#please bushi bring back the long seasons the thing that people are watching for is the characters

[van-iira]

Screenshot redraws of ep 11 plus a baby Suo

RIP Kuon Aikawa your story would have been incredible in a longer season (honestly even though the latter half is pretty rushed I think ep 11 is my favourite of the season)

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache Week Day Seven: Ordinary People

Days: 1, 2 , 3, 4 , 5, 6, 7

At last, the final prompt of the wonderful event hosted by @projectdarkstache! Thank you so much for encouraging everyone to create such fantastic pieces and I hope all the works can be cherished by their creators! You’ve all done fantastic!

~

After years of causing chaos and trouble as the Actor, Mark uses his new freedom to bring the fictional world he ruled back to the modern real world. But what about Dark and Wilford?

Word Count: 2,437

(while not necessarily a warning, this does contain sympathetic!Actor becoming Youtuber!Mark in the timeline my stories are written in.)

-

If he was asked, Mark would admit he had no idea when he felt like ‘himself’ again. It had been decades since the troubled actor’s heart was shattered, the will to live had vanished, and the ability to die eluded him. His broken soul was utterly consumed by the terrors of the Manor’s arcanic past until he became a god-like figure in a world of his own creation. Former friends were moulded and reshaped into characters to suit his schemes. Poor, innocent souls over the decades were pulled into the cat-and-mouse plot to populate the worlds. Drama and chaos were on the regular schedule, and how the Actor thrived!

But now… Peace. And Mark was baffled by it.

He remembered standing at the edge of the city, watching the sun rise like he had never seen the day before. In all the years of darkness and being pulled like a puppet by unseen forces, maybe that was the truth. A new life, a new start. The ‘performances’ he had been part of were failed attempts to gain control over a world that had torn him to pieces and tossed him in the trash. All they achieved was pain and suffering. As he recognised this and wanted to do good, the world he had mastery over was fading and merging with the real world - the one he had left behind. With new independence, he was losing grip over whatever powers he had before. No more would he be able to cheat death or restart time. This was it, the final ‘act’. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Mark was finally ready to break free from the puppet strings and start over… But there were two in particular he needed to apologise to. Trying to face Dark or Wilford now would result in mockery or gunfire (or both). However, from his spot on the hill, he could see a new opportunity. He could reverse the crimes that were cast. Let them and all their old friends live the lives they were meant to in this new, modern world.

Mark opened his arms wide as the light of the morning sun hit his weary body.  At last, the game was up. He could set everything right.

--

--

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour, Damien himself!” A familiar voice sang as he entered the office with his usual dramatic flair. 

“It’s ‘Mayor Brooks’ while you are here, Mark. But it is good to see you.” Damien countered, playfully rolling his eyes. Even if Mark was a big internet celebrity, he made it his mission to check in regularly on Damien. It was a nice relief, even if the pair were trying to regain grounds on their friendship. Mark had dated his twin sister in university, but the manner in which the pair broke up was so dramatic, it caused a rift between the two young men. At least a friendship from childhood was not one that could be broken forever. He saved the document he was typing and closed the laptop. “If you are here, can I assume there is some great problem going on in your world?”

“Oh, no no. All good on my end!” Mark slumped onto the sofa to the side of the office with a laugh. “I recorded one huge game over the weekend and scored myself some free time. What better way to spend it than with my favourite politician?”

“As much as I appreciate the compliment, I would gather that your other friends are busy and you don’t have anyone else to turn to.” However blunt the statement might be, there was a smile on Damien’s face as he fell back onto the free half of the couch. Mark responded with a loud gasp and a hand on his chest, which only prompted Damien to lightly push him.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know I came here to see if you wanted to grab a coffee with me. I found ten bucks in my pants pocket this morning and I wanna splash out. Come on, Dames! Doesn’t your favourite coffee place have the best pumpkin spiced latte on this side of the city?”

“Mark, it’s May. They aren’t going to make that for you.” Now it was Damien’s turn to be pushed as Mark waved the ten dollar bill in his face.

“I think you’ll find myself and mister Alexander Hamilton will disagree with tha- HEY!” Letting his guard down was a mistake, as Damien took the chance to snatch the money out of his hand and jump onto his feet. “You crooked politician! Stealing the money of an innocent, hard-working man like me!”

Damien fetched his coat with a chuckle. “For someone who wants coffee, you don’t seem very keen in moving for it.” It worked, and a childishly offended Mark pulled himself off the couch. The money was returned to Mark as the pair exited the office. Damien did need a break, he decided as he locked the door after him.

-

Mark was an interesting man. He could act loud and brash, but it was only a mask that hid a soul that seemed older than thirty. Damien used to joke that Mark might be an old man stuck in a young body. The walk to the coffee shop took the usual diversion through a nearby park so they could swap stories and chat without the rush of the world shoving them forward. Mark and his content creator friends were busy working on a variety of projects, and he himself admitted he was feeling happier in himself than he had been in recent years. Likewise, Damien had been working on completing some important jobs around the city and trying to get some new schemes underway.  It was busy, but rewarding. In times like this, neither had to play the part cast for them by society. They could be themselves, just like old times. It meant that Damien was more relaxed and jovial by the time they reached their destination.

The coffee shop had the familiar busy hum to it as the pair entered. Since Damien was a regular, there was never any fanfare of the mayor visiting their business. Mark’s ‘perfect’ disguise of a worn baseball cap and his glasses seemed to do the job of keeping a low profile. Surprisingly, the barista did indeed agree to make a pumpkin spiced latte for Mark, as well as Damien’s regular order. Both drinks and two large muffins were covered by the ten dollar bill, much to Mark’s delight. For now, they simply had to wait for their drinks.

“- And still no sign of a special someone?” It was a question Mark frequently asked. Damien seemed content to be ‘married’ to his work, but Mark would argue that the companionship would make the heavy workload more bearable. They both knew it was true, but Damien was a stubborn man. He was too proud to deal with blind dates, and seemed insistent on waiting for ‘the right person’. Instead, Damien countered with a question about Amy and how she and the two dogs were doing. A simple diversion, but a wholesome one, as Mark could share silly moments and photos on his phone, and Damien could enjoy the tales. How could he not be happy for his friend? It seemed like things were finally looking up for him.

At that, Mark’s drink and the muffins were ready, but there was no sign of Damien’s drink. He insisted Mark go fetch a table while Damien continued waiting. Several long minutes passed as people who ordered similar drinks received theirs, and Damien was tempted to ask one of the staff about his drink. Just as he was about to, the door slammed open as a man stumbled in.

“Geez, man! Could you not break that door, please?” The manager shouted at the stranger, who hurried over and apologised profusely while ordering his ‘usual’ summer iced drink and telling a story about a kid outside throwing ice-cream at him. Damien pulled out his phone to try and look busy, but his eyes strayed from the screen and darted to the man.

The stranger was a head taller than Damien and had a broad build that was emphasised by the fitted white t-shirt and jogging pants he was wearing. His black, curly hair looked somewhat erratic, while the large, bushy moustache reminded Damien of the chief of police from a TV show he loved. Facial hair of that style wasn’t in season anymore - not to mention this wasn’t as eloquently groomed as other moustaches would have been - so it was likely something important to the man. His face was framed by a sturdy jawline, which gave a somewhat intimidating air. But his eyes… Were looking in Damien’s direction. Oops.

The Mayor gulped and returned his attention to his phone.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Damien jumped at the sudden voice and presence beside him. The stranger had stepped closer without him realising it. “Is something wrong? Did that kid get ice-cream on my shirt?”

“No, your shirt is fine.” Damien responded quickly, intending to leave it at that. But the stranger stayed firm, bringing a sigh out of the politician. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rude to stare. I thought I recognised you, that’s all.” 

“And do you?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious. That was enough to prompt Damien to lock and pocket his phone.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I do, and I wouldn’t forget a moustache like that, but I can’t place anything… Even if it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue.” Realising how odd that sounded, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’m sorry, this all sounds rather bizarre from a complete stranger -”

“No!” Both men were taken aback at the stranger’s interruption. “Er, no. Sorry. It doesn’t sound weird. I feel the same. I feel like I know you -”

“I’m the Mayor. That’s hardly a surprise.”

“- yeah, but like I know know you, you know?” The stranger shook his head, curls bouncing with a nervous chuckle. “I think this is a sign. Maybe we ought to get to know each other properly, just in case we met in a dream.” A large hand was offered to Damien. “The name’s William Barnum, but friends can call me -”

“The Colonel.” Damien finished. Confusion was mirrored on both faces.

“How did you -”

“I don’t know?” No matter how he tried to place a specific memory with the phrase, nothing came to mind. Instead, he pushed it aside. “My name is Damien Brooks. Despite the rather odd circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The large hand was taken, and they gave a firm shake.

Immediately, a memory crossed Damien’s mind. This man had pink in his hair. His own hands were gray. Mark had a shadowed, wicked grin on his face. But as soon as it came, it vanished, like trying to recall a fading dream. 

“Hey, Damien?” William’s dark eyes had drifted aside as he tried to encourage the words to come to him. “Do you want to go out for lunch this week?” A simple question made Damien’s heart skip a beat as an all-too familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach manifested.

“Are - are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah… Is that too forward? I feel like it’s the right thing to do. You’re very handsome.” 

Strange. Why did Damien feel like William had complimented him like that a hundred times before? Stranger still, why did it make him feel so happy to hear the nervous rambling? He reluctantly pulled his hand away so he could snatch a napkin from the counter and the pen in his pocket. A phone number was hastily scribbled on it, before it was scratched out and written neater. Just in case, his name was noted underneath.

“Here. Text me later. If you’re free, we could always… Go for dinner?” It also felt like the right thing to do, like it was a regular event. William seemed to agree, as his face lit up. Upon receiving the napkin, it was treated like something sacred by William, who carefully folded and placed in his wallet.

“Yeah! That’d be - I’d really like that - Bully.” That exclamation of relief shouldn’t bring a familiar tugging of heartstrings to Damien, but it did. Only that he was with Mark (and that he has a job to return to), Damien would have gladly gone wherever William was going. 

Both names were called as the drinks were finally ready. Each one was lifted, and the pair gave their parting words and a promise to arrange something as soon as William returned home. But just as Damien was about to turn and walk to the table, William leaned down enough to kiss him on the cheek, hurrying off before anything else could happen. All Damien could do was watch the larger man disappear with a wistful smile before turning to find Mark at the table.

“You’re putting the local tomatoes to shame. You okay?” Mark asked, innocently sipping his latte. It was still mostly full. The drink itself looked hot. How long had that moment actually lasted?

“I’ve got a date tonight.” Damien was so embarrassed after blurting his answer, he didn’t notice how Mark’s surprise was an act. “I started talking to a guy up at the counter and - well, we’re meeting for dinner.”

“I’m so happy for you, man. Look at you, getting out there and being ambitious! I’m sure he’ll be a great guy!” Mark grinned, letting the topic drop so the Mayor could get his head around the ‘unexpected’ event. 

While they were talking after the drinks were finished, a text arrived on Damien’s phone. Mark noticed there was a number rather than a name, but it brought a smile to Damien’s face. The Youtuber waved his hand and insisted Damien needed to ‘urgently’ answer it. As the Mayor did so, Mark noticed how the shadow that was always looming over Damien finally dissipated. At last, the malicious claws from a lifetime ago were gone, and with that, Mark’s own powers.

But what did the loss of powers matter when he was able to use them to help Dark and Wilford start a new relationship together? They could live as normal, ordinary people, just like Dark had always vowed when confronting the Actor. Today: the Actor was dead, Mark was alive, and the curse holding them all down had been broken for good.

Now, if only Celine would talk to him so they could become friends again...

[dansnaturepictures]

4/10/20-A red day with red fly agaric mushroom, Lesser Redpoll and Red Deers as well as a Muntjac Deer on a New Forest walk from Blackwater and autumn leaves and House Martins at home this evening 

As the rain stayed falling today compared to yesterday when it stopped as the day went on we did a walk from Blackwater in the New Forest and back taking in woodland and some more open areas. I took the first, sixth and eighth pictures in this photoset on the walk some quite atmospheric which I’ve always found Blackwater and the area around it where we walk good for especially on rainy days with lots of autumn leaf scenes nicely coloured again too. My Mum had been lucky to see some Red Deers here this week. So even if it was wet I wanted to come today to see if I could see them. As we are attempting to go to Bushy Park soon to do our usual visit to there and Richmond Park during the Red Deer rut not doing Richmond this year as it attracts more people just about I feel in current circumstances having to take this into account. We did think of doing it yesterday but thought it may be a bit wet in the end it turned nice here but I don’t know what it did in London. We are aiming now to go next Saturday unless Covid travel or any other restrictions prevent us going to a park on the outskirts of London. We’ll be socially distancing at all times anyway. But in case we didn’t I felt like coming here to try and see the Red Deers and also I have not seen them in the New Forest a strong local area for this iconic species nearly enough over the years so it was a chance to see them here. 

As we walked out in the rain the first bits of the walk were a red walk as I was delighted to come across our first red fly agaric mushroom of the year my favourites and what made me like mushrooms that had not been knocked over as we saw some uprooted ones last Sunday at Fleet Pond. Today we saw one not flat and small and the other big and flat and I loved seeing them and studying their bright colour and markings and taking pictures. Always a big highlight of my autumn seeing these. I took the second picture in this photoset of the small one. 

With not so many birds seen on the walk by this point early on it changed as I was delighted to spot a finch on the path. When looking at it in the binoculars I found it was a Lesser Redpoll and we saw it on the ground for a bit. A very special bird for me to see here. Until February I had only ever seen them at two places most usually Blashford Lakes the nature reserve with a woodland hide and sets of bird feeders on the outskirts of the New Forest until I saw some at Pig Bush in the New Forest for my first of 2020. So that’s twice in a year I have seen them in the open forest it just feels satisfying seeing nice finches out in the wild and not on feeders for a change whilst I love seeing them up close on feeders, a bird I didn’t even see in 2018 so I feel happy to have used the area to catch up with them this year and it was one of my birds of the weekend today as I really enjoyed making out its beautiful markings and lovely red bit on the head for a bit. I took the third picture in this photoset of the Lesser Redpoll. 

As we walked on we stepped away from red when we saw a minute deer on the edge of the undergrowth next to the path. We were thrilled to see it was a beautiful Muntjac Deer. It was a brief look as ever of this shy, cute and fascinating mammal but I loved seeing it. My third ever one after one in 2008 at Rutland Water and there again last August when there for the Bird Fair so my first ever in Hampshire and outside of Rutland Water. Its always a special wildlife moment to see them I was so happy to see it. What made it even more special is that it now means I’ve seen all six deer species found in the wild in Britain this year. This comes after alongside roe, fallow, sika and red this year I saw my first ever Chinese Water Deer at RSPB Titchwell Marsh in Norfolk last month I did remark at seeing all six in my life then but never did I image I would see a Muntjak this year! A great moment. And all of those mammals have helped my mammal year list onto 17 my second highest ever total now after last year’s 18. Two of my year lists along with butterflies will end as my second highest ever this year last year all four of the year lists I keep were my highest ever so with the obvious challenges and not being important in scheme of things this year two personal second places I am pleased with.

We then moved on and did get a view of a female Red Deer in the woods in front of a fence which I took the fourth picture in this photoset of, then a stag with the nice antlers and a female on the path which I took the fifth picture in this photoset of and then we walked around a bit and saw the first female with another the other side of the fence from another angle I took the seventh and ninth pictures in this photoset of. This was an amazing few moments spent with these iconic mammals and one of my favourites. I really did love seeing them and spend some precious moments watching them today. One of the best wildlife moments in the autumn seeing Red Deers during the rut and I loved watching them today. I really was so captivated by them and it made me smile so much to see some majestic Red Deers. A species I adore. 

So this meant if restrictions tighten in the next week and we cannot make it to Bushy Park or beyond in October, just like the Ring-necked Parakeets the other stars of those places which I have seen literally at home the past few weeks, I have had an amazing experience fairly (at a safe distance for them and us) close by. Richmond and Bushy Park in the rut for people like us that do perhaps more general wildlife watching and photography walks going after lots of things and whatever we may find whilst we might go to a place specifically for a species we may not spend all day looking at it or get up early often has over the 10 years now been invaluable for us because you go there and you can so easily see them in the rutting season in a fairly confined area in a city. So that’s a big part of why I love it going there getting so many photo opportunities here with the deers. But I have long known the vast and our beloved and local New Forest alongside the Fallow Deers I fell in love with here have Red Deers, for us it was just finding them which we’ve done better at as the years have gone on. So it felt fantastic getting an experience with Red Deers in the New Forest and really being able to celebrate this species in this strong place for it. Alongside the Muntjac, the redpoll and the fly agarics today I just found myself feeling very proud of and happy at seeing iconic New Forest species and so proud of the amazing area I am so lucky to call my area. 

When home I took the tenth and final picture in this photoset of autumn leaves out the front of the house. As we saw something else red, a red card for Manchester United my football team as we sadly lost 6-1 to Tottenham Hotspur, we were thrilled to see some birds flying almost right into the window and back out at the front of the house. We soon realised they were House Martins and we got stunning views of a large group all flying extremely close to the window. Such beautiful and well coloured birds. This was exactly what I had in late May out the back which I loved and today it was brilliant to see them so well again. A nice potential last experience with them before they migrate back to Africa this a regular group I have loved seeing at home and Lakeside this spring and summer and even into autumn now. Bringing to an end another fantastic weekend of wildlife, views and photos I’ve done and seen so much on two relaxing days off again. Thanks for your support this weekend. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary on the Blackwater walk: My first Muntjac Deer of the year, one of my favourite mammals the Red Deer, Grey Squirrel, Lesser Redpoll, Treecreeper, Coal Tit and Carrion Crow.

[littlemissfundip]

Today is a Gift

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins

Pairing: Alistair/Tallie(Warden)

Summery: The Solstice season isn’t turning out to be everything it’s cracked up to be. Not for Tallie at least. If only there was someone who could bring a little cheer.

