#sometimes a woman with problems should get to turn into a grizzly bear about it

[queerpyracy]

hateful to reread your old wips and be like damn i love these characters too bad there isn't more written knowing full damn well you do not have time to pick this up again

[jpegjade]

Broken Glasses - Spencer

explination: yes, you’ve seen this idea before. i posted it like 2 weeks or so ago. i didn’t know where to go with it so i called on you guys. genius anon gave me some guidelines and i went with it, coming up with some ideas along the way. so this one is for you, anon. there were some things i added but we’ve got you to thank, really. 

warnings: none. it’s fluff

_____________________

You can blame the unsub for your current predicament. You could blame yourself for your current situation. But in all honesty? You could blame Spencer for the current issue. And that’s exactly what you chose to do.

“Step in 3, 2, 1, now.” Spencer said, guiding you down the stairs in your apartment complex. 

Your arm wrapped around his, as if you were going to a fancy night out in the 50’s, you were slowly and steadily trying to make it to the Lyft so the two of you could get to work on time. 

“Spencer, I can see it.” You said. 

“No, you can’t, which is why I’m here.” Spencer said through a blurry smirk. 

Everything was horribly blurry since you broke your glasses in a scuffle with the last unsub. You didn’t know where your back-up pair of glasses were so you were stuck not being able to see anything clearly unless you shoved it close enough to your face that your nose was touching it. Even then, things weren’t clear enough to make use of anything. 

Immediately after Spencer realized that you needed help moving around, he came to your aid. He treated you with such kindness and a gentle touch that you didn’t mind having your best friend around. He knew your schedule best since his schedule was basically the same thing. He had been sleeping over at your house for the past 3 days, which almost reminded you of being a kid again. 

“I have your badge. I’ll scan it.” Spencer said as the two of you entered the building. 

“Spencer, you know you’re doing the absolute most, right?” You sighed, stepping into the elevator. 

“I am not doing the most. I feel like I could be doing more for you.” Spencer said, pressing the button in the elevator. 

He removed his arm from the current position, your arm wrapped around his, and you began to feel sad about it until you noticed him slipping his hand in yours. You tried to keep a smile from your face but it was a struggle. 

The problem was you had the biggest crush on Spencer. He was everything you wanted in a guy and he treated you with the highest level of kindness and respect but then again, everyone else got the same treatment. He was just that kind of person. Maybe this was just Spencer being a friend. Did friends hold hands? 

“Y/N?” Spencer said, sitting across the aisle from you at his desk. 

“Hmm?” You turned your head towards Spencer, squinting but that didn’t make it any better. 

You were completely zoned out, thinking about your best friend. It wasn’t like you could see anything anyway so you might as well just think while you sat at your desk working on cases. Being inside your head like that was quite common but at least you could see things when you decided to zone out. 

“You were staring off into space. Do you need help with your file? I should help you with your file.” Spencer said, rolling himself over to your desk. 

“Spencer you have your own case files.” You protested as he struggled to scoot into a comfortable position at your desk. 

“It will only take me about an hour to go through them.” Spencer said as he opened the first folder on the top of your stack, quickly reading over everything. 

“You don't have to do this, Spence.” You said, grateful for his help. 

“Okay then tell me what this says.” Spencer was trying to prove a point. 

Everything on the page semi blended together into one continuous blur. You were grateful that you didn’t have to see the gruesome crime scene photos from the case but you wished that Spencer’s point was wrong. He was smug for a while whenever he was right about something. 

“Fine, you can help.” You said, crossing your arms. “But you can only read to me. You can’t solve anything for me unless I ask for a consult.” 

“Deal.” Spencer said. You just knew he was smiling. 

3 hours and one case later, you were beyond tired. You haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately although you’ve never felt safer in your apartment. 

“You need coffee?” You asked Spencer, who was about to read the next line of the case file. 

“Sure. I’ll get it for you.” Spencer shot up and the same time you got on your feet, sending the case file toppling to the ground. 

“I got it, Spence.” You said, smiling at his blunder. 

Walking to the kitchen area, you almost tripped on Morgan’s foot, practically ran into Garcia because you couldn’t really see if she was walking towards you or around you, and you couldn’t tell how far away the coffee brewer was so you looked like an idiot while you waved your arm around the counter. 

“You okay there?” Rossi came by, grabbing a food box from the newly cleaned fridge. 

“I’m fine. I got this.” You squinted harder. Had it not been for his voice, you would’ve definitely not been able to tell who that was. 

You had to stretch to get a cup from the cabinet because whoever washed them put your halloween themed cup somewhere you can’t reach. You knew it was yours by the colors. Garcia’s cups were much more vibrant and magical, in a way. 

Standing on the very tips of your toes, leaning against the counter for support, you were almost there. Just a little bit more and…

“I got it.” Spencer said, coming up behind you. 

He didn’t want you to fall off balance so he slipped his arm around your waist and kept it there for a while. The butterflies you felt in your stomach were incredible. His touch was so soft yet firm and you easily imagined his hips holding you in place in other situations, which you would later, but right now you crossed your arms and angry squinted at Spencer. 

“I could’ve gotten it on my own.” You said, pouting. 

“If you looked at the probability that you would get the cup, it was low. The probability that you would break another cup in the process was excessively high so I did what made the most sense, statistically.” Spencer looked blankly at you, which didn’t matter because you couldn’t really make out his expression anyway. 

“Okay, nerd.” You said, taking the cup from him. 

You ghosted your hand around the counter before you felt Spencer put the coffee brewer in your hand. You let out a small huff before trying to navigate a way to pour coffee without Spencer’s help. You almost got it when you felt his hand around your hand, holding the barrel of the mug, while you poured coffee into it. His hand was so soft and warm and you couldn’t believe it was wrapped around yours again. 

“Y/n, I think that’s enough.” Spencer chuckled. 

You didn’t even notice that your coffee cup was about to spill over. You sighed and shakily put the coffee brewer back on the base. It was a hard process but you did it while Spencer whispered whether you were hot or cold in your ear. 

“Reid. Y/l/n. We’ve got a case.” Emily said, walking past the two of you. 

You gently carried your cup of coffee to the bullpen, Spencer holding your hand the whole way. You didn’t even notice until Spencer pushed open the door and everyone’s talking ceased. Garcia was beaming at the two of you while you separated, taking seats next to each other at the table. JJ’s normal seat to your left was open so Spencer slid in, dropping your hand. You missed the soft, warm feeling of his hand in yours. It was a special feeling that you didn’t know you needed so much.  

“You’ve got me next to you, Prentiss to your right, Morgan to her right, Hotch walking through the door, and Garcia standing right in front of the screen, and JJ standing next to her.” Spencer said, pointing out everyone who was in the room. 

“Spencer if you don’t cut it out and quit babying me, I will shove this coffee cup up your-” 

“Y/L/N.” Hotch said, sitting down. “Garcia, the case?” 

“Today, my sweet children, is another grizzly case and not the cute bear kind.” Garcia said, turning towards the screen and clicking the button on the remote extra hard because it got stuck sometimes. This was one of those times, causing a weird silence as she tried to figure it out for a moment. 

You sipped your coffee, eyes darting between Spencer and the screen. You weren’t a fan of the images so you typically tried to spend as little time as possible looking at crime scene photos and more time reading the reports. The reports detailed everything for you so you didn’t have to look at the images all the time. The only problem was you couldn’t see anything in the file but that was fine because you didn’t have to see detailed images of the murders.  

Going around the table, everyone said their thoughts about the case, you being the last person to chime in about how it might be a woman before Hotch called wheels up in an hour. Not sure why it was so long but you were thankful because you needed to talk to Spencer before take off. 

Quickly, everyone filed out of the room to get their bags and you grabbed Spencer’s hand this time. 

“Spencer.” You said, watching his body turn to you. From what you could see, his body language was different. Not as open as before. 

“You don’t want to be babied, I get it. I hate when the team treats me like a baby too. So I won’t do that.” Spencer said, letting go of your hand. 

“No, I was going to apologize. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I was just a bit frustrated. I do need the help, especially since we’re going into the field and my new glasses won’t be ready until we get back, basically.” You said. 

“Right.” Spencer said. 

“Do you think you could read the case file to me again? I want to be up to date before you guide me to the jet.” You grinned sheepishly. 

“I thought you wouldn’t ask.” Spencer said, happy to be able to help.

[sadoeuphemist]

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment 

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2)  to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order. 

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

[lifblogs]

Get Lost More Often

1915 words, read on ao3

Anakin decided he was an idiot. He wished he had come to that conclusion before taking a hike around Lake Louise in Banff National Park and getting lost. Obi-Wan had warned him against it, but he’d wanted to go anyway. And here he was, freezing his ass off on his way up a peak. Why did he need to climb his way up instead of returning to Fairmont Château where there’d be a nice cozy bed, and hot chocolate, and one of those electric fireplaces? The wind had had the audacity to snatch his map out of his hands, so now he had to get up high to make sense of his surroundings. Hopefully if he made it to the top he’d be able to see the hotel and plan a route back in his head.

It wasn’t that Anakin wasn’t smart. He just did reckless things from time to time. Okay, all the time.

Anakin stopped his hike upwards, and tried to find the best path to continue onward. Right now the ground was becoming more rocky than ever, giant boulders clustering together. He realized it was the perfect shelter for a predator like a lynx or a cougar, and unfortunately there were quite a few of those. But he figured he’d smell one before he was in danger. Maybe. A very tentative maybe. And then there was the off chance that some other large animal would bother him.

He cursed himself as he grabbed hold of a rock and started to climb, his durable hiking boots thankfully helping him scrabble upward. Through the lush greens of the conifers he was able to see a gap, and past them, down, down, down was the lake: all a brilliant aqua that would surely kill him within fifteen minutes of submersion.

Despite being lost and bitterly cold the trip was still worth it just to get a look at that extraordinary glacier melt.

A twig cracked, and Anakin scrambled up and over the rock. He turned, but nothing caught his eye.

Probably a squirrel. Hopefully a squirrel.

Rather than staying in one spot he had his eyes roam all around for at least a minute. He spotted movement in a tree, and was surprised that it was a lot of movement, a branch making a loud thwack as it snapped back into place. Right above that branch was a black furry mass clambering up the trunk.

Closer inspection showed it to be a black bear.

If you let a black bear know you were there and proved that you were big it was relatively harmless. So Anakin stood to his full height, waved his arms, and shouted a greeting at it.

The bear startled, and nearly fell out of the tree, which set Anakin laughing. And then it was on its way.

Anakin had to be on his way now too, taking note of the lengthening shadows. He did not look forward to the idea of being stuck out here at night.

“Just keep climbing,” Anakin told himself as he took to a rocky path through the thinning trees. “Find the hotel.”

~~~

“He should’ve been back by now,” Obi-Wan told the small young woman in front of him.

He had gone to one of the lodges near the hotel that had local rescue and rangers. The woman he was speaking to was short and slim, and had her brown hair up in a bun. A few curls had come loose. She seemed all business in her brown ranger’s uniform, yet she had come out from behind her desk to comfort him.

Obi-Wan was stroking at his beard, anxious from Anakin’s absence. The woman whose name tag read Padmé Naberrie had a reassuring hand on his arm as he gave her all the information he could about his friend.

“I’ll find him,” she assured him, and then she set to work, gathering gear, relaying information, getting someone to cover the desk.

Obi-Wan sat in one of the beat-up handmade wooden chairs.

Oh, Anakin. Why are you always like this?

This vacation had been Anakin’s idea. Obi-Wan would’ve preferred somewhere warmer, and had thought that’s what Anakin had in mind when he used the word exotic. Heading north to try and see all of Canada’s lakes had, however, been how Anakin defined the term. So instead of relaxing at a beach or even just inviting his friend Cody over for drinks, he was here, waiting for Padmé to head out so Anakin could be found.

When she seemed about ready, a heavy backpack hoisted on her shoulders, Obi-Wan grabbed his own pack.

“I’ll go with you,” he offered.

“No offense, but you’ll only slow me down.”

“But I’m strong,” Obi-Wan argued. “And I can move quickly if need be. Please, I just want to find my friend. He’s like a brother to me.”

She eyed him, probably trying to figure out just how muscular he was under his jeans, flannel, and fleece-lined jacket.

“Fine,” she relented. “But there are two rules and two rules only: do exactly as I say, down to the letter, and follow my footsteps about four to five feet back.” Obi-Wan frowned in confusion at that last one, and despite the seriousness of the situation, her brown eyes seemed to glimmer with amusement. She started leading him out, as she offered further explanation: “You don’t want to get hit with the branches that snap back after I pass.”

“Right.”

Padmé led him over to a large all-terrain truck, and once they got in, they headed out.

“So tell me about Anakin,” Padmé inquired.

Obi-Wan did, even as the road became dirt and then their path took them off of it, the vehicle bumping along and jostling them inside.

