.”

“You don’t know her. She gets angry a lot.”

“Take me to her.” Kassandra would find out what sort of anger she was up against soon enough.

.oOo.

The camp huddled in a smoky, forested hollow between the ribs of the hills above the beach. She smelled the smoke first, followed by the sharp stench of sewage, which faded before they reached the first ramshackle hovels at the camp’s edge.

As soon as the first huts came into sight between the trees, the children who’d brought her from the beach scattered in every direction, joining dozens and dozens of other children roaming about the camp, some running around at play, others dragging wooden planks and lengths of rope behind them. Joyful shrieks cut through the hazy air, and the sound of wood pounding against wood echoed through the trees. The shipwreck had been a boon, its raw materials being used to reinforce crude huts made from rough-cut tree branches and pine boughs, all of them clearly the work of children.

Young faces stared at her as she approached the camp, none of them older than Phoibe — and then Kassandra was seven years old again, passing through the orphan camp on the outskirts of Sami for the first time, a stranger surrounded by wary, distrustful gazes on every side, sizing her up, reading her signs. Without Thea or any of the other children from the beach to vouch for her, she could only hope that her reputation as the Eagle Bearer would serve her here as well as it had earlier.

She held out her arm and whistled for Ikaros, knowing he’d been following her through the forest, and once he settled onto her hand, she gently moved him to her shoulder. “I know it’s not your favorite perch, but humor me, okay?” she told him.

Then a voice called out to her: “Misthios, over here.” An adult’s voice, so unexpected it made Kassandra’s head swivel in search of its source. A woman cradling a baby stepped out from behind a tree to Kassandra’s right, beckoning her to follow, and she led Kassandra deeper into the forest, to a small clearing where the sounds of shouting and laughter weren’t as loud.

“What is this camp?” Kassandra asked.

“It’s Podarkes’s garden. The fruits of his reaping.” The woman may have been an adult, but there was something off about the way she spoke. Her eyes darted around, as erratic as the flight of insects.

“Orphans? All of them?”

“Yes.”

“And who are you?”

“My name is Otonia. Someone has to care for the littlest ones,” she said, gently rocking the baby in her arms. “That someone is me. The others look after each other, until they grow old enough to join the rebels like their hero, Kyra.”

“Who feeds them?”

“Kyra does. Sends supplies, too, when she can spare them.” Otonia’s eyes glittered. “Many whispers of your deeds float on the wind, Eagle Bearer. Many whispers. And secrets, too. Dangerous ones.”

“If you know something, spit it out.”

Otonia lowered her voice to a whisper so faint Kassandra had to lean in close to hear it. “Kyra’s a hero to these orphans because they think she’s one of them. How wrong they are!”

Kassandra narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“There’s a house beneath a walkway in the drowned city. Been boarded up for ages. Sneaky sneak your way in. But hurry before Podarkes’s men get there first.”

“This better not be a waste of my time.”

“No waste, misthios! Only danger for Kyra. Better you find out before someone else. All you need to know is in that house.” The baby wiggled and began to fuss. “Shhh, little one. We’re going back now. The crowd’s already waiting for our guest.”

Otonia was right: a crowd was waiting for them at the edge of the camp where the first huts began. The children moved aside to let Otonia pass, and she carried the baby into the camp, leaving Kassandra behind.

By Kassandra’s rough count, there were four, maybe five dozen children staring at her, along with a group of youths who stood at the front. She recognized Thea next to one of them, a lanky girl with straw-colored hair who looked about fourteen. Two boys of similar age stood to either side.

The lanky girl spoke first. “Who are you?” she demanded.

Thea tugged on her tunic and whispered, “She’s the Eagle Bearer!”

“Wasn’t asking you,” the girl said as she flicked Thea’s ear.

Thea winced in pain and clapped a hand over her ear.

Kassandra crossed her arms. “But Thea’s right, though. I am the Eagle Bearer.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you speak for everyone?”

The girl glanced at the boys to either side of her, then leveled her gaze at Kassandra and said, “Well enough.”

“Then do me the honor of telling me your name.”

“You can call me Melitta.” Everyone else called her Meli.

“And you can call me Kassandra.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Kassandra.” Gods, was there something in the water that made little girls grow up fierce on Mykonos?

“I’m looking for something, and I think you have it.”

Melitta turned and gave a dismissive gesture to the others. “Beat it!” she said. “The misthios and I are going to talk.”

The children dispersed like bees leaving a hive, but Kassandra knew curious eyes would follow her wherever she went. Melitta gestured for Kassandra to follow, and together they walked between the hovels, deeper into the camp.

“What is it you’re looking for, Eagle Bearer?”

“A Spartan helm. Korinthian style, with a red crest.”

“Yours?”

“A friend’s.”

“We might have it.” Melitta led her through the chaos of huts, woodpiles, crates, and other detritus, until they reached a larger, shed-like building that faced out towards a clearing that served as a yard. What appeared to be a ship’s brazier burned by the building’s doorway, and Kassandra thought she saw bronze glinting in the darkness within.

“How long did it take you to strip the ship?” Kassandra asked.

“Many weeks. But we got most of the valuable stuff in a couple of days.” They would have had to. Scavengers could smell drachmae in the water from leagues away. “Wait here.”

Kassandra raised her hand to her shoulder, letting Ikaros hop upon it, but he only stayed long enough to spread his wings and take flight. He landed on the mossy roof of the shed, turning his head this way and that.

A short while later, Melitta emerged carrying three helmets in her arms. “Hope you can figure out which one’s the right one.”

“It’s supposed to have the letters ’M’ and ’T’ scratched inside it.”

Melitta shrugged narrow shoulders and handed her one of the helms. “You’d have to tell me.”

Kassandra rejected it immediately; it was too new to have seen battle at Thermopylai. The second helm had nothing scratched inside it, but the third did, a faint “M” and “T” at the back of the neck. Gouged and battered, it had taken on a faint greenish tinge after its saltwater bath, but it was Thaletas’s missing helm, and it would be hers after she negotiated its release.

“This is the one. How much for it?”

“Two hundred drachmae — and your sword.”

Kassandra had to admire Melitta’s moxie. The Wolf of Sparta’s kopis was worth far more than this helmet would ever bring in on the open market. “Fifty drachmae. My sword’s not part of the deal.”

“Two hundred. And you’ll tell Kyra I’m ready to join the rebels.”

Kassandra looked at Melitta again. Tall for her age. Skinny. Given time, she’d grow into her lankiness and end up with a build similar to Kyra’s: lean as a dagger. She had dirt under her nails and the swollen knuckles of someone used to doing hard work with their hands.

“Are you?” Kassandra asked. She set Thaletas’s helm on the ground near the brazier, then nodded at the blade sheathed at Melitta’s waist. “Show me.”

The dagger appeared in Melitta’s left hand almost instantly. The smooth draw was promising, but her left-handedness was what Kassandra found interesting. Melitta was self-taught. No teacher or parent would have allowed that hand to become dominant. With practice, she could use it to her advantage, just as Kassandra did every time she fought with a blade in each hand.

Kassandra drew her spear, grinning as she took a few steps back, giving them room to circle the yard. Small faces began gathering around the perimeter. They’d have an audience.

Sparring with live blades was dangerous even at half speed, and here she faced a youth of uncertain skill who was determined to prove herself. Kassandra stayed on the defensive, turning aside Melitta’s swipes while she backpedaled in a circle. She wanted to see how Melitta moved: how she balanced, how she kept her feet under her, how she positioned herself relative to her opponent. And when Kassandra had seen her fill of that, she wanted to know how Melitta would react when pushed.

“Is that the best your stinger can do, little bee?” Kassandra said.

Melitta’s frustration had been growing with every attack Kassandra parried, and Kassandra’s jibe had needled her to anger. It was meant to. The swipes came faster, with less balance and control behind them. Time for Kassandra to show some teeth. She waited until Melitta’s blade swung towards her, then caught it with the edge of her spear, whipping her wrist in a tight circle that ripped the dagger right out of Melitta’s hand and sent it skidding across the dirt.

Melitta shook out her wrist. “It’s not fair. You’re taller, and your arms are longer.”

“Fair?” Kassandra said, and without warning she lunged at Melitta and used her foot to sweep the girl’s legs right out from under her. She landed hard in the dirt, Kassandra standing tall above her. “Nothing’s fair.”

Melitta’s eyes blazed with outrage, and she leapt back to her feet.

Kassandra drew her sword, flipped it so its point hung towards the earth, and offered it to Melitta, hilt first.

The girl took it and swung it experimentally.

“A longer blade gives you what?” Kassandra asked.

“Reach.”

“Now you have the advantage.”

Kassandra leapt out of the way of the first swing, parried the next, and then, as Melitta tired herself out with ineffective attacks, Kassandra gradually took the lead, engaging with combinations of strikes from various directions that Melitta tried her best to copy.

When they came to a halt a short while later, sword against spear, Melitta was panting. “It’s heavy.”

Kassandra smiled. “It only gets heavier the longer a fight wears on. The first few moments are all about speed and technique. After that, endurance.” The sparring session had warmed up the long muscles of her legs and arms, and gotten her blood pumping. It had been far too long since she’d done this for fun, and guiding Melitta had been more enjoyable than she’d expected. Maybe she’d spar with Phoibe the next time she saw her.

Melitta handed back her sword, and looked at her expectantly as she returned both blades to their sheaths.

“You’re not ready…” Kassandra began.

Her face crumpled like a banner falling to earth, but then she set her jaw and stared at Kassandra. Her eyes may have been blue where Kyra’s were dark, but they were just a different shade of determination. “I want this. I’m not going to spend my life raising goats.”

“I wasn’t finished. You’re not ready now, but with training and practice you could be. I’ll talk to Kyra.” Kassandra stooped to pick up Thaletas’s helm from where she’d left it, then untied her coin pouch from her belt and tossed it to Melitta. It would be more than enough. “I’m curious — what will you use the drachmae for?”

A variety of emotions rippled across Melitta’s face. “Cloth. The little ones go through tunics like the seasons.” She could have been Kyra ten years ago. She could be Phoibe five years from now.

Past and future blurred together. Kassandra tucked the helm under her arm. “I’ll talk to Kyra. I promise.”

.oOo.

The rebel hideout was on the way back to the city, and Kassandra had a helmet to drop off and an orphan to talk to Kyra about. At least that’s what she told herself, as she slipped between the rocks at the entrance and nodded a greeting to the rebel sentries standing watch.

She knew she was a fool, and that Kyra was the last person she should see right now. And yet her feet carried her through the tunnel of stone at the cave mouth, and down the wooden steps to the central chamber.

If only you’d come here before Thaletas…

Kassandra had come in second, and yet here she was in disbelief.

A dozen rebel fighters sat in scattered groups around the central chamber. She spotted Praxos seated on a bench near the entrance, sharpening a sword on a whetstone.

He looked up as she approached. “Misthios! We missed you last night.” He set the blade aside and grinned at her. “I was hoping we’d have our rematch.”

“We’ll have it soon,” she said. She glanced around. “Is Kyra here?”

“No, she’s been gone since sun-up. Don’t know where.”

“Know when she’ll be back?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

She lifted the helm. “This is for her.”

“Go on and leave it,” he said, throwing a look behind him at the corridor that led deeper into the cave.

When she reached the doorway to Kyra’s chamber, she paused and took a deep breath, then brushed aside the fabric that served as the door. She stepped into cool air, still and lifeless, scented faintly with wax, papyrus, and old ink. It reminded her of rooms she’d seen in Delphi and in Athens, filled with scrolls from wall to wall, rooms full of secrets.

Kassandra shivered, then set the helm on the table where they’d planned their attack on the fort; where their legs had almost, but not quite touched under the table; where the hours had passed like moments.

A moment was all she wanted to spend here, and she walked out to the corridor and returned to Praxos.

“Can you give Kyra a message when she returns?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Tell her… I’d like to speak to her. Soon, if possible.” Then she told him where Kyra could find her later and bid him farewell, and when she emerged, blinking into the afternoon sunlight, she knew exactly where she had to go.

.oOo.

Mykonos City was old, founded in the age when giants walked the earth and the gods were still young, and it had been built up over time in layers, buildings piled on top of buildings, its ascent prompted by the slowly rising seas that had made the lower levels uninhabitable. The submerged buildings were called the drowned city, and Poseidon had claimed them as part of his ever-growing kingdom.

Kassandra stood in cold seawater up to her shins, contemplating the heavy planks that criss-crossed the entrance to the house she’d found under the walkway, just where Otonia had said it would be. Whoever had boarded up the door had meant it; not only were the planks thick, but so were the iron pins that held them fast to either side of the doorway. She drew her spear and used its tip to probe between the boards, looking for any looseness or weak spots. There were none.

She stepped back, sheathed her spear. The waters of the drowned city were still and cold, shielded from the tides and waves by the breakwater of the port. She knew that if she looked off the edge of the submerged walkway she stood upon, she’d see the clear water retreat into darkness. How many secrets lived in those ancient depths?

She flexed her fingers, and then her legs were moving, the long muscles of thighs, hamstrings, and buttocks driving her forward like a sledgehammer. Her shoulder slammed square into the center of a plank with a solid thump that echoed off the still water around her. The board shuddered and bent inwards from the blow. Good. She did it again, and again, until the board was loose enough for her to work her fingers underneath an edge, giving herself enough grip to rip it from the doorway. After that, removing the rest of the planks was easy.

She had to step up to enter the room. The stone floor was dry, but in another year or two the water lapping at the threshold would rise high enough to trickle across the floor. She stood unmoving for several moments, listening to the water dripping from her greaves onto the stone and the far-off hum of the city.

The air inside the room was damp and stale, smelling of brine and a darker, mustier decay. It worked its way through her nostrils and sat malevolently on her tongue. Tomb air.

A low shelf ran along the wall to her right, and she pulled the torch she’d picked up at the market from her belt and placed it on the shelf so its oil-soaked rags hung over the edge. A spark from her flint set it ablaze, and she lifted it up and surveyed her surroundings.

The room hadn’t held much to begin with, but someone had ransacked it anyway. Shelves hung off the walls, shards of pottery lay in scattered piles, and a pattern of brown smudges formed a track across the floor, from the far corner of the room to the doorway she was standing in. She knelt beside the tracks and drew the torch close. They could have been old blood, but it was hard to tell.

In the corner, the broken remnants of a large wooden chest rested beside a large, oblong stain on the floor in the unmistakable shape of a body, its flesh and bones long dissolved to dust. Something metallic glinted where the body’s chest would have been, and she reached down and lifted a triangle of iron, sharp and light in her fingers. The tip of a spear. This room had witnessed a hard death, violent enough for a spear to hit bone — perhaps a sternum, or maybe a spine — and snap like a broken twig. And then, the body had been left out in the open to rot in the ultimate affront to the gods.

A set of stairs climbed to her right. They brought her to the upper floor, and a small room, ransacked like the first.

She swept the torch around her. More pottery. Broken wood. An old blanket, next to what looked like dolls—

They were dolls: two of them, made of wood, smaller than half a handspan, arms and legs swiveling on knotted strings. She brought the larger doll into the flickering light of her torch. A child’s hands had carved the wood into the rough shape of a woman’s form, and had scratched the letter “M” into its back. The smaller doll looked more like a child, and when Kassandra turned it over, the letter “K” stared back at her.

She blew out the breath she’d suddenly been holding. “K” for Kyra?

She opened the pouch at her belt and placed the dolls inside.

Torchlight painted the walls orange, her shadow huge like a great black beast. She tried to imagine Kyra as a child, this place a home, lively with light and happiness, Kyra running up the stairs, little legs pumping, her cheeks puffed with exertion…

A golden-yellow glow on the floor caught her eye. A small fragment of papyrus, crumpled into a ball. Uncrumpled, the words made no sense. They began abruptly, at a torn and ragged edge: “—o shut your mouth”, “—my house again”, “—both to Hades.” Threatening words, even without context.

She paced the room, looking for more. Nothing among the pottery, nothing among the wood, or the shelves. Nothing, until she kicked the blanket aside and sent another glowing ball skittering into the light. She arranged the flattened fragments on her palm. There was clearly a third piece still missing, but now there were enough words for her to guess the note’s meaning.

Dianthe, I pay you ve o shut your mouth and stay awa my house again, and I will se both to Hades. -P

The threatening words, the casual cruelty, the means to board up a problem and make it go away. “P” had to be Podarkes.

…both to Hades. “M” and “K”. Mother and child. Why would Podarkes go to such lengths to hide the existence of a child, only to threaten its life?

Unless… the child was his. “K” for Kyra.

The implications were stunning. Dizzying. The words began to swim before her, and she read them again and again, just to be sure.

Could Kyra have known all along? Her singular focus on killing Podarkes had seemed genuine enough, but she’d also shown herself to be a skillful liar when she wanted to be. Skillful enough to carry such a heavy lie for years? Decades?

And if the rebels ever found out, they’d turn on Kyra in an instant. Blood was everything to some people, even if no one ever had a choice in that matter.

She tucked the fragments inside her pouch, next to the dolls already there.

A child’s dolls. Two scraps of papyrus. Together, they revealed Kyra’s secret. Together, they could put her in grave danger. And now they sat in a pouch at Kassandra’s belt, waiting for her to figure out what the fuck she was going to do with everything she’d just learned.

.oOo.

Barnabas’s olive grove was every bit as beautiful as he’d said it was: stately trees running in careful rows across the rolling hillsides, their leaves shining silvery-grey in the late afternoon sun. The sea was a backdrop of pale blue. In another hour, the light would soften and the crowns of the trees would turn to a honeyed gold.

He’d shown her the farmhouse where he’d been born, the pole barns where he’d worked the harvest as a boy, and then the grove proper, where he and his two brothers spent the off hours of their youth running wild between the trees, playing demigods and titans and generals.

They’d walked a slow circle around the farm’s inner grounds, and when they looped back around to the entrance of the grove, he was telling her how the farm had passed down from his parents to his eldest brother.

“When he died, his widow sold the farm and returned to her family on Delos.” His lips stretched, frowning, and his eye glimmered with old grief and unshed tears. “She offered to sell it to me first, but what would my sea legs do with a place like this?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s for the best. I’d never be here to work the land, and there’s nothing sadder than good farmland left to waste.” His frown curved upwards. “No, Poseidon gave me the gifts of his seas. Even now, I can hear the waves calling.”

“Every ship needs a port. Perhaps one day this’ll be yours again.”

“I like the way you think! Perhaps you’re right.” He was quiet for a moment, then he reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, Kassandra.”

“What is it?”

“You need to be careful with Gelon. There’s a soft heart underneath that crabshell of hers.”

She threw up her hands. “For the last time, nothing happened between us!”

“You spent all night flirting with everyone on the crew, and she took you up on what you were offering. No shame in that — it’s a beautiful thing!” His eye twinkled merrily. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Kassandra did what now?”

Kassandra’s eyes widened at the sound.

“Kyra! Good to see you,” Barnabas said, as Kyra joined them at the entrance. Kassandra hadn’t even heard her approaching.

“Barnabas! If I had known you’d be here, I would’ve brought that song by Sappho you asked me about.”

“Kassandra doesn’t always mention every detail.”

“No, she doesn’t.” They both turned and looked at her, and she wondered how it was possible to become the outsider so quickly.

“What brings you all the way out here?” he asked Kyra.

“Kassandra said she wanted to talk to me.”

“Oh she did, did she?” Barnabas’s good eye traveled from Kyra to Kassandra and back. Then he gave them a knowing look and said, “Gelon will be so disappointed.”

“You malaka,” Kassandra growled.

“I’ve kept you long enough, Commander,” he said, and then to Kyra, “We’ll trade songs another time.” Then he bowed with a flourish, and headed back up the road, whistling a jaunty tune.

Leaving Kassandra alone with Kyra.

She hadn’t even decided what she was going to say yet. “Let’s find somewhere to sit,” she said. It would buy her time.

Further up the hill, they stopped at a level patch of grass beneath an ancient olive tree, its trunk like petrified smoke twisting up into limbs that spread outwards in a wide circle. Sunlight filtered through its crown of leaves and dappled the ground with yellow light sliced by blades of shadow.

Kyra folded herself down onto the grass, and Kassandra chose a spot a safe distance away, outside of easy reach, where she wouldn’t be able to feel the warmth of Kyra’s skin or smell the laurel in her hair.

She was still figuring out what to say when Kyra spoke first.

“Did you really sleep with this… Gelon?”

That wasn’t the question Kassandra had been expecting. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What’s it to you?” Sharp words from her sharp edges.

“Nothing. Forget I asked.”

Pensive silence. Kyra sat with a hunter’s stillness, her chest barely moving in and out as she breathed, her patience infinite.

It was Kassandra who shifted restlessly, who picked at the grass with her fingers, who finally cracked under the weight of the silence. “I didn’t sleep with anyone,” she said. “I just got very, very drunk.”

Kyra turned to her. “I’m sorry.” She even seemed like she meant it.

“You didn’t pour the wine down my throat.” Kyra had certainly inspired it most of the way there, but Kassandra had done the rest despite knowing full well that getting drunk never took the right memories away in the end. She shrugged. “Barnabas and the crew have been enjoying a good laugh at my expense.” She could do this, she decided. She could sit next to Kyra at this distance and pretend her heart wasn’t trying to squeeze itself out between her ribs.

“Must’ve been a rare sight,” Kyra murmured.

Kassandra felt herself being studied, but she kept her gaze fixed on the grove of trees on display before them. The sunlight had shifted enough to burnish the treetops on the far hillside to bronze, and the sea had darkened to a rich carpet of blue.

“You found Thaletas’s missing helm. Why?”

“He asked me to look for it. I found myself near the wreck of his ship. I tracked it down and brought it to you.” She said it knowing she hadn’t answered the right question.

Kyra sat quietly. Waiting. Expecting more.

“I heard something… while I was searching for that helm.”

“What about?”

“You, actually.”

“Oh?”

Kassandra finally turned and faced Kyra, at the moment when her words had deserted her completely. “I don’t know how else to say this.”

“Now you’re worrying me.”

“Do you know who your father is?”

The question took Kyra aback. “No,” she said, carefully. “I don’t remember him, and he was never around. My mother told me he was a soldier, but every time I asked about him, she said he was far away.” Her forehead creased in confusion. “What’s this about?”

Kassandra reached into her belt pouch and pulled out the scraps of papyrus and the wooden dolls, and handed them over wordlessly.

Kyra cradled the dolls in her palm and pieced together the fragments. A tremor passed through her hands as she read them, making the arms and legs of the dolls clack together softly. “Impossible,” she said under her breath. Then louder, and to Kassandra, “What sort of joke is this?”

