#the kingdom hearts is still deeply etched in my soul

[phaazev]

Haha funny number

[moon-lixie]

Never mine - Bang Chan & Lee Minho

word count: 2.268k

song: Control - Halsey

cw: royal au, explicit depictions of violence and death, tons of angst, yay! :)

Kingdoms were meant to perish under the flame of his rage. The universe was intended to evaporate under the pressure of his heartache. And he was more than ready to tear everything apart, just for the soul that had been stolen from his side.

His feet impatiently tapped against the floor just like the seconds ticking by and eating away at his head. Knuckles turning white at the pressure with which he gripped the handle of his sword; he was ready to attack and yet all he could do was wait there.

Steps filled the hallway making the thick air fill with the first noise in hours. Black doors opened to reveal to the king's eyes his friend that shared grief with him.

“Everything is ready for battling, your majesty.” Minho bowed slightly at his friend that he had long lost to rage and desperation. But he was still there, somewhere deep inside and that’s why he wouldn’t give up just yet.

Chan barely nodded before moving his soulesss orbs towards the ground once more. The king was the terrifying example that the world could stain even the purest of souls.

Long gone was the monarch who deeply cared about his people and would prioritize peace over convenience at every chance he had. All that cruelty had left was a bitter man who was ready to risk it all in the name of vengeance.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.” Minho didn’t even have the chance to fully turn around before his friend’s voice echoed on the walls of the somber room. It was the first time he spoke in days.

“I can see the fear in your eyes.” The king’s steps resonated as he walked closer to the man he had known since childhood. “You should’ve expressed your dissent with my plans from the beginning.”

The eyes of the youngest wavered on the familiar features of the stern figure standing in front of him. He missed the soft smile that used to grace his lips with frequency, but that had been stolen from them just as your life was.

“As long as it brings you peace. We’ll do anything for you, your majesty.” There went another bow, Chan could almost scoff with displeasure, but his words oozed honesty so he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt get ahold of his chest.

“It’s your job to clear my mind when I’m being irrational, not agree with me on every impetuous plan.” His steps took him back to the cold throne responsible from the war that was yet to come. If only he didn’t wear a crown over his black locks, then everyone could be safe. But that would be like wishing the sky wasn’t the sky and the sea to be nothing but a void without water.

“With all due respect, your majesty, I haven’t said anything because I believe this to be the only way in which we should proceed.” That’s right, no matter how much he cared about the lives of the rest of the kingdom, he couldn’t deny the uneasy dark creeping in his heart.

Chan’s gaze softened before he took a look at the confident expression taking over the other’s features. “May I ask why that is?”

This time it was Minho’s turn to curl his fingers on the handle of his sword with bitterness and the rage that wrapped his figure ever since that fatal day. His gaze quickly travelled to the marble floor as his knuckles turned almost as white as the surface his eyes found solace in.

“You’re not the only one grieving their death," he muttered under his breath as tears prickled the corners of his eyes. That’s right, the king wasn’t the only one mourning the death of your once lively soul.

Minho wouldn’t dare say it aloud but he loved you, he had loved since the very first time his eyes laid over your sweet smile. He loved you so much that his heart broke when you married the king, and even more when he found your body had been stripped from life.

Tears rolled over the top of his cheeks and finally travelled with speed to find their end on the floor. Even though he tried hard to hide his face while looking down, Chan could see the anger and pain that every droplet carried.

Jealousy and agony mixed slowly into Chan’s heart. He hated to see the consequences that your absence brought, it broke him even more than he already was. At the same time, even when he knew Minho couldn’t have you, the thought of his friend loving you possibly as much as he did never failed to bring bitterness into the picture.

Silence thickened the tension of the room and just one sigh was enough to dissipate it once again. “I wish the world to pay as much as you do.”

Chan only nodded slowly at his words before dismissing him with a soft movement of his wrist. Minho was quick to escape the scene after that, bringing you up even when you breathed along with them had always been a sensitive topic.

The king was left to drown in bitterness once again and Minho had left to be haunted by your memory like any other day.

You had been poison to him, but the loveliest there could be. His soul had been corrupted and his heart stolen by the same pair of hands, yours.

As he walked through the corridors he could still feel your soft touch. Fingers lingering on top of the soft skin of his face. Lips waiting dangerously close to his as you promised to give your soul to him. He would never forget your promise to leave that place by his side.

The thought of breaking his friends heart had many times stopped him from loving you the way his heart had always desired. But after you expressed the same interest in him, he convinced himself that there was nothing else he could do but return your feelings. That’s when his heart first started turning bleak black but the sweetness of your lips was enough for him not to care.

The king was unknowingly avenging the death of someone who had been days away from breaking his heart and exposing him to the greatest pain of all. But he would never know, Minho had promised himself to keep it a secret until the day that death brought him back to you.

For now all he could do was lead the war in the name of love. Because for the rest of his existence he would feel the warmth of your hand in his and the love of your lips against his.

Your back was etched onto his memory like any other part of you, but for some reason that’s all he could see now. He could only see you standing far away from him with your back facing his cold expression.

His sword moved swiftly before yet another person fell to the ground. The mortal metal piece cut through the air with the same ease that it robbed life from others. Any other day Chan would be reluctant to do such things but not anymore, he was a different person than the one you used to know.

He often wondered if you would still love him if you saw him like this, covered in blood and with no trace of mercy shining in his eyes. If you saw him end the life of innocent people that only tried to protect their coward king, the one responsible for your death, would you still see him with such a sweet and tender gaze?

Metal clashed all around the field and he kept moving forward, making sure to destroy everything that stood in his way. He was already dead so he didn’t fear the sharp blades of his opponents; he had died the same day as you did because your soul took his with it.

As the battle continued he allowed his mind to drift away, after all, his body moved on instinct and it had been weeks since he had started daydreaming all day about you. Today he remembered the last time he saw you, so lively and happy.

Unlike the last days you had been smiling so brightly and laughing with the same frequency that you used to before. He thought that nothing could go wrong then, if you finally were happy again then he would allow himself to enjoy everyday yet again, by your side.

With one last kiss on the cheek you had attempted to leave but he stopped you to plant a sweet kiss at the top of your head. “Be careful,” he said while allowing his thumb to trace the outline of your cheek affectionately. And after that you were gone, in a carriage, in direction to god knows where.

You had said you wanted to get some fresh air and he saw no harm in it; if only he could turn back time and stop you from leaving his side, then everything would be the same as normal. You wouldn’t have gone through such pain when life abandoned your body and he wouldn’t have gone to this extent to try and cure his broken heart.