~~~

Anakin reached the summit of the peak, but there was a slight problem: it was sundown. Sure, he could see the hotel, but traveling there in the dark? Maybe he could stay here. He had a flashlight, he had plenty of back-up batteries. And there was a bigger problem than the dark and cold if he decided to travel. From what he could tell with where the hotel was positioned, he’d have to hike across grizzly territory, or risk taking a much longer route and getting lost yet again.

~~~

I wonder how Obi-Wan’s doing with looking for me.

There was no doubt his friend was looking for him, or had gotten someone to help. He was just like that: always caring, always ready to save Anakin’s ass despite his feigned reluctance.

Then he had a better idea than traveling in the dark and lower temperatures. He could make a signal fire. So Anakin set to work, and in fifteen minutes he had a decent fire going. Now all he could do was sit and wait, he supposed.

Anakin settled down onto the ground, and then started in on the water and energy bars he had in his pack.

“There, did you see that?” Obi-Wan asked, pointing at a flicker of orange light that was up high in the darkness.

He and Padmé had been traveling on foot for some time now, Obi-Wan following her lead because he had no idea how she was able to figure out where Anakin had been, though he noticed she’d often travel back and forth in straight lines, doing that for many yard sometimes, until she’d hurried them on. Despite his worries for Anakin he liked being in her presence. He trusted her, and he wasn’t totally sure why. Maybe it was her sure and steady demeanor, and the calm, reassuring way she spoke to him.

“Yep,” she told him. “Come on.”

Anakin wasn’t sure how long he sat there, working on deep breathing to calm his nerves every time he heard something moving, which was near-constant. The night was loud with all kinds of night-time creatures, and it left him uneasy. He huddled closer to the blazing heat of the fire, pulling his jacket tight around him, and shoved his hands into his armpits. Eventually, he heard steps clumping against the ground, branches and undergrowth rustling, rocks clattering.

Eventually it grew so close that he was on his feet.

Stupidly, he asked, “Who’s there?”

Turned out it wasn’t so stupid after all because next thing he knew there was a petite woman in a ranger’s uniform stepping into the light of his fire.

Anakin let out a breath of relief, which was cut off in an excited shout as Obi-Wan stepped out from behind her.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” the ranger asked.

He grinned at her, beyond relieved by her presence. “I’m fine. Mostly just cold and hungry.”

Obi-Wan put an arm around him. “Come on, let’s get you back.”

The ranger said, “You know, you really shouldn’t travel out here alone.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you should’ve had a map.”

“The wind took it.”

“Better to stick to a trail.”

“I got that… now.”

But Anakin was too happy at being found to be annoyed. He was actually glad that she clearly cared.

All conversation that didn’t have to do with getting back to civilization died down.

A few hours later—hours of pain-stakingly making their way down the peak and around the lake with only the  light of their flashlights—they came to an open area where there was a large truck parked on the dirt.

“Nice ride,” Anakin commented, as he climbed in, Obi-Wan relinquishing the passenger’s seat for him.

Anakin had expected something a bit clipped from the ranger, but to his surprise she grinned at him.

“Want to see how fast it can go?”

Anakin soon had a look to mirror hers. “Hell yeah.”

They set off, the night racing past them.

“Not to be a downer, Padmé,” Obi-Wan cried, “but hitting something and overturning this isn’t really what I had in mind!”

“Relax,” Anakin told him.

“Relax? You were missing all day.”

“Yeah, and I’m here now.” He turned to his savior. “So, Padmé, is it?”

“Yep.”

“Pretty name.”

“I could say the same for you.”

He laughed. “But at least you have the prettier face.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“No?”

“Well… maybe. But hey, maybe I should get lost more often.”

“Do you two mind flirting later?” Obi-Wan asked.

Padmé flashed Anakin a secretive smile that left a giddy feeling soaring through his stomach.

~~~

When they made it back to the lodge, Padmé gave Anakin her number.

“What are you doing up here anyway?” she asked him as she handed him the slip of paper.

“Exotic vacation. Wanted to see all of Canada’s lakes.”

“That’s ambitious.”

Looking her up and down and liking what he saw he responded, “I’m an ambitious kind of guy.”

“Great, then take me out with you next time. Or we could do something else. Are you staying at the Fairmont?”

“You bet!”

“How about I see you there tomorrow night for dinner?”

“Can we do dessert too?”

“Only if you’re thinking about the same dessert I am.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

She gave him a quick embrace and kissed his cheek before saying, “Great, it’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” Anakin called as he left, getting into Obi-Wan’s car.

“You got her number, didn’t you?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Sure did.”

“I’m getting exiled tomorrow night, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and rolled his eyes, and then pulled out onto the road. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, my young friend.”

[mush-dooms]

bittersweet

A Romoine Coffee Shop AU  • • •  AO3

My first attempt at anything resembling an actual fic, I do hope you enjoy! and that I haven’t made too many typos. I don’t really proofread lol.

Hermione had been working at the cafe for a few months now. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but when Minerva had asked her to join the staff she couldn’t say no. She had been coming for years, browsing the meticulously sorted shelves with a mug of hot chocolate in hand before settling down at a corner table to start the day’s homework. She knew the menu by heart, and she had the regulars’ orders written on a chart taped to the counter by the espresso machine. 

Hermione tied her apron around her waist, quickly punching in to start her shift. 

“Hi, er, I’m Ronald. I mean, Ron. Ron Weasley.” She nearly lept out of her skin at the lanky redhead standing right behind her. 

“Hermione,” she snapped, annoyed at herself for jumping. “You’ve got a bit of dirt on your nose.” She couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes were.

“Oh...I’ll just, um, grab my apron then,” Ron’s face turned almost as red as his hair as he shuffled around, wiping at the side of his nose.

That day, the new boy managed to spill milk all over the floor, mess up an espresso (how he managed that, Hermione wasn’t sure), wedge the cash register closed, and burn his hand with hot coffee. He claimed he “got distracted,” which Hermione thought was a load of baloney. What could have possibly distracted him in a coffee shop? What an idiot. He seemed kind though, always trying to make the customers laugh, and that smile--no. No. She was not attracted to idiot dirty-nose boy. She shook her head and returned to scrubbing the counter with new vigor. 

. . .

“That’s NOT what I ordered,” a middle-aged woman with bleached yellow hair glared at Hermione, tapping her foot impatiently. “I asked specifically for an iced coffee, not whatever this cold brew nonsense is,” she scoffed. 

“Cold brew is coffee that was prepared in a cold environment and then we add ice. Iced coffee is hot coffee that has ice added to it,” Hermione’s patience was wearing thin. All morning it been one angry customer after another. “They’re essentially the same thing, but we only carry cold brew.”

“I don’t care what the difference is, I want an iced coffee or I want my money back!” the woman’s face was beginning to go an alarming shade of purple. “The customer service at this place is unreal. Where is your manager, let me speak to the manager RIGHT NOW,” the woman gestured wildly, searching for the mythical manager that would solve all of her problems. 

Hermione put on her best customer service smile. “She’s in the back, I’ll be just a moment.”

“Unbelievable. That’s what happens when you hire people of her kind. Better off staying in their own country if you ask me,” the woman muttered to her husband just loudly enough to ensure Hermione heard. 

She made it as far as the freezer room before collapsing to the ground in heaving sobs. God, why were people like this! It would have been fine if the coffee had been the only problem, but then she had to go and make it personal. She couldn’t help the way she looked, couldn’t hide the cloud of kinky curls on her head or her skin that matched the color of the coffee beans. They took one look and they judged, they hated, and there was nothing she could do. She was utterly powerless.

Hermione heard two soft taps at the door and a freckle-faced boy peered around the corner. “Hey, I heard what happened. You okay?” She stifled a sob in response. “That lady had the attitude of a grizzly bear,” Ron said, sliding onto the floor next to her and passing her a napkin. “And not the cute fluffy ones, more like the ones that rip your face off and leave you for the birds.” 

“That’s disgusting,” Hermione sniffled.

“Sure would be a shame if someone sweetened her dumbass iced coffee with a shit ton of artificial sweeteners known for making you, well, shit yourself,” he turned to look at her and gave her a smug smile. “No pun intended.”

“You could get fired for that, you know.” Sniff

“Yeah well, she deserved it after what she said to you. Fucking racist.”

“You-- sniff-- you heard that?”

“Course I heard that. Nearly took her bloody head off, too, but I had to settle for mild poisoning.”

“You didn’t have to do that, I can handle it.” Sniff.  “It’s not like that was the first time I’ve heard it.” Sniff. “I’m handling it.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, handing her another napkin. “And besides, I couldn’t let her just walk out the door.” Ron began tearing the remaining napkin to angry shreds. “Someone had to teach that bitch a lesson.” He hesitated.

“I know it’s not the same by any means, but growing up my family didn’t exactly have a lot of money.” Now out of napkins, Ron picked up a discarded straw and began bending it around his fingers. “And kids are mean, you know? Took one look at my torn jeans and worn hoodie and they may as well have taken me out with the rubbish.” He turned his attention away from the straw. God, his eyes were so blue. “No one deserves to feel less than human, especially not in the way that bitch wanted. So yeah, I did have to do that.”

He slowly got up from the freezer floor, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m going back out there before I freeze my ass off. You just had to pick the bloody freezer.” Hermione cracked a tiny smile and wiped the last of the tears from her face. Maybe this Ron guy wasn’t so bad after all.

. . .

The line of customers waiting at the pickup station was quickly approaching critical levels. She hadn’t worked with the new guy since the day of the freezer, and it was Ron’s first day working the drink station instead of the register. It was not going well. Poor guy couldn’t tell a latte from a cappuccino. 

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh FUCK!” Hermione heard a loud crunch and whipped around to find a wide-eyed Ron frantically trying to stop the flow of ice cubes spilling from the dispenser. His jammed his hands underneath the mouth of the machine and ice filled them almost instantly. “Shishitshitshitshit!” he muttered as he dumped the handfuls of collected ice on the floor in favor of violently pumping the machine lever. A small icy mountain was beginning to form around his feet.

“Uh, I’ll be right back,” Hermione hoped the elderly man in the middle of ordering his breakfast wasn’t a yeller. “It’ll be just a second.” She hurried over to where Ron was now watching helplessly as ice continued to pour from the machine. 

“Sometimes it just--” she pushed the lever up into the machine wiggled it around. “--slips out of place.” Hermione heard a soft click as the lever fell back into place. A few stray cubes plinked onto the ice mountain.”Should be good now.” Ron’s ears had gone very pink. “It happened to me on my first day, too. All cool.” Hermione kicked herself silently. “All cool.” Idiot.

“You should probably go get that,” he uttered sheepishly, wiping his sopping hands on his apron. He nodded towards the counter where the old man still waited. Ron’s face still matched nicely with his hair.

Later as Hermione headed to hang her apron in the breakroom, she found Ron about to clock out. “Hey, I realize I didn’t thank you earlier. You’re a real lifesaver,” Ron said, the tips of his ears going pink again. “Thought for sure that guy was gonna let me have it if he didn’t get his frappa-mocha-shit me-chino in the next twelve seconds.”

“No problem. I wasn’t gonna let you drown in ice cubes, would have been far too much work to clean up.”

He snorted and headed towards the door. “Good to know I mean so much to you.”

. . . 

They talked more often after that, about uni and life back home and bad impressions of rude customers. Minerva told them they “bickered like an old couple,” but talking to him was just so...easy. It felt right. They understood each other, somehow, despite being so different. She learned he was in his second year, still undecided, but he knew he wanted to work with people and maybe start his own shop. He had a large family (six siblings!), and his mother apparently made the best blueberry muffins in the world. She told him about wanting to go to medical school (“No wonder you’ve always got your nose in a book.”) and how she didn’t speak to her family much but she hopes that they’re doing okay.

Ron was completely obsessed with football. He watched every match with his phone snuck out on the counter. Before Ron, the most Hermione knew about football was that you had to kick the ball in the goal. She still didn’t care for the sport, but Ron looked so happy when he talked about it. When he asked her what on earth she does if she doesn’t care for sports, she told him about her favorite books. He didn’t seem very interested, but a few days later she saw him putting Pride and Prejudice back into his backpack. She couldn’t help but smile.