Note: A Secret Santa for the venerable TakenVoid. Thanks for letting me play with your girl.

There were times that Tallie actually missed Orzammar, though those moments were few and far between. It wasn’t that she missed her life per say, but sometimes the surface lands seemed overwhelmingly large and cavernous and quiet. Like the whole world was moments away from letting her drift into the sky. 

It was moments like that she missed the familiar sounds of Dust Town, the constant sounds of dwarf life that let her know she was still living. In the darkness of the night, when the shadows were long and her bed was empty, Tallie felt the slightest twinge of nostalgia.

 This was not one of those moments.

 Crammed into the most deserted table in the tavern, Tallie sat. Silently stewing over her drink she looked out across the crowded room. 

 All around her the sounds of merriment rang out. The booming of voices, ringing of bells, and off-key singing blended together in a cacophony of noise that rivaled any battle she had been in. The Archdemon included.

 Even after all this time, it was still a little overwhelming to say the least. Solstice celebrations seemed so strange. There was never anything like this in Orzammar...at least not for the casteless. The noise alone would risk bringin the roof down on one’s head.

 Stones curse it, Tallie wasn’t entirely sure how the Tavern was still standing.

 The noise, the colours, the endless frivolity, it all seemed too much. Too much life all crammed together in one place. Though Tallie occasionally resented the quiet, she had come to appreciate the space that the surface world provided.

 In a place like this, even surrounded by so many people, Tallie felt very much alone.

 As if sensing her thoughts, Tallie’s wandering gaze met another. Across the tavern another surface dwarf caught her eye. Raising a single bushy brow, he tipped his pint in her direction. A clearer invitation Tallie had never seen, but it also wasn’t one she was particularly interested in. 

 Sharpening her gaze, Tallie met his eyes squarely. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile so he wouldn't mistake her dismissal as some coy invitation.

 Clearly her message got across. The dwarf shrugged his shoulders amicably and turned his attention to more receptive pastures. There were certainly enough patrons and barmaids who seemed willing enough.

 Hunching her shoulders, Tallie eyes the last of her drink contemplatively. It seemed like the right time to head out. It was late enough that the tavern was starting to get rowdy. Even alone, her room was starting to seem like a better alternative.

 Just as she was about to toss a few coppers on the table and go, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She could sense someone behind her, so close she could almost feel their heat on her back.

 Moving slowly, subtly, she reached for one of the many knives on her belt. For a split-second old instincts warred with common sense and Tallie had to fight the urge to slip her knife between the stranger’s ribs.

 Instead, she flipped her knife smoothly, thrusting the pommel into her would-be attacker’s ribs. The strike, sudden and unexpected, caught them just below the solar plexus.

 With a choked grunt the figure went down, clutching their stomach. It was only then, as their hood fell away, that Tallie recognized the familiar face.

 “Alistair?” she gasped.

 Hopping off her bench, Tallie hurried him to his feet. Tugging his hood back into place she glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully there was a far more enthusiastic brawl taking place by the bar which served as a suitable distraction.

 After helping Alistair onto the other bench, Tallie settled back into her seat.

 “Alista...I mean Your Majesty,” said Tallie, “what are you doing here?”

 It was meant to be a show of respect. Tallie had seen it too many times. A dwarf ascends to a noble house and suddenly get all up on themselves. Alistair didn’t seem like the sort but it was better to be safe than sorry.

 Though the look that passed over Alistair’s face made her immediately regret her words.

 “Please...don’t,” said Alistair slowly, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “That title is...It’s too much. Hearing it from other people is strange but from you…”

 Alistair trailed off. His strained smile seemed to flit between hopeful and anxious. To be honest it was a bit of a relief to see how little he had changed in spite of it all.

 “Alright then Alistair,” Tallie paused, taking a long sip of her drink to hide her smile, “what are you doing here?”

 Sensing the change in tone Alistair adopted a faux innocent expression.

 “Funny story actually. I just happened to be riding past, entirely by coincidence mind you, when I felt the overwhelming urge to drink bad ale and listen to poorly sung tavern songs. It must have been fate.”

 “Fate huh?” replied Tallie dryly. “So it wasn’t a certain ex-chantry sister who likes to stick her nose into other people’s business?”

 Face innocent as a school-boy, Alistair shook his head. 

 “Absolutely not.”

 “Since I am here though,” he continued leaning onto the table in a move he had clearly stolen from Zevran, “it’s only fitting that I give you your present.”

 Reaching into his rucksack, Alistair pulled out a long thin box. It was plainly wrapped, brown paper and twine, but judging by the lopsided edges and the wrinkled corner it was a job Alistair had completed himself. Placing it on the table, he gently pushed it towards Tallie.

 “I know it’s a little early but I wasn’t sure when we would see each other next.” Tilting his head to the side Alistair cast a sheepish smile in Tallie’s direction. 

 Seeing him there, so close, after being apart for so long. Tallie had to reach out for the package, if only to keep from reaching across the table and laying a hand on his scruffy cheek. Alistair would never grow the kind of facial hair that would make him the envy of Orzammar but his scruff was endearing in it’s own way.

 “You're not going to shake it?” Alistair asked.

 It was such an odd question Tallie could do little more than stare.

 “Why would I do that?” she asked slowly. Maybe it was some kind of human tradition but it sounded very strange all the same.

 “To try to figure out what it is by the sound. Like this.” Alistair raised his hands and shook them by his head.

 Once again, Tallie stared. Seeing her blank expression Alistair froze, his face flushing.

 “Never mind it’s a human thing I guess. Just hurry up and open it.”

 Now, Tallie would have liked nothing more than to tear into the wrapping paper like a savage darkspawn but she managed to hold herself in check. It was worth the wait just to watch Alistair fidget as she slowly pulled the cord loose and gently unwrapped the paper. She even folded it before setting it aside. 

 By the time she had finished, Alistair was practically shaking in his seat.

 Like the wrapping the box was plain. As she lifted the lid though, Tallie was struck dumb. Laying atop a bed of shredded linen was a single rose.

 It was beautiful. Like nothing Tallie had ever seen before. Lifting it from it’s nest, Tallie examined the flower in the tavern’s low light. 

 It was heavy. Heavier than she’d expected. 

 Made entirely of metal from stem to petal, it seemed to glow in the firelight. The beautiful gold caught the light as she turned it, examining the intricate details. It looked almost lifelike, down to the veins on the leaves.

 “Fine dwarven crafts direct from Orzammar,” Alistair joked half-heartedly. At Tallie’s silence his anxiety seemed to grow. “I hope you like it. It’s supposed to symbolize our um courtship and romance...I think. Maker’s breath, it seemed like a good idea before. Should I have gotten you a necklace or a knife or…”

 If she let him he likely would have gone on all night.

 “Alistair.” Tallie interrupted, her voice firm but kind. Immediately, Alistair fell silent. “I love it.”

 “Well…” After sending himself into a tizzy, Alistair seemed a little lost as to how to proceed. “Good. That’s good.”

 “It is.” Tallie agreed solemnly, trying her hardest to hold back her laughter. The man could be so earnest sometimes.

 “It’s so nice in fact,” Tallie continued reaching into one of the pockets of her coat. “I’m a little embarrassed of my present for you.”

 The box wasn’t particularly large and Tallie hadn’t even had the chance to wrap it. She’d planned to do it before sending it along by courier but now seemed as good a moment as any.

 “You got me a present?” said Alistair, his whole face lighting up.

 Tallie shrugged.

 “Well, I figured if I was going to be a surface dwarf I might as well follow surface traditions.”

 Alistair only appeared to be half-listening as he stared intently at the box in Tallie’s hands. Rolling her eyes, she slid the box across the table. 

 Almost immediately it was in Alistair’s hands. Raising the box to his ear he gave it a gentle shake. By the stones, humans were strange sometimes.

 Setting it back on the table, Alistair pulled off the lid with unnecessary flourish only to stop short. With almost reverent hands he pulled the small stone figure from the box. Like Alistair’s rose it was beautifully detailed but instead of metal it was made of solid black stone.

 It had taken much deliberation before Tallie was able to settle on a present. After all, it was no easy task to find a gift for a king, but she had been confident enough with her choice at the time. Now, on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure.

 The statuette was small, slightly longer than a man’s hand from palm to fingertips. It was not the size that mattered though. 

 While Tallie had only the vaguest memories of Duncan from her brief time before his passing, she had been lucky enough on her travels to stumble across a portrait of the man in one of the rare books on Grey Wardens. From there it was simple enough to commission the piece.

 Seeing it in Alistair’s hands though, she was beginning to have her doubts.

 Seconds passed in silence, feeling like years. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. She had hoped it would serve as a reminder of his mentor/father figure but perhaps it only brought back sad memories.

 Just as Tallie was about to speak, though what she would say was still a mystery, Alistair’s hand darted across the table to clasp her own. His eyes were damp as he stared at her.

 “Marry me.”

 The words were barely a whisper, but they made Tallie’s heart trip in her chest. It wasn’t as though they had never spoken of this. That had been before though. Before the Landsmeet. Before Alistair became king.

 Things were different now. They both had responsibilities. She had her mission and he had his duty, and as much as she wanted it this wasn’t something she could promise. Not now.

 “Alistair…” 

 Alistair’s grip tightened.

 “I know.” He whispered running his thumb across her worn knuckles. “You have to find a cure for the Taint and I have to rule Ferelden. Maker’s breath, it still feels strange saying that. I understand. I do ....”

 Drawing a ragged breath, Alistair tugged Tallie’s hand towards him. Gently he pressed a chaste kiss to her fingers before letting them rest against his forehead. 

 “It’s just...I miss you. I miss you every day when we are apart.” Releasing her hand Alistair met her eyes once more. Sincerity shining from his face like a flame. “There are days I want to toss that stupid crown in a river, steal a horse, and just run off to find you.”

 A lump had formed in Tallie’s throat that was far more stubborn than she cared to admit. She understood his feelings all too well. It was why she had kept from seeing him for so long. All it took was a few words, a sweet smile, and she was completely undone. All her resolve ground to a fine ash.

 Still, she could admit this if nothing else. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But it would have to do.

 “I miss you too.” Tallie whispered. Mirroring Alistair’s own action she clasped his hand. Raising it to her lips she gently brushed his knuckles.

 There was so much more Tallie wanted to say.

 “You are going to find a cure.” said Alistair.

 That was one of the things Tallie loved most about him.

 When he spoke, he did so with the utmost conviction. Like his words were the most obvious of facts. The sky was blue. The grass was green. Tallie would find a cure for the Taint.

 “I know you will, because there is nothing you can’t do.” Alistair continued. “And when that day comes you are going to come back to Ferelden, probably riding a dragon or something equally ridiculous, and I am going to marry you.”

 Tallie wanted nothing more than to accept his words, to live in his dream a little longer, but she had lived too long and seen too much. Clearly someone needed to be the voice of reason.

 “I don’t think your court would care for a dwarven queen.” Tallie pointed out, though it hurt to do so. “They will probably want you to marry some pretty noble girl who will bear you a castle full of noble babies.”

 “The court can go hang for all I care.” replied Alistair firmly. “I love you and they can learn to live with it or I’ll sell the whole country to the Orlesians. See how they like that.”

 It was impractical. It was impossible. But in this moment, Tallie needed to hear those words. Shameful as it was, they were exactly what she needed to hear. Just a statement of facts. Pur and simple.

 “Such decisive action.” Tallie managed to quip, despite the way her chest felt like Alistair had reached in and gave her heart a squeeze. “How very kingly.”

 Sensing the change in the mood, Alistair seemed to relax ever so slightly.

 “I know right?” he joked back. “I’ve been practicing.” 

 With the tension gone and the moment passed, now seemed like a good time to find a more private place. Suddenly, the prospect of going back to her room at the Inn no longer seemed so abhorrent. 

 Tossing a few silvers on the table, Tallie grabbed Alistair’s hand. Firmly she tugged him towards the exit. Catching on to her destination, a shy smile spread across Alistair’s face.

 Just as she was about to reach for the door handle though, Tallie found herself tugged backwards into a tight embrace. 

 Face-to-face, Alistair leaned down to whisper softly in her ear. Barely audible over the general noise.

 “I mean it. Every word.”

 And in that moment, Tallie allowed herself to believe it too. 

 Stretching up, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Savouring the moment for what it was. Enjoying kissing him simply because she could.

 “Well,” Tallie whispered as she pulled back, “who am I to argue with a king?”

 “Who indeed?” replied Alistair, sneaking in to steal another kiss.

[angewrites]

As the Wind Blows

Title: As the Wind Blows

Anime: Cardfight!! Vanguard V

Words: 4,560

Summary: Having lost his bond with Vanguard, the game he so desperately clung to and loved, Kai felt he had been missing something. One exceptional night, however, is about to show him what that something is – and how he can get it back. Third person; spoilers for Cardfight!! Vanguard V Dimension.

Notes: yes hello I’m still alive sdaklfjlsadfjasljf. You know it’s the summer season when I’m actually updating this account again with fics again, apparently.

Anyway, I wrote this fic b/c, to put it simply, I was upset with Bushi for not letting Kai have his bond with Vanguard back even though Aichi’s bond was severed and he got his bond back. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and wrote a fic addressing that issue. It’s my first “full-length” (over 3000 words) CFV fic in about five years, so I’m really excited about how it turned out. \ .D. /

The irony is I finished writing this on May 30 after working on it for approximately 3 weeks. And June 1′s CFV episode actually showed Kaikun staring at Dragonic Overlord, and I felt like Bushi had sucker punched me in the feels. And if you read this fic, you’ll understand exactly why. 

So yeah, if you’re a CFV fan and you love Kai Toshiki or are interested in my Psyqualia on Cray theory, please read this and let me know what you think! Thank you!! <3

[FFN]

[AO3]

                                 Plant Cray – Kagero, Dragon Empire

He wasn’t in the middle of a Vanguard fight, and the fate of the world, as far as he knew, was just fine. Yet the ferocious wind surrounded Kai. Ferocious, yet . . . comforting in a way. Looking around the wasteland that laid before him, he cautiously walked, taking in the gravelly sound of his feet against the ground, the wind furiously enveloping him with the contrast of the calm of the landscape before him.

He remembered this sensation from when he fought Aichi, and his Psyqualia had awakened. He had said he didn’t need this power, that he was strong on his own.

Was he dreaming of that time again? Was he that desperate to experience the Vanguard he once enjoyed and . . . and even loved that his own memories are playing tricks on him and showing him this dream? Kai couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking how far his mental state had deteriorated since losing to Ibuki.

“Huh. He really thinks it’s a dream, huh?” a voice – that eerily resembled Aichi’s, only slightly higher pitched - sounded. Kai jumped, hastily looking for the origin of the comment but not seeing it. Sleep deprived, going back in time, and hearing voices of people – beings? – who can read his thoughts? Ibuki’s Deletors did more mental damage than he thought –

“In front of you,  Kaaaaaaaai-kun,” the voice spoke up again. Kai forced his gaze straight ahead, and he made no attempt to hide his shock from what he saw, probably also due to the sleep deprivation. In front of him was a boy who, head to toe, looked exactly like Aichi, black and red Miyaji uniform and everything. But, there was one difference, Kai figured out. Aichi would never make that mocking expression in front of anyone. That’s just not like him. Then again, there was so much Kai didn’t know about Aichi. So, he had to be sure.

“You’re . . . you’re Aichi, aren’t you?” the brunet asked, his heart pounding.

The boy cocked his head to the side and shrugged his shoulders. “I might look like him. I might sound like him. But, too bad for you, I’m not him. Sorry to disappoint.”

The way the Aichi lookalike the other had said “too bad for you,” the way he assumed what he wanted irked him. What’s that supposed to mean? Sure, he had a close bond with Aichi, but it’s not like he wanted to spend every waking moment with him.

“Never mind that,” Kai said evenly. “If you’re not Aichi, then who are you and what the heck is going on in this dream?”

Bringing a hand to his forehead, the other replied, “Bold of you to assume this is a dream.” He sighed. “Whatever. Instead of giving you all the convenient exposition at once, it’d be easier to just show you who I am.” The Aichi lookalike hopped off one of the rocks he was sitting on and motioned for Kai to follow him, which he did. It’s not like he had anything else to do. Or could do, for that matter.

As the pair continued onward on their journey, Kai felt beads of sweat trickling down his neck. He hoped wherever they were going, there’d be water. His companion appeared to adjust to the drastic change in temperature just fine, though. They walked past the fiery landscape, filled with active volcano geysers and smoke billowing from every direction. Oddly enough, the farther they walked, the less dehydrated Kai felt, which confused him. But, considering his companion wasn’t in the explanatory mood, he kept that question to himself.

At last, the Aichi lookalike stopped, and the brunet took that to mean that they had in fact arrived at their intended destination. He looked up to see an overpowering black door that was decorated with flames of all colors and emblazoned with what appeared to be a symbol – the Kagero clan symbol, Kai recognized.  

“Yeesh, he asks me to bring you here, and he doesn’t leave the door open? The nerve….” His companion sighed.

“He?”

“Oh, you’ll meet him soon enough,” the other replied. “Wait here.”

“Not like I can go anywhere else,” replied Kai, to which his companion smirked and floated through the entrance. Kai took a step back in surprise. His companion was a ghost? That couldn’t be right, could it? Still, he waited for the Aichi lookalike to return.

Or, maybe not. It wasn’t long before the door of flames opened to him, revealing a long, dark tunnel filled with lit torches, and the voice of his companion rang out, “Alright, wait’s up. You can come through.” The brunet stuffed his hands in the pockets of his knee-length black basketball shorts and made his way inside, the torches which were slightly above his head being his only source of light. He heard the door close behind him, so he sighed, realizing there was no going back. After being alone with the sound of the drip, drip, drip of the droplets of water behind the walls and the sound of his breathing for what seemed like an eternity, jagged rocks, lava geysers, and several Vanguard units he recognized – who bowed ever so slightly at his arrival - greeted him.