But now he knew that no matter how far he went or how many people faced death by his blade, he would never be content. If he couldn't have you then he didn’t want nothing but the whole world to perish before his eyes.

He missed feeling like himself. He longed to hear your laugh or at least see your face one more time, that way he could perhaps smile again. But that was more than impossible so he knew his soul was completely lost in the dark.

After weeks of destruction he marched triumphantly through the streets of an unknown city that had fallen to his feet. Steps took him to the castle and even further in, to the throne room.

“An eye for an eye. One life for another.” He pronounced with spite as he held the shiny blade against the other king’s throat who only had his title to support him. The death of a kingdomless king would faze nobody so he didn’t even hesitate before slitting his throat.

The once reasonable and kind king was now the one who sat covered in blood on the throne that used to belong to someone else. For the first time in long a little laugh escaped his lips. He was now the ruby king that wanted nothing but destruction, because it brought him the joy that you could no longer, or so he thought.

Kingdoms were meant to perish under the flame of his rage. And they were, they would burn and fall until his soulless mind felt satisfied.

“I love you.” It had been the first time you ever said that and he felt his heart leap inside his chest.

It was wrong and foolish but Minho didn’t desire to hold back anymore so he pressed his lips against yours. He was going to ignore who you were married to, who his close friend was and what was decency. Because he loved you more than it’s possible to explain with simple words.

You kissed him back with eagerness and allowed your hands to learn how his soft brown locks felt tousled and dishelbed. In return he held onto you as if letting go meant you disappearing from his life.

With every second that passed his heart sunk more in regret but he could barely notice because he could only think of you. The way in which your lips moved in perfect synch against his and the way his hand seemed to perfectly fit in the small of your back.

How much did a man need to lose composure? Apparently it was just one touch because when your fingertips brushed gently against the nape of his neck he was definitely lost. There and then he wanted nothing else than to have you forever.

His lips parted from yours and in his eyes glowed intensely something that you couldn’t quite decipher, not until he spoke. “Be mine, please. Let’s just be together, without everyone else standing in the middle.”

He saw a tint of fear come to life under your pupils but you still agreed, you still told him you loved him once again. He was ready to break his friend’s heart into pieces if it meant never having to walk away from you again.

The warmth of his mouth travelled your jaw and then your neck. He moved slowly like how steps approached the door that hid both of you. And when those steps finally reached the door it was too late.

The owner of the lonely steps carefully turned the knob and peeked inside the room only to be faced with heartache. What Chan saw was perhaps the most heartbreaking view he could’ve ever witnessed. His friend kissed away at the skin of the person who was supposed to only share love with him.

He left like he had never been there and neither you nor Minho ever knew that he had witnessed the start of such treason.

Minho loved you everyday more and Chan lived like he was in oblivion, still wanting to have you by his side. Still, the universe decided that if one of you couldn’t have you then perhaps none could.

You were never mine. Minho had thought when he knew that you would never be able to live by his side.

[allyvampirelass29]

Obsession’s Chains

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

Ally watched the snow flurries hurl past the window of the Wraith, feeling its breathing anger as it tore through the oncoming blizzard, and yet the freezing bluster could not compare to the cold inside the car.

She could feel him, even though she couldn't look at him, that distrust, that wounded anger that screamed without him saying a word. I'm sorry, Charlie, I'm so sorry. You damned crazy chick....... Vic's fury ripped through her mind like a howling wind, as she watched the onslaught of the eternal winter, the way the frost formed, etching itself in sparkling trails across the window, shivering in the face of what she'd just done. You just made a deal with the DEVIL, Jane........ Vic hissed. She's right....... I was free....... We did it, we........ won. She thought with another full bodied chill. Damn straight. All you had to do, Ally, was freaking walk away, but you just couldn't do it, could you? No....... Why the HELL not!? Because I was free........ but he was dead.

Ally shuddered as the cool leather of his glove brushed against her feverish cheek, one hand drawing back her curls. His eyes were like black frost as he looked at her, seized with that bitter cold, and seething froth that could only come from the dry ice concoction of love and hate felt to a deathly extreme.

"Charlie-" She breathed his name in the most tender ache, the sweet beguiling sound, robbing him of his clung-to hatred even as he held fast against such audacious charm. Beware that voice....... He could feel it, that desperation to ease his torment, even while she was the one in the cage.

She gasped as his glove moved swiftly over her soft lips, pressing hard, his fingers curling, clasping her mouth tight, coaxing her hot breath against his palm, and his other hand twitched on the Wraith's steering wheel.

"Not so fast, Allyssa Jolene....... Whatever desperate apologies and pleads you have planned for my sake, after so loathsome a stunt, I beg you to spare me," He growled, swerving up to the entrance, met by the towering twin candy canes, and twinkling coloured lights of the Christmasland Gates, his return heralded by the splendid ache of, "Last Christmas," trumpeting through the frosty air. How fitting, he thought with a vicious smirk.

"Welcome back to Christmasland, Mrs. Manx," He snickered cruelly, firmly muzzling her trembling mouth, unmoved by her morose green eyes. "I regret to say you return not as our most beloved queen, but as a disgraced traitor......" He snarled leaning closer, his furious exhale catching in her hair. Thankfully, your slighted husband is kind enough to welcome you back with open arms. However, you may find your festive kingdom far less, shall we say, hospitable. You'll have to toil for my generous forgiveness, My Dear, not in soft, spoken words, but with your entire body, starting with that hand. The crown is yours to win back, but if you dare make a move against me again, I will strike it forever from your dear little head, and I fear you'll find yourself in chains. Take your punishment, like a good girl, however, and I, of course, shall reward you immeasurably."

He felt his injured hatred softening, as he looked at her, so willing to comply, so repentant, making no move to pull away, eliciting no cry of protest, no adverse intent to his will, submitting in silent grace. He gently withdrew his hand from her mouth, feeling that worrisome and familiar ache in his heart, losing yet again to the love of her. I love you, Ally, but I HATE what you do to me, how you rule me. Love....... brings out the worst in us. And yours could be the RUIN of me.

"Charles....... I accept my punishment, though I pray you do not harden your heart against me. That is an admonishment, I could not survive." She whispered, out of breath, as the gates parted to let them pass.

"Nor I," He whispered back harshly, hating that it was true. As badly as he wanted to punish his pretty wife for her unfortunate rebellion, he couldn't carry out the sentence she deserved, and banish her, not from his home....... not from his love.