. . .

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Hermione nearly dropped the mug she was placing in the cupboard. “It reminds me of when I first met my wife,” Minerva continued rubbing down the counter, and if she noticed Hermione’s reaction she hid it well. “People like that don’t come along very often.” Minerva finished tidying and headed towards the kitchen, “Don’t let him slip away.”

. . .

“Try this one, will ya?” Ron handed Hermione a steaming mug of something topped with an ungodly amount of whipped cream and drank from his own, equally whipped-creamed mug.

Hermione took a sip and swore she could feel entire grains of sugar on her teeth. “Do you always insist on mutilating your coffee like this?”

“Listen, that bean-y shit tastes like burnt soil,” he said, whipped cream perched on the tip of his nose. “If I wanted to eat dirt I’d lick Professor Snape’s hair.”

Hermione snorted. The cafe had been exceptionally slow today-- only a handful of regulars came in-- which usually would have prompted her to pull out her laptop and reorganize her lecture notes. She had tried, actually. Ron shot her with the sink spray nozzle as soon as he saw her try to escape. Asshole. 

“Try mine then, and if you think it tastes like burnt soil I’ll buy you lunch.” She inhaled the scent of the mug next to her, breathing in the warm smell of cinnamon and cloves and coffee beans. “Here.”

“See, now I definitely won’t like it because I know you’ll buy me lunch,” he said, taking the mug from her. He sniffed and his nose scrunched up. “What’d you put in here, my mum’s scented candle collection?”

“Shut up and drink it.”

He took a sip. His face gave away nothing. “Well? What do you think?”

Ron shrugged. “All in all, could be worse, though it is missing a little something.”

She gave him a look. “And what could that possibly be, Ronald?” Hermione had hardly finished speaking and when Ron emptied half a can of whipped cream on top of his mug. 

“Perfect. Now, what was that you said about lunch?”

“Ron, I am not buying you lunch after you just admitted that you would skew your reply given the incentive of free food.”

“Okay, so you’re a liar and a terrible barista. I see.”

“Am not! You just have the taste buds of a four-year-old and the morals of a snake!”

“Hey! Don’t come for my taste buds! You’ve gone too far with that one!”

Ron whipped around and grabbed a full can of whipped cream. Before Hermione had time to react, he aimed it straight at her face and pushed the trigger. 

“RONALD! HOW DARE YOU!” Whipped cream slopped down her face into her gaping mouth, flooding it with sickening sweetness.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit, this was a mistake wasn’t it,” Ron backed away slowly, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

Hermione turned, her eyes lowered. Damn that boy. Now concerned, Ron lowered his weapon and moved toward her. “You good, ‘Mione? I was just playing, I didn’t mean any--”

“YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT ONE, RONALD!” Hermione whirled, grabbing another can of cream and dousing Ron’s chest. 

“FUCK!” Ron laughed and jumped backwards to avoid the stream, only managing to cover his arms in the sugar. “Damn it, I should have known, did Ginny teach me nothing?” He retaliated with a squirt to her legs that missed and plopped to the floor.

Hermione was laughing now, all pretense of hurt gone as she hit him squarely in the face with a fat glob of cream. She squealed and dodged as he covered her hair in sugary clouds. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” Hermione lunged towards him and her feet slipped from beneath her. Ron’s hand shot out and grasped her arm to steady her, and suddenly she found their faces mere inches apart. Whipped cream covered his nose and jawline, a few stray puffs standing out against his red hair. His deep blue eyes met hers and he held her gaze, his other arm reaching around her waist. She could count the freckles on his cheekbones. They reminded her of tiny stars. Time slowed down as his lips met hers, the taste of whipped cream and coffee melting onto her tongue. They slowly pulled apart, Ron’s arm still around her waist, unable to hide his smile. She looked into his deep blue eyes,

“What was that you said about lunch?

[mrneighbourlove]

Red Typhoon: Ch 1. Dreaming of the Coming Storm

Revy took a silent breath as she crept through the snow with her pack. Although she wasn't a Direnor by blood, she developed their sense of being a successful hunter and warrior through her mother. The wilds of Uskar were wide, but full of danger that could creep up at any moment. Food was always a gamble to acquire, but Revy held faith in her skills, her spirit, and the support of her pack.

"Watch closely," Borghild whispered to Revy as the pair watched Boof from the other side of the frozen meadow. Deer were grazing on some twigs off the trees. The Avalanchel hound was waiting for the signal from his human. As soon as it was given, he would chase one deer in her direction. This would give Revy the chance to strike their prey with her weapon. "Breathe steadily. Only when you're ready."

Revy blinked only once in anticipation. The air was chilling, but she was prepared. The deer were massive, but it lead to a unique problem to solve. Unless one was incredible lucky, arrows would have difficulty taking down her prey at the first strike. For Direnor's, one could transform into a mighty beast to wrestle their prey down, but for Revy, she only had to tools in her hands, and the body and mind to support herself. She readied her axe. The blade would be able to get off a deep and long cut if she could strike properly. Feeling the shift in the air, she felt it was time. Throwing her hand down, she gave the signal to her companion.

"GRRR BARK BARK BOOF WOOF WOOF!!!" Boof charged out of his hiding place and toward the deer. The dog was smart, and chose the biggest prey. The larger the prey, the more meat for his family. He nipped at the heels of the buck, and led it right to Revy.

Revy wanted to impress her mom. She wanted to do her friends and family and clan proud. Give her little brother a symbol to look up too. Praying for her energy to not fail, sparks flew around her axe as she jumped from her cover, and with a mighty swing, she sliced off one of the back legs off the deer.

As soon as Revy sliced off the leg, the buck went down into the snow. It struggled to get back up, but Boof took this as his opportunity. He chomped his large jaws around the deer's throat, and pulled, hard. With a crack, the buck's neck snapped and then he released the prey. Sniffing it to make sure the buck was dead, Boof then sat on his haunches, and wagged his tail, awaiting his praise.

Revy waited for the electric magic to stop sizzling around her axe. She only recently discovered her new talent, and it was still difficult to find an instant off switch on it. Sheathing her weapon, she ran up to Boof, kneeled down, and hugged him around his neck. "You were amazing boy! Great work! You can have the whole leg I cut clean off!"

The Gerudo woman had recently turned twenty. Her growth was fast through her teenage years, now just coming over Borghild in height. With a smile, she gave her mom a grin. "How'd we do?"

"Boof boof bork!" Boof licked Revy's cheek several times as he stood on his back legs, putting his fore paws on her shoulders. Even though the dog was older in age, he still could hunt with the best of them. Panting, the dog then resumed his original sitting position.

"I think you and Boof did perfectly," Borghild smiled at Revy's accomplishment. "However, I think you need to be really careful with the electricity, sweetie. You don't want to accidentally electrocute yourself or Boof now."

"I know. I just feel I need to practice it now. Last thing we need is to be in a real fight, and for it to not be completely under control."

Revy gave a small grunt as she heaved the deer over her shoulder. "How long do you think we can keep this deer going on for?"

"Between your father and Trygve, we'll be lucky if it lasts us a week and a half." Borghild laughed, knowing how much her men loved meat. "I'm beginning to believe your brother eats more than your father."

"Bork!"

"Excuse me, your father, your brother, and your dog."

"Well, they are just hungry boys at heart." Revy grinned down at her companion. "That includes you too boy~"

"Bork!"

"Next time, I think you and your brother will do just fine hunting together without my supervision." Borghild tromped back through the snow with Revy and Boof. "What do you think?"

"That better not happen soon. He's only seven mom. You know how long I had to wait. It was exhausting just waiting for the years to count down."

"Ha! I meant he observes, and you hunt." Borghild laughed. "He still turns into a grizzly when he gets too excited or scared."

"Well, we know the real reason why we have to wait till we're of age to come out here." Even now, Revy kept her eyes open for the slightest sign of the scourge of the undead to rise. She took her lessons and stories on Frost Ones deadly seriously. The Gerudo hoped that it would be a safe trip back to the wall.

"Hopefully the reign of the Frost King will soon be over," Borghild sighed as she kept her hand on her blade at all times. "We both know that the King and Queen have been working with the rulers of Hyrule for a solution. Though, nothing can be done unless we first find where his lair is."

"When that happens, I'll lead the packs to strike him down myself." Revy gave herself a proud bump on the chest. With the growth of age, her dream of being a hero never faded.

"When that happens, we'll formulate a plan before you go charging in." Borghild booped Revy on the nose. "You're too reckless like your father sometimes. Remember what I told you all these years. A female bear only charges when protecting her cubs or feeling threatened." Then she added. "Otherwise, thinks carefully before striking her prey."

Revy's mouth was a gap as she gave a pout. "I-I'm not reckless! I just give it my all sometimes. I have YOUR brains you know."

"Oh? Then what did you call diving into the freezing cold river after that huge sturgeon after I told you not to?"

"I call that a moderate success. I caught it, didn't I?"

"You caught it, but you had a cold for two weeks." Borghild snorted in amusement. "Do you call that a success?"

"....It was completely worth it."

"See? Reckless and stubborn, just like your father."

"But I wouldn't have caught it without calculating its pattern. Like you do. So I think it evens out."

Reaching the wall, Scarlet kept watch. The Gerudo woman wore shining white and thick iron knuckle armour, her battle axe shimmering silver in the snowy sun. Seeing the two woman gave her relief. Her daughter and Borghild traveling out into those wild wilderness gave her heart pause every time they traveled out. She instructed the men on the wall to open the gates. Jogging down the steps, Scarlet was glad her helmet gave her plenty of heat in the icy temperature. "Congratulations on the hunt you two. There wasn't any complications, was there?"

"No mother. There wasn't. As you can see, I did just fine." Revy received a bark from Boof, the dog wagging his tail. "Correction. We did a good job."

"Bork!" Boof agreed with his human, both of them did a fine job.

"Revy here is getting to be a fine hunter." Borghild complimented her daughter. "I know she's eager to please and wants to fight Frost Ones, but I'd rather her be a scout or a hunter." She then added. "Though her and Boof make a great team, Scarlet. You should have seen them take down the deer."

"I bet it was amazing. You better run along kiddo."

"Moms. I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle myself as a fighter and I don't need the nicknames anymore."

"You'll always be our little girl."

"The only reason I'm letting you get away with that is because no one else is around to hear that." As Revy ran off with Boof, Scarlet gave a sigh. "She's grown up so fast. And she's set her sights for accomplishments so high."

"I know, I think it's good that she has dreams and wants to make something of herself, but..." Borghild sighed as she watched Revy head toward the house with Boof. "I just don't want her to get hurt or feel like she's failed."

"I don't think she'll ever believe herself to be a failure. It's getting killed that worries me. Don't really have anyone else besides her."

"Aw, come on now, that's bullshit, you got me and Rat." Borghild nudged Scarlet in the shoulder. "And little Trygve."

"I know... It's just..." Scarlet looked out to the wilderness. How many times had she thought about just walking out and never coming back? "I don't have a Voe or even a Vai in my life. I gambled everything on Revy. If I lose her... I can't lose her."

"If you want a Voe or a Vai, then there are plenty of eligible folks here, Scarlet." Borghild walked with the Gerudo back to her position. "Maybe you should settle down with a grizzly. I got a few friends I could introduce you to, unless you prefer your partner less... furry."

"I don't know if anyone would want to be with me, furry or not." Scarlet had been given the nickname the cold iron giant. The metal armour, obviously, but also how she seemed to brood and be introverted around Uskar. When people challenged her to feats of strengths, she usually beat them with indifference. She only tended to show excitement with people she found interest in, but they had yet to show interest in her back.

"You should go after her. I'll make my final rounds here than head back home."

"Don't give up, all right? Someone will come along." Borghild assured Scarlet and then chased after Revy. The girl was becoming a fantastic hunter, but still could not skin a deer that well. Besides, she wanted her girl to keep the fur to make into a blanket. As she neared the house, Rat was there with little Trygve, trying to teach his son how to polish a knife.

"Now, lad, you have to learn to take care of your weapons, because if you don't, they won't take care of you." Rat was carefully showing the boy how to sharpen the dagger, then wipe with clover oil for a finish. "Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy."

It seemed though, that Revy had not yet returned to the house. Borghild knew how her daughter liked to show off, and exactly where to find her.