“It’s not a joke.”

“These were my dolls. Where did you find them?”

“While I was at the orphan camp, a woman told me to search an abandoned house in the drowned city. That you’d be in danger if I didn’t. So I went, and I found these dolls and these scraps.”

“You were at the orphan camp? What woman?”

“She said her name was Otonia.”

“Otonia? She teeters on the edge of madness.”

“She was right about what I’d find in that house,” Kassandra said, gesturing at the scraps. “In the wrong hands, even this would be enough to discredit you.”

“There’s no proof of anything here.”

“That’s true. But you know how powerful doubt and suspicion can be.”

Kyra lifted her eyes and stared out over the grove. “Dianthe was my mother. I can still hear her screams. A storm of blue armor and red blades tore through our home, appearing out of nowhere.” Whatever she was seeing, it wasn’t golden leaves and gnarled trunks and rolling hillsides.

Kassandra stayed silent.

“I had to run through her blood to escape. I never returned to that place.” She was trembling now, and Kassandra had to resist the urge to reach out to her, to pull her into her arms.

A rust colored outline on the stone. A body left without dignity. “It’s good that you didn’t.”

Kyra said nothing for a long time. Eventually, her trembling slowed, then stopped, and her neck and shoulders lifted and straightened, as if someone had pulled her up and replaced her spine with the shaft of a spear. “I will never believe that man is my father,” she said, her voice as tight and set as the muscles in her jaw.

With the evidence no longer out in the open, Kyra could believe whatever she wanted.

She tossed the dolls onto the grass and tucked the scraps into the pouch she kept tied at her waist. “You could have made a lot of drachmae with this, but instead, you brought it to me — even though you really don’t want to see me right now. Why?”

“Like I said, it could have put you in danger. Now it won’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question properly, earlier. About Thaletas’s helm.”

“What is this, an interrogation?”

“I ask because you don’t give up anything about yourself willingly.” She leaned forward. “Tell me why you went to Thaletas.”

“I don’t know,” Kassandra said, but she shook her head as soon as the words crossed her lips, knowing they were false. “No, I take that back.” The shadows of the leaves quivered in the breeze, an army’s worth of dark little blades waving back and forth. “If I’m going to come in second to someone, I want to know who beat me.”

Silence.

“It gave me an excuse to talk to him. See him with his men. Learn more about him.” She was dangerously close to babbling. She closed her mouth.

“And did you?”

“Yes. He’s a fine match for you, I think. He’ll treat you well, as you should be.”

Kyra sighed. “This was never a competition.”

Oh, but it was, from the moment Kyra’s knife sank deep into that pillar next to Kassandra’s head, the first time they’d seen each other, all those days ago.

“Look at me, Kassandra.”

She hadn’t noticed the iron-dark smudges under Kyra’s eyes until now, and there were fine lines at their corners where her skin was drawn tight. That was as much looking as Kassandra could manage. Easier to watch the blades of shadow wage ineffective war against the blades of grass.

Kyra slid closer, a movement she made graceful somehow, and she reached out and lifted Kassandra’s chin. “You’re not the only one who drank too much last night.”

Kassandra didn’t know what to say to that, caught between the fingers that held her chin and Kyra’s eyes, as black and bottomless as still water under a moonless sky. Then the fingers moved, sliding over her skin as Kyra’s hand cupped her cheek. It felt so good it made Kassandra close her eyes and draw in a breath. You breathe life into me. She could lose herself in that feeling.

When she opened her eyes again, she said, “If you don’t want me, please don’t do this.”

Kyra pulled her hand away, placed it in her lap, studied it like she’d never seen it before. “I don’t know what I want.” Kassandra’s cheek was still warm where she’d touched it. “Or maybe I do.” Her face clouded over like a spring storm, emotions churning, churning. “All I know for certain is that when I’m alone, I think of you.”

“Don’t do this,” Kassandra whispered. Hope was a living thing, and Kyra was playing with her by keeping it alive, batting it between her paws, toying with it.

“I need time to think. By myself.”

“All right.”

“I’ll think. Figure out what I want. Then I’ll find you.”

“When?”

“Soon.” She smiled gently. “I promise.”

Kassandra nodded, then looked away. The trees on the far hillside now wore crowns of golden fire.

Kyra climbed to her feet. “Kassandra?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for telling me. Here. Like this.”

Kassandra nodded again but said nothing. She felt the air move as Kyra moved and listened to her footsteps fade, and after a long time had passed and the golden fires had gone out and the sun had set into twilight, she looked down at the grass, at the impression that would soon disappear as if Kyra had never been there at all, and saw that Kyra had taken the dolls with her.

Part of the Elegiad. Go back to the previous story, or on to the next...

#kassandra #kyssandra #ac odyssey #sleep what is sleep #sometimes you just have to punt a story into the universe and let it go #bah i just want these idiots to kiss already #oh wait - i'm the one writing this story #elegiad

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storytimefromthecreed · 6 years ago

Text

Vigilante AU: Mike Dodds

Who the hell was this guy? (Y/N) pushed through her exhaustion, limbs burning, as she ran over the rooftops. Didn’t he know that she was helping the people?

“Freeze! NYPD!” He yelled behind her, but she pressed onward. After helping Detectives Carisi and Rollins on a twelve hour shift, she was basically dead weight. Her knees buckled under her, and (Y/N) fell face first to the ground.

Pain shot through her leg, and (Y/N) rolled into a ball. Something was definately wrong. (Y/N) attempted to roll her ankle, but her blood felt like fire and her ankle wasn’t responding. Damn it.

The man aimed his gun at her and rolled her on her back. A gasp escaped her at the movement, and the man lowered his gun.

“Oh my god. Are you ok?” The man crouched down to her level. He put his gun back to his hip, and approached her with raised hands. “Here. Let me help.”

(Y/N) undid her hidden blade. “Come near me. I dare you.”

“You’re....a woman?” Her hand went to her mask, and found that it had flown off during her fall. Thankfully, she still had her dark makeup on. He wouldn’t know who she was, but he had seen too much. “Let me help you.” He repeated.

(Y/N) stared at the hand like it was venomous. The sound of footsteps grew louder. This was it. The end of The Vigilante.

“Don’t make a sound.” The man’s voice was low, and he threw her arm over his shoulder and lead her behind an air grate. “Keep still. Trust me.”

She hissed in return, “Why should I trust you?”

The man frowned as a reply. Hurrying to tuck her behind the metal outcropping, the man returned to the center of the roof just as a pair of uniformed officers arrived. Flash lights landed on his face, and he shielded his face.

“All good, Detective Dodds?” One asked. Dodds? As in William Dodds? The man who called for the manhunt on her? (Y/N) bite her lip. Just her luck.

“The Vigilante escaped.” The detective growled, “I saw her run over to that side,” he pointed opposite to where she was, “and jump below. We’re not getting her tonight.” The uniforms left. When all was quiet, he returned to her and spoke quickly. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” (Y/N) glared up at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

....

The man returned almost an hour later. Good timing too because she was stuck up there. (Y/N) had hobbled to the door that opened to the roof, but it was locked. Besides, she was in too much pain to stand.The detective returned to find her grimacing through the pain with her leg propped up on the air grate.

“Sorry that took so long. Had to throw them off our trail.” The man squatted down to investigate her ankle. Our? “Can you walk in it?” She shook her head. He sighed, “Fine. Guess I’m gonna have to help you then. Don’t stab me.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and helped her in a standing position.

“It feels like it’s burning.” The rush of blood hitting the damaged tendons awoke the fire in her limb. Amputation probably hurt less. (Y/N)’s growl shifted into a whine. Tears stung in her eyes. She ducked her head down so he couldn’t see.

“Would you mind if I carried you down?” This made her glare at him again, so he felt he had to explain. “I’m not trying to do anything but help you.”

“Why are you helping me?” The pain made her lash out. “You’ve only been hunting me down like an animal for the last three weeks. Do you know how hard it is to do my job when you and your buddies have a shoot on sight on me?”

“Because,” he squat down again and tapped her leg. His dark eyes beckoned her understanding, so (Y/N) rolled her eyes and hopped into his arms. He caught her easily, and held her securely. “You do good work. Not every officer wants to take you down. I’m just doing what I was told.” His chest was soft and she found herself leaning her head against it. The longness of the day weighed her eyes down. His voice hummed through his chest when he spoke. “You have fans, you know. We try to look out for you.”

She mumbled a reply, but then everything went black.

Warm sunlight warmed her face, and she tried to roll in bed to hide from it. It wasn’t fair! Just two more minutes!

Wait.

Her eyes snapped open.

This wasn’t her room.

The memories of last night floated into her thoughts. No sooner had she thought of him, he appeared in the doorway dressed in a different suit. His hair was fluffy, and his eyes sleepy.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” He said, “How are you?”

“How did I get here?” (Y/N) flexed her wrists, but found that her weapons were gone. She was dressed in her outfit, but she felt naked. Her eyes scanned the room, but she couldn’t find them. The blades on her shoulder? Gone. The one at her hip? Disappeared. He even took the one at her ankle!

“I brought you here. Here being my apartment.” He indicated around them. “I don’t have much in terms for entertaining, but the fridge is stocked and I have TV so feel free to make yourself at home.”

“You’re leaving?” She furrowed her brows. “You’re leaving me alone in your apartment?”

The man shrugged, a smirk growing. “Well, I still have to put on appearances while I decide what to do with you, and you don’t seem like you’d get very fair. I’m Mike, by the way. Gotta go. See you tonight.”

“I’m not a pet, Detective! You can’t just leave me here.” (Y/N) struggled to get out of bed, but found that he was right. Hobbling towards him was difficult enough. There was no way she was leaving.

Mike caught her, his arm wrapping around her waist again. She continued yelling at him. “You can’t just leave me locked up!”

“I can, and I am. Unless you’d rather be locked up elsewhere?” His response silenced her, and he walked her to the living room. Releasing her on the couch. Kindness reflected in his eyes when he looked down at her. “I’ll swing by before I go into night shift. Try to stay off that leg, ok?”

“Fine.” She spat, and her response made him smile. That smile made her growl. Mike was enjoying this.

“Have a good day.” He placed the remote in her hand.

....

When Mike returned, The Vigilante was glaring at the TV. Her leg was propped on the table, and she was wrapped in a blanket. He quickly averted his glance when he realized she wasn’t wearing her make up anymore. It seemed she had found the makeup remover and extra clothes he had bought when she was asleep.

“You don’t have to worry. I guess I have no choice but to trust you with my secret identity.”

Mike looked back at her. Large, dark eyes framed with thick lashes. Pouty lips. Tan skin. “I have no idea who you are.” He concluded.

The Vigilante cast him an annoyed look. “Good. You’re not getting my name.”

“You know mine.” Mike pressed, entertained by her responses.

“So you can give it to your dad? I think not. Hiding me in your house is one thing, you’ll get in trouble if someone finds me, but giving you my name so you can track me down when I’m better?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Did you eat?”

“I did, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mike went to the kitchen and began to hunt for food himself. To his surprise, he found dinner already made. “You cooked?”

“I figure I might as well be a good guest.” She countered.

“Thank you. Looks delicous.” Mike warmed up his dinner and took it to the couch with her. Sitting as far as he could, he pretended to watch the show. Truly, he was watching her. She looked so normal.

“Why are you staring at me?” Her voice broke him from his trance, and Mike quickly looked at the TV.

“Just wondering.”

“About?”

He took another bite. His father always taught him it was rude to speak with one’s mouth full, so he allowed himself time to think. “Why to superhero life? Surely, you didn’t wake up one day and decided to dress like a,” He looked her up and down before playfully saying, “cat.”

“First, I’m not a cat. My costume is supposed to minic a shadow. Second,” she found herself laughing, but caught herself and grew serious. He was charming. Interrogators were always charming. “It’s none of your business.” Mike nodded and returned his gaze to the TV.

“Now you’re the one staring.” He said.

“Heroes are popping up all over this city, and more.” (Y/N) explained. “Why is that a bad thing? Huh? Why is it ok for me to be hunted and treated like a monster when I’m just helping people? Police use me to cut corners, you have cops in your pocket that call me for backup. Lawyers call me when they need help. Why is my being The Vigilante so strange?”

“I thought it wasn’t my business?” Mike grinned. “Do vigilantes like ice cream?”

....

(1 month later)

As her ankle healed, she continued to stay at Mike’s. She cooked and cleaned while he was at work. There was nothing else to do.

Mike’s favorite food was tacos or pasta, depending on the day. He was a sucker for chocolate ice cream, had a major sweet tooth, and he cried when dog died during a movie. When he found out she loved keeping fresh cut flowers in her apartment, Mike returned with the most beautiful bouquet. He liked his hair played with, and he was really smart. Sometimes, when she pushed him too, they would spend hours going over the weird facts he knew. He played quitar and could sing, but decided not to pursue the career on account of his father.

“Do you always do what your dad tells you to?” William Dodds. The name gave her a sour taste in the mouth.

“Well,” Mike opened his mouth and she tossed another grape into it. Another thing he was good at. Between munches, he said, “not always.”

“Like that day you caught me on that roof.” The Vigilante pressed, “You didn’t turn me in even though your dad wanted you to.”

“Right.” Mike tossed a grape, but she missed it. Laughing, he tossed another one. Missing again. “How are you The Vigilante with reflexes this bad?” Toss. Laughing, he gave up. “I’m not wasting grapes on you. I expect you to practice when I’m not home.”

Home. The word gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling.

....

(4 months later)

“I’m so ready to never see this thing again.” She unstrapped her boot, and Mike watched from the couch. He was more reserved than normal this evening. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me. Mike, I honestly don’t know how to repay you.”

“You’re that ready to get back on the street?” Mike couldn’t stop the frown on his face. “I mean, I’m glad you’re better and all, but shouldn’t you wait?”

“I’m more than ready. I’ve been doing my warm ups, keeping in shape. Sure, I’m a little slower, but I’m so ready.” She was so happy. Her smile so bright. Mike smiled in support.

“Being roomates was fun.” He joked, half serious. “I mean, this place won’t ever be this clean again, and I know I won’t be eating that well again in a long time.”

“You’ve lived whole life without me, Mike.” The Vigilante wrapped on her hidden blades. The slice of the metal through the shealth rang like music in her ears. She smiled at him. “Besides, if you need anything, you can just catch me again.”

Mike thought to himself, “Is that the only time I’ll see you?” In a loud voice, he said, “I have to get ready for that ball tonight. You ok on your own?”

“I think I’m gonna do a quick run of the city tonight, ya know? Ease back into it.”

Mike nodded and went into his room. His heart broke at the realization that he had already lost her.

....

“When are you going to bring the girl around, son?” William Dodds said between his teeth as they posed for a picture.

“Dad, there is no girl.” Mike said, and smiled when he saw another of his father’s friends.

“Oh, so you’re staying home for fun these days? Is that what the people your age are doing?” His dad scoffed and quickly turned his frown upside down when he spied a Congressman. “Lenard! How good to see you! You remember Mike!”

“Good to see you again, sir.” Mike shook his hand. “I need to grab a water. Would you like anything?”

“Drinking such a light beverage at an event like this?” The Congressman laughed, “Your boy’s tougher than I thought!”

“That’s Mike!” The pair laughed, and Mike excused himself. Walking through the dancefloor, hoping to lose himself in the crowd and in his thoughts, Mike didn’t notice the woman who grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry.” Mike jumped back. “I didn’t mean to-” Familar eyes peered back at him. That smile beamed up at him. “You- you’re here. You came?”

“Duh. You hate these things. Do you really think I’d leave you to do this alone?” The Vigilante was dressed in a beautiful dark green dress that matched his tie. “You were gone when I came back from my run, so I just headed over here. Sorry for being late, I just couldn’t find the right dress and we never exchanged numbers so I couldn’t call you for an opinion, and then,” She rambled through her story, and Mike tightened his hold on her hand.

“You stayed?” He pulled her in by her waist, and she crossed her hands behind his neck. They began to sway to the music. Her head went to it’s place on his chest, and Mike rested his chin on her head. They fit together.

“Of course.” She laughed, “What? Did you think I would disappear into the night and you’d never see me again?” Mike shrugged. “Mike! I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I don’t even know your name.” He whispered in her ear.

“I told you there was a girl!” William Dodds bound through the dancers, and extended his hand. “You must be the beautiful lady that’s captured my son’s heart. Son, aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

“We’re not-” Mike stammered. God. Why was his dad the most embarrassing man in the universe.

“(Y/N).” She extended a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir. Mike’s told me great things about you.”

“Beautiful name. Oh, I’m sure he has.” He looked proudly between the pair. “I’ll leave you kids alone.” William winked at his son and disappeared into the crowd.

“(Y/N)?” Mike said it again. It suit her. “I figure if people already think we’re dating, I’m suppose it’s time I take you out on a proper date?”

“Just don’t think you’re taking me to your apartment too soon.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#mike dodds #deserves better #My writing #Vigilante AU

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mellieyumi711 · 6 years ago

Text

The Princess and The Prince Thief- Chapter Three: A Miraculous Fanfiction

Summary: Princess Marinette of the Kingdom of Creaturae was very happy. Her reasons?-The notorious thief Chat Noir was locked up, her 21st birthday was soon, and she was going to become Queen. That is, until it was decided that she had to marry the mysterious Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Mortem in order to become Queen. To make matters worse, Chat Noir escaped from jail and is visiting her almost every night. Having to run a kingdom is bad enough, but falling in love with a thief and a prince is the hardest part of all.

Genre: Fiction-Fantasy/Romance AU

Rated: T for Teen- Ages 15+

Patreon Supporters get Chapters a whole day early! For only $5 a month, you can too! Patreon.com/mellie711

Words: 3,070

AO3

Fanfiction. net

-A truly exciting morning -

The morning sun greeted Marinette as she blinked her eyes awake from a heavy dream. She was dancing with Prince Adrien again, their eyes locked onto one another; the same warm feeling pooling at the pit of her stomach. Butterflies danced around them like in a fairy tale, but then Chat Noir came up and stole her away, twirling her to the melody and causing all the white butterflies to fly away. Groaning, the young Princess rose up hastily. She was not a morning person, by any means. Memories of her escapade last night with Chat Noir flooded her mind, and she mentally slapped herself. She really should have turned him in, especially since he was supposed to be in jail in Apis. But he was so different than what she imagined, feeling a familiar tug of her heart towards him she couldn’t explain. Her gut kept telling her he wasn’t all bad. When she saw him again, she would definitely call the guards.

‘If I see him again...,’ she thought, correcting herself. She began to blush remembering his earthly scent, and his sweet goodbye kiss on her hand. A loud knock at her bedroom door interrupted her continuing thoughts of the nice leather suit the thief wore, causing Marinette to bounce out of bed and trip over her blankets; she landed on the floor face first.

“Enterupfh,” Marinette mumbled out through her cotton confines.

Alya came in and immediately erupted in howling laughter. “Please tell me you woke up like that!” She assisted Marinette up, untangling her blanket mummification, and laughed some more at Marinette’s unruly hair. Glancing over at her floor mirror, Marinette began to giggle too at the antennae-like mess on the top of her head. “Well, you are going to be late, as per usual,” Alya began, heading over to the door to let Rose come inside to assist Marinette. “But luckily for you, Prince Adrien isn’t an early riser either. I just spoke to Lord Nino, who said that they will just meet us at the dining hall, since apparently Prince Adrien had a rough night.”

Marinette’s embarrassment of her behavior and her mother’s stern words to her last night before Chat arrived reverberated through her. Rose bowed low as she entered, “Good Morning, Your Majesty.”

“Morning Rose,” Marinette said, giving the girl a small hug and a peck on the cheek. A true customary way of greeting, but not between social classes; Marinette didn’t care though. She wanted to make sure all her subjects were treated with respect.

Rose blushed a little, and smiled brightly, “I was told by your mother to make sure you were dressed, but it seems as though I am going to have to make some magic happen with that hair.”

All three girls let out fits of giggles and laughter.

Rose worked quickly, under Alya’s watchful eye, washing Marinette’s face, appling healthy blush, and placing the princess in a nice, but comfortable white flared dress with flower designs and pink flats. Her hair tamed into Marinette’s signature twin-tails. Before they left however, Marinette grabbed the apology gift she was working on for Adrien before Chat Noir jumped into the scene last night. A soft blue scarf made from the finest fabric. A creation she had been slowly making as a side project, but now it seemed fitting as a good present and form of apology. Hurrying along to the dining hall, Rose awaited outside the double marble doors as Alya entered first, announcing Marinette.

“Her Majesty, Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Alya took her place towards the end of the long wooden table, sitting by herself, as she kept her back and face rigid until Marinette entered.

Placing her hands in front of her cautiously and all the while gripping tight on her gift, Marinette noted the absence of Adrien at the table and an unfamiliar older face sitting beside her father that looked like a sour grape mixed with a tall giraffe.

“Good Morning, dear,” Queen Sabine greeted her daughter, rising from the table to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Good Morning, mother,” Marinette kissed her father’s cheek as she came to the head of the table, “Good Morning, father.”

“Good Morning, Marinette,” her father began,returning Marinette’s greeting. He lifted his hand and indicated to the stranger next to him,

“Allow me to introduce, King Gabriel Agreste of Mortem.”

Oh, dear. Marinette grew stiff as her embarrassment of last night flashed in her mind. She had decided she was going to apologize to Adrien, but she never thought about apologizing to his father. She coursied low, keeping her voice even from years of practice, “Good Morning, King Gabriel. My sincerest apologies to my behavior last night, your highness. I was thrown off guard, and I acted out of sorts. I hope you can see it in your heart to forgive me.”

“You should apologize to my son, dear girl. Though, if I were him, I would make sure you washed my feet every night during our honeymoon until they were no longer bruised,” The King of Mortem’s words were like venom, as he spat them out towards Marinette. She flinched, holding back some tears at the expense of her parents. She was going to be Queen, and though words like that hurt, she was stronger than that. She would be treated fairly in her own kingdom. Before Marinette could return fire, the doors opened again and in walked a young dark skinned man wearing glasses, a blue tunic and casual pants. Marinette immediately recognized the crest of the House of Lahiffe at the center of his shirt; a green turtle.

“His Majesty, Prince Adrien Agreste,” said the newcomer, taking a seat and smiling next to Alya. The Lady-in-Waiting grew rosy and began softly talking to the young man.

Prince Adrien came in behind him, looking tired but holding a fake smile. He didn’t seem to be in much pain from his foot, Marinette noted. But of course, she was only told by her mother how swollen it was. He wore a simple light, baggy cotton pants and a black tunic that Marinette couldn’t help but note showed off his muscular arms; he walked up to his father and bowed low.