As the Wraith rolled forward, Charles felt himself melt into a sly smile, and he had to admit, in spite of the scathing betrayal, he was impressed by how clever she'd been, coaxing him out of his gloves, commandeering his car. My Fearless Little Femme Fatale, who knew you had it in you? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't touched, you choosing me over your eternal freedom, not knowing what I'm going to do to you.

He slammed on the brakes, and the Wraith screeched along the snow covered road, an intrusion of loud, white static glowing brighter and brighter around Ally, until she disappeared completely from her seat in a blinding flash, the car door still firmly locked. He let out a furious scream, tearing out of the car, searching for her in the whirl of snowfall.

"ALLYYYYYY!!!! WHERE ARE YOU!?!? ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!!!!"

He howled, dashing through the snow, until he found her, stricken, fighting tears, looking bewildered at him as he grasped her forearms, his eyes murderous, the static still encircling her like a halo.

"Is this h-how you mean to punish me, Charles? Ripping me from your inscape, banishing me from Christmasland!?"

"No, NEVER!!!" He snarled, yanking her along after him. "What fresh treachery is this!? You PLANNED this, you and that BITCH, I'm a damned FOOL!!! What a show, what a performance-!"

"NO!!!! Please!!! Charles, listen to me, I-I'm not doing this- I would never- I don't know what's happening!"

"LIAR!!!" He seethed, his teeth bared, wrenching her arm, dragging her back to the car, when she slammed up against the empty air, colliding with it like an unyielding wall, falling back into the snow.

"CHARLES!!! Charles, I promise you, I'm not doing this!!!!" She sobbed, as he grabbed for her in a panic, trying to pull her through the powerful shield, and this time she managed to go further, the projected force bending slightly with a strobing white haze, but the moment he let go of her hand, she was thrown back.

It hit him full force, as the static and white noise intensified her outline, the glimmering guilt flooding his dark eyes, and he was all too aware of why his Snow Angel was rudely being denied entrance to his merry inscape. I've been doing a little dabbling with your soul, My Sweet....... It appears there are some severely adverse effects....... He flew to her, and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he grunted, pulling her with great effort through the resistant gale of the flashing white glow, backing into it, as he pulled her into him. The wall beating airily against his back like an angry wave.

"Charles!!!! Charles, I'm so scared!!!" She cried out, burying her curly head in his shoulder, and he clinged to the back of it, the wind resistance, sending his coif to skew, her curls to scatter, blowing them in his face, his long, navy coat billowing in the unforgiving wind, her dress snapping around her bare legs.

"Hold onto me!!!" He yelled over the thundering sound, and with one final tug, she broke through the invisible wall, both of them collapsing in a heap, her on top of him, the breakneck gale, reduced to deafening silence.

"Charles, I promise, it wasn't me, please........" She pleaded through her tears, her trembling fingers clutching the blue velvet collar of his coat, and he reached up to brush his lips against hers, swallowing his guilt.

"I believe you."

**********

Charlie Manx cradled his terrified bride in his arms, as she hugged his neck, her long white skirt trailing along the wood floor of the hallway, her bare legs dangling, and he paused at the threshold to their bedroom, struck by the sublime irony, with a sardonic eyebrow raise.

"Ah yes, the sacred tradition of carrying the blushing bride across the threshold into eternal wedded bliss. How amusing....... We neglected the act on our wedding night, and here we are, poised with a second chance. Call me a superstitious man, but I suspect this oversight was where our problems first began. Might I suggest we not tempt fate yet again........?"

Ally's trembling lip eased itself into a fond smile, and Charlie smiled his most charming, as he swept her into the room, with a spin, holding his young bride just as he would have that night, allowing her a taste of heaven, before he let the hell around them rise.

She felt a giggle escape her lips, her windswept curls falling in her alight green eyes, and for the most fleeting of moments, she was again the newlywed Mrs. Manx, her bliss perfect, a woman madly in love, the night alive with such promised passion.

"We did forget, didn't we......? What bad luck we invited into our marriage!!! Might we have fixed it with our cheerful re-enactment, Charles? I suppose there was one other sacred act that fell to the wayside that night.........." She whispered softly, and he felt a quiver in his own lip, as he looked down at her, wanting her even more badly than he had then, choosing to violate her creative power, over letting her bequeath herself to him, body and soul. If given the choice now, Victoria's near fatal collision would not have been his priority. Oh how it could have waited..........

"Surprising isn't it? On both accounts. We were so enamoured, so wrapped up in each other after the ceremony......... I couldn't stop kissing you, touching you........"

He closed his eyes, remembering it in a desirous, besotted haze, this beautiful girl made his forever, with no hope of escape, deliciously oblivious to the horror that lay waiting in her new husband's heart.

"I'm still wrapped up in you......" She whispered breathily, and he sighed deeply, fighting his vicious attraction, and losing. No, I will not be so easily swayed this time. Seduce me twice...... Shame on you, Wife. I'm in control now, I'm the one holding the pen.

He hastily set her down in front of the canopied bed, trying not to look at the curve of her white legs, slightly red with cold. He could feel her disappointment, as he moved away from her, thrashing back the tenderness that always seemed to bloom between them. And yet, she did not run to him, or beg, or plead, she handled the slight with quiet grace, and he looked approving as she hung those mangled curls in shame. Yes, My Bride, submit and show me just how sorry you REALLY are.

"How much BETTER to have waited, Mrs. Manx," he chortled cruelly, slowly starting to pace in front of her, his eyes fixed. "The gesture means so much more to me now, than the pretense it would have been. Now that you know exactly what you're in for........ The man you wed was a LIE, a fiction, a fabrication, created to better woo you. To better USE you."

Ally felt the sting of his words, as they struck, but she wasn't going to make it that easy for him. "No Charles........" She said tremulous in a half whisper, her voice bleeding with that tenderness he couldn't escape. "I see him........ The man I married, the man I loved Once Upon a December........ I see him shining behind coal black eyes, and I know, everything he said, everything he felt, everything he was........ is real. You're not half the monster you insist on being. He's there, and I can save him........ if you'll let me."

Charles turned on her venomously, his black eyes pure poison, watching her wither in the hatred of his gaze, his pacing becoming more violent, with a furious whirl of his coat.

"You SEE only what I WANT you to see!!! The man you seek to save does not exist, Ally, he could not survive the monster, and while his was the light that brought you here, it is the darkness you have taken as your lover."

He stopped pacing and narrowed his smouldering eyes at her, his intense brow furrowed with dark intentions.