“Aermo. Bahr. Genjo. Raopia,” Kai gasped, as each of the units, when named, lifted their heads slightly.

“Hey, don’t forget the head cheese of this place,” his companion’s voice sounded. He looked straight ahead, finding a red dragon with yellow and red claw-tipped wings towering over the rest of the units. At the sight, Kai felt a pang in his chest, overcome by a sensation, a feeling he’d been lacking ever since the fight with Ibuki: joy.

“Over . . . lord . . .”

The dragon bellowed and dropped down to a knee in response. Taking a few steps closer, Kai closed the gap between the two and reached out to touch Dragonic Overlord, gently rubbing the top of his head, which was surprisingly smooth. It really was him. It really was his Vanguard, the one who carried him through his tumultuous childhood, along with the rest of Kagero. He had dreams as a child of meeting the units, and, if this really wasn’t a dream, this was a dream come true.  

Kai’s companion floated next to him. “Overlord normally doesn’t let anyone touch him, so consider yourself lucky,” he said, sighing and with his arms crossed.

Overlord growled in annoyance in response, but Kai continued to pet him, and Dragonic Overlord stopped growling at once and made a noise almost like that of an older cat’s. Kai couldn’t help but laugh at his companion’s remark. That would explain why Dragonic Overlord was his Vanguard. Both of them liked and needed their space.

“But, yeesh, where is he? I go through all the trouble to call you and he’s not even here?” the Aichi lookalike asked. “What’s he doing? Overlord, do you know?”

The dragon grunted in response, and Kai had absolutely no idea what he said, but his companion seemed to and whatever the answer was, it seemed like good news.

“Oh, good. Took him long enough.”

Kai couldn’t take this mystery any longer. His companion had said he would meet this mysterious “he” soon enough, but how long is soon enough? And who is “he?”

“Well, since he’s taking his time in getting here, mind telling me who you’re talking about?” Kai finally asked, making no effort to hide the impatience in his voice. Before his companion could open his mouth to speak, a strong wind filled the area, causing everyone – Kai included – to hold their ground.

“Yup, he’s here,” his companion said. Whoever he was had a thing for drama, it seemed. Dragonic Overlord turned to face the backside of the cave they were in, on which had appeared a portal of some kind made of fire. Kai watched as a ball of stars popped out of the portal and took shape, a shape similar to that of a human’s. First, the legs. The arms. Fingers. Face. Hair. Until, finally, the long-awaited guest had fully-formed.

And he looked just like Kai.

“What the heck?” Kai blurted out. His traveling companion howled with laughter while those of the Kagero clan looked on. The Kai lookalike, surveying the commotion, sighed.

“You didn’t tell him,” he spoke, focusing his intense, burning gaze on Kai, who took a small step backward.

His companion shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it’d be easier to just show him rather than bore him with the details,” Kai’s companion said. “He’s human, you know.”

The Kai lookalike looked into the brunet’s eyes for a handful of minutes before he floated downwards, feet touching the floor. Kai looked around to see the Kagero units genuflecting, as they had done when he had arrived. Just who was this person? Or being, rather. It seemed that he was the only human in the room.

“Which leaves me to do the explaining. Very well,” the lookalike sighed. A huff could be heard on the other side of the space. “Come with me, Kai. Dragonic Overlord, you too.”

Kai glanced at his avatar, Dragonic Overlord at his Vanguard, and the two followed him past the wall and into a secluded space, surrounded by white light. Their guide threw his arms backwards. As a result, the room turned dark, revealing only a view of what appeared to be the Planet Cray, the moon, and Earth along with another planet Kai didn’t recognize. The three had a thread of blue, purple, white and pink light woven through each, connecting them.

“What-What is this?” Kai breathed. Not that he believed fully anything he saw so far, but he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“You witnessed the fight between Aichi and Takuto under the influence of Planet Brandt’s leader, Destiny Conductor,” he mentioned. “so you know of Cray and Earth’s relationship.”

“Kinda, yeah,” Kai replied, not sure where his guide was headed with that question.

“And, you’re familiar with Psyqualia, yes?”

Kai stood up a little straighter, his shoulders a tad higher.

“Thought so,” the lookalike replied. “All Psyqualia users, when awakened on Earth, have two selves – the earthen self who participate in Vanguard fights on Earth and the pure form Psyqualia self who takes on the appearance of the user and resides in the homeland of the user’s clan on Cray. We were created on what you humans call the moon, but thanks to a mortal error of the Concert Master before this last one, we became an intricate link connecting the three and now Brandt as well.”

“Wait, does that mean he . . . ?” Kai started to ask but cut himself off once he realized the answer to his question.

“Yes,” the guide answered anyway. “The one who looks like Sendou Aichi, the one who led you here is Aichi’s pure form Psyqualia. I had him call you and bring you here.”

“If that’s the case, then are you –“ Kai started to say.

“I’m your pure form Psyqualia, yes.”

The brunet couldn’t help but laugh a little harder than he usually did, with Dragonic Overlord looking on. He had his doubts about any of what he’d experienced being real. That answer just proved them right.

“That-That can’t be right,” he said, breathless from his laughing. “I renounced Psyqualia. I said I didn’t need the power. Even if I had that connection, my bond to Vanguard . . .” Kai winced, “. . . to Cray’s been severed. There’s no way.”

His lookalike only stared at Kai and crossed his arms. “’I think, therefore I am,’ huh? Don’t underestimate Psyqualia. Once we’re awakened, we can exist with or without you humans. Our power is not to be underestimated.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“To put it simply, even if you don’t use it, even if you choose to not take its power, your Psyqualia form still exists. From the moment the power manifests within you, it comes into being and exists for the lifetime of the wielder,” he explained.

Kai bit the bottom of his lip. He couldn’t abandon Psyqualia even if he wanted to. And that would explain why Ren still had his, despite his lack of interest in using it.  Much like . . . Much like his tie – albeit weak – to Vanguard.

“And, yes, the Deletors did quite a number on you, didn’t they?” the lookalike nodded. “But, it’s not all hope is lost.”

Kai gasped. There was a solution to his problem? “What do you mean?”

“Even if the bond to Vanguard happens to be damaged or even destroyed, each clan has its own way of restoring that bond. And, if the person who has the damaged or destroyed bond possesses Psyqualia, we Psyqualia can help as well,” came the reply.

Rather than feeling joy at hearing the news, Kai instead became irritated – not at his Psyqualia but with the whole situation.

“What’s taking so long then?” Kai interjected. “It’s been months and I still struggle to play Vanguard, enjoy the game like I once did, to imagine myself here.  It’s. It’s embarrassing.” The boy looked downward at the view of Cray, Earth, the Moon, and Brandt.

“I understand your frustration,” said the Psyqualia lifeform. “I’m just as annoyed as you are, believe me. But, sadly, Kagero was one of the clans hit hardest during the war, so the effort is more focused on rebuilding the area. So, it may be a little while longer before your bond is fully restored.”

“That can’t be . . .” Kai muttered, clutching his chest.

Feeling a nudge on the side of his face, he turned to find Dragonic Overlord, having shrunk to the size of a stuffed animal and taken his place on his shoulder.

“Overlord, you can do that?” Kai asked in surprise. The small Overlord grumbled and nodded, nuzzling up to the boy, who, in turn, massaged the top of his head with two of his fingers. The dragon roared happily, but it was clear something was bothering him still, as his eyes narrowed and head moved downward. Kai could only guess that he, as the main unit of the clan, felt responsible for what happened to him.

“Yes, it’s not just me who’s frustrated. It’s all of your units,” said Kai’s companion. “Especially Dragonic Overlord.”

A wave of sadness overwhelmed Kai. His struggle to get back into Vanguard wasn’t hurting only him. It was hurting his deck, his trusted companions, the ones who got him through thick and thin, and they were fighting to get him back as much as he’s struggling to return to the game he loved.

“Isn’t there anything-anything I can do?” Kai asked, his voice cracking.  

“That’s . . .” The expression on Kai’s Psyqualia’s face mirrored Kai’s in response, and the small Dragonic Overlord gave a low grumble, which again sounded much like a cat purring. Kai looked at the miniature form of his avatar and rubbed the top of his head with his pointer finger, which made the dragon content, if only for a short while.

“As long . . .” Kai’s Psyqualia said, “ . . . as long as you don’t abandon Vanguard. As long as you keep playing, that bond will return, stronger than before. Believe in us, the Kagero Clan, and . . . believe in yourself, Kai Toshiki. Believe in your power, your existence.”

A short laugh escaped from Kai’s lips. “Really? Is that all? Well, if that’s so simple, then why am I still -”

“I’m sure I can start over.”

Kai jerked his head upward, with Dragonic Overlord holding on. “Those words . . .”

“. . . are what you told Ibuki after your bond was severed,” replied the lookalike. “You’ve already started the healing process. Just keep on that path, and stay with your friends. They’ll help you.” Kai’s Psyqualia looked at the floor below them, still showing a view of Earth, Cray, Brandt, and the Moon. Under his breath, he said, “As a matter of fact, one of them already has,” but Kai heard it.

“What do you mean?” Kai interjected, but the other refused to give an answer. Instead, he waved an arm, opening a door behind them. He, his Psyqualia, and Dragonic Overlord walked out and found the rest of Kagero – as well as Aichi’s Psyqualia – expectantly waiting. Aichi’s Psyqualia smirked and made his way next to Kai, wrapping an arm around him. “So, did that answer your many burning questions? No pun intended.”

Kai returned a smirk in response and closed his eyes. “It did, for the most part. And I finally get that this isn’t a dream, but . . .”

“But?”

“I still have trouble believing a brat like you is Aichi’s Psyqualia.”

Aichi’s Psyqualia crossed his arms and huffed, which incited snickering on part of the present Kagero units. Even Kai’s Psyqualia, who had seemed incapable of strong emotions up until that very moment, laughed.

“He’s a handful, isn’t he? Unfortunately, that’s just how he is,” he said.

“Oh, shut it, will ya?” Aichi’s Psyqualia interjected. “I’m a delight, thank you very much –“

“Delightfully annoying,” Kai’s Psyqualia dismissed him, which made the other even more irritated, with the Kagero units doubling even more over with laughter. “But, enough about him. We need to get you back to Earth, Kai.”

At that, Kai’s face fell. He hadn’t felt this disappointed, this hurt to be leaving somewhere, since he was tossed around from relative to relative as a child. It was a strange feeling, to him, but, on Planet Cray, he felt more at home than he’d ever been on Earth, even if he was the only human, even if his time there had been relatively short. Kagero . . . they were a family to him, a family he didn’t ever, ever want to lose. But, humans weren’t meant to stay on Cray forever, he guessed.

But, as long as he had Vanguard, even with a weak bond, he was still connected to them. At least that was some consolation.

And maybe. Maybe he could find a home on Earth too.

“Kai?” his Psyqualia asked as if he had been trying to get his attention for the last couple of seconds. The brunet jumped, having been jolted out of his train of thought, and noticed Overlord had hopped off his shoulder and become his full height once again.

“Sorry,” Kai mumbled. “But, before I go, I want to say something to these guys first.”

“Of course.”

Kai looked up, staring directly at each of the units gathered. He took a deep breath. “I know . . .” he started, “I know I’ve mentioned this before, when Psyqualia manifested for me, but I’m incredibly grateful for all of you. I don’t know how long it’ll take for my connection to Vanguard to fully heal, but I’ll do my best to come back to you guys as soon as I can. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

One of the units who had a human-like red face with blue eyes and fiery red hair but the body and tail of a dragon – whom Kai recognized as Flame of Hope, Aermo – stepped forward, and bowed his head ever so slightly. “No need to pay us back, my Vanguard,” he said. “Your coming here has already done that and more, so we’ll support you as best we can here. Just keep fighting, okay?”

“Aermo . . .” Kai looked up to see the other units nodding in unison. He looked back at Dragonic Overlord, who gave a slight nod. Closing his eyes, Kai fought back tears, much to his surprise. He usually wasn’t this emotional.

“Okay, time’s up, we need to get ya outta here,” Aichi’s Psyqualia announced. At that moment, Kai was enveloped in a bright light, filled with purples and pinks and blues. He took one last look at the units – his units – closed his eyes again and smiled, letting the tears escape this time.

“I’ll come back, I promise.”

                              Planet Earth – Kai Toshiki’s Apartment

When Kai woke up, it was still nighttime; the pitch-black, moon-absent darkness gripped his bedroom, and the only light source was the red time on his alarm clock. He groggily turned over to check: 3 A.M. He still had more time to sleep before he had to get up for school. It was a good thing too, as the journey from Cray back to Earth had taken an unexpected physical toll on his body, particularly his chest.

But, when the boy eyed his deck next the clock, without thinking, he reached for and gripped it. His friends from Cray were here, and they were supporting him. They knew how much pain he was going through, having been separated from Vanguard, and they also were suffering just as much as he was. Neither of them had to go through this alone, though. As long as the card game existed, they could reach each other somehow, someway.

Holding the deck closer to him, as a young child would hold a stuffed animal, Kai went back to sleep.

                           ~The Next Day~ Planet Earth - Card Capital

“Not bad, Miwa,” Kai commented, placing a card in the damage zone, having survived an onslaught of attacks somehow and limiting his damage to one.

Miwa let a short laugh escape. “Not so bad yourself! You sure improved over the last 24 hours. But, on my next turn, you’re still done.”

Kai surveyed the board, noting his overwhelming disadvantage. “Maybe so. I draw.” The brunet ripped a card from the top of his deck, and, upon looking at it, smiled.

“Flame of apocalypse that burns away everything in this world! Ride the Vanguard! Dragonic Overlord!”

Kai hadn’t noticed, but the rest of the shop as well as Miwa were all staring at him incredulously. Once Kai had placed his unit on the table in the Vanguard circle, though, he sensed all the stares in his direction, including Miwa’s.

“What?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

Miwa coughed and replied, “Wel-Well, it’s just. You sounded like your old self just now, and it really surprised me.”

“My old self, huh?” Kai glanced at his Vanguard and smiled. “I guess you could say that.”

Miwa made a “heh?” sound as a response. “Sounds like something happened yesterday after our match.”

Would Miwa believe that Kai was teleported to the Planet Cray, met his Psyqualia self and Aichi’s, and some of the Kagero clan? Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. But, Kai didn’t feel like explaining the whole thing in detail, so he just shrugged his shoulders. Maybe he would tell it to him one day.

“It’s a long story.”

                        Planet Cray – United Sanctuary, Royal Paladin

Aichi’s Psyqualia floated his way through the pristine white halls of United Sanctuary, filled with statues of dragons and busts of the Royal Paladin greats, including one of the current ruler Monarch Sanctuary Alfred. He’d been going back and forth between United Sanctuary and Dragon Empire for a while, but he could never get used to how different Kagero and United Sanctuary were in atmosphere. The Dragon Empire definitely fit his aesthetic more in addition to the clan tolerating his jokes just a little more, but it’s not that he wished he belonged to that clan.

After all, he wouldn’t trade being that kid’s Psyqualia counterpart for the world. Aichi had guts under that soft exterior, and he liked people who had guts.

“Ah, here we are,” he said when he saw the stained glass rotunda and the tall, white thrones. Seated on the main throne in the middle were, of course, Monarch Sanctuary Alfred. Standing to his left was Blaster Blade with King of Knights Alfred sitting to the right. Aichi’s Psyqualia floated his way through the main corridor and towards the three nobles gathered, placing a hand across his chest and genuflecting to acknowledge the three nobles.

“I appreciate the welcome back party,” he said. “I was just expecting the big cheese Alfie and Bladey, so this is a real treat.”

Blaster Blade gave a sigh of what Aichi’s Psyqualia could only guess as irritation – it was the usual reaction from him – and said, “Can you at least be more respectful? You’re talking to the rulers of not just United Sanctuary but all of Planet Cray.”

He crossed his arms and harrumphed. “You’re no fun, Bladey.”

“It’s Blaster Blade.”

“Enough,” Monarch Sanctuary Alfred interrupted the two, his booming voice echoing throughout the throne room, sending a chill down Psyqualia’s non-existent spine. No wonder he didn’t talk much, Psyqualia realized. He can’t talk in a normal pitch. “Psyqualia, I trust that you completed your task, yes?”

Aichi’s Psyqualia once again genuflected, facing the floor, and smiling. “Aichi’s Psyqualia checking in. The Vanguard’s prayer has been received, delivered,  and answered.”

                                         Planet Earth – Card Capital

A high school boy wearing the red and black Miyaji Academy high school uniform walked into the shop and was immediately greeted by the chirping of the card shop’s resident black and white cat who was sitting on the counter, swishing his tail back and forth.

“Hello, Sub-Manager,” Aichi greeted the cat, gently patting him, and the cat meowed again and closed his eyes, indicating his approval.  His time with Sub-Manager was cut short, however, when he heard the grumbling and cheering towards the back of the shop. Turning in the direction of the noise, he saw a crowd of people gathered at one of the tables.

“What’s going on back there?” Aichi mumbled to himself. At that moment, a man with a blue apron with a yellow “CC”, green hair, and thick-rimmed glasses appeared, carrying a box. Noticing Aichi, he said, “Ah, welcome, Aichi-kun.”

“Shin-san, what’s going on?” Aichi asked.

“Well, why don’t you go on and look for yourself?” was the reply. “You might find something very interesting.”

“Ehhhh,” Aichi replied. That definitely didn’t answer his question. Nonetheless, he did as Shin-san suggested and walked over to the table with the crowd of people, but still couldn’t see all that well because of his height, so he gently pushed his way through the crowd.

“Excuse me. Pardon me,” Aichi muttered, pushing past one taller person after another until he managed to get to the front. What he saw was more than interesting.

“K-Kai-kun?” Aichi couldn’t help but blurt out.