“Good Morning, Father.”

King Gabriel just nodded at his son in acknowledgement.

Adrien took a seat next to his father and turned to King Tom and Queen Sabine, “Good Morning everyone. Thank you again for letting us stay here until the wedding.”

“Of course, dear boy,” King Tom said, trying to bring joy back into the room, “We only want what’s best for you both, right honey?”

Queen Sabine nodded, almost nervously, “Yes of course. Glad to see your foot healing nicely.” Adrien’s face almost betrayed him with a blush, and he nodded, “I can walk on it now, thanks to your wonderful staff. The swelling is completely gone.”

Sabine smiled sweetly and turned to her daughter, “Have a seat, dear.”

Realizing she was just staring at Adrien this whole time, Marinette made a soft yeep noise and took a seat next to her mother, across from Adrien. She smiled and waved at Adrien awkwardly, with him returning it and looking over at Queen Sabine for some sort of explanation. Sabine nugged her daughter, bringing her back down to reality.

Marinette lowered her head to cover her eyes and placed her hands out, palms up, presenting her gift. “Good Morning, Prince Adrien. I give you my complete and total marriage in hand...I mean hand in marriage for my behavior last night. I hope I can make it up to you throughout the years to come. May our Kingdoms prosper.” She reached closer to him and placed the scarf on the table, “I made you a gift, too.” Queen Sabine placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder when she sat back down and mouthed a silent, ‘good job’.

Adrien scratched the back of his neck nervously at Marinette’s formality, reaching for the scarf. It was so soft to the touch, with thick fabric and frills at the end.. He widened his eyes at the craftsmanship, remarking, “Thank you, Princess Marinette. I will cherish this forever.” Placing the scarf around his neck for now, Adrien’s face suddenly grew warm. No one has ever gone out of their way to give something to him before.

A ring of a bell brought the attention of the royals to the kitchen door, where Max stood, smiling. He held a napkin over his arm and indicated to the kitchen.

“Breakfast is now served.”

Kitchen staff poured out of the door, with carts of delicious food and steamy pastries filling the scents of the air. Sausages, eggs, oats, fruits, chocolate croissants ; the warm decalent smells and cinnamon-sugar flavors reaching Adrien’s nose.

He sniffed hard, a little too hard, catching Marinette’s attention. She covered her mouth with a giggle, causing Adrien to blush slightly. “Our farms can not produce such an amazing breakfast,” Adrien remarked, as a plates began to fill out in front of him. For each staff, he said thanks as they tried not to look at him in the face.

Marinette tilted her head, “Oh? I thought Mortem was highly regarded for their meat processing and cotton production. I am inspired by a lot of Mortem designs.”

King Gabriel butted in, “Those are all well and good, but a drought has overtaken most of our lands. We are having to cut costs where we can. I actually help with those designs, Princess. ”

“Oh that is amazing! Well I hope I can work with you, King Gabriel, and we can help get those farms back up to speed,” Marinette remarked, taking a bite out of a soft and gooey croissant.

“I hope you can too,” Adrien responded with a warm smile, stuffing a strawberry in his mouth.

Marinette turned her attention to the mysterious stranger who was talking with Alya, introducing herself, “Hello there, I am Princess Marinette. I don’t believe I’ve meet you before.”

Adrien copied her, but with Alya, “Weren’t you the girl who bumped into me last night?”

Alya stiffened, her face flashing red from embarrassment. She was hoping he wasn’t going to recognize her and that her annoyance with him last night was forgotten.

“Why did you bump into my son, Lady Cesire?” King Gabriel demanded, raising an eyebrow up.

“It-it was an accident,” Alya covered, “I apologized, didn’t I, Prince Adrien?”

Putting two and two together, Adrien nodded over towards his father, grinning, “Yeah, she did, father, don’t worry.” So that’s Princess “Lady” Cesire… Using this opportunity to ease the tension, Adrien pointed to Nino.

“This is my retainer, Lord Nino Lahiffe.”

Searching her mind for her history lesson, Marinette remembered the traditional ways of the House of Lahiffe and the House of Agreste. She nodded, and smiled, “Nice to meet you, sir Knight.”

“The pleasure is mine, Princess,” Nino titled his head up and returned the smile.

A older, mature looking woman walked inside the hall, her stance poise and her hair black as night with a streak of red flowing through it. Glasses stopped at the tip of her nose, and a rolled up parchment was gripped onto her side. She came behind King Gabriel, leaned into him, and whispered in his ear low. Adrien shot a curious glance over, wondering what the news was. King Tom and Queen Sabine stared hard with distrust at the exchange.

“Understood. You may go, Natalie,” Gabriel excused the stewardess, and as she left without another word, the King relayed, “It seems Chat Noir was spotted last night roaming the grounds.”

Adrien dropped his fork mid-bite, Marinette choked on her orange juice, and Nino gagged a little on oatmeal, causing the table to look over at them all. Adrien was the first to recover fast enough, grabbing his fork again, “R-really now? I thought he was locked up in Apis.”

Ignoring his son’s stammer, the stiff King continued, “He was apparently released on the account that Princess Chloe was to reform him. After breakfast, I will address the situation myself. I feel responsible for this thief on the account he started in Mortem.” He nabbed his napkin over his mouth to wipe off non-existent crumbs.

King Tom remarked, “I’ll make sure extra guards are stationed and round the clock watch is highlighted in the morning patrol meeting.”

Queen Sabine continued for him, “Surely Chat Noir knows that we would do that. Maybe we should do a curfew, too.”

King Tom nodded in agreement, “I’ll speak to the Senators about that idea.”

‘Damnit,’ Adrien mentally cursed, having left back to the guest house right after Marinette healed him last night. He was usually so careful. He hoped who ever saw him last night didn’t see him with Marinette.

To distract from her thoughts, Marinette spotted the last stuff pastry on the silver platter at the center of the table, and reached far forward to grab it. What she didn’t see, however, was metal fork stuck under the pitcher of orange juice. But that was just the thing she placed her weight on to reach for the pastry, causing flying juice to splash all over Adrien and his father.

“Oh my Gods, I am so sorry!”

Marinette covered her face quickly to hide her shame, as her mother began to hug her and coo her.

“What is the meaning of THIS?!” King Gabriel shouted, quickly rising with juice dripping from his face and hands. House staff raced inside the dining area, hands full of napkins and towels. Marinette’s clumsiness was commonplace for them. They tried assisting King Gabriel, but he kept shooing them away, face plastered with anger. He snatched a towel from one of the maids, attending to his face himself. Adrien, however, started laughing hysterically, grabbing a towel from a young butler and dabbing his face dry.

Gabriel turned to his son, confusion mixed with anger. “What do you find so funny, son?!”

Adrien stood up, staring his father in the face, “Oh lighten up, Father. It was an accident.”

Sour perched lips addressed Adrien, “Accident or not, this is your future wife. She should be punished by you and learn proper etiquette.”

Adrien gazed over at Marinette, her face still covered by her hands with her mother whispering to her softly. They needed to talk, one on one.

“Princess Marinette, come with me then. If you’ll excuse us, everyone”

Never lifting her head up, Marinette rose and pushed her chair back. Alya stood up to join them but was stopped by King Tom’s hand. Nino stood up too, only for Adrien to shake his head. He was going to speak to Marinette, alone.

Adrien made his way out of the hall, Marinette following closely behind him. He walked outside, towards the gardens he saw yesterday. They were even more beautiful during the day, with different flowers and plants growing interchangeably. Ignoring his own citrus smell now, he walked towards a part of the gardens he didn’t get to see last night. Close by a tall stone statue of a ladybug, a rose bush held a single red rose, which Adrien plucked easily.

He turned to Marinette rose in hand, who never looked up. Tears could be seen falling down her cheeks and her lips were tightly pressed together. Her hands made fists at her sides, trembling.

“Marinette I-”

“I am so sorry!” She cried out, bringing bluebell eyes to meet green. Adrien’s heart tore at the sight of the poor girl. “I am so clumsy and I am sorry about your foot and I am sorry about my improper etiquette, and.. .and..”

“Hush, It’s okay.”

“And..a-what?” She sniffled, stopping her rambling.

“My father is the biggest hardass when it comes to etiquette, proper traditions, and all that. It was an accident, I know.” He chuckled, “I was there.”

Marinette wiped away tears running down her cheeks with the back of her hand, and a small smile began to peek out. “I am sorry about last night though. When I learned you were friends with Chloe, it made me physically sick. But you were so nice and danced with me. I felt a little betrayed by my own stereotype, I guess.” Adrien grinned from the corner of his mouth, the happy moments from the day before flooding his mind.. The feeling of her hands in his, her body close. But a forming a crush isn’t part of the plan.

“If it helps any, I can understand what you mean about Chloe. She can be a bit much, but she is my oldest friend,” said the Prince, “My mother passed away when I was almost 4, so I had to spend a lot of summers in Apis while my father traveled.”

Marinette tried to think back if she actually met Adrien before, at any of the parties her and Chloe would torment each other at, but nothing rang a bell. She also realized she didn’t ask an important question.

“How old are you anyway, and why haven’t I met you before now?” she asked, breakfast forgotten.

“Oh, I am 24. My father never let me go anywhere except Apis and Mortem, saying he wanted to make sure I stayed close to home. I wasn’t allowed to go to balls or parties, instead I had to train and learn all about becoming King. Even though I have Nino..but you know, I’m out in the world now. So, here.”

Adrien brought the flower towards Marinette, but suddenly, the creeping shadows of destruction glowed in the prince’s hand, causing the rose to wilt. “Damn, I’m sorry,” he cursed, “It’s my powers. I haven’t used them in so long that they sometimes leak out. I have to be extra careful.”

A brighter grin ran across Marinette’s face, as she took the dead flower in her hand. In an instant, it sprung back to life, full and vibrant. She tilted her head up to Adrien, bringing the rose close to her chest. “I covered you, I mean- I got you covered,” she stated with brightness. Her kindness knows no bounds, Adrien formulated. His father’s demanding nature flashed in his mind, and Adrien turned his head away from the princess. He has to find that ring soon, or he will have to do something he was going to regret.

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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What Kobe Bryant could have accomplished in retirement

We’ll never know Kobe Bryant’s power in retirement.

Kobe Bryant’s death leaves his story unfinished.

We’re never going to get to hear the Hall of Fame speech. That’s a shame because Kobe Bryant would have delivered an all-timer. So many of those speeches are meant to be disposable. An athlete thanks their family, their friends, their god and their agent, and then moves on from the spotlight, sometimes for good.

Occasionally, the speeches are truly memorable. Michael Jordan went scorched earth on the legion of critics and haters that had apparently occupied his mind even when that number of doubters was both small and inconsequential. In doing so, Jordan chose to be remembered as a far pettier man than the universally beloved figure he was during his prime.

Like Jordan, Kobe played the game with a singular domination that didn’t lend itself to making friends with his enemies. That was a great part of his appeal for a great many people, but it was the attention to detail in his craft, the endless quest for perfection in an imperfect sport that resonated even more. That wasn’t so much Jordan-esque as it was Kobe personified.

We’ll never know for sure what Kobe would have said in Springfield. But here’s a guess: he would have looked forward, not backward, because for Kobe the future was way more interesting than the past. That’s only one of the ways in which he was endlessly complex and compelling.

When he embarked on his final-season farewell tour and made himself accessible in city after city he rarely trafficked in cheap nostalgia. He had made his peace with the end of his basketball career and had somehow moved beyond the competitive rage that fueled his career. As he noted during his last NBA All-Star Game appearance in Toronto in 2016:

“I’m really just enjoying this whole thing, being around these players and talking to them one more time, going out and practicing and enjoying that moment in the game and enjoying that moment. So, competitiveness in terms of me trying to establish something or prove something, that’s gone.”

That’s a remarkable bit of self-awareness for any athlete, let alone a self-styled killer whose edge rested on an ability to bury his opponents under their own weaknesses. As the former pitcher Jim Bouton once wrote, “You spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”

No, Kobe was not rooted in the past, nor would he allow it to define him. Even before he physically moved on from the game, he appeared ready to make that leap in his mind. That’s the irony of the endless debates about his legacy. Kobe may have cared deeply, but he put others on his Mt. Rushmore and declared that Jerry West was the greatest Laker.

While he had a great appreciation for the history of the game and his place in it, there was no need waste any time making his case. Kobe was above all that. He had said all he needed to say on the court. Besides, as Tony Soprano once put it, “Remember when is the lowest form of communication.”

Kobe fancied himself a storyteller and characters like Soprano appealed to him. After modeling his younger self on Jordan — carrying out some of the worst of Jordan’s excesses to the nth degree — Bryant remade himself into an anti-hero, a problematic construction if ever there was one.

He did so in the wake of his rape trial in Colorado, but the rape trial was not “problematic” in the way that word gets used as a placeholder to ignore the realities of the accusation. It was abhorrent. There is a paper trail and following it is brutal. The crime Kobe stood accused of committing was a gross violation of another person’s body and humanity. There is no glossing over that, nor should there be.

The problematic part of the equation was crafting a persona that was meant to be a stand-in for his authentic self while a generation of kids wanted him to remain their unimpeachable superhero. For the anti-hero, the ends always justify the means and for Kobe’s most ardent admirers, his five rings gave them license to treat his words and actions as gospel.

There is a tremendous amount of power inherent in that construction, and Kobe based much of his post-basketball empire on its appeal. The Mamba Mentality was all you needed, and you, yes you, could prosper, provided you adhere to the tenants of its faith and were willing to become just as ruthlessly competitive as its founder. Viewed through a particular lens, that wasn’t all bad.

“I think you have to believe that they’re possible,” Bryant said during that All-Star weekend in Toronto. “It’s easier said than done, because I think we all have dreams. But once you go through the process of trying to make those dreams a reality, you hit obstacles. And I think unfortunately because of pressure or anxiety or responsibilities, things, whatever, you kind of give up on those dreams and somewhere along the line you lose that imagination. I think it’s important that you never lose that. You have to keep that. That’s the most important thing. I never gave up my dream.”

That sentiment is admirable, really. Too many people settle for mediocrity. Too many see the struggle and leave their dreams behind, choosing instead to live a life devoid of purpose or meaning. To give people hope and inspiration is a wondrous thing and Kobe did that with a great many people, as well.

But it’s something else within that quote that gives one pause. Unfortunately because of pressure or anxiety or responsibilities, things, whatever.

There was never any room in Kobe’s worldview for pressure or anxiety or things, whatever they may be, because to Kobe, those were merely obstacles to be defeated. There was instead a singular focus on winning, whatever the cost. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for acceptance when others fail to meet those standards.

Just a few months ago, after a team of seventh-grade girls he coached took fourth place in a tournament, he laid bare his disappointment with the result in an Instagram post that reeked of sour grapes and shaming. Following an uproar, Kobe tried to soften those comments.

Websites such as ours accused him of trying to “cynically triage his brand.” Perhaps, that’s the best way to view any charismatic figure like Bryant: cynically. Or perhaps the reframing of his motivational message was evidence of someone trying to evolve.

In retirement, Kobe took his role as a mentor seriously. He had endless credibility with players and by keeping himself at a remove from the league in any official capacity, he offered something even more unique: a truth that was not bound to any allegiance.

Kobe was particularly engaging with female athletes who possessed qualities he admired. His blessing of their achievements had the potential to carry a profound message of empowerment. More than anyone, he recognized the craft and skill of women’s basketball and celebrated that as a monument to itself.

Then there are accounts of his actions during normal human interactions, such as a car accident in his neighborhood. Imagine that, Kobe the good samaritan. He was the kind of guy you wanted for a neighbor, a fellow dad with whom you could talk about life.

He took obvious delight in being a father, and that is yet another reason why this hurts so much. It was his daughter Gianna, who had promised to carry on his legacy on the court who was among those who died in a helicopter crash Sunday. Their death, and the deaths of the other people aboard that helicopter, are senseless and shocking. As parents and as people, we grieve for those who are lost and especially for those left behind.

It’s hard not to look at that Kobe and see a person of empathy who possessed the capacity to change lives for the better. He certainly had that power, and he seemed to understand there were positive currents that burned just as bright as the darkness he worked so hard to cultivate as a player.

For a lot of people, Kobe was their Jordan, but he was savvy enough to realize that he had something more to offer the world than mere idolatry. Beyond his basketball legend, the repellent nature of the accusations against him, and the inherent contradictions of an inspiring yet unforgiving mantra, there was so much potential for good in his post-playing career.

Kobe Bryant was going somewhere in his life. That’s what makes his loss such an immense tragedy. Man, it would have been a helluva speech.

0 notes

lynneshobbydomain · 5 years ago

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4am Honesty Collections Part 2/?

Chapter Two: What Does Color Taste Like?

Author’s Note: Part one can be read here and on Wattpad.

Summery: Kanna gets a phone call from Lu.

The ringtone blasted through her stuffed cat backpack, causing her to quickly shove it onto one shoulder so that she could dig it out. Once she zipped her backpack up, she quickly slid the phone to answer and placed it against her ear.

"What do you think colors taste like?"

Kanna had to hum softly under her breath as she carefully adjusted her backpack, using her shoulder to press the phone against her ear as she thought about her response. She was glad that the train that she was on didn't require her to be quiet. She did get some glares for her phone being too loud, but she ignored it. She was getting off soon anyway, and they were only going to remember her for a day. Twenty four hours. "I think that they taste like the rainbow." She said carefully.

"...Okay but what does the rainbow taste like?" There was a soft noise of annoyance coming from the other end of the phone.

Kanna snickered lightly. "It tastes soft."

"...Okay clearly we're talking about two different kinds of taste."

"Are we?" Kanna hummed a few measures of a song that she recently heard. "I don't think we are."

There was another huff of annoyance on the other end. Maybe it was borderline irritation, she didn't know. She smiled anyway, her grin hurting as it stretched from ear to ear. She gripped onto the pole tightly as the train jerked to a stop. She glanced up towards where there was a sign that was playing over the window. The language wasn't native to her, but she understood that it wasn't her stop yet. "Okay." He sighed again. "Okay so we're not."

"So soft." She answered, "oh...but I guess that depends on the shade of color doesn't it?" She made a soft noise. "Like there's a shade of purple that taste like grape right? But then there's a shade of purple that can taste like neon."

"...I think you'd die if you tasted neon."

"Where's your sense of imagination." Kanna's cheeks puffed, "Kore's better at this than you are, Lu."

Lu made a noise at the other end of the phone. Whether it was because he was being compared to his best friend, or that he was being insulted by his lack of imagination, it was hard to tell. She rolled her eyes as hard as she possibly could. "Still." She softened a little. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't stretch the muscle too far. "Neon."

"Okay." He said slowly, like he didn't believe her. He probably didn't. "So is there a blue that tastes like rain?"

"Hmm. I always thought grey tasted like rain. Grey-blue. That shade." Kanna had a particular shade in mind, but she doubted that she could transfer that to the person on the other end of the phone. She wasn't an artist in any means. She didn't know how to describe the correct ratio of what cool or warm blue needed to be mixed to a perfect fifty percent grey. If that was even accurate. Fuck what was color theory?

"So pastels." Lu pressed. "Cotton candy's a light pink or a sky blue right?"

"I always thought so." Kanna blinked. Maybe Lu really did have an imagination after all. "I mean. That soft yellow color reminds me of marshmallows."

"Yellow ...is marshmallow." He repeated, his tone dry as a river bed in a drought. "So what the fuck is white?"

"Hmmm....vanilla icing on a cake." Kanna replied thoughtfully, her voice practically singing. "Though transparent blue tastes like ice. Then again any transparent color tastes like ice."

"I...can see that yeah." Lu sounded a little ruffled. Like he was the one that was going around in circles. She wondered what on earth even brought this conversation on. Did she even want to know? "Black?"

"Uh...wow." Kanna wished that she could rock on her feet, but the train's movements were too jerky for her to consider that safely. "I'm not sure what black tastes like."

"Really?"

"I don't usually hang around black." Kore's hair was black. Kanna's hair was always a different shade of color that wasn't black. Lu's hair was blonde like..."Oh soft yellow pastels remind me of sunflowers."

"Uh...I don't think you can eat sunflowers." Lu was skeptic.

"Sunflower seeds." Kanna deadpanned. "You can eat sunflower seeds."

"So...yellow that is blinding like a nursery in a new home is a sunflower seed." Lu was the one to have the deadpanned tone now.

Kanna shrugged and she could hear him sigh. She had to grip the pole tightly again as she felt her body jerk as the train stopped. She glanced at the sign and pushed herself off of the support beam, heading towards the doors. The station was loud with different conversations. The grey surroundings bounced back light in a way that was a little blinding. There was a swarm of different colors, different people, all trying to get on and off of the train.

She kind of missed home, where everything was neat and organized and no one was trying to murder her for wanting to get off of the damn train. Getting through the crowd itself was a nightmare, trying to swim through different bodies of color, of all sorts of different kinds of perfumes and tastes.

She was really grateful this country had escalators. She immediately pushed herself up against the side of one so that if people wanted to rush up, they didn't try to take her down with her.

"Well that was loud." Lu commented suddenly on the phone and she startled, forgetting that she was even on the phone with him. The phone nearly fell out of her grip and she was certain she jumped five feet into the air.

"Sorry, I was on the train."

"I heard rattling, but I wasn't sure if it was bus or train." Lu commented. "Where are you?"

Where was she indeed? "In an area that reminds me of...huh...I don't think this kind of grey has a...no it does. This grey tastes like metal." Kanna winced a little. "I guess so does this white."

"Oh white has a different flavor than that vanilla." Lu teased her.

"Bright white has vanilla. This ungodly white is like...blood." Kanna pursed her lips together.

"...You and Nicky had such weird ways of describing blood. You know that?" Lu's voice suddenly turned soft and Kanna wanted to hang up the phone. She didn't want to hear this conversation. She didn't want to be apart of this conversation.

Hearing her name hurt.

"Did we?" Kanna was quick to change subject. "I wouldn't know. Anyway, I always thought red would be like...cherries. The ones you get on top of the sundaes. Not the other ones. Those deep red colored cherries always make me disappointed."

"Oh yeah?" Lu probably caught on that she wanted the subject change. Maybe he wanted the subject change too. "What color do you think it was supposed to taste like?"

"Raspberry or sweet or something. They're always too sour for me." She answered.

"Maybe if you stopped assuming what they are, you wouldn't be disappointed."