"What am I going to do with you.......?"

"You're going to punish me.........." She whispered meekly, in sorrowful defeat, her curly head downcast, and there was that delectable tinge of fear. How intoxicating, for you to both love and fear me in the same escaped breath.

Charles felt his hunched shoulders relax, and his expression softened, gently moving in closer, and she trembled at his touch, his whisked forefinger across her cheek, using his thumb to bring her head back up, as he cooed. "Ohhh my Sweet Wife........ Of COURSE, I'm going to punish you...... He pet the back of her head in a slow stroke, bringing her closer, his voice soothing, "But first....... I'm going to reward you...... for coming back to me."

Before she could take her next breath, Charles forced his lips over hers, taking them mercilessly, kissing and kissing her with reckless fury. She gasped against his lips, and it was like the hypnotic dance in the snowglobe, she couldn't help herself joining him, mirroring his passion, kissing him back in a haunted trance, hungering for his lips.

He forced her up against the foot of the bed, feeling her chest rise and fall against his, both of them breathless, his forceful affection turning her head, as he took control of her lips the same way he'd done with her hands. Effortlessly. He kissed her harder, angry and suffocating, like a man possessed by the darker side of his desire, in such stark contrast to the gentleman bridegroom that kissed and held her like a glass figure. I'm going to shatter you, my porcelain bride, until you beg for me to do it again........ and again.

He remembered how sneakily he'd tried to undo the laces at her breast, to no avail, last time, and he felt the rollicking thrill as he realized no such quarter need be granted now. His nostrils flared, kissing her deeply, his lips possessive, stealing her air, and he tore off his glove, shoving it into his chauffer coat's pocket, his claws poised, yanking open her laces with an open mouthed murmur.

Ally gasped against the violence of the kiss, as she felt the release of the loosened laces, her hand flying to her clavicle to keep her neckline from falling open.

He stopped kissing her in a lustful exhale, his dark eyes darting to the covered indent, and he eyed her until she let her hand fall away, already guessing his demand. He grinned wickedly, eying now the soft, dove white cleavage, biting his lip.

"You are....... the most incandescently beautiful creature ever I have beheld."

The burn rushed to her cheek, and he watched her breath catch, using that moment to fling her back onto the bed, and she acquiesced, falling back, her eyes glittering, nervous, excited, a little...... well, physically enthralled, and he drank in the sight of it, her wanting him, just as he was, not only the pretty paper, but the duplicity wrapped therein.

He hunched over her, a devious glint in his eye, as his lips found the soft curve of her bare ankle, kissing with slow, euphoric relish, in so scandalous a manner, such as Cassie Manx would have found reprehensible. A woman's ankles were a forbidden article in his time....... How unseemly, Charles, do attempt some decorum!!! He could hear her grating chastise, even as his younger wife elicited her own murmur of utter, pleasurable delight. She always was the practical one, the most petulant realist, wasn't she? No open mind, never one to choose her husband's pleasures over her own. Selfish shrew. He felt his heart quicken, pressing his open mouth over her other ankle, watching her toes curl, as she breathed her stunned satisfaction. You're nothing so hatefully provincial, Allyssa, you're just like me...... We crave the elusive taste of the fantastical. We're romantics, impassioned souls, freed from the constructs of reality. She could never love me as you do, because she did not understand my particular magic. Nothing creative or inspired about that miserable woman.

"Charles-" Ally moaned his name, and he grazed his long, razor sharp nails up and down her bare leg, scraping across the satin feel of it, bowing his dark head to kiss behind her knee, granting the slightest little nip, feeling her skin prickle beneath his hands.

"Oh my God......." She whimpered, and he could feel her breathless ache, as he fed her addiction, running his nails up her body, as he crawled over her, clasping a dainty wrist in each of his encircled claws, forcing her head back with the power of his passion.

She kissed him back in a fever, crazed, surrendering her petal soft lips, letting his ease hers open, pulling free one of her hands from his grasp, to touch his face. He viciously broke the kiss, with a scolding growl, both of them breathing hard.

"Did I say....... you could move?"

She sank further back into the bed, and he watched shamelessly as the loosened laces at her opened neckline danced while her chest rose and fell with the exertion.

"No," She whispered, trembling, and he snapped up the wrist she had just pulled free, his eyes commanding.

"Good. Don't. I'm in control. Say it."

"You're- You're in c-control." Ally breathed, feeling disoriented, her head swimming, secretly enamoured by this forceful, domineering side of him, telling her what to do, not being careful with his breakable doll at all, so reckless, possessive, dangerous, it was an intoxication.

Charlie simpered his approval, nodding with an eyebrow raise. "Good girl....... Free will is just an illusion, remember that, My Sweet. We tried it your way, and now we'll do it mine......... My gloves are the ones guiding yours, and deny it as you might, but you're BETTER for it," He besieged her lips again, pressing his thumbs against both of her wrists, feeling her breath hot against his mouth, as he applied pressure.

"I should CHAIN you to this bed, and never let you out of this room......" He rasped salaciously, rubbing his thumbs over and over her wrists, feeling her pulse quicken. "My, how entirely lovely these delicate wrists would look encircled in irons. The thought beckons........"

"Oh Charlie!" She mouthed back, and he kissed her a little softer, though he did not relinquish his hold, spreading her arms, as he pinned her flush to the white linen.

"Things are going to be much changed around here, My Pretty Prisoner........" He smirked, and Ally recoiled as the sharp edge of that hateful instrument of ink and hellfire, brushed teasingly against her lip.

"Do you see this?" He taunted, displaying it with sadistic flourish, releasing her wrists. "This belongs to me now, do you understand? You will use it how and when I want, but your knife is no longer under your control. I own it, and the hands that wield it."

She nodded solemnly, and watched him slip it back into the silk lining of his blood red waistcoat, feeling herself shudder as he pressed his lips hard to the back of her knuckles.

"Your unfettered freedom in my inscape is all but revoked, My Snow Queen. Until you can win back your crown, prove yourself worthy of my trust, you will need to be escorted by me, personally, any place you wish to go, pending my approval, of course......"

He leaned down, tenderly kissing her forehead, and she could feel the sincere apology on his lips, even before he gave it breath. "Forgive me this necessary cruelty....... but you will not be permitted to see your children, until such a time as I deem you do not intend to spirit them away from their home. I am sorry, but it must be this way......."

He gritted his teeth, his gaze a dark threat, his back arching with his ire, as he leaned over her. "And if you so much as touch my car again, or even THINK the name Vic........ I will be forced to take......... measures.