The brunet, who had his back to the boy, turned to face him, his expression changing from wonder to a soft smile. “Hi, Aichi.”

“Oh, Aichi!” his blond opponent shouted out. “Get this, I think Kai’s coming back around to Vanguard.”

“Miwa,” Kai hissed. Turning back to Aichi, he said, “I still have a ways to go, but . . .” he smiled, his eyes closed, “it’s easier for me to get through a fight without feeling exhausted, so . . . It’s a start, right?”

Aichi could feel tears forming in the back of his eyes, and he dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from crying, but a few managed to escape and run down his face. His prayer – that Kai-kun’s bond to Vanguard could start to be healed– had really been answered. And he couldn’t have been happier.  

“That’s right, Kai-kun!”

[kumkaniudaku]

Look At Me

A/N: The second Halloween fic. I had high hopes for this, but ended up cutting a lot to save y’all from a 10,000 world one-shot. Still, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at spooky (?) things. 

Warnings: Horror themes. Not proofread...yet.

Word Count: 5,074

In a year of firsts for the young couple, Chadwick and Tasha had finally arrived at the eight-month mark of their relationship and a beloved tradition for them: Halloween. In college, Tasha was known to drag Chadwick to parties across the campus, often convincing him to attend despite his general disdain for the holiday. To him, dressing up in an uncomfortable costume to stand around and maybe dance for a few hours wasn’t worth hassle. For Tasha, the fun of dressing up and stepping outside of normal life was exciting.

This year, however, the roles had mysteriously reversed. Chadwick was excited to put together the Laura Winslow and Steve Urkel couple’s costume he had spent weeks preparing while Tasha seemed to be on edge. The unsettling suspicion that this year was not normal sat on her shoulders like a heavy cloak, and she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Even as she stood in the mirror examining her outfit from all angles, the thought passed through her mind in a never-ending loop.

“Oooooh, Laura,” Chadwick sang, putting on a nasally tone to embody Steve Urkel's essence. Tasha rolled her eyes and continued to stare in the mirror to judge the length of her skirt in the back. Chadwick rested his body against the door frame for a moment, admiring the woman in front of him. “Wow, you look nice. The short wig reminds me of how big your head was back then.”

“Hardy-har-har, Aaron. Aren’t you just the comedian this evening.”

Chadwick took immediate note of Tasha’s despondent tone and quirk a bushy brow over the frame of his glasses, “You okay, Co? This is your thing, but you’ve been out of it all day. Wanna talk about it?”

“I just - I don’t know. Forget it,” she answered while waving him off. “It’s all in my head.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.” Chadwick watched Tasha move around the bedroom in curious silence as she searched for items to stick into her purse. “So, where are we going again? And who all is coming? You haven’t given me any details yet.”

“It’ll be the usual suspects. Me, you, your friends....my friends.”

“Your friends like who?” Tasha could sense that her fiance was being vague on purpose, but would not let him skate by without providing answers.

“Shit…you know, friends!”

“Are any of these friends Maurice? The one I can’t stand.”

“No!”

“You’re lying,” Tasha accused, eyeing him closely to catch a glimpse of the subtle signs that pointed to his dishonesty. Sure enough, his left hand flew to the back of his neck to fiddle with the coiled hairs at the nape, a sure-fire indication that he was being less than truthful.

“What? I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Then you better stop talking now, because all I hear is a lie.”

Accepting defeat, Chadwick moved to kneel in front of his lady to begin the second phase of the begging process. “Hear me out, baby. I know you and him don’t see eye to eye, b-”

“Say it how it is. I don’t like him. He’s an egotistical asshole who always gets his “friends” into problems that they end up solving because he is too inept to figure them out by himself. Now, you may continue.”

“Damn, that’s how you really feel?”

“I was holding back for your sake. I can keep going if you want me to.”

“No,” Chadwick exclaimed to stop the onslaught of less than savory comments he was expecting to receive. “I’ll pass, thank you. I promise, though, nothing will happen. The first moment you get uncomfortable, we’ll leave. Deal?”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Only if I can get a kiss.” A short stare-off between the two preceded and gentle kiss and a few giggles from Tasha. “I promise, nothing will happen tonight.”

“You damn right. Not as long as I have something to say about it. Now, if you don’t mind, please step to the side. You’re squishing my sneakers.”

Looking down, Chadwick noticed his knee creating a dent at the toe of Tasha’s Nike’s that were peeking from beneath the bed. Now presented the perfect opportunity to debut what he’s been working on all day.

A sneaky smirk spread across his face as he locked eyes with Tasha. She knew that look all too well. He was about to unleash something silly that would either annoy her or send her into a fit of giggles.

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m saying it.”

“Please, no.”

“Too late,” he smiled, taking a pause for dramatic effect. “Did I do that?”

“You said it. That’s it. We’re staying here.”

“Wait, no,” Chadwick called after Tasha as she made her way into the Master bathroom. “I was joking, baby. I won’t say it again!”

                                         __________

Tasha watched trees pass the window in large green blurs, trying to ignore the churning in her gut that she thought she’d gotten rid of before leaving the house. Chadwick’s hand rested comfortably on her thigh in an attempt to soothe his fiance without words. If had known that coordinating Halloween antics with Maurice would make her this upset, he would’ve settled for the industry party he was invited to. Unfortunately, it was too late.

“You’re listening to KFI AM 640 where we give you more stimulating talk. Hey, look, before you go out with your friends or your lady to celebrate Spooky Season as the kids call it, let this tidbit of information set the mood.”

Talk radio, or any radio for that matter, playing in the car was a rarity for Chadwick. He preferred his curated old school hip-hop and classic r&b stations across the popular streaming platforms. Had his mind been focused on the sounds around him, he would’ve changed the settings and reconnected to the Bluetooth.

“Today, Halloween, is the 25th anniversary of the Castleberry Murders. All you transplants and tourist don’t know what that is, but around here, the Castleberry Estate is off limits. The story goes like this. John Castleberry, son of Diane and Elias Castleberry was a soft-spoken kid that didn’t get much attention from his parents because of their acting careers. When he turned 21, he decided he was fed up with his parents’ treatment and murdered his family in their sleep. According to police reports and documentaries, the murder was so gruesome, detectives refused to enter the crime scene.”

“Aaron, turn that off,” Tasha requested, snapping Chadwick out of his thoughts.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Wanna know what the craziest part about all this is? John was never caught. There’s people that say he still lives in the city limits. Others say he works in the film industry overseas to get the attention his parents never gave hi-”

“That’s what’s wrong. Turn it off!”

“It’s just a story, Co. It’s probably not even true.”

“That’s not the point. Please, turn it off.”

“Okay, okay.” Chadwick relented with no further protest. Using the directional pad on his steering wheel, he attempted to change the station but found that the system wasn’t responding.

“I’m out of here in a few, but here are some spooky toons to hold you until I get back.”

“Chadwick!”

“Fuck, I’m trying! It won’t switch the station.”

“There is someone walking behind you...” Vocals from The Vogues meant to serve as a romantic reminder filled the front seat with chilling energy that neither passenger had ever felt before. “There is someone watching your footsteps. Turn around, look at me.”

“Please! I’m scared!”

Chadwick struggled with the knob on the radio to no avail, leaving the song to play and distort under its own power. Having had enough of fighting with the object, the palm of his hand collided with the button to shut the system down completely.

Tasha’s labored breaths became the only sound for several moments as she fought to stop her heart from playing a deafening concerto in her ears.

“I-I don’t know what happened. I guess it’s time for maintenance,” Chadwick whispered more to himself than to anyone else. The car came to a slow stop at a red light, giving him the chance to turn and look Tasha. “You okay?”

“No! I am not okay. I’m everything, but okay, right now.”

“Calm down, T.”

“Calm down?! Are you serious, Chadwick? You don’t any of this strange?”

“I told you that it’s time for maintenance. Look,” he added before pointing to the digital dashboard. “Right there. The light just came on.”

Tasha leaned forward for a better look to confirm Chadwick’s findings. Sure enough, an amber light stood out among the rest to indicate the car needed to be serviced as soon as possible.

“Everything is gonna be okay, baby. You gotta trust me.” Chadwick was careful with his movements as he reached over the middle console to interlace his fingers with Tasha’s. Bringing her hands to his mouth, he places a tender kiss to her knuckles. “We’re having fun tonight. Don’t let that trash ass song and fake story ruin our good time.”

Chadwick’s goofy smile and the playful twinkle in his eyes helped to release some of the tension Tasha was holding, leading to an audible sigh of relief.

“Whatever. But, Aaron, I swear if I start feeling weird again -”

“We have to leave. I know, baby. I plan to keep my word.”

“Mhmm,” she mumbled between pecks from Chadwick. “We’ll see. Focus on catching this light before I have to smack this old ass lady. Go around us, damn!”

Directions provided by Siri led the couple to a run-down venue surrounded by unkempt shrubbery. This time, it was Chadwick’s turn to battle with an uneasy feeling as he took a look around the property for any sign of life.

“Let me guess, Maurice told you about this place, huh?”

“Don’t start, Co.”

“That’s what you should’ve told his dumb ass,” Tasha ranted under her breath. “Should I call him and let him know we won’t be staying or will you do the honors?”

“Give him time to show up, then we’ll tell him. I want to hear his explanation in person.”

“You really wanna sit here and watch him those beady eyes look back you and tell you a lie? Couldn’t be me.”

“Tasha, chill.” Chadwick’s was patience was wearing thin with his friend and sarcastic comments from the peanut gallery were not helping the cause. Though Tasha had more comments to unleash, a line of cars entering the lot kept them tucked behind her full lips. “See, we were just early. I’ll ask him what happened.”

“So, I can’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even a little bit? Just a teeny tiny bit?”

Pulling his hand back into the care after waving Maurice over, Chadwick turned to give Tasha a stern look. “Nothing. Nada. Let me handle it and we can go.” Tasha’s desire to leave as soon as possible outweighed her need to chastise a grown man though she would’ve loved to hand Maurice a piece of her mind. Instead, she busied herself with social media apps while her man handled the issue.

The faint buzz of the windows rolling down filled the air until Chadwick’s recent friend dressed as Lucky from Poetic Justice was able to return Chadwick’s handshake inside the car.

“Aye man, what type of shit you got us at?”

“Me? You sent the text message with the directions. I was just about to ask you the same shit.”

“Bullshit. I didn’t even know this place existed. I got a text from an unknown number saying it was you and you had to get a new phone or something.”

“Nah, that can’t be right. This what you sent me this morning.” Maurice pulled his cell phone from his pocket to open is message app and show Chadwick the contents of the text he received earlier. “It’s all you brotha. I was just following directions.”

“Wha-,” Chadwick muttered, unable to finish his sentence as he read the message for the third time. While the contact name and number belonged to him, the message did not. “I didn’t send that. Here, you can look for yourself.”

Maurie copied Chadwick’s previous actions and read over the text message before handing the phone back to his friend. “I don’t know what the hell goin’ on, but we ain’t ‘bout to stay and try to figure the shit out. Y’all trynna hit up Avalon. My homeboy said he could get us in if we get there by 10.”

“That cool with you, baby,” Chadwick asked looking in your direction.

“Oh,” you started, feigning shock at being acknowledged. “Can I talk now, Master?”

Rolling his eyes, he rotated his head against the headrest to refocus his attention on Maurice.

“We’re coming. Just lead the way.” A short handshake to end the conversation sent Maurice to the other cars to relay the information. Chadwick focused on damage control and determining the new cause of Tasha’s attitude in the meantime. “What’s wrong with you now?”

“I’m fine. Ecstatic. Wonderful. Couldn’t be happier!”

“Stop, T. You’re not fine.”

“I just find it funny how he can suggest a new idea and you trip over yourself to make it happen, but I say I wanna stay home because I’m uncomfortable and it’s a big deal.” Chadwick opened his mouth to speak but was stopped before he could rattle of an excuse. “Save it. Start the car up so we can go.”

More interested in dropping the bubbling argument than ruining the remainder of the night, Chadwick turned the key in the ignition to restart the car. Instead of expected purr of the engine, their ears were met with a stalling sound and a hollow clunk. Several subsequent tries yielded the same results until there were no sounds at all.

Maurice and the remainder of the group faced the same issue, trying over and over to start their engines with no success.

“Yours down too, man,” Cedric, another member of the group called from his Porsche. “I just got this shit. It shouldn’t be acting like this.”

“This ain’t even my whip. The dealership gave me this until my car was finished in the shop. Keisha, get them niggas on the phone.”

“It’s Saturday at 9:30 pm, jackass,” Maurice’s wife called from the passenger side of their vehicle. “Ain’t nobody answering the damn phone.”

“We can take a look at it real quick and call somebody if we need to. Stay in here, T. This shouldn’t take long.”

Collectively, Cedric, Maurice, and Chadwick crowded around the hood of Maurice’s BMV to figure out the problem. When no answers turned up to explain how three different cars were suffering the same fate, Chadwick resorted to technology.

“Baby, see if we have cell phone service around here.”

“I already did. I have some, but not enough to hold a call.”

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “We don’t have service over here. Anybody else workin’ with something?”

Answers scattered across the group all ended with the same conclusion: there was no cell phone service, and seemingly no other hope but to walk until they could find help.

“Fuck it. There’s a cell phone tower going that way,” Maurice pointed out as he motioned ahead of the group. “If we all walk in the direction together, somebody gotta get some bars in the bitch.”

“Walk? In these shoes. Hell no,” Shameeka, Cedric’s girlfriend protested.

“Okay then, girl, stay by yourself. C’mon, Aaron. I don’t like the way this is turning out, so the quicker we figure out what’s happening, the quicker we can get out of here.”

Once the entire group agreed to walk together, the plan was set in motion. As Maurice suspected, the signal strength on everyone’s cell phone did increase. For once, it seemed as if the usually clueless grown man was able to figure out a problem.

“I got some bars,” Shameeka announced. “Baby, should I make the call or s-” A shrill scream cut the young woman’s inquiry short as the ground beneath her caved in. There was no opportunity to react before her body plummeted to steep fall, ending in a blood curdling scream and crunch that was sure to result in several broken bones.

“Yo, what fuck! Meeka! Meeka, can you hear me?” Cedric desperately shouted for his woman to respond, but no answer was returned.

A quick look over the hole left behind revealed two things: whatever she had fallen into was an orchestrated trap and Shameeka wouldn’t be responding anytime soon. Her body lay lifeless and horribly disfigured from the fall. The sight was too much for Tasha to handle, leaving her to bury her face into Chadwick’s chest.

“What the fuck, man? I ain’t come out for this shit. What’s going on.”

“Welcome to the Castleberry Estate,” as sinister voice began over unseen loudspeakers. “Are you ready for your close up?”

“Fuuuuck, fuck, fuck,” Keisha chanted. “Fuck, we gon’ die. We gon’ fuckin’ die and it’s your fault, Maurice!”

“I ain’t do shit! This was Chad’s idea.”

“Why the hell would I set us up to die, idiot? Just because you got us in some stupid shit doesn’t mean you can pass it off on me,” Chadwick accused as he began pacing in place. “I should’ve listen to Tasha. Fuck! I’m sorry, baby. You were right.”

“Shh,” Chatter and movement stopped at Tasha’s request as she came to a disturbing realization. “Did you hear what he said. The Castleberry Estate. The one from the-”

“Radio,” Chadwick finished. “It’s the story from the radio.”

“Y’all heard that too. We tried to change the station, but it - it wouldn’t work.”

“Ah, you all have gotten my invitation. I’m happy to have you here.”

“He can hear us,” Keisha questioned in fear.

“Of course I can hear you. I can see you as well. I’ve been able to see all of you for a while now. I’m glad you could make it.”

“What do you want from us?”

“Oh, the answer to that is simple, Chadwick. Perform...or die.”

“What? Why?”

“For years I watched my parents get sucked into the evil world of filmmaking. Everyday they would forget about me to make movies for audiences would never meet. Years later, all of you continue to engage in the same filth! And for what? To torment me day in day out with the same senseless babble that my parents started?”

Running his long fingers through the coils atop his head, Chadwick tried to make sense of the information being relayed to him from an unknown source.

“But what does that have to do with us? You got your revenge already!”

“I merely started my revenge. Tonight, I continue my quest to exterminate the industry one person at a time.”

Standing to his feet, Cedric took one last look at his girlfriend before addressing the group. “Man, fuck this. I’m leaving. Y’all can sit here and let this nigga with Mommy and Daddy issues scare y’all, but I’m going to find some help!”

“No, Ced, wait!”

Trying to stop him was futile. Cedric’s attempt to escape was shut down in seconds following an assumed rifle shot to the back of the head. Too afraid to make a sound, Tasha felt the wind rush out of her body as her knees gave out beneath her.

“There is no escape, but if anyone else would like to try, be my guest. I’ll try to make your death as painless as possible.”

Wails of terror interfered with Chadwick’s ability to process rational thoughts while he searched for a solution. The group of six had been cut down by two in a matter of minutes, leaving no discernable way of the clutches of the madman coordinating a sinister home movie.

“All we have to do is perform,” Chadwick shouted into the night sky to God knows who.

“Ding, ding, ding! The script is prepared. Stick to the role and you could make it out alive. Are you ready for your first scene?”

Chadwick scanned the leftover members of the group of the group hoping for any guidance on what they should do next. His comfort came from Tasha who had finally recovered from her dizzy spell to grab his hand.

A simple head nod was her way of agreeing to whatever he decided. If they were going to get through this, they would need each other. Maurice fought to calm his wife’s hysterical crying while Chadwick readied himself to provide an answer.

“The clock is ticking. Do we have a deal, or should I audition someone else?”

“We-we have a deal. Give us the first instructions.”

A dark laugh boomed across the lawn of the estate, bouncing from rickety iron fence to flickering light pole and back again.