She felt like she got sucker punched. She tripped as she got off of the escalator and she felt her cheeks burn. She jogged her way out of the station and breathed in fresh air. "What do you mean by that."

"There's no hidden meanings with me," Lu said and that was exactly why she knew this phone call was a bad idea. Kanna pursed her lips together. She could hang up the phone, there was nothing stopping her from just hanging up. Lu would get upset, he'd send her a fifteen page rant, and she'd read every bad thing he would say to her, and then they'd continue as normal.

Because normal was all they could do anymore.

Her grip on her phone slipped and she realized that her hands were sweaty. It wasn't hot here. Warm yes, but not hot. She started walking down the street, wanting to be carried away by the crowd and away from this conversation. She literally could hang up the phone.

She was still listening to him breathe on the other end, and her brain was screaming and her heart was crying.

She needed to hang up this phone.

She needed to listen for once. "Okay." She wasn't sure Lu could hear her, her words were soft and easily carried off by the crowd.

"...I'm not Kore." Lu finally spoke. "I don't know how you two can talk about these kinds of things without getting a damn headache. I have a headache from this." He paused. "What does color taste like? There isn't a taste, Kanna. It's all fucking made up. Everything is made up. You're made up."

"...Now that's mean." Kanna's voice shattered a little at the end. "Calling me a fake."

"Aren't you? You promised to be by Kore's side and where are you? On the other end of the world, I bet." Lu snapped at her. "You run away. You run away from everything. I don't know how Kore can put up with that. I can't."

"Then...leave." Kanna never closed that door. He can close it for himself, if he wanted this.

"I want you to come back." Lu's voice still was snapping at her. "Come home. It's time to stop running away. He's dead, Kanna. He's dead and no amount of traveling. No amount of waiting....no amount of crying...is ever going to bring him back."

She didn't want to hear that. "I'm not running away."

"Oh? Then what is this? A soul-search? Trying to find yourself?"

"Trying to lose myself, maybe." Kanna snapped finally losing her temper. "What is it to you what I do, Lu?"

"You're my friend." Lu's voice was the one to shatter now. "It hurts when I try to call you and ask you to hang and knowing that you're nowhere near."

Kanna felt her heart sink right into her stomach. She missed him too, she missed Kore. She missed home. She wanted to be at her house, she wanted to be in Kore's arms. She wanted to see Lu face to face again. Kore would never reach a hand to ask her to come home, trusting with every fiber of his being that she'd come back on her own.

Lu wasn't like that. He was faster to grip on with both hands. Selfish enough to demand her to stay, to come back.He was selfish enough to play a game he didn't understand, just so that he could get her to talk to him.

It was really cruel of him. Really cruel. Kanna felt a few tears slip down her cheeks as she finally pressed herself to the side of the sidewalk, to the edge of the building, breaking apart from the crowd she wanted to get lost in.

It took her a moment to open her eyes and notice that the sea of people that she was running through, she didn't know. Not the streets, not the buildings, not the language. Everything around her moved at a molasses pace, but also was fast enough that it could be considered a whirlwind at the same time. A whirlwind molasses.

She was out of her comfort zone. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know why she was here. She was disconnected and she was afraid. Maybe that was why she hated this phone call. Even though Lu was demanding her to come back, she was starting to understand that she wasn't really traveling for the same reason as she was giving.

Finding herself wasn't the problem. No one could run away from themselves, the past was always there at the edge of memory. Lies were easy to build and easy to live, but oh they were so fast to fall apart if one truth even managed to widdle itself into the brick.

She closed her eyes, she breathed. "I think..." She said after a moment, listening to Lu's impatience on the other end. "I think..."

"You think too much." Lu said quietly. "Or maybe you think too little and act too much."

"Hey. What time is it over there?"

"Four. In the morning." Lu replied, and she could guess that he looked at his watch despite that his alarm clock was right across from him. She could take a gander and presume that he was in his bedroom, in the apartment that he shared with Kore. She could suppose that Kore was awake too, looking at the phone and wonder if he should join in on the conversation, or if he should let it be.

A part of her prayed that he'd just randomly come on the line. She didn't want to deal with this by herself. But she knew how this would go. If Kore joined in, Lu would hang up because it wouldn't be his invitation. This was a conversation only meant for the two of them, and she hated it.

She hated facing this.

She didn't want to face this.

"I just want to pretend for a moment that I'm okay." Kanna finally admitted. It was too early in the day for these kinds of conversations on her end. "Is that so bad?"

"It is when you're running." Lu wasn't going to cut her any slack. She hated him for it. She loved him for it. "...But at the same time...Kanna...this is you."

"Hm?"

"Kanna the runaway." Lu's tone wasn't mean. There was no mocking condensation at his voice. She could hear something drop at his end and she wondered what it was. "Kanna the runner."

"Don't be rude."

"Don't be a dick." Lu replied simply. "I want you home. You want to run. In the end, you're going to do what you need to do, because Kore's too much of a coward to ask you to come back."

"And I won't listen to you."

"You never listened to me, even when you should." Lu replied. "Even when..."

When it was honest. When it was raw. When it was too fragile and Lu only knew how to break.

He only knew how to break.

Kanna was breaking.

"I should let you go and get some sleep." Kanna said, losing all momentum. This trip wasn't fun anymore. She wanted to call Kore. She wanted to pretend that she was okay.

Lu wouldn't let her have fun. Lu wouldn't let her pretend anymore and she hated it. She hated it, she hated...

"Hey...Kanna."

"What."

"I break too."

Kanna's breath hitched and she felt like something slipped from underneath her. The sidewalk that she was on had carpet, and the carpet was tugged and now she was falling into a big black hole, much like in the cartoons back when she was a kid. She didn't have a way to grip or magically pull out a stick to keep her from falling.

"Are you...breaking now?" Kanna felt ice go down her veins and she could taste copper in the back of her throat. She felt like the crowd around her has become too big and she was too small. She felt like a child lost in a sea of people and language, and all she wanted was something familiar to cling to.

"No." Lu said quietly. "You stopped me from breaking when you picked up the phone."

Suddenly, suddenly Kanna was glad that she picked the phone up. She was glad that her phone was covered in sweat. She was glad that her heart was racing and her stomach was nothing but acid. She was glad that she was breathing, but oh she shouldn't be crying. He was the one that needed to cry and she was taking that all away from him.

Now the colors started to make sense. Lu wasn't trying to play a game. He wasn't trying to pretend that he knew how to talk to her. He was begging her to get him out of his head. The only way she knew how.

To drag him into a world that was much kinder in her imagination than his own.

His demons probably tasted like black and now she understood what helplessness tasted like.

"Oh." She squeaked finally. How to proceed now that she knew? "Lu..."

"I just want you home."

Now the words took on a different meaning didn't they? Him, calling her a runaway...

She closed her eyes and breathed. "Kore is..."

"Not good here." Kore wasn't good here. Kore wouldn't be good for anyone right now.

They were two souls breaking and they could only break now.

"Lu...you are loved." She didn't know what else to do. Kore was the one with the words, and the thoughts. He saw things she didn't see. Her eyes were rose-colored and everything tasted like cotton candy and vanilla and helplessness.

"...What?"

"You're loved," she repeated, like it could somehow save him. "You're loved. So loved. You know that right?"

"Hold on a minute. You don't think I-?"

"I think that...you wanted to." Kanna took a breath. "If I'm the one that runs physically, aren't you running emotionally?"

The phone clicked on her end and she felt more tears slip down.

A stranger came up to her, dark and foreign and a smile white like vanilla. "You look like your soul is dead."

Oh well that sucks. "Sorry." She said, trying to speak slow and soft, like he was the scared animal and not her. She slipped her phone into her backpack and she gave him a kind smile. "I'm a bit lost."

"Probably." The stranger agreed. "Come. This city is community. You need a community."

Did she need people around her? She'd like to say no, but her mouth answered for her. "Yes. I do."

"Follow me. Best community around."

Without much thought to her safety, she followed.

#4am conversations #late night conversations #tw suicide mention #tw depression #running away from problems #emotionally and phyiscally #original characters #original fiction #copyright in place yo #lynne writes

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cutiecrates · 6 years ago

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Cutie Reviews: Tokyo Treat August 18

Before I begin, I wanted to mention that this month we had a code for so much off of a 3, 6, or 12 month subscription. There was also an item we were supposed to get but due to a last-second issue, it was swapped out for something else. I don’t remember the exact reason but it’s not important anymore.

Also, I forgot to take a picture of the Lucky Treat and Contest prizes. Lucky Treat included a lot of gudetama and Pokemon items, and some cute yellow things like pudding flavored cookies and candy. The Contest was to design your own kit-kat flavor and package, and the winner would receive 2 Cinnamoroll items, while 5 runner-ups got a Pompompurrin item.

The Japan articles in the booklet focuses on Japanese fruits and how popular they are in Japan- asking someone of their favorite fruit is a popular conversation starter, isn’t that cute~?

I’ll play along. My most favorite fruit is a strawberry (ironically I just got some big, yummy looking ones today~), but I also like grapes, apples, pears, pineapple, mango, raspberries, plums... pretty much anything except for bananas, and tomato if you count that as a fruit.

There’s also a question asking “which fruit would you assign/associate to each month?“ so I came up with:

Summer - Watermelon, Pineapple.

Fall - Apples

Winter - Melon (It’s light color and taste reminds me of winter)

Spring - Pears, cherry, strawberry, anything refreshing and light.

I had fun answering those, I kind of wish they included them more often. But for now, let’s get on with the actual review!

Coca-Cola Clear & Melon Jelly Drink DIY

As usual, the DIY will be covered in a separate post. Our main feature for this pic is the big, clear empty-looking coke next to it. As of this box, Coca-Cola Clear is Japan’s newest Coke variation, which features a zero calorie spin with lemon flavoring to create a light, refreshing taste~

I know I’m a broken record, but for anybody new around here; I ♥ Coca-Cola! So I always get excited when it shows up in the boxes, or even getting cola-flavored candy. I love it love it love it~

Rating: ♥ ♥

Unfortunately, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind...

When I smell it, I get a coke x sprite sort of mix. But when I taste it, I don’t really get the lemon at all. Or maybe I do- but to me it actually tastes like apple pie. More specifically, the taste of the syrup you get from combining apple and cinnamon when preparing to bake them.

It’s not a bad taste in any means, but I had higher expectations. I’m not a big fan of sprite or anything, but I kinda thought it might have been like lemon pepsi; a drink I was obsessed with years ago when it came out (its since been discontinued sadly). You don’t even really taste coke honestly.

Melon Bread Cookies Party Park

A fun, large pack of melon pan inspired cookies. There is an equal amount of crunchy orange-flavored cookies, and soft, sweet melon cookies with cream inside. This product is by Kabaya, The orange cookies are 41.1 calories, and melon is 43.1 calories.

Rating: ♥ ♥

They’re alright. The orange one actually doesn’t have any sort of orange flavoring to me at all, it’s not even sweet. The crunch is light, and honestly I think it’d be better with a sweet drink, or maybe some cream. The melon one is soft and chewy, and it’s much sweeter than the other one; it actually tastes like melon. The cream inside keeps it from being too dry in taste.

Chip Star Lemon Chips &

Next up are two Lemon themed items, the first are chips by popular snack brand Chip Star. The entire container is 263 calories, which kind of bothers me a little considering how small the count is; but it’s okay if you don’t eat them all at once, or share some of them.

This product uses real Setuchi lemons to create a tangy, savory flavor.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

They’re so yummy~♥ It’s basically a lemon salt flavored chip, but the lemon flavor is very light and the tanginess is gentle. On scent, you get a really strong sour vinegar smell, but they don’t taste like that.

Our next item is this box of Choco-Lemon dipped mini-pocky! This was the item we got instead of the Kinoko no Yama Chocolate Banana; which because I dislike artificial banana flavors is fine by me.

Each package or the entire box is 103 calories. I can’t tell which it is from what’s written on the back... but I’m kinda hoping it’s the entire box.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

These are very delicious, but usually this type of pocky is~ It reminds me of a non-sour version of lemon meringue ♥ I can’t see eating them too often though. The sweetness starts to get a little one-note.

Chocolate Mint Caramel Corn & Shimi Corn Share Pack

Following the crunchy trend, here we have two more sweet snacks! First up I’ll cover the Shimi Corn because we get it a lot in these boxes and I’ve reviewed it a handful of times. If I remembered where, I’d just link that but because I don’t....

Shimi Choco Corn is an adorable, star-shaped airy puff snack entirely infused in a rich, chocolate flavor. Each pack is 73 calories, and you get like 6-8 per mini-pack.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

They taste really good, and there is a very faint bitterness to them, but not enough to trigger those anti-bitter gag reflexes. As I said, they are very soft-crispy, in a sort of creamy melt-in-your mouth way. As often as they show up, I don’t get tired of them ;3

Our next item is another famous brand that’s been showing up in boxes, Caramel Corn. Caramel Corn is another light puffed snack usually featuring a sweet, rich caramel glaze. But it comes in many varieties- some even include nuts in them! This specific flavor is chocolate-mint, a recent addition to this brand. Apparently during summer, Japan loves to produce mint-flavors because of the cooling burst they can give.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I ♥ chocolate mint so I always have very high hopes they’ll be good, and after last time- I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was very happy realizing these taste like what I expected the July choco-mint item to taste like. They have a strong chocolate, minor mint scent and taste, but you get a good combination of both. I like that it also resembles choco-mint ♥

My only tiny complaint is that the entire bag is 422.6 calories. But chances are, you’ll either share this or eat it in several sittings, not just one.

Banana Man Marshmallow & Black Thunder Fruit Granola & Tsum Tsum Chocolate Bar

Our first item is a small little treat popular in japan for bringing together the chocolate banana flavor in a small marshmallow. I couldn’t find a calorie listing for this one.

Rating: ♥

I love marshmallows, but I don’t like banana (especially artificial) and this just didn’t appeal to me. I didn’t even taste the chocolate, they barely give you any. The concept is cute though.

The next item is the popular Black Thunder, a product by Calbee. It’s been in the box a few times, but never in granola form! I was very intrigued by this because I didn’t know this was a thing. It’s 99 calories and features granola with dried berries and covered in chocolate.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s alright. It was pretty hard, and I mainly tasted chocolate and raisins. It’s not bad, but is anybody else bothered by the fact it’s smaller than normal granola bars and it’s still 99 calories? You can get bigger for about the same amount, give or take, and I didn’t find it as filling.

The final item in this set is another item we’ve been seeing recently, a chocolate wafer bar by Furuta. It’s usually-always the same thing, but it’s been not only covered by Tsum Tsum, but Sanrio characters too! Last time, the one I had was covered in white chocolate and had Gudetama on it.

Each bar is 115 calories.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥

The flavor is unique for chocolate snacks. The texture reminds me of a kit-kat, but it isn’t sweet. It’s not bad, but it’s not my favorite either.

Cinnamon Apple Pie Umaibo & Cheese Rice Puffs

Here are our last two crunchy items, each pretty contrasting in taste. First I’ll cover the Cheese Rice Puffs (or “arare” as it says on the bag).

I love rice, especially rice snacks like this- but with all the other cheese flavors I’ve tried, I wasn’t sure if I was going to like this or not. Especially since it’s recommended date to eat it was back in October... They weren’t open prior to when I took these pictures, but they definitely tasted a bit stale >3<

Rating: ♥ ♥

Even though they are a little old, they don’t taste too bad. There isn’t much flavor to them but I still get something, and the crispy bite is still present. They remind me a lot of Bugles (those pointy corn chips people like to put on their finger tips because they look like witch nails).

Our other item is the ever-so-popular and one of my most favorite brands Umaibo. This time, we get a sweet Umaibo, which isn’t very common. It only has 44 calories in total.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s not my favorite Umaibo, but it’s really good. It tastes a lot like cinnamon toast crunch or applejacks, or like that coca-cola drink, an apple covered in cinnamon sugar.

Fruit Donut Gummy & Honey Apple Hard Candy

These are our last 2 items of the box this month. We’ve gotten the fruit donut gummy a few times in prior boxes, and they come in a variety of mixed flavors- which always makes it a lot of fun to see what you get next~

This time, I got a lemon and lime mixed one. The bottom is always a creamy marshmallow flavor, and the entire thing is covered in sugar. The calories are 39 or this one ring.

Ratings: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

These are always really good, and this one was no exception x3 it’s delicious. It’s a simple thing, but it’s so sweet and cute. The inside of the bag still smells yummy~

Our final item is the Apple Honey Hard Candy, the healthy Kinosei snack of the month. Not only is it delicious, but it can help a sore throat you may get in the summers heat (which is possible, if I get really warm my throat ends up hurting... and no it’s not my tonsils. I don’t have those anymore).

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was instant love for me~ ♥ Usually I’m not a huge fan of hard candy unless it’s a flavor I really like- and these are amazing! They don’t really taste like honey to me, more like... cooling apple. It reminds me a lot of a cough drop I really liked when I was younger, but once again, I don’t think they make them anymore. They were clear and had tiny colored beads in them, and they tasted like apple pie~

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 3 out of 5. I felt like it was all essentially good, but there was one or two items I didn’t really care for. I felt like there wasn’t too much of a variety either, we had a lot of items featuring crunch/crispiness and chocolate, but at the same time, we had variety in terms of the theme itself.

Theme - 5 out of 5. I can’t lie and say it wasn’t there, cause it entirely was!

Total Rank: 7 out of 10 Cuties! It was pretty decent, and I liked how we had a broad theme such as fruits. It was fun to see where it could go, even if I did miss having savory snacks~ I hope we get more boxes with a specific food theme again soon!

♥ Cutie’s Scale of Yummy ♥

1. Honey Apple Hard Candy - the nostalgia of this brought so much back to me~ They’re also kind of cute to look at, they remind me of rectangular diamonds~

2. Caramel Corn Chocolate Mint - I LOVE chocolate-mint, this was everything I wanted~!

3. Fruit Donut Gummy - I love that combination of lemon-lime, it’s so light and refreshing~ I wish we got more gummies this month.

4. Chip Star Lemon Chips - I was very surprised by these, but I really liked them! I’m glad they weren’t fruity like I initially worried they’d be.

5. Cinnamon Apple Pie Umaibo - if you like that apple pie or cinnamon sweetness, you’ll love this.

6. Shimi Choco Corn - As common as it is, the packaging is always fun to look at and these always taste yummy!

7. Lemon Pocky - They are very sweet and creamy~

8. Coca-Cola Clear - I had higher hopes for it. It’s not bad, but for once a cola item did not meet my expectations >x<

9. Tsum Tsum Chocolate Bar - the summer themed package was adorable, but I could take or leave the bar itself.

10. Cheese Rice Puffs - I didn’t have too much of an opinion on these honestly.

11. Melon Pan Cookies - I was a bit disappointed with this one, the orange one had little flavor. The Melon-flavor was way better, but not enough to save it in my opinion.

12. Granola Black Thunder - Meh, it’s okay. The concept amazed me, and the package is fun to look at, but it wasn’t anything special to me.

13. Banana Man Marshmallow - It’s a cute idea, but the taste was not good to me.

Here we are guys, we’ve come to another reviews end~ I hope you enjoyed it, and stay tuned for the DIY review, followed by the August Doki Doki crate review!

Until next time, stay cute~

#tokyo treat #tokyotreat #fruits #fruit candy #umaibo #shimi corn #black thunder #chip star #coca cola #calbee

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lucas-taylor-rpg · 7 years ago

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The Second It Began, Part 4

((Previously))

((Circa 85 April 21st, 2143))

He had fallen asleep. He figured that out upon waking up. When he opened his eyes and saw bright daylight, he realized he must have been resting for much longer than intended—and that his father must have returned by then.

He got up from the bed. His head was still hurting, but less than the previous day. It seemed that sleeping had helped, as he had anticipated. Yawning and wiping sleep from his eyes, he shuffled his feet towards the door of his new bedroom. He opened it and found his father sitting behind the dining table, which held a plate of an omelet with fruit and a glass of juice.

The old man looked up at him and smiled—not in happiness or love, but in amusement. “Well, hello, sleeping beauty,” the father greeted, taking in his son’s mussed hair, small eyes and tired frown.

“Did I sleep through the whole night,” Lucas asked, “or is this planet so freaky there’s daylight after sunset?” He was sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear a confirmation.

Taylor chuckled. “No, you slept, all right,” he replied. Lucas dragged himself to the table and slumped down onto the chair opposite to his father. “Actually, you slept for almost twelve hours.” Lucas sighed and rubbed his face. Taylor frowned. “You don’t look very rested for someone who slept that long,” he noted.

“In my defense,” the young man said, “I was really tired.” And sick. But he did not tell his father that. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Well, lucky for you, today is Sunday, so you can rest as much as you need.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, I was thinking maybe we could spend the day together. Catch up on what’s happened since we last saw each other. Maybe I could give you a tour of the colony. I mean, it’s not that big, but you should know where to find stuff.”

Without saying a word, Lucas stood up.

“I didn’t mean right now.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Lucas explained.

“Oh, right.”

Lucas walked off. Two minutes and one flush of a toilet later, he came back. When he sat down, he realized Taylor had put a glass of milk-like liquid on his side of the table. “What’s that?”

“Your breakfast,” Taylor replied simply.

He took a closer look at the liquid. It seemed just like milk to his eyes, but when he leaned in and its scent hit his nose, he could tell it was something else. It smelled too funny to be milk. “Wait, I read something about that in the manual they gave me,” he said. He remembered it mentioning a drink specifically designed for easier enzyme consumption… or something along those lines. “Is this the only thing I’m allowed to have now?”

“Yup. Just until you get used to the food we have here.”

“How long will that be, again?”

“You have to drink this for three days exclusively. Then you can ease into real food as you see fit.”

Lucas gave a nod. He picked up the glass and took a mere sip of the liquid inside. With a frown on his face, he lowered the glass. “That tastes awful.” For something that looked like milk, it was quite sour. It suited the smell, though.

“That’s just because you’re not used to it, yet.”

“Hmph.” Lucas took another sip and could not help scrunching up his face. He put the glass down. He was not looking forward to drinking it for the next three days, but he figured there must have been a reason why it was required. Then he realized something. He parted his lips and glanced aside. With a thoughtful expression on his face, he looked at his father and watched him eat. “Dad, you didn’t…” he spoke up hesitantly, “you didn’t need this milk when you came to Terra Nova… did you?”

“We didn’t have it back then. The recipe was designed after I came.”

“So why do I need it?” Lucas asked. “I mean, if you got used to food without it, why should—”

“It’s not that you need it per se. It’s just meant to make the transition easier for you,” the father explained.