Ally shivered beneath his body, having no need for him to elaborate, and he relaxed against her, kissing her cheek in a soothe. "Nevermind that, for if tonight is any indication, your absolution is soon coming....... He whispered, his voice ripe with desire. Until then....... I am going to take such pleasure in your punishment........."

Her heart stopped in a seize, her surprised elicit escaping in a drawn out, breathy murmur, as he lowered his lips to her neckline, pressing them flush to her feminine cleft, kissing generously with parted lips, inching his kiss down into it, and then in easeful sigh, he nestled his head to her soft, sensitive breast.

She couldn't speak, couldn't even form words, her mind numb, and her hands cradled his head there, against her womanly curves, drifting through his silky, raven hair, stroking his strong, freshly-shaven jaw with her other fingers, her cheeks burning red. It may not be altogether ladylike to admit, but she loved him laying on her chest, so close to her beating heart.

"Don't you EVER leave me again." His voice began as an angry, volatile rasp, but ended in the broken sound of a desperate man.

"I'm sorry, My Love, I'm so sorry." She cried, green eyes miserable, stroking his silky, ebony waves and he hugged her body to his cheek, knowing how much control he had over her, how he could make her want him, make her dance, yanking her strings, and yet he also knew, to a distressing degree, how much control she had over him.......

She hugged him back, closer to her chest, and he loosened his crimson cravat, sweltering in the exquisite heat between them. That lingering, insatiable need to be closer.

"What Beautiful Wickedness, My Handsome Phantom, My Dark-Eyed Dream......." She whispered as she kissed the top of his head, and he felt himself melt beneath her lips.

He could have stayed like this forever, fallen fast asleep, pillowed upon so pleasing a swell, so soothed by her heartbeat's lullaby. Instead of indulging in this long-held fantasy, however, and giving into even more diabolical designs, everything within him sounded its protest as he pulled himself off of her, knowing exactly what had to be done, taking her wrist in hand, and concentrating hard as he encircled it in kisses.

Ally giggled, roving her fingers deeply though his soft, feathery black strands, leaving not even a remnant of his carefully slicked coif, beaming at him, with so much love in her heart that it physically hurt them both. He was so beautiful..... The most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, a miracle named Manx, drawn to his dark allure, and malevolent elegance, with a mad obsession. Punish me all you wish, especially if that punishment is this, but Charlie you cannot silence my love.

"You silly boy!!! Whatever are you doing?" She giggled as he whirled his hand airily around the wrist he'd just ringed in kisses, before snapping her other hand out of his hair, and pressing his lips along the curve of that wrist as well."

He smirked devilishly, his lip curling, his eyes intensifying, and his voice chilled her to the bone as he said it.

"Creating........"

She giggled again, but he sensed a wariness in that music that she tried so hard to hide, and his lips twisted up into a wry smile, satisfied with his work.

He coaxed her off the bed with another demanding kiss, pulling her up against him, as she pressed her lips to his, all too willingly, letting him lead her to the window, a luminous canvas of Christmasland at night.

He broke the kiss with a smug chuckle, playfully pushing her away, his eyes all mischief, stepping back slowly from her, towards the bedroom door.

"Somebody's in quite the playful humour, and I LOVE it!!!" She giggled, and he carefully brushed his finger under her chin, as she moved to follow him.

"As do I, Wife. Let's play. Come give chase. Let us see if absence cannot make the heart grow fonder, and chain anything so fickle as a woman's love."

She frowned, the edge in his voice giving her pause. "Charles, soft........ What mean you by this?"

"Come find out," He taunted with beckoning eyes, curling his finger flirtatiously as he brought it toward him.

Ally shook her loose curls, confused, but willing to play along, rushing to catch him, when she felt herself yanked back towards the window.

No no no, not again! She tried to pull free of the hold, yanking her arm towards her but something felt off, it wasn't a wall like before, it was airy, suspended, yes, but somehow almost..... tangible. She gave one more desperate pull before she saw them form around her wrists, ethereal white cuffs, glowing with a blue halo, appearing and disappearing just as fast with every frantic tug.

"I told you...... You'd look devastatingly lovely in chains, and these were made special just for you."

"CHARLES, NO!!! PLEASE, how CAN you do this!? Do not leave me, not like this!!! Please, Charles, have I not behaved as your perfect saint!?" Ally felt the stunned tears stream from her eyes, and Charlie snickered coldly, as she fought the floating irons, shaking them soundlessly, trying to pry one of the cuffs from her wrist.

"Save yourself the trouble, Sugar Plum, it's no use....... You'll only make yourself tired, and believe me, you'll need your strength for what comes next. My, yes, you have, and your pretty glowing bracelets will make sure you stay behaved."

He turned his handsome cheek inward, snidely, and she reached out for him, in a hopeless ache. "But I-I chose you.........."

He scoffed bitterly, his eyes black and biting. "No....... You chose HER first. You chose her, Ally, and for that you must be disciplined. So have I lavished my affection, now will I STARVE you of it, until you go so mad with the wanting of me, that nothing or no one can use you against me again!"

"Please, don't leave...... Keep me in these binds forged by your own imagination, but I pray you, My Charles........ don't leave me."

Charlie walked coolly towards her, and knelt, white silk stockings in hand, and she froze as he kissed his way up her naked leg, running his nails across her thigh, before sliding her stocking up over it, carefully tying the laces.

He did the same with her other leg, and then moved for the door, before stopping to look over his shoulder at her, marveling at such a pale vision bathed in moonlight from the window. "To keep you warm...... while I'm away........." He simpered, with another eyebrow raise, referring to both the kisses and the stockings.

"I do not understand you, Charles....... You said if I did exactly as you asked, submitted myself entirely to you, I would not end up in chains......." Ally pleaded softly, despaired to the depths, her voice aching, coaxing, and he held fast against the heartbroken sound.

The deed is done, Sweet Wife, your sin already committed. This........" He gestured grandly, twirling his fingers through the air, his eyes haughty, and full of black smoke, "Is your atonement. How magnanimous of your beloved husband to devise a compromise, so that you do not have to feel the shame and weight of steel. It'd be a shame to bruise such delicate porcelain, would it not? You're welcome."

Charlie raised his dark brow cleverly, bowing, mock genteel, with elegant flourish, waving his arm, and then he left her there, just a sad little doll, so forlorn and forgotten. No woman, be she lover or foe, or especially both........ makes a fool out of Charles Manx.