~

Lex pampered her face with makeup after cleaning her lips. She took satisfaction looking back at the man she just drained. It was like he never felt the touch of woman before. Well, probably not of her caliber. Turning her body back to him, he was entranced by her tits. Lex gave them a bounce to keep his attention. “Ok big boy, a deals a deal.”

The man in question was a Hasai soldier, having been recently transferred to the Uskar defence force. Before that, he was bragging about fighting pirates. “Well, the details are simple. We fought a group of pirates on the black sea.”

“I want complicated details. Specific map points. The goddamn beards on your opponents if you have to. That’s what I worked for after all~”

“Hmmm, damn right you did. Alright, kid. I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

Ever since she hit the ripe age of 18, Lex had being using her skills as the ‘most attractive woman of Uskar’ for the past two years to acquire information from sailors and travelers on any information that could lead to finding her mother and Seer. Every lead she marked on a makeshift map. She felt confident that she was narrowing in on a location. Giving the Hasai man a deep kiss, she moved him quickly along out of the brothel.

Daddy Bakura let her travel to Hyrule for five months to be with Revy and get a change of pace from Uskar. During that time, the white haired Gerudo learned as many tricks and trades in exotic businesses to get any man to talk. Sex was ok, sometimes great, but it was mostly just a tool for her. She was still waiting for one of the princes to take up her offer of some beautiful love making.

Today her sister was supposed to arrive in shore with Uncle Corsaire. Maybe they could exchange information if Liz was in a good mood. Almost never was these days though. How her sister made Prince Halvar her boyfriend with her constant travel was a complete mystery to Lex. Didn’t stop her from trying to convince the prince to settle down with a more stay at home girl.

Going outside, Lex noticed Revy carrying a massive deer into town. “Oh cool! That’s a big boy you got there!”

Revy gave a chuckle, not above flexing her muscles in front of the townsfolk. She liked to contribute and give hope where she could. “Yeah, it wasn’t that much of a challenge.”

“Ok Ms. Hero. Let’s all bow in your glowing righteousness.”

“Haha. Liz arrive yet?”

“No, not quite. I think she’ll be home soon though. Grandpa misses her. And I bet Halvar cries himself to sleep due to the worries he has over her.”

Revy gave a cheeky grin back. “You’re just jealous he doesn’t cry over you~”

“Well he totally should.”

It was never easy for Corsaire to be away from his wife for too long. After this journey, the captain was eager to stay at home for a few months. It would not be so bad to run some new sea tactics with the recruits for a while and let the others do a cargo trip. However, Orana asked him to take his niece, Liz, back home safely for Seer's sake. Having the little tyke follow him everywhere after Seer's kidnapping was annoying for a while, always having to watch her. Though, she did surprise him at her determination to get better, to be the best she could be. So it was vigorous training consisting of sword fighting on the top yards, swinging on a rope while aiming to shoot, and most of all, how to take a punch and get back up. The girl preserved all these years, and was now a fine sailor. The ex-pirate was still concerned about sailing to Uskar. The sea ice was getting harder to penetrate with each voyage. Soon, even the upgraded ships from Danjur would not be able to pierce it.

"Miss Frode," Captain Corsaire stood at the wheel and then called her forth. "Guide us to the port. I need to be ready to receive the royals."

"Yes sir." Liz called out, taking the wheel. The years had been hard on her without Seer being a light in her life. She made a pact with her sister and Revy to rescue Seer and defeat their mother. All these years of training was hard on Liz, but her fiery determination made her fiercely dedicated to improvement. A few years back, Prince Halvar asked her on a date. The young Gerudo accepted, and despite not being able to see each other often, they somehow made it work as a couple. Liz gave out orders to the crew, just like she was taught, as they pulled into the docks.

Halvar was there to see Liz. He was pacing back and forth, impatiently, trying to peer onto the ship to see her. He waited until she was of age to ask her to date. That was Rat's rule, and had been Seer's rule before... well, before he was kidnapped. His family never lost hope that Seer was out there somewhere, still alive. As soon as the ship was docked, and the planks were set to unload the cargo, Halvar bolted up onto the boat and looked for the beautiful Gerudo.

"Liz!!!" Halvar ran up to her, swung her around, and planted a deep kiss on her lips... and then turned blood red, and put her back on her feet. "I... um... I missed you."

A few of the crew whistled on the boat.

"Knock it off, that's my niece!" Captain Corsaire barked at them. "Do your damn jobs and unload the cargo before we all get frostbite."

Liz gave the crew a look of pure murder for the catty whistles. If they wanted that particular fantasy they could go bother her sister. Turning back to Halvar, she gave a warm smile back. Deep kisses was as far as they had taken their relationship so far, and perhaps a little cuddling from time to time. “I’m glad to see you too. You’ve been ok?”

"Been on more hunts and scouts, fought a couple of Frost Ones, but it's odd." Halvar shrugged his shoulders. "Lately, we haven't seen too many of them. We're not sure if the Frost King is having trouble finding more bodies or if they're not approaching because of our allies now. Either way, we're a little grateful for the break." He then asked. "But you, I'm sure you have some adventures to tell everyone?"

"I'm glad that the Undead King of the North is letting his grip loose. As for me, I helped lead my first engagement against Adda's pirate forces. We interrogated one of the prisoners we took in hopes of finding Dad. All we learned is that Adda's forces are placed strategically so that a long search would be disastrous to try and break her power up. I just wish we could find a proper location. That way we could save our resources and go in hard."

"It's been so long now." Halvar thought back to the day of when everyone learned Seer had been taken by Adda. Liz and Lex were beyond consolable for a while, until swearing to get their father back. Then, it was a race against time. "I'm sure your search will come to a close soon, but... have you given thought to what you're going to do if you catch Adda?" Halvar knew better than to refer to Adda as Liz's mom. She always gave him a glare for that.

"I want to kill her, but Lex is still salty about that whenever I bring it up. So I'll just settle with her facing the courts of Danjur, Hyrule, and Uskar." Liz squeezed her fist just thinking about it. She spent so many years preparing for the day, dreaming in detail about her revenge and bringing justice.

"Either way, the courts of our kingdom, Danjur, and Hyrule will all arrive to the same verdict; death." Halvar walked with Liz off the ship the docks. "For now, let's focus on a more happy note, your return home. Besides, I have something for you." The prince fidgeted slightly as he approached the guards waiting on him. No matter where he went, Halvar still had protection. Grasping a wrapped package, he undid the string and there was the traditional courtship gift; a cloak of fur. Turning back to Liz, Halvar held it up for her to see, blushing darkly. "I... I hunted this when you left for sea and have been working on sewing it into a presentable cloak and um..." He offered it to Liz, hoping, praying she'd accept, as he said the age old line. "I offer you this gift of courtship... if you'll accept?"

Liz froze up, her mouth hanging open. Such a public display of affection was so bold of Halvar. Was this the same man she left behind on her training? She thought from a pure intellectual viewpoint on this, as it helped her calm down. Don't panic. He loves you. You adore him. Most of all, he has your trust. That's right. You trust him. He won't leave or hurt you. Snapping back into reality, Liz realized she must have left him hanging on an answer for a while due to the worry that started to form on his brow. "I'm so sorry. You just sprung it up. Yes. I accept."

"Oh thank Rotar." Halvar released the breath he was holding. She just stared at him for a moment, and for a brief time, the prince thought Liz was going to run back onto the ship and sail away. He then smiled widely and wrapped the warm cloak around her shoulders. Liz was not like the other female Direnors who would only accept a white cloak, no, she preferred the darker colors. For that reason, he had hunted for weeks until he found the perfect shade of red-brown for his girlfriend. "I... I hope you like it."

"I do. You took the time to carefully choose the fur for me. I'm grateful for that." She gave him another kiss. Lex and Revy were running to the port, the latter still carrying the deer, when they saw Halvar offer his courtship. Lex gave a small pout. "Great, lost that love boat."

"Lex. You never HAD that love boat. And chin up, you can still score one of the older brothers. Maybe."

"Thanks for the confidence Rev."

With big smiles, both girls ran to Liz. Revy threw her deer to one of Halvar's guards and they each hugged Liz. "Good to see you!"

Liz hugged them back, trying to keep a professional air about her with so many people arriving at the dock. "Good to see you both as well."

Lex gave Halvar a wink. "See you finally did it. Congrats on netting my sister~"

The guard nearly fell over when Revy simply tossed him the deer without warning.

"It was her choice to accept or not." Halvar turned red again at Lex's comment. "Besides, I feel so lucky to have her at my side. She's a good woman, a strong woman."

"Bork!" Boof nudged Liz for pets, being demanding. He was the fluffy, adorable one, he should be the center of attention.

Revy held Boof back, rubbing his neck. "You can have pets later boy."

The white haired Gerudo gave a mischievous grin, eying the young couple together. "So when you two gonna bang one out?~"

Liz's expression grew with pure horror. "Don't say shit like that so loud!"

Lex received a hard punch to the shoulder from her sister for that. "OW! Settle down! Just a joke!"

"Whu-whu, we um, we uh..." Halvar blushed dark red all the way up to his ears. Intimacy was still foreign to Liz and him, and he was not about to make advances just yet. After all, it was the lady who said yes or no. The last thing he wanted was to get slapped.

"I can always teach you what a lady wants~"

"THAT'S IT!"

Liz tackled Lex to the ground, and started to slap at her face, with Lex giving giggles and grunts. Revy quickly intervened, pulling the sisters away from each other. "Hey, hey, hey! Enough! Lex, no trying to make Halvar hard and your sister mad!"

"Fine, geeze."

"You are insufferable sometimes Lex."

"But you love me anyways~ And if it wasn't for my knowledge of pleasing men, I wouldn't have come up with an accurate map on tracking mom down."

That caught Liz off by guard. "You've been doing what?"

While the prince was used to the sisters fighting a bit, he was not prepared to hear what Lex said about pleasure.

"I think... I'm going to um..." Halvar gestured to the land. "Yeah, I'm going to go and wait over there. That seems like a grand idea."

"Yeah! I've been getting information from sailors and travelers who seen mom and her forces. I've narrowed it down to a triangle of coordinates."

Liz wanted to argue about her sister whoring out to get information, but she was too tired to argue. "I'll take a look at it later. Just stay out of trouble. Have you seen Bakura?"

Lex took a sigh. "He's been doing 'deep mediation' out by the cave. Can't get him to come out some days. Kind of sad, but he says it he'll find Daddy through the 'spirits'."

Revy clapped her hands. “Well, we better get going. Who wants to help me skin this deer?”

~

In three days, it would be seven years. Seer felt of the calendar with his fingers and sighed. He was older now. Adda had never released him. Despite his pleas and trying to find means of escape, nothing ever worked. The one kindness she did allow him was that old mage. He could listen to Liz and Lex through her magic. At least he was able to keep tabs on their lives. Still, it was not the same as holding them close, giving them kisses on the forehead, and fixing them a decent meal. He wanted to feel their warmth on his hands again. Though, his little girls were not so little anymore.

Outside of the magic barrier that gave that hid her paradise, Captain Adda flicked the wind waker to open the imaginary gate that allowed her to sail safely to her paradise home. Her latest skirmish was bloody and brutal. Every once in a while she had to put her foot down on the island she controlled. Rebels were such a nuisance. Her trade agreements were fair, so who cared if she was a little hard on them. Everyone was finally at peace. Besides the major continents, she ruled the oceans. Flicking the wind waker again, her ship went past the barrier as it closed. It took another good hour to sail to the island's north port side.

Docking, she took another hour greeting her people, handing out and ordering who got what food and drinks, made orders for her lieutenants to carry out, and got herself a martini. Finally, she opened the door to her chambers, giving Seer a whistle. "Miss me handsome?"

"No."

The longer his time on the island, the more bitter Seer became towards Adda. He would begrudgingly amuse her with sex, the random conversation, and sometimes have to accompany her to see the rest of her people. That he hated the most, feeling like a pet on a chain once more. She wouldn't kill him, but rather keep him alive to torment him with the fact that he could not get away with her.

"Oh don't be like that." Adda sat down on the bed, yawning with exhaustion. "Tell me, girls treating you ok? Little Beck wanted to see you do whale tricks with a ball. Went on about seeing it in a book. I think the little gal likes you.”

"I'm not a pet." Seer snapped at her with a glare about the whale tricks. "And I'm not going to play with a ball for fish. You got me doing that already."

"She was just a six year old girl with a curiosity. What's up your ass?" Adda slugged back her drink and fell back on the bed. "It's not like you been shot recently or anything. Now that's something to be cranky about."