“Was it hard for you?”

“Well, it was not as easy as it would’ve been if I’d had this,” Taylor replied, pointing at the glass.

Lucas sighed. He just sat there for a few seconds, pondering what his father had told him. Afterwards, he reached out and grabbed a red grape from Taylor’s plate. Before the latter could stop him, he shoved it in his mouth.

“Hey!” Taylor said. “You’re not supposed to eat that.”

“Yeah, I can see why. This is even worse than the milk,” Lucas grumbled with the fruit still in his mouth. He chewed it slowly, a grimace making its way to his face. After he swallowed, he extended his arm to take another one. His father slapped his hand away. Lucas frowned. “Come on, don’t be so stingy!”

“I’m not stingy, you’re just not supposed to eat that.” The commander pushed Lucas’s glass closer to him. “Drink this if you’re hungry.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, then leaned back. He stared at the glass in silence, but he did not pick it up. His head throbbed suddenly, making him wince. Fortunately for him, Taylor, having returned attention to his own breakfast, did not notice.

“So,” Taylor spoke up, taking a grape himself, “how have you been since we last saw each other?”

“You mean since I went to the bathroom?” Lucas asked, even though he knew what Taylor meant. The pain in his head started to ease. That was good.

“No, I mean since I left for Terra Nova.”

Lucas shrugged, quiet.

“Come on, talk to me,” Taylor demanded. “What’s new in your life?”

“Well, I came to Terra Nova yesterday, that’s still pretty new.”

“I know about that. Can’t you tell me something else?” Lucas shrugged. “What’s new with your work?”

“I was relocated from Chicago to Terra Nova.”

Taylor frowned, giving his son a look. “Lucas…”

“Dad…” Lucas replied in the same low tone.

“Will you tell me something I don’t know yet?” Lucas shrugged again. “My, are you in a chatty mood, aren’t you?”

Shrug.

“Oh, come on! Don’t you have anything to tell me?”

Lucas shook his head. “No.”

“So much love for your old man, huh?” Lucas did not even bother to shrug that time. “It’s been, what, almost five months for you since I left, right?” The boy gave a single nod. Taylor sighed. “Well, I don’t know if you heard, but when I walked through the portal, there was some sort of malfunction, and I ended up here completely alone for 118 days. So, to me, it’s been almost nine months now,” he told his son. He looked at his plate and cut off a piece of the omelet.

“Yeah, I heard,” was all Lucas said. Another throb of pain. And another. Lucas raised his hand to his temple. With mouth now full of food, Taylor looked up at him. Lucas quickly brushed his hair behind his ear, then lowered his hand as if that had been the reason he had raised it. He gazed down at the glass, tracing its side with his finger. He squirmed a little when he felt his father’s eyes still on him.

“You know,” Taylor spoke up after swallowing, “when I was here alone, I kept—”

“I didn’t ask.”

Taylor gave his son a look. “Okay, I can see that you don’t want to speak to me for some reason, but can’t you at least listen?”

“I’m not in the mood.” He was in the mood to lie down again. The sound of his father’s voice was making the throbbing worse.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Lucas lied, “I just don’t feel like chatting.”

“Why not?” Taylor asked.

Lucas shrugged. “Why do you want to chat, anyway?” he queried. He leaned forward and supported his head with his hand, seemingly bored. The throbbing was getting better again. “We never used to chat. Why start now?”

“Because we haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Taylor said. “We didn’t even get to talk over phone.”

“So?”

“Well, I missed you.”

Lucas snorted.

Taylor frowned.

“What?” Lucas said. “It’s only been, like, five months. That wasn’t so long. I’ll miss you when we haven’t seen each other for five years.”

The commander shook his head. He looked down at his plate. While he was cutting the omelet, Lucas lowered his hand and stole another grape. “Hey!” Taylor glared at him. The son chewed slowly, grimacing once again. “You know you shouldn’t eat that.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m hungry,” Lucas said, the fruit still in his mouth.

“That’s what you have this for,” Taylor said, picking up Lucas’s glass and putting it back down.

Lucas swallowed, then took another one of his father’s grapes. “Good lord, this is bad,” he complained after biting down on it. He reached out and grabbed two more. Taylor just stared at him. Lucas stuffed them into his mouth, even though he had not yet swallowed the one he had taken before.

Taylor shook his head in disbelief. “Then why are you eating it?”

“Don’t want the milk,” Lucas mumbled, his mouth full of grapes.

“Why not?”

Lucas raised his hand, then pointed at his mouth, wordlessly asking his father to wait. After a few seconds, he finally swallowed—only to take another grape. He grimaced through the whole process, but that did not stop him from repeating it.

Taylor could not help but laugh at the faces his son was pulling. “Come on,” he said, “why do you keep eating my grapes?”

“’Cause I like them.”

“You like them? Really?” Taylor asked incredulously. Lucas nodded, even though the scowl on his face as he ate said something else. “Like, a minute ago, you said they taste bad.”

Lucas nodded. “They do,” he told his father once he swallowed, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t like them.”

“Yes, it does,” Taylor said. “That is precisely what it means.”

“No, it doesn’t. ‘Bad’ means ‘not good.’ It doesn’t mean ‘unlikable.’”

“I think it’s kind of given that when something is bad, people don’t like it.”

Lucas gazed down. “Well,” he muttered under his breath (quietly enough for Taylor not to understand), “people seem to like you.” That was a sure proof of the fact people could, in fact, like bad things. Or bad people. Unless it was because people just didn’t know the commander was bad—

“What did you say?” Taylor’s voice interrupted Lucas’s thoughts.

“Oh, nothing. Just that you have a different dictionary than I do,” the boy lied. He grabbed another grape, leaving only two on Taylor’s plate.

The father sighed. “You know, drinking that would help you get used to the local food,” he said, glancing at the milk.

“That milk tastes as bad as this, I don’t see the point.”

“It’s the enzymes or something that make it taste so bad to you. This ‘milk’ is designed—”

“I don’t want the milk, okay?!” Lucas all but snapped, raising his voice and interrupting his father. The commander frowned. Lucas squirmed a little under the stern look he received, glancing down at the table to avoid the gaze. He was not in the mood for a lecture or an argument.

“What’s your problem with it?” Taylor inquired, studying Lucas with his eyes.

Lucas sighed. “I just don’t like it,” he claimed. It was not the whole truth, but it was not a whole lie, either. He really did not like its taste.

“I don’t care if you like it or not,” Taylor replied. “You’re going to drink your milk, and you’re not going to complain about it, understood?”

Lucas frowned. He reached out for Taylor’s plate again, but the older man quickly grabbed it. He held it up and away from his son’s reach. Lucas pouted like a sulking child, prompting Taylor to smirk. “Fine,” Lucas said. “Keep your food, you stingy… stinger. I’m not that hungry, anyway.”

“Hey, three days from now, you can steal as much of my food as you want, but for now, you’ve got your milk.”

Lucas crossed his arms. “I don’t want the milk.”

“Well, that’s too bad ’cause you’re going to have to drink it, anyway.” The commander put the plate down and proceeded to eat the last two of his grapes. Lucas was not entirely sure about it, but he thought he saw his father smirk for a moment, as if he was mocking him.

Taylor resumed eating the omelet. The young man stared at him in silence for a few seconds. He pushed the glass farther away from himself, then crossed his arms again.

Taylor gave his son a look. Without a word, he pushed the glass closer to Lucas.

Lucas pushed it back.

“Come on, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby, I just don’t like it.”

“Come on!” Taylor said. “Does it really taste that bad?”

“I don’t know…” Lucas shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”

“Lucas…”

“Dad.”

Taylor let out a breath. “Well, you’re going to have to drink this eventually.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And what are you going to do?” he asked. “Go on a hunger strike?”

Lucas shrugged. “Maybe.” Taylor gave his son a look. The youth just smirked and briefly raised his eyebrows as though he was challenging him.

Taylor shook his head. He was starting to get tired of his son’s defiance. “Lucas, just drink it.”

“No.”

“Drink it,” the commander repeated, his tone turning stern.

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care. Drink it.”

Lucas was quiet for a couple of seconds. Afterwards, he leaned forward. “Dad,” he spoke up, “do you know how old I am now?”

“Eighteen,” Taylor replied. “Almost nineteen.”

“Do you know what that means?”

Taylor sighed, already knowing he would not agree with whatever answer Lucas would give him. “Enlighten me.”

“It means I’m an adult,” Lucas explained, “which means that I don’t have to listen to you anymore. I can do whatever I want.”

Taylor nodded, even though he was about to disagree. “Well,” he replied, “as long as you’re living under my roof, you are going to listen to what I say, son.”

“Fine, I’ll move out,” Lucas responded matter-of-factly, as though it would not have been a big deal.

“Oh, and where are you going to go, genius?” Taylor asked.

“I don’t know.” Lucas shrugged. “Anywhere.”

“Of course…”

“You think I can’t live on my own? I’ve been living that way for the last two years.”

“No,” Taylor told him, chuckling, “that’s not what I’m saying. But, you see, there are really not enough houses in Terra Nova, so unless you’re planning on living in the jungle…” He chuckled again.

Lucas frowned, seemingly insulted. “What, you don’t think I could live there?”

“No,” Taylor replied, “I really don’t.”

“Didn’t you live there alone for, like, four months?”

“Yes, but—”

“Well, then why couldn’t I live there?”

Taylor just gave Lucas a look.

“What? Why couldn’t I?”

“Because there are dinosaurs out there?” Taylor said, raising his tone at the end to show the answer was obvious.

Instead of understanding the danger, Lucas seemed to shrug it off. “So? You survived those.”

“Yeah, but let me tell you,” Taylor said, picking up a piece of omelet with his fork, “it wasn’t easy. Not something anyone could handle.”

“Oh, I see,” Lucas said and nodded. While Taylor ate, Lucas bit his lower lip. “So, in your eyes, I am just ‘anyone.’” The young man snorted. “Geez, Dad, stop overestimating me…” he said sarcastically.

Taylor shook his head. Once he swallowed, he said, “You’re not ‘just anyone,’ but—”

“Then why couldn’t I handle it?” Lucas cut in.

“Because you’re not a soldier, son,” Taylor answered. Lucas glanced aside. “You’re a peanut.”

Lucas furrowed his brows upon hearing that. “Peanut? Again?”

“Always,” Taylor said, sending his son a strangely fond smile.

Lucas stared down at the glass of milk in order to stop himself from returning the smile. “Well,” he said after a couple of seconds, “I am not a peanut. I am an adult, which is why I don’t need to do or drink anything I don’t want to.”

“No, see, that is precisely why you’re not an adult,” the father claimed. “If you were, you would understand that drinking that milk is going to help you, and you’d drink it. But instead you’re acting like a sick child who doesn’t want to take his medicine just ’cause it’s ‘icky.’”

Lucas shook his head. “No, if I were a child, I would listen to what you say—”

Taylor gave a laugh. “When did you ever?”

Lucas frowned, pressing his tongue against his cheek. “…but because I’m an adult,” he continued, “I can make my own decisions. And while I do understand this milk is designed to help, I also know it’s not necessary, which is why I’m not going to bother drinking it.”

“Oh, you’re going to drink that milk.”

Lucas leaned back and stared at his father. “You can’t make me.”

“Can’t I?”

“What are you going to do? Ground me if I refuse?” he asked. “You can’t do that anymore ’cause I’m not a child.”

Taylor gave a shrug. “Well, maybe I could just pour it down your throat myself,” he suggested matter-of-factly.

“Oh, please! You wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, I will if you don’t drink it on your own,” the commander claimed.

“I won’t,” Lucas insisted. “And neither will you.”

Taylor gave his son a stern look. The boy’s own stare did not falter at all. Instead, he crossed his arms, then briefly raised his eyebrows. The commander straightened out his posture. Lucas smirked. “Last warning, Lucas,” Taylor said. “Drink the milk.”

Without a word, Lucas uncrossed his arms and pushed the glass farther away.

“Fine.” Taylor stood up. He picked the glass up and stepped over to his son.

Lucas seemed surprised by that. He chuckled nervously, looking at his father with disbelief in his eyes. “Are you serious?”

No. He was not. But he figured the threat of being serious might make Lucas cave. “I told you,” Taylor said, suppressing a laugh to keep his voice steady, “either you’ll drink it on your own, or I’ll pour it down your throat. Now open your mouth.”

Lucas watched him for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not bluffing,” Taylor lied. “Open your mouth. Wide, I don’t want to spill it on the ground.”

Lucas tried to grab the glass, but his father held it away from his reach. “Give it!” he all but whined.

“Are you going to drink it on your own?” Taylor asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“Open your mouth, Lucas.”

Keeping his mouth shut, the boy stared at his father. The expression on the soldier’s face seemed serious.

“Do I have to open it by force?” Taylor asked.

Lucas really was not sure anymore if his father would do so or not. In the end, he decided not to risk it. “All right, fine!” he said. “I’ll drink it. Geez…”

Taylor smiled. “Here you go,” he said, handing Lucas the glass. Reluctantly and with a frown on his face, Lucas held the glass up to his lips—but did not drink. He looked up at his father, who was still hovering above him. Somehow, the man seemed even taller than Lucas remembered him being. Sighing in defeat, Lucas finally took a sip. He grimaced when the liquid touched his tongue, but his father grinned and went to sit back down. “See?” the old man said. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s terrible. Stupid milk…” Lucas grumbled. He drank a mouthful, then put the glass down and scowled. The taste was making him feel sick. “Ugh! I’ve only been here a day, and you’re already making me hate this place.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t mean that.”

He meant it. He definitely meant it. But he opted not to say that. Instead he drank another mouthful and prayed for the strength to keep it down.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

Taylor finished his meal, and Lucas begrudgingly drank the remainder of his milk. Taylor insisted he show his son around the small colony as he had suggested earlier. He waited for Lucas to unpack and brush his teeth (Lucas was disappointed to discover that even water tasted funny to him). The boy also needed to take a shower since he had fallen asleep before doing so the previous night. Only about ten minutes in (fifteen minutes at most for sure), Taylor was knocking on the bathroom door, calling Lucas and telling him to hurry. Lucas gritted his teeth, leaning his forehead against the wall in an effort to calm himself down. He had not missed his father’s ‘hurry up in there’ when they had been living separately. He had not missed it at all.

Finally, having left the shower and put on clean clothes, Lucas was ready to go.

They stepped out of the house. Lucas had to squint at the bright sunshine coming from above. And the air… The air outside was even fresher, cleaner than inside.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Taylor said, looking around. “So much green everywhere…”

At least he assumed the air was fresher out there; all he knew for certain was that it stung enough to make him cough, albeit mildly. Lucas cleared his throat to hide the cough from his father. “Yeah, a whole buttload of it,” he muttered in response to what his father had said. He knew his father would not like the word (then again, that might have been a good thing—it would divert Taylor’s attention from that little cough of his), but he was grumpy. Not only because he was sick, but also because he was not looking forward to spending more time with his ‘I’m high and everything is great’ (which had scared him a little as he had not expected it), ‘I’ll pour things down your throat if you don’t hurry up’ (which had made him angry even though he had expected it) father.

Taylor frowned. “A buttload?”

“What?” Lucas shrugged. “I could have used a worse word than that, you know?”

Then he heard a screech. He looked up, only to find two giant bird-like creatures soaring above the jungle, not too far the fence. “Holy…”

“Watch your tongue, young man,” Taylor reminded.

“I wasn’t going to finish that,” Lucas defended himself. He looked back at the birds (which were not actually birds—not that Lucas was aware of that). He knew it. He knew there would be birds in Terra Nova. And birds could fly over the fence… “Those are big.”

Taylor smiled. “Majestic, huh?”

“Could they attack us?” Lucas asked, shifting weight on his feet.

“No, don’t worry. We’re a little too big prey for them. They eat fish from the nearby lakes.”

“I wasn’t worried,” the youth lied—and Taylor knew it. The father gave a chuckle, then asked Lucas to follow him as he set off.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

They walked for about five minutes before they came up to the square behind the main gate. A couple of stalls were nearby; Taylor explained there was a market, but since it was Sunday morning, the vendors were not there yet. The commander showed Lucas the place where he would work (a nice, clean place with just enough space for all his equipment, he supposed) as well as the infirmary (“In case you ever need it—let’s hope not,” Taylor said), which happened to be in the same building.

“Come on, I’ll show you my office now,” Taylor said. Lucas sighed. “You know, I think you might be surprised by how nice it is.”

It turned out to be up in that funny-looking wooden hut. While they were still on the stairs, Lucas heard muffled voices coming from above. Taylor entered, exchanging a greeting with the people inside. Lucas stayed in the doorway, taking note of the people in there: Lieutenant Washington as well as two military men he did not recognize.

“Hey there,” Wash said to him.

“Hi,” Lucas replied, while his eyes scanned the room. It did not take long before he noticed the centerpiece of the office.

“This is my son, Lucas,” Taylor said to the two men Lucas did not know. The two said hello to the boy, but Lucas was too busy to listen—busy staring open-mouthed at a giant dinosaur skull with a glass panel on top of it. Taylor noticed what his son was looking at and smiled. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“What is that?” Lucas asked when he found his voice.

“That’s my desk,” Taylor explained. “I found the skull nearby. I figured it would look neat in here. What do you think?”

“That…” Lucas finally entered the room, taking a couple of steps towards the table. “Okay, I hate to say this, but… this is the coolest desk I have ever seen.”

Taylor chuckled. “Why do you hate to say that?”

“Because it’s yours and not mine.”

“I see.” The man gave a laugh.

Lucas slowly walked over to the chair that stood behind the table. He traced the glass panel’s frame with his finger, gently, carefully, as though he was afraid it might break. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Washington started talking to his father; he did not listen to the conversation, focusing his attention on the piece of furniture. He knew his father was like a king of the colony, but he had not expected his father to own something so extraordinary. He had not seen much of the colony, but he was sure there was no other table like that anywhere. It really amazed him. The only thing it was missing was an actual throne behind it instead of a regular chair, which paled in comparison with the desk.

The young man looked up at the four soldiers. They seemed to be engaged in a conversation about… something important he did not care about in the slightest, surely. Taking advantage of the fact their attention was not directed toward him, he silently pushed the chair back and took a seat. He smiled. Somehow, just sitting behind the desk felt empowering. He touched the glass with his hands, then folded his arms on it.

The chair, while not as cool-looking as the desk, was actually really comfortable. After a moment, Lucas leaned back. He glanced up at his father, but the man was still talking to his soldiers. The kid grinned. Pushing the chair back just a little bit, he lifted his feet off the ground and put them up on the desk. Oh, it was glorious! Comfy chair, awesome table, feet up… He felt as though he could spend the rest of his life in that very spot. He did not understand why his father ever bothered leaving the place. With a content smile on his lips, Lucas closed his eyes. He could easily fall asleep in that chair, he was sure of it. It wouldn’t—

“Hey!” his father’s raised voice interrupted the moment of rest and glory he was having. The young man’s eyes snapped open. “I’m glad you like my desk, but get your feet off it. Now!”

Lucas looked at him with eyes resembling a puppy dog. “But this is so comfy!”

“I don’t care. Put them down.”

Frowning, Lucas did as he was told. “Killjoy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Listen,” Taylor said, “there’s something I need to go take care of now. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Lucas gave a slow nod, knowing that Taylor saying so meant that he would, in fact, be gone long.

“You remember the way back to the house, right? Or maybe you can go look around the colony on your own if you want.”

At that moment, Lucas got an idea. Fighting back a smile, he said, “Or maybe I could just wait for you here.” Taylor narrowed his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t want to get lost, you know, going somewhere…” His father eyed him, but Lucas feigned innocence. “What?”

“Fine,” the commander told him, “you can stay. I’ll be back soon.”

‘You won’t,’ Lucas thought, but he did not mind. If anything, he was glad. The four soldiers turned away from him and went toward the door. Lucas watched them leave—and as soon as they did, he grinned and put his feet back up on the desk.

Three seconds later, Taylor came back.

Lucas put his feet down, but it was too late. His father had seen him. “I—”

“I knew it!” Taylor said, going over to his son. “I knew that was why you wanted to stay. Come on, I’m taking you back to the house.”

“No, come on!”

“Well, I’m not leaving you with my desk. You’re dishonoring it.”

“I promise I won’t put my feet up again.”

Taylor frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Please!” Lucas gave his father the most adorable puppy eyes he managed to make.

“You promise?”

“I promise! My feet will stay on the ground the whole time,” he claimed. “I just like this place and want to stay here. And I really don’t want to risk getting lost.”

“Fine,” Taylor said. “But keep your feet down. This is a nice desk, and it deserves respect.”

Lucas nodded. “I completely agree. I don’t know what I was thinking when I put them up before.”

“Mm-hm. You’re going to put them up as soon as I leave, aren’t you?”

“No, I’ll wait for a few seconds in case you come back again,” Lucas admitted. Taylor scowled. “Hey, you want to take me back to the house? Fine. I know the way here, I can come back on my own.”

Taylor smacked Lucas’s head; it was only symbolic and did not hurt, but Lucas still let out a small “ow.”

“Keep your feet down, smarty-pants.” After those words, Taylor left. Contrary to Lucas’s expectation, he did not come back a few seconds later to check if the boy listened. He probably realized there was no use.

When a whole minute passed, Lucas leaned back, clasped his hands behind his head and put his feet up on the amazing dino-desk. It felt really comfortable…

((Continue here))

#forte #I’m tempted to change my subtitle #that thing written under the title when you go to my blog #the one that says “I’m a loner who…”#well now I’m tempted to change it into “Bad does not mean unlikable.”#which is paraphrased and not an exact quote but whatever #I’m not sure if I should keep the quote I have a change it into this #maybe I’ll keep it and instead make an edit or a gifset with the new quote #I don’t know #also holy crap at one point when I was writing I cut one paragraph #because I wanted to paste it to another place in the document #but when I pressed CTRL and V Word suddenly stopped working #and after a while it started running again #but the paragraph was pasted there like 300 times #what happened Word?#fortunately I only had to press CTRL and Z once to delete all 300 pasted paragraphs #OP #fan fiction #this post was brought to you by: the OOC person

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kenney-mencher · 7 years ago

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Why you might not want to work with galleries

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. It’s whether or not I should work with galleries. I really don’t want to sound like sour grapes but I do believe that for most artists it’s a bad idea to work with galleries. There are exceptions to this rule and I want to explore them here. Let me begin by saying that I’m going up start with the negative aspects. The three main reasons why I think working with galleries might not work for most artists are economic, emotional, and career building.