Ally sank to her knees, sobbing profusely, overwhelmed by the inflicted wonder and horror this fateful night had wrought, still feeling his frost on her skin, her lips burning for more of his, and already his dastardly plan was working its will to devastated perfection. Her body hummed with his lashed out passion, kisses smouldering in their trace, reckless caresses with drawn claws, and she craved him more than she ever had before, hugging her knees to her chest to quiet the thunderous pulse of her heart. What have you done to me, Charles? What is this wildness you have unleashed in my heart, this untamed passion and nakedness of thought. She felt like she was vibrating, she could feel it in her spine, tingling all over, breathless. No, no wait. That wasn't the intensity of the craving, that was real, something........ something WAS vibrating.

She reached her manacled hands behind her back, and this time she heard an impatient buzz, slipping her fingers twixt the laces to work it from under her corset. What is this, my surreptitious lover, my scheming husband? Another parting gift? I fear it cannot slake the absence of you that my body laments in every unsatisfied tremble.

She pulled it free, frowning as she held it before her, the screen dark. A mobile? No, no it couldn't be. I haven't seen mine in months, I left it at the library the day I was........ She shivered as she thought the word. "Taken."

She clicked it on to find an angry succession of choice word texts, the last one being,

"Damn you, Jane, just freaking tell me you ain't dead........."

"Vic......." She whispered softly, remembering when the tough, do-not-touch-me girl, had clapped her back in an uncharacteristic show of friendship. You clever thing!!! Her fingers fumbled over the keys, her hands still restrained by the thin air, but she managed to type well enough, with some difficulty.

"Not dead. Not yet. Restricted wouldn't be too far of a stretch........" She bit her bottom lip. "He bought it, Vic. You may despise me for my impulse in the heat of the moment, but I have no regrets."

The ding was deafening, frantic, and her eyes darted back and forth over the scathing reprimand.

"DAMN IT, ALLY!!!! WHAT the FRICK were you thinkin!? You've put me through HELL, worryin' sick about you!!!! THAT WAS SO DAMNED STUPID!!!! I thought you were done for........"

Awwwww, and Charlie swore we, with our unlike natures couldn't be friends. She smiled sadly, tugging on the chains as she tapped out her response. "What can I say? I'm just one doe-eyed, ditzy, damned crazy chick."

"Yeah uhhh sorry about that, I was so freaking pissed at you for changing the game, I got a little carried away there, Jane. You ain't stupid, you just fell in love with the devil, that's all. You're damn right that bastard bought it, hell I bought it. You were right, we didn't stand a chance without somebody on the inside. Congrats on your way too convincing reconciliation, GOD, I sure as hell wouldn't wanna be you....... Stay alive, Harlequin."

"You too, Hell on Wheels. My darling man's gone out....... indefinitely, and it appears I've been....... detained, but I will keep you apprised of the events, and get you an audience with the children, with their father none the wiser."

"Aunt Vicki's gonna take them on a one-way trip out of this hellhole." She replied with a winking face, making Ally smile, feeling hopeful.

"Oh I'm sure they'd adore such an exciting outing! How doting of you! Save them first, Vic........ Even if you must leave me behind to suffer the Wrath of Manx."

"Stop it. I'm getting you out, Jane, I promise. Don't you even talk like that."

Ally looked down, pulling weakly on her chains, watching their soft, transcendent white-blue glow reappear, and then fade, just as fast, her pale face dismal.

"I don't know, Victoria........ I fear I shall remain ever a prisoner of his love. Obsession's chains are not so easily broken."

[of-forossa]

ϟ "I'm always curious!"

@yellowfingcr // a song spun from the wounds we wear, their memory our burden alone to bear // not accepting.

His heart makes the request (as with most things) with such apparent interest and genuine affection that to deny her is beyond out of the question, though in truth he hardly considers these talks to be a trial in the slightest. For all their edging about their blood-soaked duties and stepping round their ill-fitting devotions to unlike causes, there has never been any lacking of truths between them, what with his perhaps hammer-headed bluntness at times and the transparency her words often gave her. That she would find so many seemingly mundane things about himself to pique her interest with, to stir up the insatiable curiosity that made her in equal parts brilliant scholar and cunning hunter, to investigate these tiny little details and put them away in her wonderful mind simply for the sake of it being a part of himself is… beyond baffling even now, after having been party to this liveliness and beauty that defies every notion of their dread curse preventing them from still being human.

Perhaps he’ll find something truly worthy of her attention when next he travels through the ashen mists. For now, though… “Come here, suthuun, and I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t kneel for once, settling instead for standing in an effort not to obscure what he’s certain will garner her interest the most. Of all the marks and memoirs etched into his skin by blade and bow and battleaxe, few have ever clung to him after returning from death on that frozen field so long ago, chased away long before they could take root into his skin by the renewal brought upon by bonfire’s flames with every demise and subsequent rebirth. Such was the curse of the Darksign, to die time after time and remember the feel of them each with nothing to remind you of your failures but the phantom sting of their bite… with one exception.

“You know that I didn’t link the First Flame on my journey, Heysel.” Brom begins, loosening the vambraces that guard his wrists one after the other, with a quiet diligence and practice that speaks of a repetition numbering in centuries. “When given that choice, I turned from the Throne of Want. Turned my back on burning for all eternity and set my sights on a different dream entirely, as Vendrick did before me. It was because of him that I was inspired to seek the kings of old, to conquer their dead kingdoms and claim their crowns in order to build a kingdom of my own.” The gauntlets come loose just as easily, and with arms freed he turns his attention to the woolen fleece about his shoulders, loosening it and placing it gently onto the stones next to the discarded plates.

“Such was my ambition, and one I intended to realize in the ruins of my homeland. With the strength of souls I’d gathered from traversing Drangleic and the other kingdoms, as well as the secret locked within the crowns, I set out for Forossa. What all had befallen the land in my absence I could not say, for the time I spent on my journey was difficult to reconcile with the world that greeted me, but upon my return it became clear to me that something was… wrong. Rather than an empty land left long abandoned from the ravages of war and the onset of the Darksign, a malevolent power had taken root in the ruins of our greatest city.” With a loosening of leather strips and little ceremony, the breast plate comes loose and falls into his arms, revealing the chainmail beneath. With a rolling of broad shoulders and a small amount of shifting, the interwoven links of bradden steel are pulled off, leaving him clad in the embroidered tunic he favored. “A corruption had settled into the earth, profaned by a darkness spread by madmen and the monsters they crafted from bone and shadow and flesh.”