“Wonderful. This first scene is improv. I’m sure you’re familiar with that Ms. Comedian,” the voice chuckled in reference to Keisha. “I’ve seen your shows, but I’m not impressed. Maybe you could redeem yourself here. The task is simple. Someone has to burn and you have 10 minutes to figure out who before I decide for you. The materials are in the front parlor of the house. And...action!”

The group exchanged looks steeped in terror and confusion before making a mad dash for the inside of the house. Swinging open the door put the gang face to face with the pungent odor of decay and waste. As promised, the short walk to the front parlor led them to an array of burning devices ranging from small fire to full-blown blaze.

“Eight minutes, people. Seven minutes fifty-nine... fifty-eight.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t wanna die, Mo! Please, don’t make me do this!”

“You not gon’ die, baby, I swear. Let us figure it out real quick. C’mon, we gotta figure this shit out! We gotta figure this shit out, man! Help, Chad!”

“Fuck, okay, let’s think!”

“We don’t have time for that shit. One of us is gonna fuckin’ die if we don’t figure this shit out.”

“Look,” Tasha shouted. “There’s some type of mannequin in the corner. Give me your dress!”

“What?”

“Do you wanna live or die?” Keisha studied Tasha’s face for a moment before silently slipping out of the red replica of Tina Turner’s iconic dress that covered her brown skin.

Tasha worked in relative silence while the group watched her dress and hang the mannequin from the ceiling. She was careful to angle the rigged body in a precise manner, though the reason was unknown to those around her. Ripping a piece of the curtain, she tucked the tattered fabric into the dress before turning to Maurice.

“Douse the end of this in the fluid and light it with a match. Don’t stand too close.” Tasha then turned her attention to Keisha to silently direct her to stand in the corner of the room and remain silent.

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Just shut the fuck up and do it dumbass. Do you wanna die in here tonight?”

Maurice seemed to give the idea serious thought until Keisha cleared her throat to get his attention. With a nudge from his wife, Maurice did as he was told. The blaze was bright enough to force the group to shield their eyes and it engulfed the mannequin before anyone could process what had just happened.

Seconds after the deed was done, feedback from the speakers made way for the voice on the other end.

“Now, that was a production. Well done, team. Keisha was a kind woman. I’m sure someone in the world will miss her. Are we ready for the second scene?” The voice waited for an answer but did not receive one. “A quiet bunch, I see. No worries. One of you won’t be so quiet during this next one. Down the hallway, you will find a bathroom. Let’s stage a peaceful night in gone wrong. I want to see sparks fly, Mr. Director. You have fifteen minutes until showtime!”

“Wait! Who is Mr. Director?”

Chadwick received no reply from the voice on the other end, only an ominous laugh and the soft thud of a microphone hitting a flat surface.

“T, what the fuck just happened back there.”

Looking around, Tasha took a step to her left and point to her mouth. “You have to read my lips,” she mouthed without sound. “There are cameras. Five of them. He can see and hear us. You have to stay out of the way.”

“How,” Chadwick questioned.

“Pay attention to me. I’ll tell you where to stand.”

All nodded in agreement before allowing Tasha to take the lead and usher them out of the room. A dingy bathroom not suitable for human visitor living or dead became the next set of the horror movie being filmed at their expense. Again, Tasha instructed Keisha to stand out of the way of the camera she had detected upon entry.

“Mo, I think you’re Mr. Director. This is your scene.”

“Oh my God,” he groaned, distraught at the revelation.

“Listen to me, maybe you can get out of this alive, but you gotta get in that tub.”

Maurice hesitated for a moment as fear paralyzed his body. Stepping out of eyesight, Tasha gave him careful instructions to enter the worn-in bathtub.

“You’re going to have to act. Aaron,” she mouthed from the corner. “Start the water.”

Chadwick hurriedly followed instructions as he tried his hardest to maintain a neutral expression without looking to Tasha for help.

“Keep your eyes forward,” she warned Maurice with a hand signal. “Two taps and then you shake.”

The plan was simple. Tasha would walk by the tub to knock the old radio close enough to the basin to make it look like it entered the water. A subtle tap to Maurice’s shoulder would alter him to begin the most important acting role of his life to make the death believable.

With the plan in motion, she expected everything to go as planned. What she didn’t count on was Keisha being unaware of what was happening around her. Genuine fear of her husband being electrocuted in front of her eyes terrified her into making an ill-fated decision.

As Tasha began the motion to knock the radio “into” the bathtub, Keisha lunged forward to stop the motion. Her effort to save her man became their demise as she mistakenly caused the device to fall into the murky water, sealing their painful death.

The smell of burning breath pulled the contents of Chadwick’s stomach forward as he doubled over to relieve himself of the nausea that had taken over.

“Wow, Tasha, I must say that I didn’t expect this from you. Chadwick maybe, but never you. I guess I had you pegged all wrong.” The voice from the speakers was louder and clearer than before. The disfigured and frightening man beyond the shadows emerged from an unknown area wielding a large knife. “What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

“Please, just let us out of here,” she pleaded, feeling the tears she’s been holding back pricking the back of her eyes.

“No can do, Princess. See, I was going to let you be the one to make it out of here. I’ve been watching you, and I like you. You’re not apart of this shit show industry and you’re smart. Almost too smart.”

Chadwick stood frozen in fear as the assailant, assumed to be John Castleberry, used his free hand to apply overwhelming pressure the area covering Tasha’s trachea. A pained gasp from the love his life nearly brought Chadwick to his knees.

“Not her! Please! Let me switch with her.”

“Oh don’t worry, Chadwick. Your time will come. First, you have to suffer.” A Cheshire grin spread across John’s face as he pressed the cold blade to her throat, drawing blood with every movement.

“Stop!”

“It’s over, baby,” Tasha whispered through her tears. “Run, Aaron! Don’t worry about me. It’s my turn to save you. I’ll see you soon. I-I love you.”

Chadwick watched the blade continue its journey across Tasha’s neck as he screamed a plea at the man metaphorically ripping his heart from his chest.

“No! Stop! Please, stop,” he chanted. “Stop!”

“Aaron! Aaron! Boy, would you shut up? I’m trying to sleep!”

Chadwick should up from the bed in a cold sweat, his eyes darting to each corner of the room to decipher his surroundings. Beside him, sporting a cold glare and the bonnet that he never thought he’d be excited to see, Tasha lay propped on her elbow to face him.

“Are we at home?”

“We’re both in your house, but I’m about to go back to mine if you don’t let me sleep. I have to work in the morning and you in here running from demons.”

Chadwick released a sigh of relief and a short laugh that confused Tasha.

“Baby, I had a dream that someone was about to kill you and make me watch. It felt so...so real!”

“I’d take a bullet to the head if it meant I could get some rest. Sweating all over on my side and shit. Are you finished with your Nightmare on Elm Street or should I go sleep in the other room.”

“I’m good,” he answered trying to convince himself more than Tasha. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

“Take as much time as you need. Maybe stay in the there for the next six hours. Sheesh.”

Chadwick let out another laugh at her antics. Relief began to replace fear as he entered his bathroom to compose himself. He was safe with the love of his life beside him after the most traumatic dream he’d ever had, and he couldn’t be happier.

Splashing a handful of cold water on his face, the sound of a car passing the house did little to get his attention.

“There is someone walking behind you…”

The tune playing from the vehicle made his body hot with anticipation as the memories he wanted to forget came back with a vengeance. His palms flew to cover his ears, hoping to drown out the sound and stop the images running through his head. His body crumbled to the ground in a heap as he backed himself into a corner.

“Fuck, no! Stop!”

“There is someone watching your footsteps. Turn around, look at me. Look at me. Look at me…”

                              ______________

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[fireinmywoods]

fic: palimpsest [3/8]

“Skip to the point, Jim. The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can refuse and get back to work.”

“It’s really no big deal,” Jim says as the door slides closed behind them. “I just need you to come down to Hearth with us…as my husband.”

The Enterprise has been sent to negotiate reaccession to the Federation with an isolationist religious group known as the Kindred. While there, Jim notices that some of the children seem to be gravely ill. The problem is, the Kindred practice faith healing and refuse to allow a doctor to be brought in. So Jim does what he does best: he improvises.

CHAPTER 3: In which dinner is served, Leonard is not a people person, and Hearth’s newest celebrity couple finally get a moment alone. Sort of. PG/Teen, ~4,300 words. [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Given the Kindred’s apparent fondness for living metaphors, Leonard isn’t surprised to learn that their main hall is built around an actual hearth: a colossal stone fireplace in the center of the room, open on all sides and laid with a roaring fire which fills the entire hall with heat and light.

The Kindred apparently eat most every meal together, and they’re not overly fussy about individual family units. They really do seem to view the whole clan as one big family, and that extends to mealtimes, when they all sit themselves down at the long tables filling the congregation hall, sharing a bench with whatever Brothers or Sisters or Aunts or Uncles they happen to end up near.

 The Enterprise crew is more intentionally seated at a table with several Councilors and what seem to be some portion of their immediate families. To Leonard’s chagrin, he and Jim are placed front and center, right where everyone at the table can get a nice clear look at them. Leonard hasn’t felt so overtly on display since his and Jocelyn’s wedding reception. At least the Kindred aren’t likely to start tapping their cups to make him and Jim kiss – though he has no doubt they’d be all for it if they knew it were an option.

 Their fellow diners are obviously hoping for an encore to Jim’s earlier performance, and Jim doesn’t disappoint. He’s very much on from the moment they sit down, chatting away with everyone around them, asking endless questions about their families  – How long have you been married? How many grandchildren do you have? When’s the baby due? – and listening to their responses with what appears to be genuine interest, smiling and nodding and offering compliments in all the right places. He peppers the conversation with lighthearted anecdotes of his own, blending fact and fiction so skillfully that even Leonard can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins: his disastrous first attempt at recreating his grandmother’s pot roast recipe, the Enterprise’s recent visit to a planet where the natives aged backwards, the time he dropped his wedding ring in the Tullisian Poison Swamp and nearly lost a hand getting it back, the neighbor girl who lived downstairs from his and Leonard’s first apartment and decided the best strategy for pursuing her passionate seven-year-old crush on Leonard was to compose elaborate signed confessions from “Jim” disclosing all the terrible crimes he’d committed.

 (“Oh, she hated my guts,” he says, laughing along with his audience. “Poor kid. I had to feel for her. If I’d had any real competition for Leonard back before we were married, I probably would’ve done something ever crazier – and I was an adult.”)

 Through it all, he’s constantly checking in with Leonard, looking over to take in his reaction to a story, turning to him for confirmation of some trivial detail or another, lavishing him with a thousand unnecessary touches. He brushes imaginary crumbs off Leonard’s sleeve and steals bites from his plate, teases and flatters him, leans in close to whisper side comments in his ear. He’s playing his role as smitten, attentive husband to the absolute hilt – well past the point of overkill, in Leonard’s opinion, but the Kindred are eating it right up. They really must be starved for entertainment out here.

 Leonard supposes he should be thankful for the dynamic they’ve established, in which Jim does the heavy lifting and all he has to do is play along. Even so, it’s nerve-wracking being so intensely under the spotlight, knowing his every word and expression are being scrutinized and dissected by a bunch of strangers. And as for the touching – well, he can’t say he minds it, if he’s being honest with himself, but there’s something profoundly disconcerting about how performative it all is, the unsettling nagging thought that Jim’s just giving the people what they want to see. It’s been a long time since he felt like he had to second-guess Jim’s intentions or wonder what he’s really thinking. This feels like backsliding, and it bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

 At least the food is decent: platters of golden cornbread, bowls of creamy polenta seasoned with little bits of bacon, a bittersweet corn-based drink the Kindred call avati. It’s the plainest of fare, but well-prepared. At least it hasn’t come out of a food slot, which gives it an edge over most of what Leonard’s eaten since they left Earth.

 At one point while most people at the table are distracted with side conversations, the man on Leonard’s other side leans over and tops up his and Jim’s tankards with a strangely meaningful smile. Leonard awkwardly smiles back, not understanding – at least not until he raises his cup to drink and catches a whiff of what’s inside.

 “Wow.” Jim sputters a laugh into his tankard. “This is, uh…very strong, Brother Ernesto.”

 “Even the most conscientious among us are not immune to momentary lapses, I’m afraid,” Ernesto says gravely, his eyes alight with a distinctly un-Kindredlike glint of mischief. “You see, some time ago I produced a barrel of good wholesome avati and stored it overnight in the back corner of my cellar, intending to retrieve it the next afternoon for my daughter’s wedding. In all the fuss of preparation the next day, however, it simply slipped my mind. Sadly, by the time I discovered my error, the damage was already done, and the avati had degraded into this…subpar swill. But the gods bid us not to waste that which they have so graciously provided, so I resigned myself to consuming it myself so as not to make others suffer for my mistake.” His mouth twitches, not quite disguised by the cover of his bushy, grey-threaded beard. “Fortunately, I am blessed with a few steadfast friends who are willing to partake of the vile brew in order to share my burden.”

“We should all have such friends,” Jim says with a smile. “My husband and I are honored to be counted among them.” He takes a draught off his tankard, maintaining an impressively straight face while he rolls it around his mouth and swallows.

 “It has quite a strong taste, but not altogether unpleasant, wouldn’t you say?” Ernesto says, watching Jim keenly for his reaction.

 “Not unpleasant at all,” Jim says, lying through his teeth. That poker face may have fooled Ernesto, but Leonard’s been drinking with him for years. He could tell it took all Jim’s considerable willpower not to spit his mouthful right back into the cup.

 Leonard can’t say he blames him. He’s drunk his fair share of moonshine and home brews, but this stuff is first cousin to rubbing alcohol; he feels like he might go blind just sniffing at it. If it wouldn’t cause a scene, he’d seriously consider smacking the tankard out of Jim’s hand to keep him from poisoning himself.

 A pair of little boys run up to the table, tugging on the baggy sleeve of Ernesto’s robe, and he turns away to address them. Jim takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper in Leonard’s ear, “Oh my God, it’s like orientine acid. I think it’s eating a hole through my stomach lining.”

 “You need to stop drinking every damn thing people hand you,” Leonard mutters back. “I’d’ve thought you’d know better after your little adventure on Rejo II.”

 “Are you kidding? I’d drink that elixir again in a heartbeat. I could see sounds, Bones. How awesome is that?”

 Leonard doesn’t know why he bothers. “Yeah, well, keep drinking that shit and the only thing you’ll be seeing is the inside of a toilet bowl.”

 “They don’t have toilets here,” Jim says cheerfully. “Indoor plumbing is a worldly luxury to be shunned by all the gods’ righteous children. Did I not mention that?”

 Leonard mentally adds a week to Jim’s imprisonment in medbay. And more beets. The little bastard’s gonna be up to his eyeballs in beets by the time Leonard’s through with him.

 +

 Leonard is hopeful that dinner will mark the end of what has been a longer, weirder, and exponentially more stressful day than he expected when he got up this morning. Unfortunately, their hosts have other plans. After the meal is over and the dishes have been cleared away, they’re ushered outside to where another massive fire has been laid in an open pit, surrounded by rings of rough-hewn wooden benches. From the noises the Kindred are making, this is the setting for some kind of socializing and fellowship hour, which is sure to drag on even more torturously than dinner without the distraction of food. The prospect makes Leonard want to scream, or maybe take off running through the cornfields, comm the ship and beg Scotty to please please please bring him back before he has to feign interest in one more rambling account of which great-great-grandmother begat which branch of cousins.

 But then – as with most of the disasters Leonard finds himself in the middle of these days – there’s Jim to consider. Jim needs him here. He’s worried about the kids, about this mystery illness Leonard has yet to catch hide or hair of, and he’s counting on Leonard to help him figure it out. Leonard can’t just leave him in the lurch.

 He steals a glance at Jim, hoping to shore up his resolve one way or another, and startles when he meets Jim’s eyes, having evidently caught him in the middle of his own glance. The tiny shock of it jolts through him, tightens his grip on Jim’s hand. It’s pure reflex, nothing more, but Jim squeezes back anyhow, and smiles at him – as if he’s really and truly happy to be standing here in the ass-end of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by cornfields and sanctimonious puritans, holding Leonard’s hand.

 Damn it all to hell.

 All right, fine. Leonard will play nice a while longer, for Jim’s sake. If he’s going to do that, though, he needs a break, and he needs it right the fuck now.

 He makes a beeline for one of the farthest-flung benches, Jim following close behind, clinging to his hand like he has been all day. That’s fine. Leonard’s only trying to escape the slavering wolf pack of their audience, not Jim himself. He just needs some space to decompress, turn off for a few minutes, and Jim’s the one person in the universe who doesn’t feel like work to be around. Even after all the shit he’s pulled today, Leonard would still rather have the jackass with him than not.

 He takes a seat at the very end of one of the outer benches – whoever’s going to be pestering them next, they can be Jim’s problem, not his – and Jim plunks down beside him, so close he’s practically in his lap.

 “How you holdin’ up?” he asks quietly, drawing their hands over to rest on his leg. That particular move is undoubtedly for the Kindred’s viewing pleasure, but the question is just regular old Jim, direct and unaffected, and it goes a little way toward soothing Leonard’s frazzled nerves.

 But only a little way. “You owe me big time.”

 Jim gives a low whistle. “That well, huh?” He takes a sip from his tankard. Leonard left his behind in the congregation hall, glad of the excuse, but Jim seems to like having a prop, or else he’s quickly developed a taste for shitty hooch. “Well, the good news is, this shouldn’t last too long. The Kindred are the ‘early to bed, early to rise’ type.”

 “No,” Leonard says sardonically. “These party animals? And here I was looking forward to sampling the local nightlife.”

 Jim grins into his cup. “Careful Brother Ernesto doesn’t hear you say that. The guy’s running a secret still right under the Mother’s nose – I bet he’d be happy to invite us over for some after-hours boozing. Who knows who else is in on it? We could end up partying the night away with half the Council.”

 Leonard makes a face. “I’ll pass, thanks.” Jim can have another hour of halfhearted civility out of him, tops, and then he is well and truly done for the night. His tolerance for small talk and ass-kissing only extends so far, even for Jim.