The most rational thing to base my decision on is money. However, I want to point out in the beginning that the main reason is really economic. I’m 52 years old and I’ve been showing with galleries for around 25 years or so. With the exception of two or three incidents I have never made back the majority of the money that I’ve invested in any one gallery show. This includes group shows.

Let me lay out the finances for you in my situation. For the last 10 to 15 years each year I’ve sold somewhere in the range of $20-$30,000 worth of artwork. In the last two years I’ve been able to say that I’ve been able to pocket two thirds of this money. This is because in the last several years I started selling my work on line through several venues which include, etsy.com, eBay, Amazon, and several other venues. I’ve found that the most successful venue has Etsy.com.

Before this, I’ve had shows in some really reputable galleries that include, Karen Jenkins Johnson in San Francisco, Klaudia Marr in Santa Fe, as well as several galleries in Dallas and other parts of the country. Those are just the most reputable. I don’t want to trash talk the galleries that’s not what this is about. I do however have tons of horror stories about working with galleries.

The empirical evidence is that whenever I’ve had a gallery show I have ended up spending almost all of the money that I made from sales in that gallery on the following, shipping the art, helping with gallery promotions such as catalogs and postcards, and travel expenses. I am leaving out the costs that involve making the art including the art supplies. In each instance I usually sold between 2 to 7 works of art and sometimes these works of art went for as much as $5000. So my art was not cheap and sometimes on a show I would sell around $10-$15,000 worth of work. Sounds good doesn’t it? But it wasn’t. The gallery, which is standard took 50% on each sale. I don’t begrudge the gallery because they are paying overhead expenses and their investing in me. That would leave me with around $7000 left. Shipping art to a gallery especially out-of-state can cost as much as $1000-$2000. So now I’m down to about $4000 that I’m putting in my pocket. Next factor in airfare if it’s out of town and hotels. I think you get the point. At the end of the year I got hit with taxes.

I want to bring up one notable exception to this. It took me about five years of work but I completed a graphic novel and each one of the panels was a separate watercolor. Just after I retired a community gallery in Tracy California, whose directors named Will Wilson, contacted me and offered me a show. Included in the show was a stipend, which was pretty considerable, as well as extra money for painting a mural and they took care of most of the other costs. This even included a hotel if I wanted. So I walked away from that show with a considerable profit. Thank you William Wilson!

So even though it looked like I was a successful selling artist I was only really pocketing at the most, and this includes studio sales around $8000 at the end of the year. I am so lucky I had a tenured teaching position at a community college. In fact, I use my art career as a write-off at the end of every year to decrease the taxes I pay. At the time, I was making about 110,000 year teaching at a community college. My wife and I are not big spenders and I managed to put aside the ton of money in retirement which I won’t touch till I’m 62 or 63 in 10 years. At the age of 52 now I have “retired” and I paint full-time because for the last five years or so I was able to figure out my finances well enough by selling work online that I can afford to paint full-time.

Okay so I think I’ve laid out my more pragmatic or economic reasons for not working with galleries. Your company emotional ones.

Again I don’t want to sound like someone who’s overly negative or complaining about specific galleries, although I could tell you some horror stories but that would make me look like an kind of Dick. So let me talk about it in the most general ways I can.

In the most basic way working with the gallery is a collaboration between the artist and the gallery director. Gallery directors have a different point of view about what kinds of art the artist should make and also what kind of shows should be offered in the gallery. It’s their right they own the gallery. This kind of stuff, and it really makes a lot of artists very bitchy, can really add up by the time you get to the opening reception. Especially if the artist is bit of a prima donna. I also know this from personal point of view because I ran a gallery for about five years at Ohlone college in Fremont and believe me artists are really tough to work with often have an attitude that far exceeds the quality of their work. So this is not a slam on any particular gallery director it’s just pointing out that collaboration is really hard and can lead to a lot of hurt feelings and conflict.

Emotionally, I’ve also personalized the lack of sales at galleries because I have seen the gallery director what I consider to be fumble a sale or not make enough effort. Whether or not this is true, in my subjective perception that is how I felt. And you have to think that most artists are going to personalize the experience of showing their work because the artwork is themselves. So let me just say I feel that a lot of gallery directors have not sold work when I thought they could and I’ve had a strong emotional reaction to that. Many of the artists that I’ve talked to often describe an angry or irritable relationship with the gallery directors who represent them. Often, I am surprised by the vitriol and anger that some of the artist will express about gallery directors even though I think the gallery director has worked really hard and is a good person. They mean you no harm in fact they’d like to help you but often we as artists have bad reactions to stuff.

Here’s another kind of drag emotionally about galleries and that has to do with gallery receptions. Unless you really like a party and you like art receptions and find it really easy to talk to people, gallery receptions are a nightmare for people who have a hard time being the center of attention and or have any kind of social deficits and problems. That type person is me. You wouldn’t know about it reception because I appear to be very outgoing and I also know how to schmooze people. However, inside I am just crawling with anxiety. My armpits are soaked my suit jacket. My little bald head is sweating. The experience is a total freak out for me and I really don’t like it.

That brings us to the next and final idea of why I think what you shouldn’t work with the gallery. I’m in a basic on my experiences and I will also bring in the experiences of two or three other artists and their stories. I will not name the artists to protect the innocent.

Case study number one. This artist is way better than me and managed to wrangle an exclusive contract with a very important gallery that worked with some other “blue-chip” types of artists. The experience that this artist described in terms of whether or not that gallery built this artist career is that it didn’t. The gallery had promised to promote this person’s work, take care of expenses, and you have the artist really did have some nice shows and was able to do some cool stuff at the gallery but according to them they didn’t: a profit and over coffee the artist was constantly complaining about the lack of promotion and the lack of empathy gallery had. In short, the gallery promised to represent this artist and to really promote them and make them into being is important artist and they didn’t. I’m not blaming anyone, this gallery actually have to shut down even those pretty famous.

Case study number two. During the studio visit to an artist studio while I was director of the school’s art gallery, again over coffee and during the visit, one artist complained about the gallery that they’re working with for nearly 2 hours. I don’t begrudge the artist, the I guess I do a little bit, but the gallery according to this artist didn’t sell enough of the artists work even though they sold everything they made and often cock blocked them when they had studio sales and wants as a percentage of the profits from the studio sale. I don’t really know what the reality is because my experience of the gallery in general was pretty positive because I also showed with them. However, I understood how the artist felt.

Both of these artists, in my opinion, are top shelf artists. Honestly, they are so good that I’m jealous of their work and yet the gallery itself didn’t really, or wasn’t able to because they didn’t have the juice, to make their career. In fact one of the artists has gone off on their own and has been getting shows all over the world and has started their own organization and is doing fairly well by promoting their own work. They are still going to gallery root however, they don’t have an exclusive contract with a so-called important gallery again. I think they’re happier for it.

Okay, I have a lot more experience and a lot of anecdotes that I could share to back up all of my observations, but I do want to make one sort of positive comments about working with galleries.

Occasionally, galleries really to make an artist’s career. Historically, there artists like Picasso and Basquiat who have had very fruitful and excellent experiences working with impresarios and art galleries that have given them salaries and promoted them as artists and literally made their career at times. Art history is full of these notable exceptions. Perhaps some of the artists that I really appreciate, such as Bo Bartlett and Macolm Liepke, have had some really good experiences with galleries and have had come out to be a career building experience for them. I do think that in the contemporary world now, because of the egalitarian nature of the Internet and the fact that people can buy stuff online, this might be less possible. I’d love to hear your opinion.

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cookinguptales · 8 years ago

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AHHHHH I love your writing and your opinions, you just seem like such a cool person

OH this does have a heart! weird, it wasn’t in the notif I got. ah well, whatever, here’s a valentine! It’s karabita because lbr I think that’s what 90% of my anons are here for! If you don’t like karabita, thennn idk send me another ask with some instructions haha.

(look, did I promise anyone a good valentine? no, I promised people ugly valentines made in free programs, and I promised bad puns.)

PS THANK YOU YOU SOUND SWEET TOO I just said that people should send me hearts BUT PEOPLE ARE FILLING MY INBOX WITH SWEET NOTHINGS ;o; my followers are perf

I just wanted to see if I could go more sugary sweet than the last one and SPOILERS I sure as heck can! (I’m so sorry.)

There was one thing to know about Matsuno Karamatsu, and this was key — if a person was fool enough to fall in love with him, they had to learn to roll with the punches. Life with Karamatsu was a roller coaster, up and down, good and bad, sweet and sour in turn. And after twenty-odd years of friendship, two years of dating, and a year and a half of marriage, well. Chibita liked to believe that he was prepared for anything and everything.

Valentine’s Day in particular was a trial. Even after all this time, Karamatsu still seemed to think that Chibita needed to be swept off his feet. Or rather, Karamatsu still believed he deserved to be. It was hard to stay mad when he put it like that, even when he set fire to the bed or got lost in the Amazon rain forest or crash landed a heart-shaped hot air balloon into their apartment building. (They really had needed to upgrade to a bigger place, but Chibita would have liked to have parted on kinder terms with the landlord.) Yeah. V-Day was hard.

So when Chibita walked into their home that evening, knowing full well that Karamatsu had asked him to close up early, he was going over the list of emergency phone numbers in his head. It never hurt to be prepared. But there was no blood. No frightened animals. No scent of singed hair on the evening breeze. Just Karamatsu, standing there in their living area and smiling at him. He’d poured wine — no doubt that ungodly sweet stuff that was only half a step above grape juice — and had cleared space in the center of the living area. He was wearing clothes, though, and not even that tight leather stuff that Chibita had once pulled a muscle getting him out of. So it wasn’t some kind of terrifying experimental sex that he wanted to try. Again.

(Chibita had actually quite liked that one.)

“So what’s this?” Chibita asked, stepping inside and setting aside the flowers he’d brought home for later. They could probably wait until after Karamatsu was so excited about.

Karamatsu rocked up onto his heels and looked utterly pleased with himself. “We’re going dancing,” he said.

“Dancing?” Chibita stopped short. Like, in front of people?

“Well,” Karamatsu said, likely interpreting the look of horror on Chibita’s face correctly, “We’re staying in and dancing.”

Staying in? That was a little better, at least. Still. Chibita frowned. “I don’t know how to dance.” At least, not in any kind of special, romantic way. He could hop up and down with the best of them, but that didn’t exactly take rhythm. Or grace.

“I know,” Karamatsu said, and wow, ouch. But he was still smiling, the silly thing. “That’s why I went to lessons. So I could teach you.”

If anything, Chibita’s frown just got deeper. “You went to dancing lessons?” Chibita asked. “Alone?” As in, without his husband? Was there someone out there that Chibita was going to have to kill?

“Don’t worry, my love,” Karamatsu said, walking forward and taking Chibita’s hands in his. “It was strictly business. I could never make such sweet music with anyone but you.”

The little ‘gross’ was on the tip of Chibita’s tongue, and a few years ago, he probably would’ve said it. But today he just went a little rosy and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So you danced with…”

Karamatsu shrugged. “Lots of people. They drew straws every week.”

“To decide who got to dance with you?” Chibita asked, raising an eyebrow.

Karamatsu’s gaze went distinctly shifty. “Something like that.” Ah. So they’d drawn straws to see who had to dance with him. That seemed a little more realistic.

Chibita felt his lips turn up, both unable and unwillingly to stop them, and he smiled at Karamatsu a little helplessly before he stood up on his toes to kiss him. “So?” he asked. “What’d you learn?”

Karamatsu’s expression went a little dreamy for a moment, one of the many hazards of kissing him, and it stayed that way until he managed to catch a kiss of his own. “I know that you put your hand here,” Karamatsu said, putting Chibita’s hand up on his shoulder, “and mine goes down here.”

It was a little awkward like that, Karamatsu’s hand on his waist. The height difference was just a lot. But no one else was around to see, were they? It was just the two of them. “Hmm,” Chibita said, pitching the hum a little playful. “Isn’t there supposed to be music for this?”

Karamatsu pulled his phone out of his pocket and waggled it back and forth. Not so high tech, but hey. Whatever worked. Karamatsu hit a button, and when he tucked his phone back into his pocket, there was a soft tune spilling from its speakers. It sounded old and it sounded foreign and it sounded a little bit like it was drifting in from a dream. Chibita liked it.

“And then you just step like — oof.”

Well, that part hadn’t gone well.

“Idjit!” Chibita said. “You have to tell me what to do before we do it!” Or else the two of them were gonna end up with a lot of bruises.

“Okay!” he said. “Okay. Just… Take your right — no, your other right, my right, that one—“

They made it one step this time, two steps, before they ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“You’re really heavy,” Chibita said with no real heat to his words, and gave him a little shove. Really, really heavy.

Karamatsu looked down at his middle a little self-consciously as he stood up. “Heavy?” he asked, extending a hand to Chibita.

Chibita took it. “Not, like… You’re fine, Karamatsu, that’s not what I meant,” he said, and fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain that he still showed Karamatsu how attracted to him he was on a very, very regular basis. “Just big.”

Karamatsu gave him a look that was wholly unimpressed. “Or you’re just small.”

And it really was a good thing that he paired that with another kiss, an absolutely spine-melting one. Otherwise Chibita definitely would have had to give him what-for. Eventually.

He pulled back, simultaneously too late and too soon for Chibita’s peace of mind. It was just a bit, though, and Chibita still fit so nice in his arms, and he was still so warm. Chibita leaned his head forward so he could rest his forehead against his chest and smell the fresh beginnings of exertion. The soft strains of an old song were still drifting through the air, and Chibita felt his heart beat in time with the music. “Maybe we could just… Y’know, like this?” he asked.

Above him, he heard Karamatsu make a very put-out noise. “But I learned the steps.”

“Fuck the steps.”

“It was just one little fall. I fell lots of times in class.”

“I bet,” Chibita said, and muffled his snickers in Karamatsu’s soft, soft shirt. He’d always liked this shirt. Good for snuggling. “But would you rather fall, or would you rather dance with me?”

Karamatsu didn’t say anything for a moment. Just breathed in and out with the music and rubbed his fingertips soft against Chibita’s sides. Then he pulled Chibita in close, even closer, and rested his lips against his scalp. “Just like this, then.”

And just like that, hugging, swaying, probably looking like absolute fools, Chibita felt his heart beat sweet in his chest. For all his idiosyncrasies, Karamatsu had always, always been able to give him that. “Love you,” Chibita murmured, and words that had scared him shitless not that long ago now felt just right as they left his lips.

He felt Karamatsu swallow. “I love you, too, my darling. More than anything.”

And hell, Chibita knew that was probably just about the truth. He was certainly at least tied for first place. Karamatsu had definitely at least wreaked havoc on some poor unsuspecting dance instructor for him. And maybe later, when the air wasn’t smooth as silk and heavy as honey, when Chibita could stand to let go of him again, when the music had gone quiet and Chibita had finished showing him exactly how much he appreciated these quietly sweet plans, maybe then Karamatsu could show him a few moves.

In the meantime, though. In the meantime. Chibita sighed and tucked his nose in against Karamatsu’s breast. In the meantime, he was fine right here.

At least until Karamatsu cleared his throat. “Can I still dip you?”

#karabita #vday fics #fic stuff #these are just getting ridiculous

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yesabbylouise-blog · 8 years ago

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100 Questions about me ❤️😇

If numbers skip, it cause I didn't want to answer those questions, so I deleted them. 1: Is there a boy/girl in your life? Yes.❤️ 2: Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them? Yes. I forgive easily. 3: What do you think of when you hear the word “meow?” A cat 4: What’s something you really want right now? Chinese & a hug 5: Are you afraid of falling in love? Always. 6: Do you like the beach? Yes. 7: Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else? Yes. 8: What’s the background on your cell? Me holding hands with my best friend Esmi & palm trees. 9: Name the last four beds you were sat on? Mine, my moms, Esmi's & Courtney's 10: Do you like your phone? Eh. It has cracks. But, it works and I have one so I'm luckier then most people. 11: Honestly, are things going the way you planned? With life, no. Haha. 12: Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? My friend Molly 13: Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler? Poodle 14: Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? Emotional 15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? Zoo 16: Are you tired? Always. 17: How long have you known your 1st phone contact? Since birth 18: Are they a relative? Yes. 19: Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? No. 20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? Last night. 21: If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? No. Too young, not ready. 22: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? No. It was a mistake. 23: How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None. 24: Is there a certain quote you live by? "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." 25: What’s on your mind? A lot. 26: Do you have any tattoos? No, but I do kind of want one. A small one. 27: What is your favorite color? Aqua Blue 28: Next time you will kiss someone on the lips? Who knows. Probs a long while. 29: Who are you texting? Nobody. Everyone is sleeping. 30: Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch? No. 31: Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right? Yes. 32: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? Yes. 33: Do you think anyone has feelings for you? I know of one person For SURE. 34: Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? Yes. All the time actually. 35: Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you? Good for them. 36: Were you single on Valentines Day? Since 7th grade, yeah. 😂 37: Are you friends with the last person you kissed? Yeah. 38: What do your friends call you? Abbz & Abigail (even though I hate that) 39: Has anyone upset you in the last week? Yes. 40: Have you ever cried over a text? Yes. 41: Where’s your last bruise located? My leg 42: What is it from? No idea honestly. 43: Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad? Just like 2 days ago. 44: Who was the last person you were on the phone with? Esmi 45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes? No. I wear whatever I'm comfortable with and that look nice. 46: Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day? No. I own my bad hair days. 47: Would you ever go bald if it was the style? Yes. If my friend got cancer I would rock it with her. For sure. 48: Do you make supper for your family? Nope. I don't really have anyone besides my mom and we usually eat out. 49: Does your bedroom have a door? Yes. 50: Top 3 web-pages? Facebook, Tumblr, & my online school 51: Do you know anyone who hates shopping? No. 52: Does anything on your body hurt? My head always hurts. 53: Are goodbyes hard for you? Yes. 54: What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? Coffee 55: How is your hair? In a bun, cause I should be asked. 56: What do you usually do first in the morning? Check my phone 57: Do you think two people can last forever? Yes. 58: Think back to January 2007, were you single? No. 59: Green or purple grapes? Purple. Green is sour. 60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug? Probably tomorrow. I love hugs!!! 61: Do you wish you were somewhere else right now? Yeah. 62: When will be the next time you text someone? In the morning. 63: Where will you be 5 hours from now? In my bed still. 64: What were you doing at 8 this morning. Sleeping 65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked? A guy named Austin 66: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile? Yes. 4 people. 67: Did you kiss or hug anyone today? Yes. 68: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? "I hope my mom is going to be okay." 69: Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? Yes. Usually often I put too much of myself into things and they get out of hand and I ruin things. 70: How many windows are open on your computer? 3. Facebook, Tumblr & YouTube 71: How many fingers do you have? 5 on each hand, 10 (; 72: What is your ringtone? Closer - Chainsmokers 73: How old will you be in 5 months? Still 18 74: Where is your mom right now? Sleeping peacefully, hopefully in her room. 75: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love? Because I can't trust him enough. He played me hard and the trust just got lost. 76: Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? Yes. 77: Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? Yes. 78: Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7? Cody Blair & Jesse Kaelberer 79: Is there anyone you know with the name Mike? Yes. My dad and an Xbox buddy! 80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms? Yes. 81: How many people have you liked in the past three months? 2 82: Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days? No.. I don't think so. 83: Will you talk to the person you like tonight? Haha. I hope so. I would like to think we could talk all day! 84: You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with? Esmi, Courtney, Nae-Nae, Danny, Kylee, Austin.. Uhh my besties. ❤️ 85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care? I mean, if it got out of hand, yes. But I have done some twice, and I don't find myself really into it anymore. But I sure can't judge no. 86: What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie? The movie? 87: Who was your last received call from? Esmi 88: If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? No! :( 89: What is something you wish you had more of? Confidence 90: Have you ever trusted someone too much? Sadly, yeah. 91: Do you sleep with your window open? Sometimes. 92: Do you get along with girls? Yes. 93: Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? No. I don't think so. 94: Does sex mean love? No. Love is deeper than sex. 95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem? No. We wouldn't do anything but talk. 96: Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? No. 97: Did you sleep alone this week? No. I slept with my friends and my mom. Tonight I am alone. Finally. Blanket hogs (; 98: Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you? Yes. 99: Do you believe in love at first sight? No. 100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise? I honestly have no idea. But I made a swear vow with some friends at a party that we wouldn't tell things. * 1. Last kiss - Austin * 2. Last phone call - Esmi * 3. Last text message - brother * 4. Last song you listened to - shape of you - ed sheeran * 5. Last time you cried - yesterday * HAVE YOU EVER: * 6. Dated someone twice - Yes *roll eye emoji* * 7. Been cheated on - yes * 8. Self harmed - yes * 9. Lost someone special - yes * 10. Been depressed - yes * 11. Been drunk and threw up - nope 😇 * THIS YEAR HAVE YOU: * 12. had sex - no. I'm a virgy! * 13. How many people have you had sex with this year? None. I'm a child of God. * 15. Made a new friend - tons! * 17. Laughed until you cried - oh yeah! * 18. Met someone who changed you - yeah. :) * 19. Found out who your true friends were - yeah * 20. Found out someone was talking about you - yeah * 26. What did you do for your last Birthday - went to a fancy dinner buffet at Mystic Lake and gambled! * 27. What time did you wake up today - 10:40ish * 29. Name something you CANNOT wait for - graduation * 30. Last time you saw your all of your siblings at the same time - today * 31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life - not be so depressed all the time and to live a little * 32. What are you listening to right now - my fan making noises * 33. When is the last time you had sex? I haven't had sex yet. * 34. Who's getting on your nerves right now - no one. * 35. Most visited webpage - tumlr * 36. Favorite colour - aqua blue * 37. Nicknames - Abbz or peanut * 38. Relationship Status - single but not available * 39. Zodiac sign - aquarius * 40. Male or female - female * 44. Eye color - grayish blue * 46. Height - 5'3" * 47. Do you have a crush on someone - Yes❤️😇 * 48. What do you like about yourself - I'm easy to talk too and approach! * 49. Piercings - Ears * 50. Tattoos - no but I want one * 51. Righty or lefty Righty * FIRSTS: * 53. First piercing - my ears * 54. First best friend - my mom * 55. First hookup - I'm a virgin * 56. First Bestfriend: my mom? * RIGHT NOW: * 59. Eating: nothing * 60. Drinking: nothing * 61. I'm about to: go to sleep * 62. Listening to: my fan making noises * 63. Waiting for: this to be done * YOUR FUTURE: * 64. Want kids? Eventually. * 65. Get married? Yeah. * 66. Career: Nurse or Mental health counselor * WHICH IS BETTER: * 67. Lips or eyes: eyes * 68. Hugs or kisses: both!!! But hugs * 69. Shorter or taller: taller * 70. Older or Younger: younger * 71. Romantic or spontaneous: romantic * 72. Nice stomach or nice arms: neither really matter, but stomach. * 73. Sensitive or loud: loud * 74. Hook-up or relationship: relationship * HAVE YOU EVER: * 76. Kissed a stranger: no * 77. Drank hard liquor: yes * 78. Lost glasses/contacts: no * 79. Had sex: omg no * 80. Broken someone's heart: yes * 82. Been arrested: no * 83. Turned someone down: yes * 84. Cried when someone died: yes * 85. Fallen for a friend: yes * DO YOU BELIEVE IN: * 86. Yourself: yeah * 87. Miracles: yeah * 88. Love at first sight: no * 89. Heaven: yeah * 90. Santa Clause: omg yeaaaahhh.. (kidding) * 91. Kiss on the first date: if the moment feels right, goes with the flow, yeah! * 92. Angels: yes. * 93. How would you label yourself? dope asf' * 94. Someone You Pray Everyday For: I don't pray everyday, but if I did, everyone. * 95. Did you sing today: yess * 96. Who From All Your Ex's have You Cared The Most About: no really an ex but, Jayce * 97. If you could go back in time, how far would you go? 2001 * 98. Out Of Everything In The World What Do You Wish For: that my children have a great life and my parents get everything they deserve in life. * 99. Are you afraid of falling in love? Always. * 100. Do you like the way you look? Sometimes. But not really. I like my face & just not the chubby flubbery face and body.