"I'd rather be shot than have to stay here. Then again, you know that, I've told you that, but it's like you have too much saltwater in your ears to properly listen." Seer got up off the bed, in a particularly bad mood since the anniversary of his kidnapping was coming up. "Tell your people to stay the hell away from me. I'm going for a swim." He then stopped and added as an afterthought. "Do not join me."

"They're just ordinary folks. You really want to be the one to crush the dreams of little girls who never seen a man transform into a whale? God, you are such a pussy. You want me to shoot you? I can do that, right now."

"Then do it!!!" Seer turned around, screaming at her. "I've been trapped here for seven damn years now, Adda! I haven't held my girls, told them I love them, I have no freedom! I'm a slave again! Shoot me, right here, through the heart! Put me out of my misery! Your crew missed the first time, but I doubt you will!" He demanded. "Do it! I can't take another day of hearing my girls from that blasted ball saying they're wondering if I'm dead or alive, hearing them cry because of me!"

"Oh fuck you, you blind piece of shit." Adda rose to her feet. "I had a plan. A really simple and easy plan that kept the girls safe for a while. I own the fucking oceans now. I am the Queen of the seas. I'm the greatest Gerudo chieftain that's ever lived. My people are happy. They're in a state of nirvana that has never been seen before. And all those that stand against me have no possible power to beat me or my forces. And I was going to give that to the girls. I knocked on your door to bring all of you with me. But you acted like a petty child. You ran from Hyrule, cheating me years to track you down, than you had the gull to tell me to leave. This 'suffering' you're feeling is nothing. I missed thirteen years, and now the additional seven years on top of that. Now that they're tough and smart woman, maybe they'll find there way here. Grow the fuck up, or shut the fuck up." Curious, she handed him an unloaded, cocked gun. "What you gonna do about it? You wanna rob them of one of their parents?"

"You're nothing but a murderer and a greedy soul who decides all your wrongs are righted by what you do for your people. Think what you want of me, but my girls will never be like you. Besides for all I know, you didn't want them." Seer sneered at her. "Dump them with me to get back at Bakura. Classy move, mother, using your daughters like they're dispensable. That's all they are to you, something to use." When Adda handed him the gun, Seer frowned at her. "You think I'm an idiot? This isn't loaded. I spent years with Corsaire on a ship, I know an unloaded gun to a loaded one." He threw the gun to the side with a huff. "The only reason you won't give me bullets is because you still want your toy at your side. Just like the girls, that's all I am to you; an object." The blind Direnor stomped outside, tossing his shirt and pants wherever before the water hit his feet. As soon as he was neck deep, he started to shift.

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!! I NEVER USED MY GIRLS!!! I SAVED THEM!!! HOPE YOU DROWN OUT THERE!!!!!"

The moonlight fell on the ocean as Seer swam around. All the life he ever found in the calm area of water he was free to swim in were the odd colourful fish that came and went. So, on this night, it was a shocking sight when he chanced an encounter with a whale under water. It was colourful as a rainbow, and had angel wings on its back.

Seer had never seen another whale here, despite his many years of swimming trying to find an exit.

"Can you understand me?"

"Hmmm? Of course I can understand you. Nice night for a swim, isn't it."

"Oh, I agree, the water is very nice this night." Seer felt relieved, but wondered if he was about to lose his break on sanity. Either way, it supposed this was not too bad. Talking to an angelic whale was the least of his worries, even if he was going insane. "I don't suppose you're a... messenger? The wings?"

"I'm the Wind Fish. Who are you?"

"Wind Fish? I think I've heard of you in Hyrule's tales..." Seer then realized he was being rather rude. "Oh, my apologies. My name is Erling Frode, but my friends call me Seer. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The Wind Fish looked deep into Seer, his tone unchanging. "You seem tired Seer."

"I think tired is an understatement, Wind Fish." Seer, in reality, felt exhausted. He wanted to give up. Holding onto hope was such a lost cause. Adda would never let him go. "I'm trapped here and I cannot leave to see my family. No matter what I do, I cannot find freedom. My only way out of this place is death, and I'm denied even that."

"What is your wish for life?"

"My wish for life?" Seer repeated. "What I would want if I could have it?"

"You have great pain in your heart. What wish is on your mind? What do you dream of?"

"I only wish to be with my girls again, my family, back in Uskar." Seer sighed heavily. "I dream of hearing my girls laugh again instead of crying for my sake. I dream of us fixing food together in the kitchen again. I dream of telling Alexandra and Elizabeth to stop arguing and go do their chores. Memories of the past mix with what I want for the future. Seems silly, doesn't it?"

"Not at all. Dreams are a beautiful thing. And it's funny how they can come true. I have to go now." The Wind Fish started to fly away, surging out of the water and above the defence ships on the surface, not seeming to mind getting spotted or not.

"H-Hey, wait!" Seer shot up toward the surface after the Wind Fish. Though by the time he breached, the Wind Fish was already long gone. He couldn't sense him anymore. Dejectedly, Seer just lounged on the surface of the waves. "Don't leave me here alone..."

Seer heard a voice echo in his head. "You are never alone Seer. And your heart won't feel alone for long. Now wake up. Wake up…. Wake up….."

~ Seer woke up in bed, rested like never before, but both a hopeful happiness and yet some sadness in him. Beside him, Adda was stirring in bed, drying her face.

Seer did wake with a jolt. Was the entire encounter a dream?

"... either I drowned and you came to fetch me, or I fell asleep in the waves again."

"You went for a swim and than you must have came back yourself. I went to bed before you came back." Adda was oddly monotone this morning.

"Oh. I don't recall." Seer sat up in bed, rubbing his head, feeling for a knot or a scrape. No, he definitely did not knock his skull. The entire encounter must have been a dream. "I don't remember much... I must have stayed in my other form too long again."

"Did you have any weird dreams last night?" Adda kept her attention away from him, still looking to her left at the wall.

"I'm certain I did, though I'm not able to recall them all. Why? Talking in my sleep and disturbing your beauty rest again?"

Adda didn't give him a smartass remark. "I dreamed I wanted to be with girls and I wasn't a monster to Bakura. It was so... peaceful. I wanted it to be so real..."

"Sounds like you wish to turn back time." Seer stretched his body, feeling stiff from being in his other form.

"Maybe. I saw this... giant colourful fish in the sky. No idea why. It asked what I wanted. I said to have the family I always wanted and-" Adda paused. For a moment of vulnerability she shook with emotion before reeling it in. "Forget it. The whole things stupid. I just got this feeling I'm going to see them again soon."

"You have the family you've always wanted out there, Adda." Seer pointed in the general direction of the door. "You even told me it was your dream to create this paradise for the Gerudo."

"That's different. I'm their Queen. A Queen who was chosen for this life. I'm talking about being a mother to my own kids."

"You had that chance too, before you pursued the war." Seer fixed his long hair back into a tail. "Just like Scarlet did."

"Don't say her name." Adda turned to him, her brow curling with anger. "I'm tired of having the same argument with you over and over regarding my choices."

"Then let me go and you'll never hear my voice again to remind you of said poor choices."

"So you can lead your forces right back to me? No thanks."

"Now you're the one being stupid. I don't even know where the hell I am."

"That's the whole idea. To keep your pod of savage whales away from the innocents of this island."

"Those savage whales don't attack innocents, only those who dare to hurt their own." Seer retaliated at her remark. "You took the girls, and in return, we attacked."

"I had the right to those girls. If you really thought I was a monster, you would have killed me in that ice cold water, or here in my sleep." Adda spat back bitterly.

"Just because you're their biological mother doesn't give you any right to them. The people who love them, take care of them, doesn't have to be blood to be their family." Seer argued with narrowed eyes. "And I never said you were a monster." He leaned a little closer and said bluntly. "I just hate your guts. If I killed you, Lex would hate me. That's the last thing I want. I think more of those girls than you ever will. I gave my life to them. You? You decided to make yourself Queen and to hell with everything else. Want me to shut up? Then turn me loose."

"I was going to make them both royalty of the seas. You have no idea about what I think of them." Adda snorted back. With a shrug of her shoulders, she tried to change the conversation. "You wanna stop talking and fuck for a while?"

"Well, you screamed at me to drown yesterday, so I think I might go back out for a long swim and see if that happens." Seer replied sarcastically. "Seeing you're a self proclaimed queen and all, I think you can handle waiting to fuck for a day or so." He then added, just to mess with Adda. "Besides, Bakura is a better fuck than you."

"Seer, don't be an ass." Adda pushed him to the side and went to her wardrobe. At Bakura though, she turned her head to him. "You did not."

"He slapped my ass, I buried my face in his abs, the rest is history."

“Tell me than. What did it feel like?” Adda stared coldly at him.

"Why do you want to know? Jealous I'm a better lay?"

“To see you bullshitting me. What was it like Seer?”

"A fight for dominance, that's for sure. You know Bakura has a fetish of grabbing the neck a bit?" Seer was going off of what he sensed from the man. While Seth was always in the back of Bakura's mind, the other soul residing in the assassin's body still influenced a few actions. For once, Seer was grateful for his powerful sense of smell and echolocation. He could read Bakura's body language and predict his thoughts without a single word. "Burying my face into a pillow, muffling my moans just until he senses I'm ready to cum. Sometimes, he even denies me that, wanting me to beg a little."

“You know what it was like for me? It was knowing that he the someone I could trust. He made me feel vulnerable like no other man. When he fucked me, I didn’t care about anything else. Because he was naive enough, stupid enough, or maybe kind enough to be so open and gentle too.” Adda punched Seer back onto the bed. “But you would have said that if you ever made love with a man like Bakura. You’d know he made you feel complete.”

"Now that's a steaming pile of shit right there, Adda," Seer actually snickered. "Because if you were so complete with him, then you really screwed up by leaving him, and better yet, dumping his daughters with me. You know he told me he wanted to kill you for what you did to him? Making him lose years of his daughters' lives too? Isn't it funny how these things turn out." He was now full out laughing, almost a hysterical tint to it. "And you! You kidnapped me out of petty revenge! Not on him, but on your own daughters!!!"

“Shut your fucking mouth Seer.” Adda was so close to beating the life out of the man. How many times did she have to say her case over and over? Bakura threatened her. Hurt her deeply due to that psychotic personality in him. How could she ever leave her kids with him?

"Oh, I thought I was fucked up, but compared to you? Nah." Seer managed to get his laughing under control and then got up off the bed. "I almost, almost feel sorry for you, Adda." He walked outside to the beach, feeling the sand underneath his toes. "A lonely paradise is all you have now."

“And a lonely prison is all you have. If I’m not happy, I’ll make sure you’ll never be either you prick.”

"Heh, you might keep me trapped here forever, but remember this, Adda," Seer was not going to let her get to him. Oddly enough, the tiny break of hysterics might have been what he needed to release some stress. Besides, the dream he had with the whale left him feeling optimistic of sorts. "Whether I die here or see my girls again, at least I know I have their love."

“You robbed me of that chance for twenty years. I’ll earn their love soon. And with you stuck here, you can’t stop me.”

"It's your own fault for dumping them off without a word." Seer countered. "Think that all you want, Adda. Though you're forgetting that I'm not the only one who loves Elizabeth and Alexandria."

Adda whirled on Seer, decking him hard against the face, knocking him out. She was so sick and tired of listening to his bullshit. No more. She was going to give her girls the world.

[unadulteratedrebelrunaway]

AN ORIGIN STORY

[8/21/18].

Alexander W. Benson II

             Horace Teton was walking through the woods.  He wasn't sure what the future held for him , but he was dead sure he was leaving his past behind him.  Civilization was no longer doing it for him.  He has grown to dislike people in general.  The few he did get to know pretty well left a bad taste in his mouth.

             "God's greatest blunder, that's what they are," says Horace.  "All of them.  I hope I never see one again, and I don't count myself as a person."

             He paces through the forest searching for his quarry.

             "If I don't find something before it gets dark I swear I'll starve to death," says Horace out loud.  I don't think I'll starve.  I sure wouldn't want to go that way.  I saw what those rebel bastards did to our boys in blue down in Andersonville.  Too bad they only hung the Kraut.  They should have got a lot more of them.  Sure am hungry, though.  I'd eat a skunk right now if I had to.  Looks like that would make me GOD's greatest blunder.  He chuckles.