 He’s actually kind of surprised that they haven’t already been swarmed by their adoring fans. In what may be the first stroke of luck he’s had all day, Sulu and Aaronson are sitting all the way on the other side of the fire, each of them having been waylaid by Kindred members eager to show off their (many, many) children. So far, though, Leonard and Jim have managed to escape the same fate. The benches around them are gradually filling up with grey-robed occupants, but no one has joined them on theirs.

 Speak of the devil. Leonard spots an older fellow heading in their direction and groans internally, steeling himself for another onslaught of chitchat and platitudes – but then a ruddy-faced woman (the man’s wife, most likely) catches him by the arm and steers him to another bench, whispering something in his ear. She glances back over at them once she and her husband are seated, and Jim raises his tankard in a toast and shoots her a showy wink.

 Oh. So that’s what this is. They’re not really out of the spotlight at all. The Kindred are just giving them their own little stage apart from the crowd, like zoologists keeping a prudent distance from their research subjects to observe how they behave in their natural environment.

 It’s a faux privacy they’re being offered, but Leonard will take it. Anything to get a few minutes of peace and quiet – or what passes for it where Jim’s concerned, anyway.

 He eyes the tankard Jim’s been nursing, wondering if he needs to worry about him getting sloppy on top of everything else. Jim’s a pretty mellow drunk these days, but there’s no telling what a bellyful of bathtub gin will do to him. “How much of that rotgut have you had?”

 “Just the one taste,” Jim says, which seems like an unusually bold lie even for him, at least until he sticks his cup under Leonard’s nose, cluing him in to the fact that the contents have somehow been reverse-miracled from whiskey into water. “Switched it out as soon as I could. That shit’s like 200 proof, and my doctor told me I’m not allowed to do anything stupid.”

 Leonard cracks a smile at that, his nerves settling a little more. “Sound advice. Color me impressed that you’re actually following it.”

 “Excuse me, I have been an angel these past few weeks,” Jim says with exaggerated affront. “I’ve been doing my PT, haven’t I? I’ve come for all my follow-ups, on time and everything, even though you always pawn me off on Chapel and you know she loves finding excuses to jab me with stuff. I took a break from sparring, I’ve been eating all the gross vegetables on your list, I haven’t been in a single fistfight – I’m following your rules to the letter, and you’re still not satisfied.”

 “Oh, get off your damn high horse,” Leonard says. “What do you want, a medal? Keeping yourself alive for a few measly weeks isn’t some back-breaking ordeal for most folks, you know. Besides, you’ll be back to your old tricks as soon as the clock runs out. You’re like some little hellraiser pretending to be nice until Christmas to impress Santa. You ain’t fooling me, kid. We both know good and well which list you belong on.”

 “Unbelievable,” Jim says – another of his uncanny impersonations, though he never can get Leonard’s accent quite right. He raises his cup for a drink and adds loftily, “I guess there’s no pleasing some people.”

 They fall into a comfortable silence after that, Jim probably eavesdropping on nearby conversations while Leonard does his very best to tune them out as he casts fruitlessly around for something to distract him from his slowly ebbing agitation. He doesn’t want to glance around the crowd too much, wary of making eye contact and accidentally inviting over unwanted company, and there’s not a lot else to look at. They’re surrounded by corn, corn, and more corn, the peaked roofs of the congregation hall and a few nearby houses barely visible over the towering stalks. The double moons overhead are kinda interesting, one nearly full, the other a slender reddish crescent, but they can only hold his attention for so long. The rest of the sky is just stars, and lord knows he’s seen enough of those to last him a lifetime.

 For lack of anything better to focus on, he winds up looking down, examining his and Jim’s hands where they’re propped on Jim’s leg: Jim’s paler fingers twined through his, the angles of their knuckles, the familiar topography of veins and metacarpals standing out in the back of Jim’s hand, the glint of that damn creepy-ass ring.

 Christ, this is all so fucking weird. Only Jim could get them into a mess like this.

 By the look of the corn, it’s early fall here on Hearth. The temperature has dropped since the sun went down, a cool breeze whistling through the corn stalks and ruffling their hair, and the heat from the fire doesn’t quite reach the outermost ring of benches. Still, Leonard’s immediately on his guard when Jim sets his tankard down and gives a big, dramatic shiver. Sure, it’s a bit chilly, but Jim normally likes to pretend he’s immune to silly little things like ambient temperature, as evidenced by the countless cases of frostbite, chilblains, and hypothermia he’s presented with over the years. Suffice it to say, Leonard’s not falling for the delicate flower act.

 His skepticism is rewarded a moment later, when Jim finally releases his hand only to wrap that arm around his back, cuddling closer to him on the bench. He widens his eyes in response to Leonard’s arched brow, all innocence. “What? I’m cold. And my big, strong husband is right here to cozy up with. It’d be out of character if I didn’t take advantage of that.”

 Leonard nudges his elbow into Jim’s ribs, hoping it’s too dark for Jim or anyone else to see the color he can feel rising in his cheeks. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

 “I think I’m enjoying it the exact right amount,” Jim says breezily. He pokes Leonard in the chest. “You, on the other hand, need to lighten the fuck up. This isn’t really that bad, is it?”

 Leonard grunts, noncommittal.

 Jim scooches closer still, his hand creeping up Leonard’s back to rest on his shoulder. “On a scale of, I don’t know…Risa to mole people.”

 Leonard winces. “Would you stop bringing them up? Criminy.” Jim cackles to himself, and Leonard elbows him in the ribs again, a good deal more sharply this time. “And you know what, if it were up to me, I might pick them. At least they didn’t stare at us like we were some kind of sideshow act.”

 “Because they were blind. Now you’re just being difficult.” Jim rubs Leonard’s shoulder, his supposedly cold hand feeling very warm indeed through Leonard’s shirt. “Look, tomorrow we’ll get you in to see the kids, you’ll do your genius doctor thing and figure out what’s going on, and then I promise I’ll let you get back to terrorizing innocent ensigns who forget to come in for their BC injections. In the meantime, could you please just try to relax? Of course these guys are paying attention to us – it’s either that or watch the corn grow. Our visit is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened here in years. C’mon, loosen up a little. Have some fun with it.”

 Fun is a pretty far cry from the mood he’s in, what with the Kindreds’ beady eyes boring into them from all angles, Sulu smirking or making kissy faces every time he catches Leonard’s gaze – and that’s not even getting into the twisted, contradictory feelings he has about the quietly possessive weight of Jim’s hand on his shoulder, the way Jim’s been staking his husbandly claim all night with one casually familiar touch after another.

 Leonard’s not sure how to explain all that, though, and he’d probably just end up digging himself even deeper into this mess if he tried. Instead, he chooses the lesser evil of a slight concession, working his arm between them and sliding it around Jim’s waist, telling himself as he does so that it’s no big deal. It’s just Jim. He’s put an arm around Jim plenty of times before. No need to overthink it.

 Jim shifts agreeably into the hold, somehow managing to tuck himself even closer against Leonard’s side. “There we go,” he says with an infuriating touch of condescension. “Now was that so hard?”

 “You are without a doubt the most godawful obnoxious husband a man could have,” Leonard informs him.

 “Aww, Bones, you old romantic, you.” Jim cranes over and pecks Leonard’s cheek, which should not make Leonard’s fool heart flutter like it does. “Good thing you let me handle our grand origin story earlier, Romeo.”

 Leonard shakes his head in disbelief. “You are so full of it. I can’t believe they bought half the horseshit you were selling back there.”

 Jim shrugs. “Ah, everyone likes a good story. That’s just human nature. And it wasn’t all horseshit. I just…embellished some things.” His hand has migrated across Leonard’s shoulder to his neck, fiddling idly with the layers of his uniform collar. “After all, you know what they say: what is a lie but the truth in masquerade?”

 His tone is one of airy nonchalance, but it doesn’t land quite right. Leonard has known him too long and too well not to recognize when he’s only pretending not to give a shit.

 Leonard turns his head and finds Jim already looking at him, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. He’s sitting so close, intimately close, and Leonard wants to ask just exactly how much truth they’re talking, here, but he can’t quite bring himself to speak the words. This whole day has him so goddamn turned around; his heart is a snake nest of competing emotions, chaotic and confused, and he’s more unnerved by the fact that he’s not sure how Jim would answer that question than by any possible answer he could give.

 Jim doesn’t say anything either, just keeps looking at him with that cryptic little almost-smile. The light from the fire casts a flickering coppery-gold glow over the right side of his face, gilding his features, catching in his lashes. His eyes are gleaming, unreally bright, so heartstoppingly beautiful that Leonard wants to touch them, insanely, wants to capture that glittering fiery blue in his own hand like an opal and take it with him everywhere he goes.

 God, he wants all kinds of crazy, paradoxical things. He wants the pretty lie Jim told the Council earlier, that sweet and gentle romance, how easy it sounded, but even more than that he wants to go back to their first semester at the Academy, to the ugly reality of their cheerless library nest, just so he can grab hold of that loudmouthed, wounded, insecure stray and give him a fucking hug.

 He wants Jim to kiss him again, right here and now, pull him close in front of all these people and kiss him like he means it, like he was teasing at earlier, like he’s loved him from the start and he’ll give him anything he asks for, anything at all, and then he wants to take Jim to some dark quiet place and kiss him back, kiss him again and again until he can breathe past all this raw tangled-up ache inside him that he can’t put into words. He wants to hold Jim’s fire-gilded face in his hands and kiss the truth into his not-quite-smiling mouth and know that he gets it, he understands what Leonard’s trying to say even when Leonard himself doesn’t, because that’s how it works when you fall in love with your best friend.

 He wants all of that, and at the same time he wants to never leave this moment, sitting here together on this uncomfortable bench, Jim molded to his side with an arm curled around him and two fingers tucked into his shirt collar, watching him with fire in his eyes.

 “Brother James!”

 Jim turns toward the voice, plastering on an expression of ever-so-slightly tipsy good humor for the benefit for the woman who’s hailed him and for the rest of their audience. He’s on again, ready to launch back into the masquerade, but he doesn’t budge a millimeter from Leonard’s side, and somehow these past few minutes have flipped some kind of switch in Leonard’s brain which makes him find that comforting rather than disquieting.

 A whole gaggle of people are approaching them, a couple Councilors among them, and Leonard resigns himself to another long spell of chatter and scrutiny. There’s no use fighting it, so he just wraps his arm more securely around Jim’s waist and gives himself permission to enjoy the feel of Jim’s warm body fitting so naturally against him, the comfortable pressure of Jim’s thigh and hip and flank against his own.

 At the end of the day, what he really wants is Jim – the craziest, most paradoxical thing of all. If this as much of him as he can have right now, he’ll take it, and be damned thankful for it, too.

[Chapter 4]

[mellicose]

I will never not stop making Chris requests. Chris, outdoor's nativity play (that's a thing, right?), fluff with a pinch

And I will never not write him. This is a sweet one!

“You got everything?” Eva asked, staring at him as he struggled with his load. She put the manger in the back of the van and waited patiently. “You’d think they’d have on of these in an actual barn.”

“Not one that wasn’t covered in nastiness,” Chris said. “Costume’s in this bag-” he threw it by the manger. “Small props in this one-” he shoved it underneath the seat.

“I noticed you were more gentle with the last bag,” she said as they got in the van and put on their seatbelts.

He shrugged. “Baby Jesus is in that one,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to hurt him before the glorious birth.

She reached over and caressed him. “The ladies aren’t too happy about asking me to fill in after Vanessa went into premature labor,” she said. “I swear I heard Eleanor say I’m neither virginal or pure.”

“And Vanessa is?” he said, throwing the van into gear.

“But she’s married,” she said. She hugged herself. She had tried everything to show the biddies that she was serious about Chris. But nothing really seemed to work. Her skirts were always a little too short, and her laugh a little too free for their taste. Ordinarily she would flip them the finger and call them dry-boxed bitter old bitches, but she loved Chris. So she took it with a smile.

She didn’t know how long her silence would last, though. As much as she adored him, she had a bit of a temper.

“And we will be too, in two months,” he said, kissing her hand. The thought made her unease disappear. She couldn’t wait. He turned on the radio and made a face at the electronica that played. She winked at him and turned it up.

“Your taste in music is worrisome,” he joked.

“Man cannot live by rock alone,” she said solemnly.

“But by the strange sounds of drug addled hipsters,” he said.

She blew him a kiss. “Have you seen photos of those bands you love? As the Good Book says, ‘let him who is without sin cast the first stone,’” she said. “Or should I say stoner?”

He laughed. “Fine. But I call dibs on the radio on the way back.”

“Deal,” she said. He eased into traffic.

The biddies waited for them as they pulled into the paddock, hands on their hips. People milled in front of the barn in thick seasonal sweaters and galoshes, close to the portable heaters someone had the thoughtfulness to bring.

“Wow. This is a proper farm,” Chris whispered. With sheeps and goats and cows and everything.” He parked by the knot of scowling women.

“You’re late!” Eleanor said, giving Eva’s jeans and blouse a jaundiced eye. “Why didn’t you change beforehand? There’s no dressing rooms here.”

“This was a bit short notice. I was grocery shopping when you called,” Eva said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. Eleanor’s older sister, Vesta, harrumphed behind her. She was the diametric opposite of her, all angles to El’s soft curves, but with the same sour face.

“It was her pleasure to fill in for Vanessa, right?” he said, sensing the tension. Eva smiled and nodded. “How’s Vanessa doing?”

“Well enough,” Vesta said. It wasn’t proper to ask after pregnant women. Eva was rubbing off on him.

“I can change in the van,” Eva said. “In the back.”

Eleanor eyed the windows. “We’ll hold up some blankets over them. For decency.”

“Of course,” Eva said. She closed the back door and started to strip.

His sister came up beside him and held up a bushy fake beard. “Did you bring baby Jesus?” she said.

“Yeah. He’s in the van,” he said. She helped him put on the beard over his smooth-shaven chin.

“Tell Eva thanks again for filling in in such short notice,” she said softly. He gave her a hurt look. Why did she let her friends treat her so badly, and not say a thing to defend her? Even if he lashed out, it wouldn’t do a thing. But she was the unspoken alpha. A few words from her, and the passive-aggressiveness would cease. Were they just expressing the opinion she was too cowardly to express to him outright?

Not that it mattered. He loved her, and he would marry her, whether she liked it or not.

“What are you glowering at?” she said.

“Nothing. Just a bit nervous.”

“You’ll be great. You know the story,” she said. “Does Eva?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course she does, Camilla. And if I remember correctly, Mary doesn’t have many lines in this play. She just stands over the manger looking pretty.”

“No need for lip,” she said. “I was just checking.”

“Looking pretty can’t be all she’s good for,” Vesta said as Eva stepped out in her pale blue robes. Her long hair rippled down past her breasts, underneath an immaculate white linen veil. He sighed at the sight of her. She looked beautiful, and the three women saw it too - he noticed in the rigid body language.

“Alright, Mary and Joseph, it’s off to the barn with you,” his sister said. She turned to Eleanor and Vesta. “Tell the congregation to take their seats. Show starts in 20 minutes.”

They walked off.

He and Eva followed her as she walked around to the front of the barn.

“This was a good idea on paper,” she said as mud sucked on her flowered galoshes. Eva didn’t feel very pure as she stepped on a suspicious-smelling pile of something. She raised her robes high over her knees, exposing thick white thermal stockings. Camilla stifled a chuckle, then stepped into a deep puddle that sloshed over the top of her rubber boot. Eva’s lips trembled to laugh.

Chris watched it all, and his anxiety grew. If they were being so petty now, how would the wedding go?

The rest of the cast waited for them amongst damp bales of hay.

“Nice day for the birth of the savior, eh?” a tall man said, wearing a pair of unwieldy wings.

“Those wings are breathtaking,” Eva said, touching them delicately.

“My wife made ‘em. Duck and chicken feathers, they are,” he said, flushing at her attention.

“Compliments to the artist,” she said, smiling at him. He was dazzled.

“She’ll be chuffed to hear that from the mother of God,” he joked. The chorus of angels - a group of teenage boys and girls in white baptism robes and tinseled halos - ran by them, impatient to start the fun.

“Hush, you,” Eva said. Chris leaned against the bales and cleared his throat. The overcast cold, stress, animals, and hay were making him seize up. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deep.

Camilla whispered in his ear. “Harry’s a married man,” he said, referring to the angel.” It’s not proper for Eva to speak to him like-”

His bronchioles twitched, then started to close. He bent over, wheezing.

“Oh dear-” Camilla said. “Where’s your inhaler? You know not to forget your inhaler! ” He patted his hips and his chest, and panicked when he didn’t feel the familiar bump of it in one of his pockets. The teenagers stopped running and stared. Vesta and Eleanor came around to tell them that the crowd was ready for the play.

“I’ve got an extra in my purse!” Eva said. She ran back to the van, pulling the door open with a grunt and reaching underneath the seat. Gladly, the fresh inhaler was in the side pocket, where she put it in case of emergency. She ran back and dropped to her knees in front of him. Everyone surrounded him, faces serious with curiosity and concern.

“Please, give him space,” Camilla said. She snatched the inhaler from Eva’s hand and put it on his lips. “Take your places!” she said, looking at her. The bottom half of her blue robe was brown with mud.

“No,” she said, caressing his face. “I’m staying right here until he calms down.” She kissed his forehead, then his cheeks. “Relax, darling.” He reached out for her, and she sat on a bale of hay and pulled him beside her.

Camilla was shocked. Eva had never contradicted her. Ever. And to do so now, in front of her friends, when he was having an episode? She grew pale with anger. Vesta and Eleanor watched her watching them, waiting on the storm.

He wheezed, and wrapped his arms around her. If they wanted to watch over them like vultures, let them. She would not withhold comfort.  She pulled off the fake beard and kissed his lips, softly, repeatedly, and whispered affection in his ear. Although he had asthma, she knew his episode was 80% nerves. The biddies didn’t make it easy.