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matt-skc-rp · 8 years ago

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Is This Love or Is It Pain?|| AU

TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE

Trisha was sitting on the kitchen floor in the Theta house, she had grown to like it there because no one, no matter how hard she cried or screamed, was coming out to catch her on the floor. She knew this video was going to be hard. Especially since the man she was making this video about was right upstairs. It all felt familiar, but this was just...she felt like nothing was real, and it was because of his...his everything.

Then why did she feel like this was her fault?

She thought back to the first time she had even seen the tall boy: long locks, cute glasses, those drop dead blue pools of his eyes. She like how he was just..there. He was so attractive with his book and his coffee. So lanky- particularly of a light muscular build- and his hands...wow, she was sweating. And it’s the middle of the Montana winter in the Rockys.

Matt was sitting down and reading his textbook as he looked at his phone for a second to text his sister. Texting Hollie was the only thing that was helping him cope with letting Rosanna go.

[Text Matt] You didn’t need her anywayy! She’s obvs a total basket case..

[Text Matt] Get someone else who’s better! I’m sure if you look you can find her!

“Hey handsome,” Trisha mustered with her best voice and managed a very believable smile, shifting her weight from side to side as she playing with a strand of her blonde hair. It caught Matt off guard and his head snapped up and swiveled up slowly as he looked at the cherubic, curvaceous figure in his face. She was very pretty and he liked what he saw, and the voice was something that caressed his ear and kissed it, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Her scent, sweet yet powerful with maturity, grabbed his nose and practically pushed his eyes past her bosom to see her face and the source of her voice.

“Why, hello, hello, hello...Might I say, you how to articulate yourself in ways that...stimulate the senses to the point where..god, I would have to be dead to turn away from such spoils you offer. However, you’re not a bunch of sour grapes from my haunches, oh no...You, my succulent fox, are reminiscent of a southern belle...a summer princess of heat,” he started as he stood, taking her hands, kissing the fingers.

“OOOooo! A southern belle? How so?” she giggled, nervous as well as excited for his words. He talked about her like a symphony, like a guy from a romance novel. It was almost suiting. A real man. A man willing to comfort her. Willing to take care of her. Willing to spoil her like a princess. He called her a princess. Her hand went up to her chest, she felt like it was going to beat out, showing how she really felt. This feeling was better than any drug that they put her on for anxiety and antidepressants...or that time she discovered herself.

“Look at you, you deserve to smile. You deserve to sip mint juleps and have huge, slightly gaudy lace dresses that adorn your body and make you into a lovely gem in the summer sun. Your lips should stay that light and plump, with a delicious shade of pink or whatever color looks best. Your hair should always flow from you, beautiful and yellow as the corn in the sunshine,” he said, smiling down at her.

She doesn’t remember blushing that hard in her whole life.

“Someone’s happy,” Ro pointed out as she picked through her salad, watching Trisha smile and look at her phone constantly.

“You have been glued to your phone this whole time! Who’s the new beau? Does he have money? A nice dick?” Joey asked from across the table as he pointed his fork at her. Trisha giggled and sighed as she put her phone facedown, “Is a video doing well?”

“Well...I maayy or may not have a really good guy in my life and he’s totally awesome,” Trisha shrilled, flipping her hair and pushing it behind her shoulders, “He just....oh my god, I dunno how to like, explain...but he’s just BAE!” she gushed as she put her hands on the table and rolled her eyes, realizing how bad she was feeling for this guy.

“Oooooo,” both Ro and Joey reply, before sipping their drinks.

“Well, you gonna gush all day or are you gonna tell us!? What’s he like? How’d you guys meet? He sounds like Relationship Goals, and I’m engaged!” Joey said, flashing his engagement ring again.

“Alright, alright, enough with the ring, Joey! I’ll...I’ll tell you,” she settled in as she shifted and twisted a strand of hair, then started telling the story of how they had met. Her eyes were so wide and bright, they looked like they were reflecting the light from the sun in the pattern’s like it’s a gemstone.

Ro’s face was trying to hide her intrigue, her jealousy. How dare she find someone so supportive and kind. To compliment her and hold her the way she asks, listens to her, cherishes her for all that she is, good and bad. The fact that he can speak, as she says “like Shakespeare”.......

Wait...like Shakespeare..? She wouldn’t have, she can’t be...

“And his name is Matt!” Trisha finished and Ro snapped back into reality, her heart actually having a small intense pang..her hands starting to sweat. “He’s so tall, and he has this cute ass tattoo on his shoulder and oohh..his eyes are to die for, a-and his brown hair...such a babe-”

“Stop,” Ro said, flatly, staring at her glass on the table, drawing Joey’s attention and Trisha did what she demanded.

“Ro, come on-” Joey started.

“No...why him?...” she asked, spaced out and strained, taking harder breaths, shaking her head, “He’s not-”

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold up. Ro, are you...jealous? Did you wanna date him? Did you used to date him? Ar-”

“He harassed me, and you’re talking about him like he’s someone different....H-He’s not! He made Mark leave me...” she started, Joey rushing to her side and standing her up, taking the napkin from her hands that she was wringing at first and was now tearing it apart. He walked the girl outside of the restaurant and Trisha was sat there confused, but sure that she’ll get all of the details later.

“Baby..”

“Hm?..What is it princess?” Matt asks as he towers over his lover, giving her a soothing back massage and running his hands up and down her back, sending body calming vibrations through her.

“Hmm...well I was having lunch with my friends today. And I think that they know you,” she said after humming from another tight area loosening.

“Who are your friends exactly? I may not know them, since I’m new, but I interacted with a select few in my short time here,” he said, switch to working motions, rhythmically massaging his thumbs into her back in areas.

“Well...oh yeah..um..It’s Ro...R-rosanna Pansino...a little lower baby..and Joey Graceffa,” she managed. Matt stopped for a couple seconds and took a deep breath as he continued, “You know them?”

“Yes..I do..I knew Rosanna. Well, I thought I did. I completely messed up with her. Made her uncomfortable, and the way I knew Joey was because she made him stand-in for her boyfriend or something...It’s fine, I know the truth now and I just want things to..stay where they are. She’s happy where she is and he’s happily engaged.”

“Well she’s not. Mark broke up with her after that whole..whatever you just said..She just hasn’t been okay since. You..didn’t cause that, did you?”

“No..no sweetheart. I...I wouldn’t think that what I did..would..change her whole relationship. He came to her aide, as a good boyfriend should. What..I said to her was that she’s not going like how her relationship is at the time, and I said it was going blow up in her face. She was so unsure and almost scared of her own relationship, and she just took whatever happens because there was this thing where she wanted to be in control and another where she was completely in submission to this..monster of a person, a person who hurts her, who doesn’t respect her choices and wishes..that she wasn’t allowed to be all of herself. She had been blinded by their love...and I,...well, a mere infatuation, unfortunately; however, fortunate for you. If you wanna look at it that way. I was so..I was hurting and unfocused and I leaned on her entirely too much. I got her stuck in my head, she is definitely a victim of my loneliness,” he explained, Trisha happily and uneasily listening.

“What did you do exactly that got you involved?” She asked, completely sitting up and turning over, her pleading eyes on her boyfriend, biting her lip a little.

“Well, it was Christmastime and I couldn’t afford to go back home to Alabama. I knew what was going to happen if I did go back that I didn’t want, but at the same time, I couldn’t fly my sisters out here to be with me for the holidays...Long story short I had gotten my hands on some hard eggnog and a bottle of Jack and..I sent nudes to like all of the girls I had numbers to that I had just met here. I started arguing with Rosanna first, before I sent it to her about her life and how she was shielding me from it, like some dumb dirty secret, or something that she wanted to keep at arm’s reach. I can claim I don’t know her whole story, but the more I was rejected, the more upset I got and the more we argued. Then after that, the more I tried to make it right, the worse it got, so it got to a point, and I just gave up and let her be...So now, she hates me and doesn’t want anything to do with me. However, I hadn’t known that Mark was going to break up with her for defending herself...”

“Wait...so, you took responsibility?”

“For the argument? Yes. For Mark breaking up with her? No. She didn’t do anything. She was talking to someone, who didn’t turn out to be who they said they were, and she felt threatened. She told her boyfriend, who got upset and came to fight for her respect and her safety. That’s how it went down. He did a few crazy things here and there, but they were quite irrelevant to the situation at hand. She wasn’t unfaithful or anything.”

“Wow..th-that means..Mark broke up with her..by himself. She just...she wanted to make everything better and not lose him, but she didn’t know it was worse. Mark has a multiple personality disorder, but more like two personality, since Dark likes to run the show and cause havoc....What did he do to you, baby?”

“A couple of bruised jawbones from when he punched me in the face, it was a little swollen from where he stood on me. Then I had a couple bruised ribs and various cuts and bruises from when I threw myself down the steps to get away from him,” Matt explained.

“YOu..threw yourself down the steps?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he had an alligator grip on my throat, he was gonna knock me out and hurt me. I might as well just let the stairs do it if it meant I was away from him,” he said, with a small chuckle.

“That’s not funny, you could have gotten hurt,” she folded her arms, concerned, but hurt that he wouldn’t take the explanation seriously.

“I have had to throw myself from a moving vehicle just to get away from my dad and my sisters’ dads, I’ve run my car into another car in front of a cop and kept driving so that I could get my sisters’ dad arrested for beating my mom or my sisters or my mom for beating my sisters. I lied and said my parents were dead for a while so that I could legally adopt my sister and have housing for a while. I’ve been beat up and run down before and deliberately hurt myself just to get out of harm’s way or protect my sisters. Don’t act like if you loved someone, you wouldn’t do the same..or if things got that heated, you would do anything to get out,” he began to tense up, thinking of the rage that he’s endured and how defensive he gets about his sisters.

“Don’t..Do not start that with me, Matt,” she spat at him, “You know I have. I hurt just as much as you.”

“Clearly not,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?! You did not just say that! You know, nobody asked you to do that for them. They could have done it on their own. Nobody needs you-”

“LIKE YOU DON’T NEED ME?! Huh?..Is that what you’re saying?!” he snapped, lunging a little towards her. She retracted.

“Daddy..please..”

“...daddy..what?” he asked through his teeth and leaned into her, pulling her by her leg closer to him, “You just said you don’t need Daddy.You made me upset. You can take care of yourself tonight..how about that-”

“No..no, no, no no..Daddy, no. I need you I want you I’m sorry-”

“I did not say you could talk!...Now, hey look at me, I’m gonna go..and when I come back, if I come back, you are going to be punished. Do you understand me? I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want you to talk to anyone. That will equal longer punishment..unless you want to try and come and change Daddy’s mind...Nothing, do you understand me?” he spoke carefully and breathed hard, his hand now on her throat enough to push her chin up, giving her the ability to breath, but to grab her attention.

Trisha nodded, “Good. Daddy loves you, but you know I can’t let you go on this..” She was frozen as his hands were taken off of her body and he stood up to put his shirt on, covering the stitches tattoo on his shoulder she loved to put her mouth on in any situation.

Matt place a kiss on his two fingers and touched her lips, since she was following him around as he got his things together, caressed her hair and her cheeks again. She gave him pleading eyes he didn’t want to look at right now, trying to make him stay. He was finally done and he kissed the top of her head, “My little julep...My sweet sunflower..Princess...I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Daddy..please..p-pl-please..do-don’t go...I’m-I’m sorry..Sorry I spoke to-to you like that...M-Matt...”

“Shhhhshush, baby....it’s okay. You know what to do..my little chicken nugget,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head and went out the door.

Trisha visibly shook, her makeup smeared all over from the tears streaming and wiping them furiously.

@nerdynumme-rp @trishapaytas-rp @joeygraceffa-rp

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petitprincess1 · 5 years ago

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Good Evening Ch7 (A Little Talk)

AO3 Link Summary: Angelo meets Vox and Velvet to discuss Valentino's death. Words: 2,013 Warning: Mild gore, guns, violence, and blood ~~~ Hours earlier, Angelo was riding in an uber with some sad sack of a man, not listening at all to his life story. More like lack of life. He was currently trying to figure out what he was going to do when he meets up with Vox and Velvet. Although, he already had his story kind of set up. Plus, it really helped that Valentino had many, many enemies as did others in a business like they had.

So, all Angelo had to say was that he and Val were going out together, just having a little walk in the forest. Val decided to bring up some shit that he overly-exaggerated just like he always did and then some of his angrier clients that he often rejected tracked them down. Angelo noticed them at the last minute and before he could speak, they smashed Val over the head. He won’t specify what exactly, as if he couldn’t tell what was going on or it happened too fast for him to notice. Then Angelo went chasing after the clients, causing him to lose track of Val’s body. It wasn’t the perfect excuse, but it hopefully would get the dumbass to shut his mouth.

The uber driver stopped in front of a warehouse and finished up his depressing tale, “That’s when my...third girlfriend left me after my cat died. She didn’t really think there was much of a reason to stay when, uh, Sylvester died. Anyway, thanks for listening...uh, is this your stop?”

“Yep,” Angelo said as he went out from the car and looked around, immediately found a hiding place for guns. He grabbed a pistol not too far from the car and heard the driver ask, looking out of the passenger’s rolled open window, “Uh, you sure? This place looks pretty rusty and abandoned. I can take you to a new-”

Angelo pulled the trigger on the pistol and pointed it at the driver, saying, “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Before the driver could even make the window go up, the mob child shot the guy right in the head, causing the bullet to enter out the back and make blood and brain splatter over the driver’s side. The bullet went somewhere, but the boy hardly cared. The ex-driver flopped down against the passenger’s side and was just staring lifelessly at Angelo, while blood dripped down the gaping wound on his forehead. Angie blinked at the driver and mumbled, “Eh, I guess I coulda kept him alive. Oh well, ain’t like he had anyone waitin’ for him.”

He tossed the gun back to its hiding place and then sauntered into the warehouse, while two other people exited out from the building to clean the mess. ~~~ Angelo walked deeper into the warehouse, seeing a few people walking around the fixed up place. ...By fixed up, he means that there are makeshift bars in the place, cargo is filled with drugs, a few pool tables, poker games, and a bunch of other guns in there. The warehouse still had a few leaky pipes, rusty staircases, and broken down machines, but that was the point. Can’t have people thinking twice about the productivity here. There also were office-type rooms or bedrooms, but he didn’t care for those at the moment.

He looked around and found a dark-skinned woman with 3 different hair colors and long twin ponytails, wearing a poofy, short-sleeved dress and had pink and white striped fingerless gloves. She was taking selfies with a few other people that were just trying to work.

The mob-child took a deep breath and walked over to the woman and walked over to her with a large grin. Angelo greeted, “Hey there, Velvet! How’s it hangin’? Ya still tryin’ to slit Vox’s mysterious mistresses’ throats?”

Velvet looked at him with her pure white eyes, that were clearly contacts, and grinned, “Voxie is waiting for you upstairs! I’ll take you to him!”

She then grabbed Angie’s hand and began practically dragging him towards the metallic staircase that led to two doors. When they were up to the doors, one of them had the lights on in the room and there was a muffled soft, electro tune coming from within, while the other was dark and quiet. It made Angelo feel a little ill at seeing how desolate it was.

Velvet opened up the door to the livelier office and smiled widely in a very unnerving manner that made the mob-child tense. She then closed the door to possibly speak to Vox, leaving the boy out there with his thoughts. However, Angelo knew that some things might be harder to explain than others, but he knew it would work out. Vox hardly cared about Val to begin with, so this’ll be quick.

The door opened up and Velvet gave a polite bow, chiming, “You may come in now~”

Angelo rolled his eyes and walked inside, getting hit with the acrid smell of a cigar. He wasn’t against smoking, did it himself sometimes, but for some odd reason, he never liked the smell of a cigar. He looked up and saw a well-dressed asian man with his hair shaven and black at the sides, while the unshaven was blue. The man had a cigar in his mouth and he gave a wide grin, “Anthony! Nice to see you again! Heard the news?”

Angelo winced at him using his real name and replied, “Hey, Vox. It’s still Angelo and, yeah, I heard the news. Alth-”

“Now, now, let’s not dance around the issue or prolong this. Valentino...is dead. Let’s just settle that right now. The man...is gone and while we didn’t have the best friendship, we would both be lying if we didn’t admit that he helped us get our start. Is that right, Anthony?” Vox asked as he walked over to a table full of different alcohols and began pulling himself a glass, while Velvet placed ice into it and eyed him longingly. Angelo shifted a bit and shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so. Gave me and my siblings a few good hits and...my nighttime job. Where are ya goin’ with this?”

Vox sipped some bourbon and chuckled, “I think you know, Tony. You were seen last with him, we know you were and you went out with him. You don’t gotta create some big story. Just simply tell Voxie about who killed Valentino and we’ll get rid of them promptly, okay?”

That immediately made Angelo’s heart drop and he knew that he couldn’t put the two broads under the bus like that. It didn’t feel right, it was too easy, and Charlie’s parents could easily fuck up their business. Although, they may just go after Vaggie, but that could still ruin shit with knowing how close the two are. Angelo jumped at hearing Vox tap his finger impatiently against the glass cup. He looked at Vox in the eyes and scoffed, “No need ta be so testy, baby. It was just two random idioti that followed us and-”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you there,” the crime boss interrupted and then sighed, walking closer to Angelo, “Look, your family probably taught you many things about being a part of a mob. I know that Valentino taught you some things too. Whether it be deception or even more ways to use a firearm as a weapon even without bullets, it was stuff that could help you in the long run. However, I know that no one would ever teach you to lie...that’s why you’re so bad at it.”

He then reached out and grabbed at Angelo’s face roughly, squeezing his jaw tightly. Vox questioned again, “Who killed Val?”

Angelo glared up at the man, glancing at Velvet behind, who was just happily watching everything unfold. He just told the crime boss, “I already told ya. It was just some two of my clients that tried to get-”

“Which one are they, Anthony? Random people or clients that you know?” The boy really hoped that the panic didn’t show on his face and he just huffed, grabbing onto Vox’s wrist, “I don’t fucking know! I can’t fucking think with ya asking me all these goddamn questions all at once! Shit’s just getting mixed up and-”

He got interrupted by a punch to his cheek, causing Angelo to stagger a bit and hold onto his cheek. Before he could recover from the shock, another punch was delivered to his gust, knocking the wind out of him and making a bit of bile come up to burn his throat. Angelo fell to his knees, now gripping onto his stomach and looked up at Vox, who was just rubbing his knuckle. The crime boss scoffed, “Sorry, not a big fan of liars, especially to those I’ve been very patient to.” The mob-child spat out a bit of blood that he felt from his cheek. He gave a small chuckle, “Ya know, if ya wanted...ta get rough...ya jus’ needed ta ask.” Vox scoffed, rolling his eyes, and watched Angelo get to his feet. “Look, this is really simple, Anthony. Just tell me the truth and then- GAH!” The crime boss yelled when he felt a sharp, unbearable pain that caused him to gently hold his crotch and bend over. He then got punched square in the jaw and the throat, causing him to choke and make a disgusting hacking sound. Angelo glared at Vox and was about to kick him straight in his gut, but a kick to his face caused him to lose his footing once more.

The boy almost fell to the floor, but a kick to his jaw was enough to help his journey onto the carpet. He rolled over onto his stomach and spat out a tooth. Before he could get up, another few rough kicks were delivered to his ribs, making it so agonizing to take a deep breath. Angelo whimpered and tried his best not to curl up as his vision got somewhat hazy. He wasn’t sure if he was passing out or if it was tears. He heard Velvet whine, “Sorry, Voxie, but I couldn’t stand him hurting you like that. Really soured my grapes!”

Vox definitely spoke, bit Angelo was barely able to hear it. The mob child let out a yelp at his hair being yanked up as the crime boss whispered in his ear, “Now...let’s try that again…” ~~~ Angelo drove back home using only one arm, which matched him using only one eye to drive. He was using the deceased uber driver’s car to get back home, feeling only the tiniest bit thankful that they were decent enough to clean the brain splatter. He looked down and saw all the bruises forming on his body, making a disgusting purplish color. Plus, his other arm was uselessly at his side.

He was sure it wasn’t broken, just fractured from being twisted, but...it was pretty hard to tell amongst the other bit of pain.

The boy also had a cigarette hanging out from his mouth, while blood dripped down his chin. The windows were rolled up, hoping he would choke on the stench before making it back. Unfortunately, he made it to Pen’s house and saw the lights still on. Angelo groaned as he tried to take out his phone, but the sharp pain in his rib refused him to twist his body. He was about to just let himself pass out, but saw some girl passing by.

Angie grunted in pain as he used his other arm to roll down the window and called out hoarsely, “H-H...H-Hey...c-come…’ere…” The girl turned her head and placed a hand over her mouth at seeing Angelo’s beaten, bruised, and torn up body. He gave a dashing, bloody smile to her and asked, “...A b...beauty...a-ain’t I…? ...Can...ya...kn-nock...on...tha...door? Need…band aids...after a-a...talk….”