             Horace makes it into a clearing.  He notices a cave at the other end of the small opening.  The sun is directly overhead.  Hm, it looks like I might have some time.  I doubt if anything lives inside that little dump.  It's not like I'll find Fred Flinstone and his family hiding in there.  Five minutes later, Horace Teton is inside his new home, even if it happens to be a dump.

             Damn it's dark in here, thinks Horace.  It'll have to do for tonight.  Sure beats the rain.

             One of the shadows move.  That wasn't a shadow, thinks he.

             A deep guttural blows past Horace.  No human can make that sound.  He braces his rifle and notices his fingers are a little shaky.  Lucky thing I used to be a soldier.  I'm shaking pretty bad, but at least I know how to control it. Might not be able to if it weren't for that battle at that town in Pennsylvania where our late President gave his address. It was a name Horace would never forget because he saw too many of his friends and comrades die there.  He also knew what happens when you hesitate in the moment of truth.  Survival of the fittest.  Let morals be for those who spend their Sundays in a church, but what counts is right here, right now.  Justice doesn't go to the man who is pure in the LORD's eyes, but to he who fires first and true.

             The shadow lurches forward so fast Horace doesn't have time to react.  Before he knows it, his body did what he trained it to do.  The gun fired and the shadow fell as it raced toward him like Shelob the giant spider in the darkness.  It rammed into him but lost almost all of its momentum before it connected.  Horace got slammed against the side of the cave but didn't feel it because he was numb from the adrenaline.  The shadow turned out to be a large Brown Bear.  It had the silver tipped hair, too.

             A damned Grizzly!  It looks like if the devil wanted to take me he was a few seconds too slow.  Fortunately for me, close only counts in horseshoes. Looks like I won't have a problem finding supper tonight, but first I'd better check this place out or I might wind up being the next course.  Never know if mama, or papa here has vengeful relatives.  I know if a family member of mine got killed I'd want to send the bastard who did straight to hell.  It wouldn't matter if he was right or wrong because family comes first.

             He chokes back for a minute.  I seemed to lose everything in that damned war.

 ***

             The sun comes up to find Horace stretching out inside his new home.  That was the best night's sleep in a long time. Now to open up that barricade so I can take in the real estate.

             The makeshift door lands with a hollow thud, and the newest tenant exits. Ah, the skin is drying out nicely. That'll sure make a good hide.  It looks a little rougher than buckskin, though. At least it'll feel more comfortable than these mangy rags I've been wearing.  Sometimes those haberdashers just don't make 'em like they used to. First things first.  I'd better get that fire started before I set out and explore my newly found territory.  Oh yeah, I know what I should have done once I killed the lone occupant of this country.  He says out loud:  "I declare this cave and all the land I can pace today to be my land.  This is my country now, and I'm appointing my self its Emperor."

             Horace is walking through the woods to the north.  He comes to an open field.  "Wow, the expanse is so great this might be one of those fields that’s all the way north without end."  He shudders at the thought.  Sounds like the afterlife the religious people tell me about.  Day and night forever and ever.

             He sees movement on the horizon.  A cloud of dust rises.  They look like ants under that dust cloud.  I'll go and have a look.  Could be buffalo.  Now there's a feast without end.

             After an hour's walk he comes upon the source of the commotion.  He sees several men in war paint gathered around an altar. At the center is a giant with a wolf's head.  The wolf person is holding the ugliest knife Horace ever set his eyes on.  The wolf man raises the knife high in the air.  It doesn’t take him long to realize what's going on.  He's about to sacrifice a young virgin on that altar.  I'd better do something fast.

             He levels his rifle and takes aim.  The head of the wolf person goes flying through the air.  The other guys scatter, but then they regroup.  I hate to do this, but I better make an example of one of them so they know who's boss, and it ain't going to be them.  He pulls the trigger, and down goes one of the young warriors, a broken arrow lancing the ground.  The other braves scatter when they see what happens to their compadre.  They mount their horses and hightail it.  Horace can hear them whooping as they retreat. "Whoop whoop whoop yourselves."

             Horace arrives at the altar and sees both the wolf person and the young warrior who tried to solve him of his living problem.  Looks more like an evil clown with all that makeup.  I'm not sorry he's dead.  He shouldn't have been trying to ruin a young woman like that.  I don't care what she did.  There's no way she deserved this.

             Horace turns to the altar and jumps back.  "I thought you were a woman."

             The man on the altar murmurs something unintelligible.  Sounds like a mummy trying to talk. Blue eyes and freckles with a reddish tinge to the hair.  Might be Irish.  Must have been kidnapped as a young pup and raised by the captors.

             "I guess it's just the same," says Horace.  "Glad to be of assistance.  Now let me help you out of those before those crazy bastards come back.  They might have been acting drunk, but I got the funny feeling they are really like that."

             Horace helps the young man off the altar.  The young man seems grateful, but he keeps running on in some tongue Horace couldn't understand.

             "Sure wished I could understand you.  Hey, judging by what I've seen, I'll assume you don't have any friends. If those guys were your friends, you don't need any enemies.  I've got this cave.  It gets a little lonely there since it is just me.  How about you come with me?"

             The man walks up to Horace and raises his arms to shoulder height, palms up. He keeps shoving his hands toward Horace's face.

             "Get those hands out of my face," says Horace.  "You want to be handcuffed again?"

             Horace slaps the man's hands down, the young native keeps forcing his hands up. Finally, he says. "Okay, you convinced me.  You must be a war prize or something.  Well, as soon as I can teach you some of my language, and maybe you could teach me some of yours, we'll finally know what each other is saying.  Anyway, you've convinced me.  I'll cuff you and you follow me back to the cave.  Then I'm removing them."

             They get back to the cave.  Horace turns to the young man.  "I'm glad I don't have neighbors, or they'd get the wrong idea.  People talk, you know."  Horace cuts the rope from the man's wrists.  Horace walks him to the fire and tells the guy to have a seat. The guy just stands there. "Oh, I forgot.  Here.  Have a seat, and I'll serve you."

             Horace starts serving the young man, but the Indian shows his dislike for this arrangement.  The young man beats his chest, points to the fire and says something else Horace cannot understand.  It takes Teton some time, but then he figures the native is adamant about serving dinner. The young man gets the food for Horace and hands it to him, and he gestures from himself to Horace.  Then he squats next to Horace

.

           "Look," says Horace.  "Don't you want to eat?"

             The man points toward the sky, then points to the altar, points to his own chest and embraces himself.  Horace's eyes bulge a little.  The native moves one hand toward Horace was he holds his other hand to his chest.

             "Don't get the wrong idea, Tonto," says Horace.  "Only a woman gives herself to a man.  And I've done that already.  Then I lost her.  I don't want to do that again."

             The man doesn't appear to be taking no for an answer.

             Horace restates his point.  "Listen mister.  I appreciate that you're grateful, but I'll assume you would have done the same thing for me."

             The young man doesn't move, so Horace gives up trying to convince him.  What is it with these savages?  They have some of the strangest customs.  They give haircuts with tomahawks.  Now I got one that thinks he shouldn't eat because I saved his life.  As for that, you know what they say.  You can lead a horse to water.

             Horace eats his meal, but his new friend sits there and looks at him. Horace is really starting to get nervous.  He turns to the guy.  "I'm turning in for the night.  I know you can't understand me, so I'll show you."

             Horace walks the young man over to the cave and shows him that he needs somebody to guard the cave for the night.  "And whatever you do, no funny business.   You hear me?  Because if you do, I'll finish the job those friends of yours started."  Horace turns in for the night.

             The following morning when Horace wakes up, he gets a surprise.  "What the hell is all this?"  He is buried underneath a mat of grass.  It runs out his friend tried some funny business after all. His friend made him a blanket of grass so he wouldn't freeze to death.  The only trouble is some of the grass got into Horace's mouth.  He spits and it is all green.

             Horace rises.  "First things first, I need to know what your name is.  My name is Horace."  He reaches out to shake the young man's hand.

             The native starts away from the extended hand.  Horace realizes the young man doesn't know how to shake hands so he manually forces it.  After a few tries, the young man figures it out.  The native grunts in appreciation.

             "My name is Horace.  What's yours?"

             The man shakes his head.

             Horace points to himself.  "Horace. Me Horace."

             "Hoor-us," says the young man.

             Horace nods.  "Horace."

             The man repeats it.

             Horace points at him.  "You? Name?"

             The man shakes his head.  Horace points to himself again and says, "Horace.  What's your name?"

             The man can see Horace seems to like himself so much he has to point to himself and say what he is.  The young man mutters something Horace couldn't understand.  The guy could have been speaking in tongues for all Horace knew.

             Horace gets frustrated and points at him.  "Until I get it right, I'll call you Chris, as in just like Jesus you rose from the grave."

             The other man just shakes his head.  Then he repeats that name Horace couldn't figure out.

             "Look, I saved you," says Horace.  "See this gun I'm holding?"

             The other man drops to his knees and covers his head for he has seen what that fire stick can do.  Horace pats him on the shoulder and says, "No.  I won't hurt you.  I saved you with my rifle.  Understand?"

             The young man nods and slowly rises since he can see Horace means him no harm.

             Horace points at him again.  "You're Christopher for now.  Just Chris. Understand?"

             The young man pats himself on the chest.  "Me Chris.  You Horace?"

             "Yes," says Horace.

             They spend the next half hour learning the basics of communication.  It would take nightly lessons before they understood each other.

             After a few days, Horace says, "What bothers me is you seem to be attached to me like glue."

             "You save my life," says Chris.  "I must follow you.   You Great Spirit.  Me never imagine you come down to save a wretch like me.  Here you are.  You bring fire stick with you."

             Horace looks at his gun and smiles when Chris calls it that.  Horace starts thinking.  You know.  This guy thinks I'm GOD, or some other god.  Maybe I should just go along with it.  I wouldn't have imagined committing a sacrilege some years back, but that war changed me in a lot of ways.  One of those ways is pondering existence itself.

             He looks up and feels like something invisible is watching him.  He swears he can almost hear. "How dare you?  If you play me, I'll cast you into the Lake of Fire where you will suffer a fiery torment day and night, forever and ever."

             Horace shudders at the thought.  Chris notices this.  He looks at Horace in wonderment.

             Horace ponders for a moment.  After all the needless cruelty I saw in that war, and all the horrible things man can do to man, like slavery, and what price he was willing to pay for it, then why didn't GOD come down and do something about it?  If there was going to be an apocalypse then it should have happened in that vast field in Pennsylvania.  After all the things I've seen GOD let happen without any repercussions then he shouldn't mind me playing him for a little while.  Hey, this might actually be fun.  I'll think about this matter further tonight.

 ***

             Horace and Chris hunt down a deer, kill it, and drag it back to camp.

             "Why you, the Great Spirit with the yellow hair and beard with white streaks," says Chris, "why you have to make me drag this back to camp?"

             "Just call me Horace, Chris," says Horace.  "You wanted to drag the thing back to camp.  I was going to help but you wouldn't let me. Remember?"

             "You Great Spirit, though," says Chris.  "Why you make me call you name like that?"

             "Chris, just call me that," says Horace.  "For now, until I incarnate into my new form."

             "Me know better than to talk back to Great, I mean Horace," says Chris. "Me still have question."

             "Go," says Horace.

             "Why we have to drag this back to camp?" says Chris.  "Why cannot we just eat where you bring food?"

             "I don't understand," says Horace.

             "I mean, whenever my people hunt and fish, we thank you for whatever we catch," says Chris.  "Now you down here."

             "So that's why you fell to your knees and treated me like I was the Grand Poo Bah or something," says Horace.

 `           "It like you make me work and suffer dragging this deer back to camp," says Chris.  "It almost as if I your son and you make me suffer in your name.  Me glad you don't expect me to die for you.  You save me from that."

             "As time go on, I mean as time goes on, you'll speak better English, Chris," says Horace.  "In the meantime, I'm willing to do my part with the work, if only you'd let me."

             Chris laughs.  It almost sounds derisive.  "Don't make me laugh, Great, I mean, Great Spirit.  All these years we call you Great Spirit.  Now you make me call you Horace.  Please forgive me father spirit, but it take me time to get used to it. Anyway, me grateful you funny."

             "Funny how?" says Horace.

             "Great Spirit not work," says Chris.  "He do all work in beginning.  You know, when you created the world."

             "Yeah, when I created the world," says Horace.  Initially Horace wasn't going to set things up this way, but a sense of power changes that.  The last time he felt like this was the first time he got laid.  He felt like a man that day.  Now he can't quite figure out what he feels like.  "GOD," he says aloud.