“Relax, honey. You’re going to be a beautiful Joseph,” she said. She kissed away the sharp bitterness of the aerosol from his lips. He took a hitched breath, then a deeper one, grasping at her. “That’s it, darling. Breathe deep. I’m here,” she said, rubbing his back and kissing his face. Color began to come back to his cheeks.

Camilla made a sound. Vesta and Eleanor looked at each other. Eva didn’t care. Chris buried his face in her neck.

“It must’ve been the hay,” he said, sniffling. He hugged her tighter. He was so happy she was there. She had a way about her - her soft voice and her kisses could make the worst anxiety melt away. And she never acted frustrated or embarrassed when it happened, like Camilla did.

“Or maybe it was the animals,” she said pointedly. Camilla sniffed. Vesta chuckled. Perhaps the girl wasn’t such a simp after all. Pretty didn’t have to mean stupid, and she knew that Camilla was no walk in the park, and his late mother - God keep her in His holy glory - had been no kinder. She was gonna need that vim to get by. She looked at Chris in a new light. If that silent, awkward man could have a woman like Eva simpering like that, maybe there was more to him than meets the eye. Either way, the girl besting Camilla was well worth enduring the cold and the stink of shit.

It was about damn time.

He looked around, then smiled at Eva. “Thank you. You saved the day.”

“Told you stashing that extra would come in handy,” she said, and kissed his forehead.

“I guess so.”

“I love you,” she said, and put her hand over his heart. “Ready to wow the crowd?” She stood and pulled him up.

“Always,” he said.

[claitynroberts]

Willow Springs Ranch

Description: A young man bumps into a mysterious woman during his rushed morning errands. On his way home that evening he discovers what he thinks is a dead calf in the pre-storm winter dusk. What he finds, on the other hand, may just change his life.

Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this a while back so I polished it up and decided I’d post it here for y’all’s enjoyment! For now it will remain a one-shot, but could potentially turn into a series. Let me know what y’all think!

Warnings: None really, although there may be a life/death situation.

Word Count: 3,544

Jesse

        My hometown has about twenty-seven thousand residents. It’s large enough you don’t know everybody, but still has that small town, close knit vibe. I can walk into the feed store and name every old rancher who spends their day shooting the bull and playing checkers under the guise of running to town to grab supplies. On the flip side, I can walk into the local donut shop and grab my usual breakfast order and not be able to name a soul besides the young lady who works behind the counter. What I’m trying to say here is there are thousands of “familiar faces” you begin to recognize after a lifetime of living nearby, but, try as you might, you can never place any one person unless you absolutely know them.

        The young lady I picked up today on the side of the road about ten miles out of town looked so familiar. Her chocolate brown hair and dark eyes pulled at some long-forgotten memory of mine but whenever I tried to bring it to the forefront it slipped further and further away. As I sped toward the house I checked the rearview mirror to make sure she was still okay. Besides being soaking wet and having a slight cut above her right eyebrow she seemed fine. She curled inward on herself even more and my black lab Maggie snuggled in closer to her. I cranked the heater up and tried my best to arrange my big Carhart coat over her like a blanket hoping that would help keep her warm for now. I turned back toward the windshield and listened to the windshield wipers slap against the wintery mix that fell from the sky quicker and quicker while I thought over this morning’s trek to town.

        It wasn’t an unusual day. I made my run to the local donut shop where I got two kolaches and a large black coffee for myself and a dozen mixed donuts for the boys at the feed store. In hindsight that was a bad habit to start, but whenever I walked in every Friday morning with my breakfast, Jimmy and Carl always asked for half of one of my kolaches even though they didn’t like them. I walked in and set the donuts on the table next to the checkerboard where Jimmy and Carl were playing and they flew at them like flies to a fresh cow pie. “Well good morning to y’all too,” I quipped.

        “Morning Jesse!” Carl bellowed in his baritone voice. “How’s the ranch been?”

        “Same as it was when you asked last week, Carl. Cows are still calving, wolves are still a problem, I’m still single, and I’m still broke. But I’ll let you know as soon as possible when one of those things changes.” Now Carl is a good guy but sometimes, well all the time, he can be a one upper. He liked to hear how everyone else was doing so he could boast about himself. I’ve known Carl all my life, he was good friends with my grandfather before he passed, and he is a great rancher, but most of the time I had to shut him down before he could get riled up.

        I leaned up against the counter waiting for the clerk and studied Carl and Jimmy for a minute. No one who didn’t know them would ever expect the two of them to be rodeo legends. Where most cowboys are athletically built, even years later, these two put on about a hundred and fifty pounds since they quit the circuit. Now they were pot gutted and grey. No doubt their wives were to blame since they were some of the best cooks I have ever met, but sometimes they were a tad gluttonous. Why, Jimmy was already starting on his third donut and I had only been here all of ten minutes.

        Jimmy liked to wear cinch button downs, wranglers, and his boots no matter where he went. The only thing that changed about his attire was what kind of hat he wore which changed with the seasons, straw in summer and felt in winter. Carl was the same way except sometimes he would add a vest now and again. Both men had old leathery faces from being in the sun most of their lives and their wise eyes were framed by bushy white eyebrows and they had a thick Sam Elliot-esque mustache above their upper lips.

        “Jesse, would it trouble you to get some apple fritters next week? I’m not a big fan of the glazed donuts.”

        “Jimmy, it looks like you like the glazed donuts just fine. You’re in the middle of eating donut number three!” I exclaimed, chuckling.

        “Yeah but they just ain’t as good!”

        “You do know you have this conversation every week, right Jimmy?” Carl asked.

        “Well, bout time he took the hint then, huh?” Jimmy replied and gave me a scathing sideways look.

        “Next week you can get your own damn donuts then Jimmy. Also, if you would pay more attention to that rigorous game of checkers and less attention to the donuts you would have noticed that Carl just positioned his own pawn in a way he can take your king.”

        “Thanks a lot, Jesse! I thought we was friends!”

        “I don’t make the habit of keeping cheats as friends, Carl.” I grinned and turned around just in time to see Miss LuAnn come from the back of the feed store. “Morning Miss LuAnn! How’s it been?”

        “Oh, good morning Jesse! The rain the last few days has kept a lot of our usual riff raff out, except for these two,” she giggled and rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what everyone is going to do! The weatherman is calling for snow this weekend and if the other ranchers don’t come pick up their orders, it may be a few days before their stock can be fed.”

        “Yeah, I know. That’s why I came by today, better to be safe than sorry I guess.”

        “So, your usual order is ready and Larry has the boys loading it for you, do you need anything else?”

        “Ear tags and a marker please. Also do you have any dog supplies?”

        “We sure do, what are ya looking for?”

        “Wormer and flea and tick treatments.”

        “We actually got these new things in.” She handed me a box as she explained what it was. “They are a chewy beef flavored cube and it’s supposed to kill and repel fleas and ticks as well as help with worms. It’s a three-month supply in the box.”

        “That’s pretty interesting. Any idea how well it works?”

        “Not a clue.” She smiled.

        “Well…how much does it run.”

        “It’s a little more expensive than the two manual treatments…but I’ll tell you what. I need testimony on how they work, so I’ll give you the first box.”

        “You drive a hard bargain Miss LuAnn, but I guess that works.” I smiled and winked at her.

        “Oh hush.” She smacked my arm. “You are easily our best customer, Jesse. At least when you come in you spend half a grand in supplies. These codgers hog the checkerboard, take up my Wifi, and suck down my free coffee.” LuAnn gestured to the two men off to the side.

        “Thanks, LuAnn. Whatever I can do to help y’all out. I know how the big ranch stores are affecting y’all.”

        “We’ll muddle through somehow,” she said with a wan grin.

        “Well, I better get going. I have a few more stops this morning before I head back to the house.” I paid for my provisions, thanked LuAnn and Larry, called my farewells to Carl and Jimmy, and climbed in my truck. Yep. Completely normal Friday at the feed store.

        I made a few more stops throughout the day, the bank, the post office, the local café for lunch, all the same as normal. The only thing a little strange was the stop at the gas station. I pulled my big farm truck up to the diesel pump and began to fill up the fuel hog I called my favorite truck. When the pump clicked off I ran inside to pay for my fuel and grab a few things. The line was a couple people deep when I got up there, and more people filed in behind me; man, it was a busy afternoon for the Quick Stop. I was standing there going over my items to see if I forgot anything when the young lady in front of me finished her purchase and turned the wrong direction running smack into my chest. She dropped her brown paper bag and everything spilled out. I set my basket down on the counter and stooped to help her right her things.

        “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. “I should have been paying better attention to where I was going.”

        Her voice was soft and somewhat timid, and her long brown curls hung out of the hood she was wearing. “It’s fine.” I rounded up her twenty-ounce bottles of Coke, a package of skittles and sour gummy worms, a box of condoms, and five cans of Red Man. As I hurriedly put the items in her bag, I raised my eyebrows and tried to make eye contact with her but she never looked up from below her hood. I noticed she had duct tape, a loop of nylon rope, and some scissors in her hands. “Wow. You must have some night planned.”

        “I-it’s not all gonna be used, you know, together.” She stammered as she grabbed the bag and headed toward the door. I watched her pass through, and before the door shut behind her she turned to look back at me. The side of her hood and chocolate curls still covered most of her face but I saw her eyes. They were chocolate colored as well and were delicate in nature although they were large and round and set perfectly in what I could see of her face.

        I turned back to the clerk who had my purchases already rang up and gave him my credit card. I finished the transaction, and walked back to my truck in a stupor. I sat there for a moment until my dog Maggie jumped up on the center console and began to vehemently lick my face. I chuckled and stroked the top of her head; still dumbfounded. I heaved a sigh and started the huge truck up and pointed it in the direction of my grandma’s house still trying to shake that weird feeling.

        When I got to my grandma Bernie’s house she was asleep for her afternoon nap. I checked her breathing and adjusted the blankets around her, straightening them up and tucking them closer to keep her warm. She was in her late sixties but could still keep up with the best of us twenty-six year olds; she regularly went out to the local honky-tonk four nights a week and drank just as much as my buddies and I did. It became a weekly tradition of her and my grandpa’s and now that he was gone I wasn’t sure if she still did it to remember him or to get him out of her head. Since she was sleeping at five o’clock I assumed she was going to the bar tonight too. I chuckled and set about stoking her dying fire in the big stone hearth.

        I walked back through the house to her outdated kitchen and set about putting her groceries away for her. I placed her twenty-four count of Ultra’s in the fridge on the bottom shelf where she preferred to keep them nearly ice cold, put her bread and other things in the pantry and left her packs of Camel crushes on the counter next to the note I wrote.

                    Granny

                    I put your groceries away and beer is in the fridge—it should be cold. I also stoked your fire and fixed the crooked cabinet in the kitchen. I figure since you were asleep at 5 PM you are planning on going out tonight. Please be careful. There is a front moving in that is promising snow, and with the low temps and rain the last few days things could get slippery pretty fast. I’m going to head home and check on the ranch and spend time with Mom tonight. If you do go out, say hi to the guys for me. Also kick Teddy’s ass at 9-ball for me. Love ya, you old battle ax.

                    Jesse

        P.S. take is easy on the Camels. You remember what the doc said.

        About the time I left my grandma’s house the weather had changed. The temperature dropped to sub-freezing temperatures, the wind switched to the north, and what used to be rain turned to a mix of sleet and drizzling rain. I left the driveway and drove south toward my house in the waning light of the November dusk. Granny lived a couple miles south of our big-small town; and as the crow flies, my grandma lived about ten miles away from my ranch. But since I’m not a crow and we live in a pretty hilly area, it was really about thirty miles out of town.

        I drove as fast as the wet pavement and loaded down pickup would allow, trying to stay ahead of this front so I didn’t have to drive in the newly frozen elements. However, thanks to the Kansas City Southern and a county road with no way to go around the train, the storm moved in and stayed ahead of me all the way home. That’s when I saw her.

        At the time, I didn’t know it was a her. To be honest the pile looked more like a calf that couldn’t make it through the beginning of a harsh winter. I pulled over and flipped my hazards on; as I climbed down from my truck I rummaged around in my vest pocket trying to get ahold of my cell phone. I unlocked it and pulled up Old Man Peterson’s phone number seeing as the calf had to come from one of his two properties here by the highway. I walked over and nudged the torso with the toe of my boot, rolling over not a calf but a young woman.

        Her skin was pale olive in the dim light coming from my trucks headlights, and her dark, wet hair spilled out of her hood and wrapped across her neck. I bent down and checked her pulse, it was light but it was there nonetheless. Her breathing much the same shallow, light, and very irregular. The skin around her mouth had a blue tinge and all color had drained from her lips and cheeks; her fingers were cold and stiff and the nail beds were turning blue as well. She was a little stiff when I picked her up and a light dusting of snow fell off her as I disrupted the surrounding environment with the motion. She was lucky I found her when I did, or she would very well be dead by morning. I placed her in the back seat of the truck and threw the emergency blanket over her to try to keep her warm. My dog jumped back there immediately as if she knew the girl needed something warm nearby and curled beside her on the seat.

        I ripped myself from my reverie and looked at the clock. We were about two minutes from my driveway, and it took about another to get up it and to the house. I looked back in the rearview and saw that she was still curled up and her breathing seemed to come slightly easier now than earlier. I shifted my focus back to the road and pushed the gas down a little more, daring to go as fast as possible to get this girl to my house quickly. What felt like eons later we pulled into my driveway. Mom’s car wasn’t here yet so I assumed she was still on her way home from work; she was always a nervous driver but today of all days she had to be gone when I needed her most.

        I cranked the truck off and ran up the porch steps and unlocked the door before returning to grab the girl, everything else could wait for now. Maggie ran inside ahead of me, and I rushed the young woman upstairs to the master bathroom. I set her down on the tile floor and leaned her against the wooden cabinets of the double sink while I plugged the huge whirlpool bathtub and turned on the shower to get the water heated up. I returned to the girl and checked her vitals again. Her breathing was more regular although it was still shallow and sounded pained, and her heart beat was a little stronger but still slow. I looked at her face and pushed her wet hair aside. She had some color coming back to her cheeks but her lips and fingers were still blue. She stirred lightly and I stooped down in front of her. I looked into her squinted eyes and tried to explain the situation, although I’m not sure how much of it she understood in her condition.

        “Hey, hey, hey. Are you awake?” I asked. She continued to barely squint at me. “I need you to focus on what I’m about to say, okay?” She nodded. “I found you on the side of the road. You’re freezing and we need to get you warmed up. Do you understand?” Nod. “Okay. I’m going to undress you and put you in the tub. Alright?” Nod. “Okay, then.” I set about removing her soggy, wet clothes, which to my relief had thawed and were no longer frozen to her; I scooped her up and climbed with her into the bathtub.

        Positioning ourselves under the hot water pouring from the shower head, I sat us down and began rubbing my hands up and down her shoulders and tried to work as much hot water into her freezing hair as possible. Remembering from some survival show that it’s easier to stay warm with skin to skin contact, I removed my long-sleeved thermal and pulled her back against my chest. She let out a soft cry as the hot water began to thaw her frozen skin and she curled into my chest closing her eyes and falling asleep. After what felt like hours later, but I’m sure was no more than a half hour, I heard my mother come in downstairs. “Jesse?” She called.

        “I’m up here!”

        “Are you in the bath? I don’t want to dis—,”

        “Mom, I need your help.” I cut her off quickly.

        “What’s wrong honey?” She asked as she came through the door. I saw a million different emotions cross her face, until she registered what was going on. “I’ll grab some of your sweats for her. We can put her in your bed since it’s got the fireplace beside it.”

        “Good idea. Before you do anything turn my electric blanket on high and heat up the bed. Then grab some of my clothes and you can take care of her. I’ll start a fire and see if I can get some soup started for when she wakes up.”

        “I’m on it.”

        A short while later Mom came back in with my thickest pair of sweats and best hoodie for the girl. She grabbed a towel and I stood up bringing the girl with me. Mom wrapped her up like she had done me a hundred times when I was little and I sat her on the toilet lid. The motion roused her slightly and she was looking at me with heavy lidded eyes again. “Hey, my mom is here and she’s going to help you into some dry clothes. Can you sit up on you own for now?” Nod. “Good, okay. Once she gets you dry and dressed, we are going to get you into a nice warm bed so you can sleep and when you wake up I’ll have some soup to help warm your insides okay?” Nod. Nod. “Alrighty then, I’m going to go make a fire.”

        I turned to my mom, “you sure you got her?”

        “Honey, I have been your mom for twenty-six years and a CNA for nearly thirty. I think I can handle her.” She said with a small smile. “Go get things ready, okay?”

         “Alright.” I left the room still in my dripping jeans. First things first, I need to get changed. I rummaged through my drawers until I found another pair of warm sweats and threw on a black V-neck. I walked over to the fireplace and set about starting the fire. By the time the large logs had caught and began roaring, Mom opened the door to the bathroom and came out supporting the half-asleep girl. Quickly I turned down the bed and rushed over to scoop the woman up in my arms. Again, she nestled into my chest like she had known me all her life before I gently laid her down against the pillows and covered her up with the plush comforter.

[activatingaggro]

RELEASE MYSELF FROM CONSEQUENCE

CALICO KUANFU [2571 words]

SEVEN SWEEPS / FIFTEEN YEARS OLD

rickshaw ii-j, the eastern seas

[CW for implied violence / murder]

The scavengers are singing as they bring in the latest haul.

The first thing the last Calico had told you, back when you were still young enough that you were having trouble finding words and she hadn't gotten old enough to disappear into her Ascension tests, was this:

"It's not about how you feel, when it comes to ships," she'd said, holding your horn so that you had to look at her. "How you feel doesn't matter. What matters, kid, is that it gets done - because if it doesn't, everyone else is going to suffer, and it's not their fault. It's yours."