The last thing Angelo saw was the girl running to the house and his cigarette slip out of his mouth before passing out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvet #hazbin vox #vox #human au #velvet #angel dust #radiodust #one sided charlastor #hazbin hotel au #hazbin au #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fic

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ralphmorgan-blog1 · 6 years ago

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30 Motivational Stories To Push You Forward In Life

http://bit.ly/2NImSF9

Cataloged in Self-Improvement

30 Motivational Stories To Push You Forward In Life

January Nelson Updated September 18, 2018

These motivational stories will encourage you to follow your dreams, treat others with kindness, and never give up on yourself.

1. Laziness won’t get you anywhere

“In ancient times, a king had his men place a boulder on a roadway. He then hid in the bushes, and watched to see if anyone would move the boulder out of the way. Some of the king’s wealthiest merchants and courtiers passed by and simply walked around it.

Many people blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none of them did anything about getting the stone removed.

One day, a peasant came along carrying vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to push the stone out of the way. After much pushing and straining, he finally managed.

After the peasant went back to pick up his vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and note from the King explain that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the road.”

2. Don’t say something you regret out of anger

“There once was a little boy who had a very bad temper. His father decided to hand him a bag of nails and said that every time the boy lost his temper, he had to hammer a nail into the fence.

On the first day, the boy hammered 37 nails into that fence.

The boy gradually began to control his temper over the next few weeks, and the number of nails he was hammering into the fence slowly decreased. He discovered it was easier to control his temper than to hammer those nails into the fence.

Finally, the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father the news and the father suggested that the boy should now pull out a nail every day he kept his temper under control.

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence.

‘You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say I’m sorry, the wound is still there.'”

3. Stop wasting your time complaining

“People visit a wise man complaining about the same problems over and over again. One day, he decided to tell them a joke and they all roared with laughter.

After a few minutes, he told them the same joke and only a few of them smiled.

Then he told the same joke for a third time, but no one laughed or smiled anymore.

The wise man smiled and said: ‘You can’t laugh at the same joke over and over. So why are you always crying about the same problem?'”

4. Damaged souls still have worth

“A shop owner placed a sign above his door that said: ‘Puppies For Sale.’

Signs like this always have a way of attracting young children, and to no surprise, a boy saw the sign and approached the owner; ‘How much are you going to sell the puppies for?’ he asked.

The store owner replied, ‘Anywhere from $30 to $50.’

The little boy pulled out some change from his pocket. ‘I have $2.37,’ he said. ‘Can I please look at them?’

The shop owner smiled and whistled. Out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his shop followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur.

One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, ‘What’s wrong with that little dog?’

The shop owner explained that the veterinarian had examined the little puppy and had discovered it didn’t have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame.

The little boy became excited. ‘That is the puppy that I want to buy.’

The shop owner said, ‘No, you don’t want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I’ll just give him to you.’

The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the store owner’s eyes, pointing his finger, and said;

‘I don’t want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I’ll pay full price. In fact, I’ll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for.’

The shop owner countered, ‘You really don’t want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies.’

To his surprise, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the shop owner and softly replied, ‘Well, I don’t run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands!'”

5. Never let one failure from the past hold you back in the future

“As a man was passing the elephants, he suddenly stopped, confused by the fact that these huge creatures were being held by only a small rope tied to their front leg. No chains, no cages. It was obvious that the elephants could, at anytime, break away from their bonds but for some reason, they did not.

He saw a trainer nearby and asked why these animals just stood there and made no attempt to get away. ‘Well,’ trainer said, ‘when they are very young and much smaller we use the same size rope to tie them and, at that age, it’s enough to hold them. As they grow up, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They believe the rope can still hold them, so they never try to break free.’

The man was amazed. These animals could at any time break free from their bonds but because they believed they couldn’t, they were stuck right where they were.”

6. Struggling will make you stronger

“Once upon a time, a man found a butterfly that was starting to hatch from its cocoon. He sat down and watched the butterfly for hours as it struggled to force itself through a tiny hole. Then, it suddenly stopped making progress and looked like it was stuck.

Therefore, the man decided to help the butterfly out. He took a pair of scissors and cut off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily, although it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man thought nothing of it, and he sat there waiting for the wings to enlarge to support the butterfly. However, that never happened. The butterfly spent the rest of its life unable to fly, crawling around with small wings and a swollen body.

Despite the man’s kind heart, he didn’t understand that the restricting cocoon and the struggle needed by the butterfly to get itself through the small hole were God’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings to prepare itself for flying once it was free.”

7. Your reaction matters more than what happens to you

“Once upon a time a daughter complained to her father that her life was miserable and that she didn’t know how she was going to make it. She was tired of fighting and struggling all the time. It seemed just as one problem was solved, another one soon followed.

Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Once the three pots began to boil, he placed potatoes in one pot, eggs in the second pot, and ground coffee beans in the third pot.

He then let them sit and boil, without saying a word to his daughter. The daughter, moaned and impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing.

After twenty minutes he turned off the burners. He took the potatoes out of the pot and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the boiled eggs out and placed them in a bowl.

He then ladled the coffee out and placed it in a cup. Turning to her he asked. ‘Daughter, what do you see?’

‘Potatoes, eggs, and coffee,’ she hastily replied.

‘Look closer,’ he said, ‘and touch the potatoes.’ She did and noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Its rich aroma brought a smile to her face.

‘Father, what does this mean?’ she asked.

He then explained that the potatoes, the eggs and coffee beans had each faced the same adversity– the boiling water.

However, each one reacted differently.

The potato went in strong, hard, and unrelenting, but in boiling water, it became soft and weak.

The egg was fragile, with the thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior until it was put in the boiling water. Then the inside of the egg became hard.

However, the ground coffee beans were unique. After they were exposed to the boiling water, they changed the water and created something new.

‘Which are you,’ he asked his daughter. ‘When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a potato, an egg, or a coffee bean?’

8. Don’t insult the things you wish you could have

‘One afternoon, a fox was walking through the forest and spotted a bunch of grapes hanging from a lofty branch.

‘Just the thing to quench my thirst,’ he thought.

Taking a couple of steps back, the fox jumped and just missed the hanging grapes. The fox tried again but still failed to reach them.

Finally, giving up, the fox turned his nose up and said, ‘They’re probably sour anyway,’ and walked away.”

9. Be kind to others even if it hurts you

“In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

‘How much is an ice cream sundae?’

’50 cents,’ replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.

‘How much is a dish of plain ice cream?’ he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.

’35 cents,’ she said brusquely.

The little boy again counted the coins. ‘I’ll have the plain ice cream,’ he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed.

When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.

There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were 15 cents – her tip.”

10. Ignore the haters

“A group of frogs were traveling through the forest when two of them fell into a deep pit. When the other frogs saw how deep the pit was, they told the two frogs that there was no hope left for them.

However, the two frogs ignored their comrades and proceeded to try to jump out of the pit. However, despite their efforts, the group of frogs at the top of the pit were still saying that they should just give up as they’d never make it out.

Eventually, one of the frogs took heed of what the others were saying and he gave up, jumping even deeper to his death. The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the group of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and to just die.

He ignored them, and jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out, the other frogs said, ‘Did you not hear us?’

The frog explained to them that he was deaf, and that he thought they were encouraging him the entire time.”

11. Even though you’re damaged, you still have value

“A popular speaker started off a seminar by holding up a $20 bill. A crowd of 200 had gathered to hear him speak. He asked, ‘Who would like this $20 bill?’

200 hands went up.

He said, ‘I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this.’ He crumpled the bill up.

He then asked, ‘Who still wants it?’

All 200 hands were still raised.

‘Well,’ he replied, ‘What if I do this?’ Then he dropped the bill on the ground and stomped on it with his shoes.

He picked it up, and showed it to the crowd. The bill was all crumpled and dirty.

‘Now who still wants it?’

All the hands still went up.

‘My friends, I have just showed you a very important lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, life crumples us and grinds us into the dirt. We make bad decisions or deal with poor circumstances. We feel worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. You are special – Don’t ever forget it!’

12. Don’t judge others before you know them

“A 24 year old boy seeing out from the train’s window shouted…

‘Dad, look the trees are going behind!’

Dad smiled and a young couple sitting nearby, looked at the 24 year old’s childish behavior with pity, suddenly he again exclaimed…

‘Dad, look the clouds are running with us!’

The couple couldn’t resist and said to the old man…

‘Why don’t you take your son to a good doctor?’

The old man smiled and said…’I did and we are just coming from the hospital, my son was blind from birth, he just got his eyes today.’

Every single person on the planet has a story. Don’t judge people before you truly know them. The truth might surprise you.”

13. Think outside of the box

“In a small Italian town, hundreds of years ago, a small business owner owed a large sum of money to a loan-shark. The loan-shark was a very old, unattractive looking guy that just so happened to fancy the business owner’s daughter.

He decided to offer the businessman a deal that would completely wipe out the debt he owed him. However, the catch was that we would only wipe out the debt if he could marry the businessman’s daughter. Needless to say, this proposal was met with a look of disgust.

The loan-shark said that he would place two pebbles into a bag, one white and one black.

The daughter would then have to reach into the bag and pick out a pebble. If it was black, the debt would be wiped, but the loan-shark would then marry her. If it was white, the debt would also be wiped, but the daughter wouldn’t have to marry the loan-shark.

Standing on a pebble-strewn path in the businessman’s garden, the loan-shark bent over and picked up two pebbles. Whilst he was picking them up, the daughter noticed that he’d picked up two black pebbles and placed them both into the bag.

He then asked the daughter to reach into the bag and pick one.

The daughter naturally had three choices as to what she could have done:

Refuse to pick a pebble from the bag.

Take both pebbles out of the bag and expose the loan-shark for cheating.

Pick a pebble from the bag fully well knowing it was black and sacrifice herself for her father’s freedom.

She drew out a pebble from the bag, and before looking at it ‘accidentally’ dropped it into the midst of the other pebbles. She said to the loan-shark;

‘Oh, how clumsy of me. Never mind, if you look into the bag for the one that is left, you will be able to tell which pebble I picked.’

The pebble left in the bag is obviously black, and seeing as the loan-shark didn’t want to be exposed, he had to play along as if the pebble the daughter dropped was white, and clear her father’s debt.”

14. Enjoy the moment

“After spending nearly every waking minute with Angel for eight straight days, I knew that I had to tell her just one thing. So late at night, just before she fell asleep, I whispered it in her ear. She smiled – the kind of smile that makes me smile back –and she said, ‘When I’m seventy-five and I think about my life and what it was like to be young, I hope that I can remember this very moment.’

A few seconds later she closed her eyes and fell asleep. The room was peaceful – almost silent. All I could hear was the soft purr of her breathing. I stayed awake thinking about the time we’d spent together and all the choices in our lives that made this moment possible. And at some point, I realized that it didn’t matter what we’d done or where we’d gone. Nor did the future hold any significance.

All that mattered was the serenity of the moment.

Just being with her and breathing with her.”

15. Stop chasing happiness

“An old man lived in the village. The whole village was tired of him; he was always gloomy, he constantly complained and was always in a bad mood. The longer he lived, the viler he became and more poisonous were his words. People did their best to avoid him because his misfortune was contagious. He created the feeling of unhappiness in others.

But one day, when he turned eighty, an incredible thing happened. Instantly everyone started hearing the rumor: ‘The old man is happy today, he doesn’t complain about anything, smiles, and even his face is freshened up.’

The whole village gathered around the man and asked him, “What happened to you?”

The old man replied, ‘Nothing special. Eighty years I’ve been chasing happiness and it was useless. And then I decided to live without happiness and just enjoy life. That’s why I’m happy now.'”

16. Learn from your problems

“A man’s favorite donkey falls into a deep precipice. He can’t pull it out no matter how hard he tries. He therefore decides to bury it alive.

Soil is poured onto the donkey from above. The donkey feels the load, shakes it off, and steps on it. More soil is poured.

It shakes it off and steps up. The more the load was poured, the higher it rose. By noon, the donkey was grazing in green pastures.”

17. Don’t assume you are going to fail

“During a research experiment a marine biologist placed a shark into a large holding tank and then released several small bait fish into the tank.

As you would expect, the shark quickly swam around the tank, attacked and ate the smaller fish.

The marine biologist then inserted a strong piece of clear fiberglass into the tank, creating two separate partitions. She then put the shark on one side of the fiberglass and a new set of bait fish on the other.

Again, the shark quickly attacked. This time, however, the shark slammed into the fiberglass divider and bounced off. Undeterred, the shark kept repeating this behavior every few minutes to no avail. Meanwhile, the bait fish swam around unharmed in the second partition. Eventually, about an hour into the experiment, the shark gave up.

This experiment was repeated several dozen times over the next few weeks. Each time, the shark got less aggressive and made fewer attempts to attack the bait fish, until eventually the shark got tired of hitting the fiberglass divider and simply stopped attacking altogether.

The marine biologist then removed the fiberglass divider, but the shark didn’t attack. The shark was trained to believe a barrier existed between it and the bait fish, so the bait fish swam wherever they wished, free from harm.”

18. You get what you give

“Once, there was a farmer who regularly sold butter to a baker. One day, the baker decided to weigh the butter to see if he was getting the exact amount that he asked for. He found out that he wasn’t, so he took the farmer to court.

The judge asked the farmer if he uses any measure to weigh the butter. The farmer replied, ‘Your Honor, I’m primitive. I don’t have a proper measure, but I do have a scale.’

The judge replied, “Then how do you weigh the butter?”

The farmer replied; “Your Honor, long before the baker started buying butter from me, I have been buying a pound loaf of bread from him. Every day, when the baker brings the bread, I put it on the scale and give him the same weight in butter. If anyone is to be blamed, it’s the baker.’

Moral of the story:In life, you get what you give. Don’t try to cheat others.“

19. Stop stressing so much

“Once upon a time a psychology professor walked around on a stage while teaching stress management principles to an auditorium filled with students. As she raised a glass of water, everyone expected they’d be asked the typical ‘glass half empty or glass half full’ question. Instead, with a smile on her face, the professor asked, ‘How heavy is this glass of water I’m holding?’

Students shouted out answers ranging from eight ounces to a couple pounds.

She replied, ‘From my perspective, the absolute weight of this glass doesn’t matter. It all depends on how long I hold it. If I hold it for a minute or two, it’s fairly light. If I hold it for an hour straight, its weight might make my arm ache a little. If I hold it for a day straight, my arm will likely cramp up and feel completely numb and paralyzed, forcing me to drop the glass to the floor. In each case, the weight of the glass doesn’t change, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it feels to me.’

As the class shook their heads in agreement, she continued, ‘Your stresses and worries in life are very much like this glass of water. Think about them for a while and nothing happens. Think about them a bit longer and you begin to ache a little. Think about them all day long, and you will feel completely numb and paralyzed – incapable of doing anything else until you drop them.'”

20. Don’t screw over your friends

“Vijay and Raju were friends. One day while on holiday, exploring a forest, they saw a bear coming towards them.

Naturally, they were both frightened, so Raju, who knew how to climb trees, climbed one quickly. He didn’t spare a thought for his friend who had no idea how to climb.

Vijay thought for a moment. He had heard that animals don’t attack dead bodies, so he fell to the ground and held his breath. The bear sniffed him, thought he was dead, and went on its way.

Raju, after he had climbed down from the tree asked Vijay, ‘What did the bear whisper in your ears?’

Vijay replied, ‘The bear asked me to keep away from friends like you.'”

21. Your good deeds could change the world

“Every Sunday morning I take a light jog around a park near my home. There’s a lake located in one corner of the park. Each time I jog by this lake, I see the same elderly woman sitting at the water’s edge with a small metal cage sitting beside her.

This past Sunday my curiosity got the best of me, so I stopped jogging and walked over to her. As I got closer, I realized that the metal cage was in fact a small trap. There were three turtles, unharmed, slowly walking around the base of the trap. She had a fourth turtle in her lap that she was carefully scrubbing with a spongy brush.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘I see you here every Sunday morning. If you don’t mind my nosiness, I’d love to know what you’re doing with these turtles.’

She smiled. ‘I’m cleaning off their shells,” she replied. “Anything on a turtle’s shell, like algae or scum, reduces the turtle’s ability to absorb heat and impedes its ability to swim. It can also corrode and weaken the shell over time.’

‘Wow! That’s really nice of you!’ I exclaimed.

She went on: ‘I spend a couple of hours each Sunday morning, relaxing by this lake and helping these little guys out. It’s my own strange way of making a difference.’

‘But don’t most freshwater turtles live their whole lives with algae and scum hanging from their shells?’ I asked.

‘Yep, sadly, they do,’ she replied.

I scratched my head. ‘Well then, don’t you think your time could be better spent? I mean, I think your efforts are kind and all, but there are fresh water turtles living in lakes all around the world. And 99% of these turtles don’t have kind people like you to help them clean off their shells. So, no offense… but how exactly are your localized efforts here truly making a difference?’

The woman giggled aloud. She then looked down at the turtle in her lap, scrubbed off the last piece of algae from its shell, and said, ‘Sweetie, if this little guy could talk, he’d tell you I just made all the difference in the world.'”

22. Don’t let your circumstances change you

“There once was a blind woman who hated herself purely because she could not see. The only person she loved was her boyfriend, as he was always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, then she would marry him.

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her – now she could see everything, including her boyfriend. Her loving boyfriend asked her, ‘Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?’

The woman was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend was blind too, and refused to marry him. Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and wrote a short note to her saying: ‘Just take care of my eyes, dear.'”

23. You are not going to get anything handed to you

“A man walked to the top of a hill to talk to God.

The man asked, ‘God, what’s a million years to you?’ and God said, ‘A minute.’

Then the man asked, ‘Well, what’s a million dollars to you?’ and God said, ‘A penny.’

Then the man asked, ‘God…..can I have a penny?’ and God said, ‘Sure… in a minute.’

24. Do not get too greedy

“It was an incredibly hot day and a lion was feeling very hungry.

He crawled out of his den and searched here and there, but he could only find a small hare. He caught the hare, but with some hesitation as he knew the hare wouldn’t fill him up.

As the lion was about to kill the hare, he spotted a deer coming his way and thought, ‘Instead of eating this small hare, let me eat that big deer.’

So he let the hare go and went after the deer, but it vanished in the forest. The lion now had nothing to eat as the hare was also long gone.”

25. Your talent only matters if you are somewhere it can be used

“A mother and a baby camel were lying around under a tree.

Then the baby camel asked, ‘Why do camels have humps?’

The mother camel considered this and said, ‘We are desert animals so we have the humps to store water so we can survive with very little water.’

The baby camel thought for a moment then said, ‘Ok…why are our legs long and our feet rounded?’

The mama replied, ‘They are meant for walking in the desert.’

The baby paused. After a beat, the camel asked, ‘Why are our eyelashes long? Sometimes they get in my way.’

The mama responded, ‘Those long thick eyelashes protect your eyes from the desert sand when it blows in the wind.’

The baby thought and thought. Then he said, ‘I see. So the hump is to store water when we are in the desert, the legs are for walking through the desert and these eye lashes protect my eyes from the desert then why in the Zoo?'”

26. Always tell the truth

“One night four college kids stayed out late, partying and having a good time. They paid no mind to the test they had scheduled for the next day and didn’t study. In the morning, they hatched a plan to get out of taking their test. They covered themselves with grease and dirt and went to the Dean’s office. Once there, they said they had been to a wedding the previous night and on the way back they got a flat tire and had to push the car back to campus.

The Dean listened to their tale of woe and thought. He offered them a retest three days later. They thanked him and accepted his offer that time.

When the test day arrived, they went to the Dean. The Dean put them all in separate rooms for the test. They were fine with this since they had all studied hard. Then they saw the test. It had 2 questions.

1) Your Name __________ (1 Points)

2) Which tire burst? __________ (99 Points).”

27. Love matters more than material items

“Some time ago, a man punished his young daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became angry when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.

Nevertheless, the girl brought the gift to her father on Christmas day and said, ‘This is for you, daddy.’

The man became embarrassed by his overreaction a few days before, but his rage continued when he saw that the box was empty. He yelled at her, ‘Don’t you know, when you give someone a gift, there’s supposed to be something inside?’

The little girl looked up at her dad with tears in her eyes and cried; ‘Oh, daddy, it’s not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They’re all for you, daddy.’

The father was devastated. He put his arms around his daughter, and begged for her forgiveness.

A little while later, the girl died in an accident. Her father kept the gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was feeling down, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.”

28. Your priorities matter

“Imagine you had a bank account that deposited $86,400 each morning. The account carries over no balance from day to day, allows you to keep no cash balance, and every evening cancels whatever part of the amount you had failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every dollar each day!

We all have such a bank. Its name is Time. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever time you have failed to use wisely. It carries over no balance from day to day. It allows no overdraft so you can’t borrow against yourself or use more time than you have. Each day, the account starts fresh. Each night, it destroys an unused time. If you fail to use the day’s deposits, it’s your loss and you can’t appeal to get it back.

There is never any borrowing time. You can’t take a loan out on your time or against someone else’s. The time you have is the time you have and that is that. Time management is yours to decide how you spend the time, just as with money you decide how you spend the money. It is never the case of us not having enough time to do things, but the case of whether we want to do them and where they fall in our priorities.”

29. Never give up on your dreams

“Once, there was an older man, who was broke, living in a tiny house and owned a beat up car. He was living off of $99 social security checks. At 65 years of age, he decide things had to change. So he thought about what he had to offer. His friends raved about his chicken recipe. He decided that this was his best shot at making a change.

He left Kentucky and traveled to different states to try to sell his recipe. He told restaurant owners that he had a mouthwatering chicken recipe. He offered the recipe to them for free, just asking for a small percentage on the items sold. Sounds like a good deal, right?

Unfortunately, not to most of the restaurants. He heard NO over 1000 times. Even after all of those rejections, he didn’t give up. He believed his chicken recipe was something special. He got rejected 1009 times before he heard his first yes.

With that one success Colonel Hartland Sanders changed the way Americans eat chicken. Kentucky Fried Chicken, popularly known as KFC, was born.

Remember, never give up and always believe in yourself in spite of rejection.”

30. Focus on the good things in life

“Two friends were walking through the desert. At one stage in their journey, they had an argument and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything he wrote in the sand, ‘Today my best friend slapped me in the face.’

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to have a wash. The one who had been slapped got stuck in a mire and started drowning, but his friend saved him. After he had recovered from his shock, he wrote on a stone, ‘Today my best friend saved my life.’

The friend who slapped and saved his best friend asked him, ‘After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write in stone, why?’

The other friend replied, ‘When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it.'”