             Chris hears him.  Hey, wait a minute.  I don't think Great Spirit that calls himself Horace can read my thoughts.  Of course he can because he create this world and everything in it, including me.  It could be a test.  Yes, test. I be faithful.  Me could end up finding out what Lake of Fire really is. It strange habit of Great Spirit to talk about things like that when he sleeps.

 ***

             The next day, Horace is making Chris sit in the cave.

             "It is Sunday," says Horace.  "We will rest today.  You will simply give thanks to me.  First I'll tell you about me.  I came down from the sky when your people weren't looking."

             Chris leans forward with intense focus.

             "How did I know you weren't looking?" says Horace.  "I'm the Great Spirit.  I know everything."

             Chris nods real fast.

             "I am vast," says Horace.  "I am mysterious.  Do not ask too many questions of me because it is all a mystery.  I will let you know when the end comes."

             Chris's jaw drops as he shudders.

             "I am in the form of a person so I am your Pope," says Horace.

             "Pope?" says Chris.

             "Don't interrupt me while I'm delivering a sermon," says Horace.  "This is your first Sunday school so you'll learn everything you need to know from me, right here.  Listen.  Learn. And most of all be faithful.  You must always be faithful and long suffering.  You understand?"

             Chris nods.

             "From now on my name is Pope Michael," says Horace.  "You are to look at me like I'm the infallible Great Spirit."

             "Yes sir," says Chris.

             Horace raps a switch across Chris's hands.  It doesn’t hurt, but Chris is surprised the Great Spirit suddenly seems to be somewhat petty.  I won't question it, though.  I don't want to question, is it, Pope Horace, or-."  Chris raises his hand.

             "Yes, my son?" says Horace.

             "What you want me call you now?" says Chris.  "Sorry.  Me not being disobedient.  It just you confuse me.  Me not know what name to call you now?"

             Horace rubs his chin.  "It's okay.  Just try. All you could do is try.  I'll forgive you."  Horace locks eyes with Chris as he points directly at him. "You just remember that I'll know whether you're trying or not.  I'm the Great Spirit."

             Suddenly there is a look of terror in Chris's eyes.

             "Relax," says Horace.  "Just relax.  If you fear me then life will be good.  Just remember what it's going to mean when I say I'm going to put the fear of GOD into you."

             Chris still looks scared but he nods.

             "Just call me Pope Michael I," says Horace.

             Chris nods fast.

             "Yes, that's me, alright," says Horace.  "Pope Mike the First."

             Chris feels his chest tighten.  Oh man. This guy can do bad thing to me. Me want to please him.  Why he tell me call him Michael?  Now he want me to call him Mike the First.

             "Let's take a break," says Horace.  "Just lean forward, kiss my ring, and call me Pope Michael I."

             Chris thinks, that good.  If I remember Pope Michael I.  I pray he keep it Pope Michael I.  Great Spirit already have too many names.

             Chris leans forward to kiss the blessed ring when Horace says to him, "After break, I'll tell you your purpose.  Then I'll tell you what the consequences are when you disobey me. I'll finish today's sermon by telling you how much I love you.  Don't doddle now.  Make sure you’re back in five minutes."

             Chris shrugs his shoulders.

             "It means hurry back," says Horace.

             Now Chris is even more confused.

             Horace raises his voices a little.  "It means come back.  Quick. Soon.  Better yet, don't bother going anywhere because recess is now over."

             Chris sits down Indian style.  Me hate to think these things.  Pope Michael tough GOD to worship.  He never seems to make up his mind.  Sometime I swear he not even know what he doing, but obviously he do.  He Great Spirit.  Me hopes it worth it.

             "Now, I created the Earth in six days," says Horace.

             Chris's eyes widen.

             "Then on the sixth day I rested," says Horace.  "Then on the seventh day I proceeded to rest."

             Chris raises his hand.

             "Not now, Christopher, please," says Horace.

             Chris lowers his hand, but Horace notices Chris looks bewildered.

             "Yes, Christopher?" says Horace.  "What is it now?"

             "What you mean by, on this day, and the sex day?" says Chris.

             "I see I'll have to teach you math, too," says Horace.  "Don't worry because I'm here to take care of you. I created you, so don't you think for one second that I'll let you hang.  Remember that I saved you from those bullies."

             Chris smiles and nods his head.

             "I'll teach you everything, you know," says Horace.  "Now, I created you in my image."

             Chris frowns and looks at his red skin and feels his face.  Then he looks at Horace.

             "I know," says Horace.  "You don't exactly look like me.  Wouldn't that kind of be boring if everybody looked exactly like I did?"

             Chris nods in acknowledgment.  I don't want to offend Pope but I always like way my people look.  I try to ignore thought.

             "Have you ever wondered why you can't remember all of this?" says Horace.

             Chris nods.

             "You were reincarnated," says Horace.  "In your past life you were the first man and your name was Adam. I put you in the Garden of Eden where you were going to live for all eternity.  Then you were lonely, so I made you a woman.  I took one of your ribs and created Eve.  You were going to live forever in paradise.  Then the devil showed up.  He misled you and Eve.  I told you not to eat the apple from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  The devil tricked Eve, and then Eve tricked you into eating it.  Do you remember?"

             "Yes," says Chris.

             "No you don't because you died," says Horace.  "Now you're reincarnated.  It would be cheating if you remembered all this."

             Chris turns white for a second.  Oh oh. I might have offended Great Spirit when I lie to him.

             Horace waves his hand nonchalantly.  "Don't worry about it.  You didn't mean to lie.  You aren't perfect.  Anyway, when you and Eve ate that apple I banished the two of you from the Garden of Eden.  You became aware you were naked.  Eve learned the joys of childhood.  You learned all the pleasure of hard work and endless toil.  Then you lived a thousand years and had countless children.  The down side was you brought sin and death into this world through your disobedience.  You will learn in time that I am hard but fair.  You understand, right?"

             Chris nods in acknowledgment.

             "Good," says Horace.  "Well, this devil character I told you about.  He used to be my top angel.  That is, he was until he disobeyed me.  I cast him out of heaven along with the other angels that sided with him.  All the evil in this world is caused by him and his minions. You got that, right?"

             "Uh huh," says Chris.

             "Anyway, I reserved a special day that I like to call Judgment Day," says Horace.  "First, there will be Armageddon.  There will be numerous wars that will climax into world destruction.  All those who are faithful to me will be spared.  They will get to clean up after the war to end all wars. After a period of a thousand years, I will let the bad guy loose for a day, and that will be the final test.  Anyone following him will be caught and I will deal with them personally.  You following this?"

             Chris has his arms folded and zeros in his focus on Horace.

             "Do you understand?" says Horace.  "You're just looking at me like you're a wooden India, pardon the pun."

             "Yes, yes," says Chris.

             "Do you want to know what I will do with those who don't worship me?" says Horace.

             Chris pauses and looks upward searching for the answer.

             "I shall cast them into the Lake of Fire where they will be tormented day and night, forever and ever," says Horace.

             Horace looks out the cave entrance and notices it is now dark.  "Well, I think we should turn in for the night. I want you to think about what I said today.  Better yet, I command you in my name.  You got it?"

             Chris nods real fast this time.

             "Now, pleasant dreams, but first, secure the entrance to this cave," says Horace.  "I'll give you the sermon about my son next Sunday.  In the meantime, I think I'll teach you the three R's.  You have really got to work on your speech.  I want you to talk more sophisticated.  If you follow me good things will happen to you. Good night."

 ***

             Chris muscles the ax.  The trouble is he isn't getting anything done.  Horace walks up to him.

             "You don't know how to swing an ax?" says Horace.

             "White man ax feel strange," says Chris.  "Me think ax is wrong."

             "At least your English is getting better," says Horace.  "Slowly but surely.  No.  It isn't the ax.  Let me show you."

             Horace takes the ax and raises it slow, then comes down smooth.  "Just let the weight and the blade do the job. Easy does it."

             Chris tries but to no avail.  He grips it so hard it looks like he's trying to squeeze the life out of the wood.

             "Let me show you again," says Horace.  "Pay attention.  Grip it like this."

             "Okay," says Chris.

             "Try to keep your body in alignment," says Horace.  "See how I'm doing it?"

             "Yeah," says Chris.

             "Now, let the weight of this ax just fall," says Horace.  "Remember to bring it down the middle so you can split these here logs."

             "Me think," says Chris.

             "I think so," says Horace.  "Repeat after me.  I think so."

             "I think so," says Chris.

             "Good, good," says Horace.  "Now give it another try."

             Chris tries his best to follow the instructions.  Horace works with him on the fundamentals.  After three tries Chris hits pay dirt.

             "That's much better," says Horace.  "Now, just keep doing that, and if you need me you'll know where to find me."

             "One thing," says Chris.  "What should I call you?  You have many name."

             "Names," says Horace.

             "Names," says Chris.  "Me. I mean, I am confused by the many names you have.  What should I call you?"

             "Just call me Pope, or Pope Michael I," says Horace.  "Sound good?"

             Chris nods.

             "Now get to work before you forget what I taught you," says Horace (hereafter known as Pope).  "Use it or lose it."

             "One more thing," says Chris.  "You talk about this Lake of Fire.  It sounds bad.  Could you describe it?"

             "This place smells like rotten eggs," says Pope.  "It is hotter than fire itself.  Ever burn yourself?"

             "I learn not burn myself when young," says Chris.  "Me not imagine, I mean I can't imagine anything hotter than fire."

             "How did it feel?" says Pope.

             "Hurt," says Chris.  "It hurt real bad."

             "It hurts real badly," says Pope.

             "It hurts real badly," says Chris.

             "Anyway, it is hotter, hurts worse, smells real bad, and is filled with your worst nightmares," says Pope.  "Follow this?"

             "Yeah," says Chris.

             "Now imagine there to be no beginning and no end," says Pope.

             Chris stares into oblivion.

             "Understand?" says Pope.

             "Mike?" says Chris.

             "Pope Michael I," says Pope.

             "Pope Michael I?" says Chris.  "Me never.  Sorry. I'll get this.  I, never, hear or see anything like this.  I always told about Shadow Lands and Great Hunting Grounds in sky.  Me, I mean, I am confused by all this.  Me think, I mean, I have to think about this.  I will understand."

             "Make sure you think about it all day," says Pope, "and I'll keep reminding you to make sure you think about it.  I'm sure you'll have it figured out by morning."

 ***

             All through the night, Chris kept waking up in starts. These starts gave way to cold sweats by morning.  Chris's dreams gave way to nightmares.  Chris has never felt such terror before.  Pope noticed this.

             "Sleep well?" says Pope.

             Chris just shakes his head.

             "You want to tell me about it?" says Pope.

             Chris shakes his head again.

             "No matter what it is, I can help," says Pope.  "I'm the Great Spirit."

             Chris is silent for a few minutes.  His red skin starts to turn white.  "How can you help?  I feel like I'm condemned, yet I never did anything bad."

             Pope thinks, excellent.  This is exactly what I wanted.  Now I can be his savior.  "I haven't told you this yet, but you inherited sin from your parents.  This goes all the way back to Adam and Eve.  Inherited sin is the reason everybody dies.  Then I sent my son down here to be a ransom sacrifice for your sins.  That way you can get to heaven; when you die of course.  I'll tell you about Jesus next Sunday.  Don't go anywhere.  You were born into sin so you were condemned to go to the lake of Fire right from birth. Your only chance for escape will be through my son Jesus.  You can wait for that, can't you?"

             "I would rather not, but I will," says Chris.  "I wait only because you order me to.  It can't be soon enough."

             "Goody," says Pope.  "I'll give you the good news Sunday morning."

 ***

             It is next Sunday, and Pope is giving another fiery sermon.

             "This is Pope Michael I presiding," says Pope.  "Today I will tell you, my faithful follower, about Jesus and the Ransom sacrifice."

             Chris smiles as he nods.

             "You were born into sin, so you are already damned to go the Lake of Fire," says Pope.  "You got that?"

             Chris's eyes pop.

             "That's the look I want," says Pope.  "I sent my only begotten son down here to die for your sins.  He was born when I got his mother Mary pregnant. I did it all without any whoopee. So you tell me who got cheated. At least, Joseph, the dad, didn't have to get his hands dirty.  Anyway, I did this so Jesus wouldn't inherit any of the sins Adam and Eve brought into the world.  He was born without sin so he would die when he became an adult.  His death would cover the sins of anyone who accepts him as their savior.  If you accept Jesus as your savior you will inherit eternal life in Heaven.  You would like that, right, Chris?"