And you'd taken that lesson to heart, long after she'd left and people had started calling you the Calico instead. Some of the crews, or the smaller ships, get anxious when they look for ships. They worry over who's on it - where they're going - what they're taking - they let their feelings pour out and all over their common sense, like any of that matters any. When you were young, before people realised you couldn't be ignored, you'd had someone try to pass a ship because it looked like their quadrants.

Silly stuff! You've never let it affect you. And that's why you don't usually let yourself watch the scavengers unload the ships.

But this is the largest haul that you've ever managed, with enough meat to feed the Rickshaw's lusii for perigees and perigees, and you don't think Calico would disapprove of you watching today.

The Rickshaw is bustling with movement tonight. All across the highrises, people are spreading out across their balconies and roofs to watch, stretching across the lines to peer down at the activity. Someone's started setting up a new bridge between buildings in the west sector, and there's already a staircase made out of driftwood and pipes. A tinkerbull hovers near the edge of it, watching their pupa dangle from one of the poles.

When you whistle and wave, the little thing waves back, flashing nubby teeth in a smile, and starts inching their way closer to you and the pit, one hand at a time.

And on the ground, there's a corridor forming in the crowd as the scavengers push through. The Rickshaw doesn't have any proper roads: it's too clustered for anything more than, well, rickshaws, and all of those are pulled to the side right now. But there's a path to the marketpit that everyone uses, one that leads straight from the docks, and it's the one that the scavengers always use.

Tonight, Feiyan and Guifei are leading the way, dragging in the nets with the largest of the catch.

It thrashes as you watch. Up on the balcony from your hiveblock, you're too far to hear, but you know Feiyan: when she tosses her horns like that, you can practically hear her hiss of outrage, and when she slams the butt of her pike into the net, Guifei bristles. You don't need to hear her, either, to know what she's saying. She's always on all of you about not wasting time and setting proper examples, like she's ten instead of eight.

But their spat only lasts a moment, and then the procession continues, with the scavengers trailing their bosses. Behind that group are your own crew, working two to three to a net. There hadn't been enough between them and the scavengers, when you'd left the docks, to bring everything in: there's the backup crews, laughing and jostling, and casting anxious looks up at Guifei. There's the dockhands. There's the first half of the guard..

.. and there's the soft paft of dirt coming up as the pupa drops down next to you. "Hi!"

"Hi there," you say, amused. They - he! - is barely five, you think, if that. You've always been bad at ages. He's got chubby cheeks to match his lusus, a bushy plot of hair, and he's beaming hard enough that his eyes are squashed shut.

When he opens them, you startle. He's one of the lowbloods, with the sort of green-yellow eyes that a lot of them sport casting a faint glow on his cheeks.

Usually, those don't come near you. But he doesn't seem to have picked up that message, yet, because he sidles in close, loops his arm in through yours like you're any of the other residents, and not the Calico. "I'm Chōmin!"

"Uhh." His lusus has the right idea! They're hovering nearby, giving you the sort of doe-eyed horror that only a tinkerbull can give. But this is fine. You don't usually interact with the lowbloods.. but, well, just because the last Calico was prejudiced doesn't mean you have to be. "I'm Calico," you tell him, and Chōmin dimples up at you, pleased. "You ever seen a hunt before, pupa?"

"No!"

"Well, settle in," you tell him, and turn him to face the pit.

On the nights when you dock up with the other Rickshaws, the central pit serves as the market. When it's set up, you can't even tell that it's a pit from your hive: all you've ever been able to see is the sea of fabric and siding, cobbled together from everything that washes up on your shores. But tonight, it's all clear. All the tents and stalls have been disassembled, pikes and barbs have been set up around the edges, and there's the rest of the guard, lazing around the perimeter.

You'll have to lecture them later! You can't abide laziness, not when there's a job to be done. But for right now, your lusus is climbing off of his perch overlooking the market. He's always a little clumsy on land, but he's careful as he steps past the barbs and slides into the foreground of the pit, where the last of the haul is being set out in front of him.

You've never brought in this large of a haul before! And your lusus has never sat in the pit to supervise the slaughter, not since the last Calico was here. It's the reason everyone's watching, as the scavengers begin to distribute throughout. It's a once-in-a-lifetime kind of event, and you did this. You came up with the plan, and you executed it, and you're the reason no one will have to hunt for the entire season.

You don't watch the scavengers, usually, but this is an exception. You're so proud that you feel like you could die of it, even if you know you shouldn't be.

("It doesn't matter how you feel," the last Calico told you, but you bet she'd never brought in a catch like this.)

The scavengers begin singing as the first net gets unhooked. The wriggler unhooks himself to lean forward, his fingers wrapping tight around the railing. "Don't fall in," you tease him, and he just chirps in response, like some half-baked feral.

And it's not like he's in your space. Your balcony slopes down towards the street and the crowds, with a little incline for your hiveblocks door, so there's plenty of room. He can stay in his little section, and you can stay in yours, and you can both watch the show. He's really intent on it! Every time you sneak a glance at him, he's wide-eyed and fixated on it, nubby little fangs biting into his lip as he looks from scavenger to scavenger. You don't remember watching your first hunt, but this is kind of cute.

The scavengers are singing one of the hunting songs. The wriggler is being cute in the corner. You don't usually keep a lot of company up here, but you like this, you think, more than you would've expected.

You regret that thought when, ten minutes in, he turns and tries to bolt for the crowds.

"Hey, hey!" You catch him by the shoulder, pulling him back from the slope. If he pulls into the crowd, he'll be crushed, probably: his lusus is one of the small ones, a little tinkerbull without a herd, and that's no help in a forest full of legs and feet. Not when everyone's jostling forward to see what's happening, and be the first to claim the detritus from the hunt. "You can't go out there, kid," you scold. "C'mon, come stand with me."

Under your hands, he deflates. "Um -"

"It'll be fun!" You steer him back to the rails, then on a whim, pluck him up. His lusus lowes at you, but the pupa himself doesn't protest as you sit him on the rail. "There," you say, pleased. "So you can get a better view! 'cause you're not gonna get anything down there, sorry, except, like, folks crushing you, I guess, but you don't want that. It'd hurt! And I bet your lusus would be, like, super upset. Oh, hey, d'you want anything? There's some stuff your size, I bet.."

"I can get it for you!" God, he needs a bath. Maybe you'll make Guifei take him to the sea later and dunk him. Or one of the wriggler watchers. Do you have wriggler watchers? You have no idea: the last Calico watched you, since the both of you shared a lusus, but you don't know how it went for everyone else. You'd never thought to ask! "Anyway, uh, I don't want you going down there, dude, you're way too little."

He makes a sound. "Sorry, pupa, but it's true -"

And when you look at him, he's crying, big goopy teal tears that streak through the dirt on his face and send dust poofing up below.

"Is this because I called you little?" you say, alarmed. "Because, uh, like, I'm sorry, maybe you aren't that small for a lowbie --"

"I don't like this," he gasps out at your expression, choking over the words. He scrubs at his face, but it doesn't do anything, not when his whole body is shaking like a windchime. "It's - it's -"

Over the singing of the scavengers, something keens in the pit, sharp enough to cut through the din, and his face twists like he's going to die from it.

Oh, shit.

"Uh -" He's already hopping down from the rail, still scrubbing at his face with those fists. His entire face's going teal, and you're not sure how to deal with this. You don't deal with pupas! You definitely don't deal with the lowbloods, and you can't tell which is the issue, here. Guifei always says that lowbloods are weaker, so maybe it's that.

You don't remember much about your first scavenging, but you know you sure as fuck weren't crying.

Still, regardless of if you did, he is! So you bend down at the knee, crooning in a way that your lusus always does when he wants your attention. Chōmin's ears tilt up, then he looks at you, still leaking tears. His lusus lowes at you, again, then settles on the ground next to him, leaning in.

You're not sure if that's encouragement or a threat! But you place your hands on his shoulders instead, and try not to marvel at how much they dwarf his head. Pupas are so *small.*

"What don't you like?" you try. You don't know how to talk to pupas, but Anjirō is just-turned-six, and he's always dealt better with being talked to as a person.

You're not sure what answer you're expecting! But it's not for Chōmin to sniff, shake his hair, and murmur: "- they're /culling/ them."

"Uh. Yes. That's, uh, sort of the point, pupa. Didn't you know that?" He's staring at you, wide-eyed, with those freaky eyes. You change tactics. "Where do you think we get our lususfeed from?" you try again. "Have you thought about that?"

He sniffs at you. "No," he admits, "but - but - we eat fish! Not trolls!"

You've never met a pupa young enough that he actually calls them trolls. You're taking it back: he's not cute at all. "We aren't lusii! And our lusii eat what we bring them," you correct him, gently. "Um. Think of it this way. Your tinkerbull probably eats all sorts of stuff that you can't eat, right? Like fruit and shit. Don't shake your head, pupa. I've, like, totally watched the nature documentaries." You bop him on the horn with your fist, just hard enough that he bares his teeth at you.

When you laugh at him, he scrunches up his face.. but then he laughs along, a little confused.

"Your tinkerbull eats fruit, and bugs, and hay, and stuff! And that's, like, totally cool, that's no big deal. But that's not troll food," you tell him, "that's lusii food. And just like we can't eat lusii food, they can't eat, like, troll food. So we kind of have to catch ships to feed our lusii, otherwise, they'll starve. D'you want your lusus to starve?"

"My lusus eats fruit," Chōmin says, but he doesn't look like he's about to start crying again. Maybe it's because you're distracting him from the noises. If you could make the singers go louder, you would! Maybe you'll tell Feiyen to have people set up speakers around the pit, next time. You bet that'd get more people in the market, too.

"And we get the fruit for your lusus from the ships, too. D'you think we have enough fruit trees on here for a bunch of lusii? No. Here, c'mere - can I pick you up again? I won't put you on the rail."

He stares at you, broody, then nods. You pluck him up from the ground again, settling hip on your hip as you turn away from the pit. "Look at that," you say, pointing up at the highrises. "How many trees can you count? Can you count that high?"

".. twenty?"

"Uh, no, more like a hundred, but that's okay. You tried, and that's what matters, probably. Definitely. Right?" When you nod at him, he nods back. "That's not enough trees for even, like, a third of our lusii, not really. You need like, a million trees per animal, and we've only got a hundred! That's way less than a million."

"So we've got to raid ships for lusii food. Meat and fruit. You shouldn't get upset over it. They'd do the same to us."

When you look at him, he doesn't look entirely convinced.

If you put him back down, he's going to start crying again, you think. Or go into the crowd, and get crushed: everyone's pulsing forward even as you watch, jockeying to get close enough to start stealing the detritus from the butcher's pile. (There's a visor that you'd wanted, and told Feixei to save for you. You hope she remembers.) But, right, he'll get crushed, and you'd feel kind of bad, when it's easy to make sure he doesn't.

".. you know, do you want to know what'll make you feel better?" you say instead. You'd wanted to watch the scavengers, but. Well.

What it was the last Calico'd said? It doesn't matter how you feel? That's an important thing to remember, you guess, even when you don't really want to. Chōmin's a weird little lowblood, but he's on your Rickshaw, and that means you have to take care of him, same as everyone else. "Looking at the ships! I bet you've never seen those before, right? Let me, like, totally spoil you: they're really fucking cool.."

[shenanigumi]

20 Questions Tag Meme

I was tagged by @lanaya-lavellan​! Putting it up here first, since this blog was the one that got tagged.

1. How tall are you? 5 feet 4.5 inches at last count.

2. What color and style is your hair? Brown, except it’s the kind of brown that can’t really make up its mind—streaks of lighter and darker, sometimes bits of gold, mostly almost copper. It’s wavy and kinda bushy and falls past my waist at this point, so I should really have my mom trim the ends. It gets in the way all the time, but literally the only thing I know how to “do” with my hair is put it up in a ponytail. A low ponytail. I can’t even do the high ones like Chizuru’s got.

3. What color are your eyes? Boring brown. But I like to think it’s kind of a nice brown. A clear, chocolate brown. Not the dull brown I’ve seen in other people.

4. Do you wear glasses? Yeah, have for the past 15 years. When I was six, my mom took me to the San Jose Opera production of Die Zauberflöte and we found out I couldn’t see the subtitles without binoculars, so we hooked me up with glasses as soon as possible after that. My eyesight has been getting steadily worse ever since. Literally everything farther than 3-4 inches from my eyes is blurry without my glasses.

5. Do you wear braces? *shudders* Please don’t ask about my teeth. I had braces for a year and a half, from sixth to eighth grade. Apart from that, I’ve technically had retainers since second grade, but it’s been literal years since I’ve worn them and now my teeth are subtly starting to shift again so all my suffering may have been for naught ughhhh

6. What is your fashion sense? You say “fashion sense” like I have any kind of sense for fashion. Alas, I do not. Most often it’s a.) 1 of about 5 pairs of almost identical skinny jeans, each of which I wear repeatedly until obviously dirty; b.) whatever t-shirts are clean; c.) an extra layer of some sort if the weather calls for it, typically a zipper hoodie; and d.) boots or sandals. I have exactly one functional belt, and though I own multiple pairs of shoes, I wear exactly one pair of boots and two or three identical pairs of sandals to death. I do adore dresses and skirts, but they’re so much effort I hardly ever get/take the opportunity to wear them.

7. Do you have any siblings? No, thank gods.

8. What kind of student were/are you? The kind that was above average when she was a kid, so she developed expectations of natural aptitude—the kind that panics whenever she gets a C or lower on any given assignment due to a phobia of disappointing her parents—the kind that started struggling to do her assignments because of the weight of her own unrealistically high standards—and the kind that learned to really, genuinely hate school because of it, yet still feels obligated to participate. Don’t even talk to me about school, seriously. I'm strung out so tight I’ll snap if you touch me.

9. What is your favorite subject? I really do hate school. I don’t even like my past Creative Writing classes, for gods’ sakes (blame the teachers I’ve had). I’m okay with my small press editing class because my classmates are chill and one of them legit runs the class, but like, I literally don’t have a favorite subject. Unless you count my independent study on Bakumatsu Japan, because that’s fucking awesome.

10. Favorite TV shows? I don’t watch TV alone, but I’ll watch some things my family puts on, like certain dumb game shows or Project Runway whenever it’s in season. I also sometimes get hooked on Law & Order (especially Criminal Intent), even if I usually can’t watch the first several minutes due to general squeamishness. Oh, and if RWBY counts, I guess I like that too, although my enthusiasm has waned somewhat as the series progresses.

11. Favorite books? Sorry, but for all my love of writing, college has totally ruined my appetite for reading, as well as my ability to read for pleasure. I can’t even remember the last book I read all the way through, let alone ones I actually like. I suppose the longtime favorites that have stood the test of time include The Thirteen Clocks by James Thurber and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I also seem to remember liking the Pippi Longstocking series by Astrid Lindgren.

12. Favorite pastime? Writing, first and foremost (and, more prominently, bouncing ideas around!!); dancing, at least whenever I remember I like it; and playing video games, more for the plot than the experience. Seriously, I am such a casual gamer. I’ll be on the easiest of modes and I’ll still probably have a hard time. That’s a big part of why I like otome… no actual gameplay required…

13. Any regrets? This is depressing enough already, come on! But I don’t really have any long-term crushing regrets, so moving right along…

14. What is your dream job? I'm technically already a writer, since I write constantly, but getting paid for my passions would be awesome. My ultimate goal is to be able to sustain myself just by writing fiction, whether novels or short stories… but in the meantime, I’d love getting a day job as an editor. Frustrating as it usually is, it brings me a strange sort of enjoyment, and I like to think I’m good at it.

15. Do you want to get married? Being only demisexual and grayromantic, I’m not entirely sure marriage and I agree with one another. Besides, marriage is more a side effect than a life goal, wouldn’t you say? Lots of prerequisites, don’t you think? I’ve only checked one box, so… I mean… we’ll see. But if anyone gets me any diamonds, fuck that, I’m saying no till I get a better ring. Amethyst is where it’s at. Nobody gets enslaved and worked to death over amethyst.

16. Do you want kids? How many? In my current state, I absolutely could not handle kids, and it’s difficult for me to think of not being in my current state, so I can’t give a solid answer. See, I feel like in order to truly be said to “want kids”, you have to be okay with all the possibilities. If it were possible for me to have a single blood-related daughter without having sex, artificially inseminating, or being pregnant at all, I might consider it. Maybe. Until then, nahhhhhhhh.

17. How many countries have you visited? Just the one I’m from. Might consider exploring more now that a certain “mangled apricot hellbeast” (to quote someone on Twitter) has been elected president, though. Think some of my family members can hook me up with an Italian citizenship if I ever need to make an escape…

18. What’s the scariest dream you’ve ever had? There was a super-symbolic dream that really upset me (fear, anger, sadness, you name it, I felt it) back in eighth grade, all about how so much sexism and racism in America has been swept under the rug instead of getting fixed, and how the same people have ultimately been in power for centuries. It was really deep and unsettling, and I was only like 13-14 so I didn’t know how to process it. I’m still not totally sure.

19. Do you have any enemies? Nah. There used to be people I hated, and I’m fairly certain people hated me too, but I haven’t had anyone I’d call an enemy since roughly high school. The last person I hated was one of my Creative Writing teachers. I refer to him only as “Professor Jackass”.

20. Do you have a datemate? …Hey, ain’t that a planner? Or are you referring to a significant other? (And if that’s the case, if you marry your datemate, do they have the potential to become a housespouse?! I might even consider getting married now!!) Anyway, I do have a planner, but never learned to use it. I also happen to have a boyfriend of just over two months, and I don’t really know how that happened, or what I should be doing with him, but he somehow manages to make my life brighter—so I hope I can do the same for him, in my own inimitably clumsy way.

Tagging: @doodlethewhiteraven​, @sabinasanfanfic​, @impracticaldemon​, @shell-senji​, @kazama-hime​, and @queen-mizera​ if you haven’t gotten this already! But please feel free to NOT do it.