With a slow rolling up of the aquamarine cloth, Brom reveals the toned planes of his stomach and the litany of scars left behind from his life in service to his country before his death. Among the more mundane marks left from mortal warfare stands out in stark contrast a hideous laceration, a scar that began at the hip where he’d been deeply pierced and carved a grim path across the ribs from the left flank to those on the right, as though the blow had been meant to unseam him and spill out his entrails. “This was a gift from their master. Nahr Alma, the God of Blood.” As though the name itself is foul, foreboding, anathema even, he can’t help but shudder as he traces the length of the scar with his fingers, feeling out the tears left in the wake of the scythe’s jagged edge.

“Even with all my strength and skill, I was… unprepared for the powers that awaited me. With the might he had gathered there and the curses he wielded, I nearly perished on one of his altars, bled dry as an animal prepared for sacrifice in honor of a hideous god. This is a reminder of that arrogance, of what it nearly cost me.” His face is… distant. As though he’s not here with her in Farron, but once more locked in battle on the plains of frozen Forossa. When he does stir, he lowers the tunic over the scar and sends her a reassuring pulling up of the lips, sighing shakily. “It took an army born of many nations to retake my homeland from him at great cost, and even longer to cleanse it of his wretched influence. But with my brother’s axe and my sword, we put an end to his wickedness and avenged all those whose blood was offered up in sacrifice to him.”

Suddenly weary, Brom took a seat on the stones with a deep breath and an even deeper exhale. He seems older know with the revelation, as though the memory of times long past and the wounds left by them shook the illusion of his age that undeath had trapped him in originally. Looking up only just so, he manages a smile despite himself that feels genuine. “I suppose things here in Farron seem rather dull in comparison, no? I daresay I prefer a bit more of the mundane nowadays, though admitting as much makes me feel rather old.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at himself before turning back to her.

“After all, as exciting and harrowing as those times might’ve been, they never had you… and for all the scars I’ve gathered thus far, I would earn even more if it meant being able to stay here with you.”

[gukptune]

—  resolution, 2 (m.)

↛ jungkook x reader

A stranded pirate caught in a ship wreck finds herself lost in the tides of a Samurai Kingdom. Witnessing the mass murder of her crew she makes way inland hoping to find her Captain, though she gets caught by someone she never wanted to affiliate herself with.

↛ genre: pirate!au, pirate!jungkook, pirate!reader, angst, smut

↛ warnings: nothing really, only angst haha but i assure you its good character building!!

↛ words: 2.3k+

↛ note: surprise! i had this in the works for sooo long, i felt like it was a good point to end part 2!! will def have a part 3 to end it all but yesss, this part is mainly to develop their relationship!

SERIES INDEX: Resolution

      — part one

      — part two

      — finale

SERIES MASTERLIST

Sunrise, sunset - over and over again. You’ve lost hope long ago, hope that you’d leave this strange land. The land of which you never understood the language and at every step you took to make way from chamber to grounds eyes were on you, peering hatred and despise for you. Your Captain hadn’t stopped his hunt for you and the rest of the living crew, he was stopping at nothing and you feared that made your life worse. Trying to fit in wasn’t something you could attempt.

You looked nothing like the people here, your braised skin healed slowly from all those times kept inside the walls. He said he kept you inside because he wanted you to heal, you wondered if he insinuated that to be a way to make you less ‘pirate like’. 

He had you dressed, cleaned and pampered. You looked the part in all ways but your own skin, all the scars and the marks can’t be erased. Somehow that made everything better, all his attempts to hid your truth yet reality didn’t like it happen.

Your past, your actions, your life was etched into your skin. Every day you would smile due to the fact that he was failing. In the end he gave up, maybe he finally excepted you.

All these weeks, all these months you didn’t hate the life he gave you, well the life he forced you into. He tried, he really did. Training was in order, in payment for your stay he would like you by his side ― his own weapon.

Seemingly a killer in disguise you’d become, he acted like you didn’t know how to fight. You knew it all, you’ve had your fair share of battles on the hungry sea, sending souls to reach the depths, handing them over to Davy Jones.

He was frustrated to say the least, his posture was upright and elegant. He had a recipe for his attacks, they were calculated and perfected. 

Yours were, nothing like that. It was aggressive, based on pure instinct and luck. You fought dirty and that was what he hated about it.

He would scold you for hunching, for throwing sand in his face to distract him, for believing in your instincts. You should hate him by now, yet you felt that his efforts were going to waste and yet he never gave up.

The question stays with you of why he really wanted to keep you, why he truly needed you ― a pirate far from home, a girl with no knowledge of Japanese, a rat of the sea.

“Aren’t you suppose to be reading?” A voice bellowed through the spacious room of which you called your own.

Biting your lip you kept your head still, in your cross-legged figure you shrugged continuing on with your previous action.

Jungkook lets out a displeased grovel, his bare footsteps against the wooden floor echoed against the thin walls. The dimly lit room formed a shadow of his slender yet strong body against the floor merely skimming at the corner of your eyes.

Before you know it he plops himself by your side, his hands crawling up the small table you sat yourself next to, “If you want to learn our language you actually have to make an effort.”

You scoffed, “I don’t want to learn your language, I’d like to learn another - something like French or Spanish you know the language of a isle I was suppose to raid.”

Jungkook sensed your sass, he sighed deeply giving up on the entire fiasco for now. He thought that you’d like to learn the language, mainly because you’ve been complaining about his servants and maids side eying you. Of course, most of it wasn’t harmful but curious. He would explain what they were saying but you never believed him.

His eyes glanced over the object of which your hand was covering. His eyes squinted, noticing your body turning away from him slightly, seemingly hiding what you were doing. The literature and writing tools scrambled across the ground before you.

You thought your silence would be enough to keep him away but hell, it wasn’t. His hand made quick work of taking you by surprise yanking the scroll underneath your hand into his own.

You jumped, pushing yourself over the table trying to grab for the parchment. He was holding up higher than you could reach in your sitting position. His eyes twinkled at the scribbles, which to him weren’t.

He lets out a laugh, “Didn’t know you had a crush on me, or that you drew well.”

Your checks flushed into a different shade, that wasn’t even the reason for you drawing that. It was a picture of him, mainly because you could only remember his face by heart that clearly and in detail.

“That’s—that’s not true! Give that to me,” You yelled, poking at his sides which made him flinch from the tickle and let the paper fall from his grasp and into your own.