             Chris nods as his grin turns into a frail smile.

             "Okay," says Pope.  "Do you take my son, Jesus, as your savior?"

             "I do," says Chris.

             Pope looks at him and mutters, "Smart Alec."  He raises his voice and says, "Okay Christopher.  Tomorrow I'll teach you all the other things.  For right now I'll give you an initial blessing. This way, if you should die after this sermon, your soul will leave your body and you will instantly go up to heaven."

 ***

             Pope is out in the woods.  Chris is chopping some trees down.

             "I am teaching you some basic carpentry skills, my son," says Pope. "You are learning how to build a house the same way my people do."

             Chris does a double take and stops swinging the ax.  "Father Michael.  What do you mean your people?"

             "Oh, I meant to say angels," says Pope.  "Yes.  What you would call people down here you would have to call angels from where I come from."

             "Angels?" says Chris.  "What are angels?"

             "You ask a lot of questions, kid," says Pope.  "Remember, it was curiosity that killed the cat."

             Chris gives a dumbfounded look, then immediately sets back to chopping down some more trees.

             Later on, Chris is sitting in the small chapel that Pope made him build. He is sitting Indian style before the altar.  Pope walks up behind the podium.

             "Pope Michael I presiding," says Pope.  "Remain seated.  Today, I will begin by telling you the only way to salvation is through acceptance of Jesus the Christ, Our Savior.  The only unforgivable sin is through rejection of the ransom sacrifice. Understand?"

             Chris nods

.

           "My son laid down several rules," says Pope.  "The first is to accept him as your savior.  You know the second rule, right?"

             Chris is racking his brains.  So many rules.  Why so many of them?  It will be worth it if it can get me out of that Lake of Fire.

             "Then my son established a code of conduct for you to follow," says Pope.  "That means the second rule is blind obedience to the Lord.  The third rule is blind obedience to authority on this planet. I am both the Lord, and the authority on this planet.  At least I am until I fly back to heaven.  The fourth rule is never to question my authority.  The fifth rule is to disown yourself and follow Jesus. That means you have no rights since you are a humble slave.  You got that part, right, my son?"

             This sucks, but I guess I have no choice. Chris agrees.

             "I see you've grown quite fond of me," says Pope.  "A son should love his father.  What rule am I on now?  Let's call this the seventh rule.  You must give away all your Earthly possessions to the Church.  That would also be me.  The eighth rule is to love your enemies better than yourself. The ninth rule is to pray for the salvation of your enemies.  That way I don't have to spend all eternity punishing them.  I've got better things to do.  I should be creating other worlds and filling them with other men in my image. That is it, for now.  Any questions?"

             "How am I supposed to remember all these things, Father?" says Chris.

             "Didn't you here my rule about not questioning authority?" says Pope.

             Chris thinks, Oh damn.  I'm screwed.

             Pope Michael I recognizes Chris's body language.  "You're good.  You're good. You didn't do anything bad.  I was just joking about no questions.  Being unquestioning simply means you will follow orders without hesitating.  I think maybe you should be writing all this down.  Then you can read it over and over until you understand.  Get a pad and pencil ready and I'll repeat the whole sermon. Don't worry.  I'm not mad.  Actually, I enjoy dressing up and delivering these things.  You did a good job when you built this chapel.  Then again, you had a great teacher.  We make an excellent team, don't we?"

             "We sure do," says Chris.

             "We're going to accomplish great things, you and I," says Pope.

 ***

             The following Sunday Pope is behind the podium again.  "Please be seated.  Oh, you already are.  Now I have to explain how forgiveness works.  The first part is when you have a sin to confess, you have to go in that closet I had you build.  I will be sitting on the other side of the screen in there.  You will tell me your deepest secrets.  Don't try to hide anything from me because I will find out. Then you will pay me whatever you have. I'll instruct you to say a certain number of Hail Mary's, and you will be forgiven."

             Chris raises his hand.

             "What is it, my son?" says Pope.

             "What if it is really bad?" says Chris.

             "It doesn't matter," says Pope.  "Only rejecting Jesus will condemn you.  Anything else?"

             "Naw," says Chris.

             "Okay then," says Pope.  "There is another form of forgiveness, and that is the Last Rites.  If you are dying, I will read those to you, and you will no longer have to worry about the Lake of Fire, or Purgatory."

             "Purgatory?" says Chris.

             "Yes," says Pope.  "Same thing as the Lake of Fire, except Purgatory is only temporary."

             Chris shrugs his shoulders.  Interesting, but there is an awful lot of stuff to this.  Sometimes I wish I could have the ways back, but this the Great Spirit is telling me a whole new way of worshiping him.  I hope I get this so I won't make him angry.

             "If you are understanding this, then there is only one more thing to really know about this," says Pope.  "Care to find out?

             Chris raises his hand.

             "Yes?" says Pope.

             "I mean I want you to tell me what it is I need to find out," says Chris.

             "Okay," says Pope.  "Tomorrow I'll start you off on your Rite of Passage so you can be confirmed as a member of my Church.  Sound exciting?"

             Chris leans forward on his elbows as he smiles.

             "Okay," says Pope.  "Tomorrow, it begins."

 ***

             Chris feels trepidation as he enters the chapel.  He sees a masked man standing next to the altar where Pope delivers his weekly sermons.

             The masked man speaks.  "For the remainder of this week, until Sunday next, you will eat nothing.  Do you understand?"

             Chris raises his hand.  "Where's my friend, my father, who is Pope Father Michael I on Sundays but is known as Horace Teton to all the others?"

             The masked man booms.  "Silence.  You have no friends now.  You will have to earn them through this Hell Week.  Right now you will only speak only as directed.  Do you understand?"

             Chris nods.  That man standing there with his arms folded on his chest looks an awful lot like my father.  Maybe he has just shape shifted.

             "Speak!" says the masked man.

             "Yes," says Chris.

             "For the remainder of this week you will call me Boris," says the masked man.  "Understand?"

             'Yes Boris," says Chris.

             "You will not eat of the remainder of this week," says Boris. "First, you will strip down to nothing.  Then you will go down on all fours like a dog.  You will stay there while I smack you where you sit with this paddle.  Look at this a minute.  Come on up here, don't be shy.  Noticing anything about it?"

             "Why are all those holes in it?" says Chris.  "This wood can't be that strong."

             "It is really strong," says Boris.  "Your butt is going to find that out in couple of minutes.  This is the same paddle my priest used to teach me about obedience when I was in Catholic School.  You'll find out this wood sings, and then it stings.  The rule is that you are not to cry out or you will fail.  Understand?"

             "Yes Boris," says Chris.

             "One more thing," says Boris.  "After I'm through paddling you, you will enter that barrel full of rusty nails.  You are to stay in it until I order you to leave it.  And you must not cry out.  If you can do that then you will become a member of my priesthood.  Do you understand?"

             "Yes master," says Chris.

             The initiation lasted for about five days.  When Sunday arrived Pope wasn't certain if Chris survived.  Please, make sure the guy is still alive.  I'll be kind to him.  That man was like a son to me.  I want him to feel a commitment to this.  Pope looks up.  "You know that ever since the war I've had my doubts about whether you existed or not. Right now, I need you more than ever. Please, bring me back that boy. If you do, I'll do anything.  I'll go to Church every day.  I'll be the most Christian guy outside of the Vatican if you bring him back.  I'll give to the poor.  I'll shelter the homeless.  You have to bring him back.  I'll never use the barrel full of nails again."

             "Who are you talking to?" says a faint voice.

             Pope jumps up and looks around.  "Who said that?"

             "I did," says the voice.

             Pope looks to the ceiling, turns white, and faints.  He wakes up.  There is a rotten smell in the room.  He slowly opens his eyes and the room is all fuzzy.  It takes a minute for his eyes to focus on Chris.  He sits up.  "What is that horrible smell?"

             "It is an ancient remedy my grandmother taught me," says Chris. "It eliminates that sleeping spell. For a minute I thought you were a goner. I didn't know GOD could die."

             "Oh, I didn't die," says Pope.  He pauses a minute.  Think something up.  Fast. Damn it or I might lose my only convert. Oh, I know.  He sits completely upright.  "I was just testing you.  I didn't die.  I just needed to find out if you were faithful enough to save your GOD if he was in danger."

             "But you are the Great Spirit," says Chris.  "How could you be in danger?"

             Pope smiles as he holds his index finger to his lips and whispers, "It's a mystery. The LORD works in mysterious ways."

             "I need to understand," says Chris.  "Oh, wait a minute.  I'm not supposed to question you."

             Pope pats Chris on the head.  "Good man.  Good man. Now help me stand up.  Thank you."  Pope exits the chapel.

             "Wait a minute," says Chris.  "Aren't you going to do, what is that, condemn me?  No, what was that word again?"

             Pope looks at him and furrows his eyebrows.

             "That word," says Chris.  "It isn't condemn.  It's supposed to be a good thing."

             Pope puts his hands on his hips.  He is trying to focus on Chris's question, but the room is spinning.  Damn, I wished I had some wine right now.

             "It was the whole reason for this Hell, I didn't mean to swear, I mean Heck Week," says Chris.

             "Hell Week!" says Pope.  "Yes."

             "You were going to do something if I survived," says Chris.  "Make me a member of your Church."

             "Come with me to the cave," says Pope.  "I need to sit and meditate for a while.  You look like you could use something.  You're looking rather famished."

             "I haven't eaten all week," says Chris.

             "Really?" says Pope.  "Why not?"

             "A strange man wearing a mask told me not to," says Chris.  "Or were you testing me through him?  If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn it was you wearing a disguise, but you Great Spirit, so you cannot lie."

             "I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about," says Pope. "Come join me in the cave."

             After an hour in the cave Pope's memory comes back.  I almost killed the poor sap.  That's right, I need to accept him as a member.  "You remember what you asked me back there?"

             "Yes father," says Chris.  "You were supposed to commend me."

             Pope slaps the makeshift table in the cave.  "That's right.  You're confirmed."

             "That's it?" says Chris.

             "Didn't you prove your manhood to me?" says Pope.  "You almost died.  Then I almost did, except I can't die because you know who I am."  Pope chuckles.

             "I feel this glow I never felt before," says Chris.

             "That the spirit," says Pope.  "I filled you with it.  I saved you. And now you can fight for me."

             "Fight?" says Chris.

             "Yes," says Pope.  "I'll have to teach you about the knighthood.  That way, if we have any problems with the infidels, I'll bless you first and then you fight for me.  If you win, you will be glorified, but if you die you go to heaven.  You should win, though because you are on my side, and I'm the good guy."

             "How do you know?" says Chris.  "Wait.  It's not that I keep forgetting.  It's just that I cannot figure out how it works, except you keep telling me not to. I should just take it in blind faith."

             Pope puts his hand on Chris's shoulder and says, "Chris, my son. Consider yourself my convert.  As the first member you will acquire riches, right after I take my share.  You are interested, aren't you?"

             Chris frowns.  "Let me see if I get this.  First, you tell me that I must give you everything I have.  Now you tell me I can have riches.  Now I'm even more confused."

             "You will get what I tell you can have," says Pope.

             "Now, what are riches exactly?" says Chris.

             Horace's eyes trace the cave walls, and then they move toward Chris: "Do you like girls?"

             Chris sits for a moment.  I always felt weird around girls.  I don't know why.  I know I'm supposed to do something with them, but I don't know what it is. "Yes."

             "Do you know what you do with girls?" says Pope.

             Chris blushes.  He can't look Pope in the eyes.

             "I get it," says Pope.  "Hey, it's perfectly natural.  I'll just have to teach you.  Better yet, I'll hook you up, and she can teach you.  It's better that way.  I'll find you one."

             Chris is too embarrassed to speak.

             Pope nudges him in the arm.  "Come now.  I'll fix you up with one.  I know. I was horrified my first time.  I was real young."

             Chris's eyes are like saucers.  "Father, you can't!"

             "Yes I can," says Pope.  "And I did.  I can do anything.  You remember who I am?"

             Chris looks over at the wall and tries to hide face in his hands.

             "It is okay for now to conceal your face," says Pope.  "For right now, though, your whole world is going to change now that you've become a man.  You will seek glory, and you will have it bestowed upon you.  Seek, and you shall find.  I'll make sure of that.  Now eat."  Horace points at the plate of food.  "Eat. Don't make this your last supper."

 THE END