You immediately placed it underneath yourself and sat on it. At least in this way he can’t get another look of it. His eyes were intense, it had a twinge of excitement and curiosity. 

“Hmm, are you sure?” He teased, seeing the nervous blinking you gave him, “Anyways, you draw well. If anything you could drop the pirating and become a painter for the Kingdom.”

“As if, I may draw well but I don’t paint as well as this,” His eyes raised in questioning that made you continue, “I would draw up maps and sketch the architecture, treasure, scenery, artefacts or ruins we’d come across to keep.” He nods, “Makes sense, but I’m sure that’s not the reason by your Captain really needs you back.”

With this, he completely looks away from you. Standing up and making his way towards the door, “Training at five this evening, don’t be late, koibito.” He mumbles incoherently after this, leaving your room entirely. Leaving you to sink in what just happened, he wasn’t going to let this down — nope, not Jeon Jungkook. The last word you hear confused you. Having heard this said a few times around, you never asked what it meant.

“Keep your head up and always looking around you, ____ , be quick on your feet and always agile.”

“We’re going to need to work on your flexibility because that kick barely went over my knee.”

“Are you sure you actually defeated other crews? If all your crewmates fight like you, I’m pretty sure you’d all be dead, ____.”

“You always counter then attack, okay, this is simple stuff. When you get better you’ll purely attack, and when you’re smaller than your opponent don’t try to attack because it will never go well.”

“Have you even held a sword before—a knife? A rock? You act like it’s heavy than yourself.”

“____, faster.”

“Left,____.”

“____.”

You wanted to die, yes, if there was a deep pit you’d jump right in. There is a river right there, maybe you could drown yourself before he notices. He’s picking up all the weapons right now, he’s busy.

You were on your back, breathing heavily on the ground. Sweat trailing down your entire body, the sun was going down now. You still felt like you were boiling. Flipping over on your stomach, groaning from the impact ― well he definitely bruised your ribs today.

Crawling, dragging your body against the grass you were so close but so far from the water, not realising how stupidly loud you were.

Jungkook was at this point done with the packing, all the weapons sheathed and stored in their boxes on the horse. He waved his horse off as it went about it’s way home, Jungkook had trained an extremely intelligent horse.

He raised his eyebrow at you, watching diligently as you reached your hand pathetically towards the water, “If you’re thirsty I have water.”

You pushed your face into the green luscious grass, muffling your despaired sobs in it. You shook your head aggressively.

“Then why are you heading towards the river, you’re going to drown from that current,” He explained, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Feeling a spark of hope from his words, it would kill you. Lifting yourself off the grass and dashing towards the water. Obviously not thinking straight, the water looked great. Glorious waterfall to the right and probably another drop on the left.

Before your feet could step a metre closer to the stream you were lifted off the ground like a sack of potatoes.You would know because he made you lift potato sacks to grow some muscles.

“Whoa, whoa―I was kidding,” He turns you around to face him, pointing a finger at your face, “Do not kill yourself.”

You huffed, “As if I was that stupid.”

“You were the one flying towards death, it’s just the truth,” He bellowed.

You furrowed your eyebrows, shoving your shoulder against his. Jungkook letting out a chuckle at your childlike mannerism.

Before he could usher another word, a guard came running, he seemed extremely out of breath and troubled.

“Jimin?” Jungkook asked, his face filled with confusion.

Jimin nods, swallowing hard before answering, “Jungkook, he’s here. He wants her.”

All eyes narrowed towards yours, you blinked unknowingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathed, his eyes locking with yours.

“He says he has prisoners, that he’d trade her with ____,” Jimin said.

Her, was all you could gather from their conversation. Who would your Captain capture that would really allow Jungkook to trade you with. Honestly, you thought he’d never let you go.

“Her?” Jungkook asked.

Jimin sighs, “Jungkook, you know exactly who it is—we have no idea how he got the information or captured her but she’s in his hands.”

“Jungkook, it’s—”

A firing of a gun completely blocks your ears from taking in the name of the ‘her’. She must’ve been important, if not Jungkook wouldn’t be looking at you with eyes like that, like he was actually considering letting you go.

Jeon Jungkook, it was a stab in the heart for him. How was he suppose to make this decision, fuck, he knew that he’d lose one of you but he didn’t know who he’s more willing to lose.

Maybe it was anger, that you felt inside. You were annoyed that now because of a single her he’s changed his mind, did he forget his promises. Your captain killed hundreds and one person was suppose to make Jungkook pat your ass over. The sound of the gun, you knew it, you knew it well.

Jungkook had gotten you back in your room by force. You weren’t having it, you wanted to know of this person he’s so willing to trade. On the shell you wanted to tell him it was unfair that he’d let several of his men die, citizens die and not let you go but with one girl he was willing to take it all back. He was adamant, stubborn and fearless yet in his moment he was none of that. In the end it truly wasn’t that you were mad about, it was the fact that after all this time, it takes one moment for your faith in him to disappear.  

“Let me go!”

He’s had you his shoulder with Jimin guarding as he marched you into safety, ‘safety’ obviously by his words.

“____! Stop, I need to you calm down,” Jungkook hushed, you were placed on your bed with his arms out trying to stop you from slipping past him. He looked worried with his eyebrows up like that, his doe eyes widened―of course that was enough to make you sit down. You face mimicking his, he was serious and upset.

“Are you going to trade me?”

His eyes shot back to yours, blinking protrusively, “Trade? No, you’re not an object―”

“You’re going to hand me over?”

“No―you’re also not a prisoner―”

“―not anymore,” You corrected, your tone was brutal, like was cutting into him. He breathed heavily, brushing his hair up over his forehead, he held your hand in his. Rubbing his large warm hands over your knuckles gently, his body was kneeled in front of you as you sat on the end of your bed staring down at him slightly.

“Please, just listen to me,” His voice cracked, you gulped realising that this was troubling him more that you though and in a way you didn’t understand.

He bit the skin on his bottom lip before going on, “You want to know, I understand that, ____, I know. Your Captain’s got the woman my father chose as my betrothed―”

“Your… be-betrothed?” Spluttering your words in shock. As long as you had been here never had you heard of such a thing. All these days he spent with you, thinking it was process. It was bad to feel your heart race when he’d come get you for breakfast, for training, reading ― it was bad but it felt so good. Your change in expression didn’t slip past Jungkook, the tightness in his heart should’ve been enough to make him chose but here he’d need to choose between his duties and his heart.

“Who is she?” Your light murmur drummed against his ears, making it even worse for him.

He locks eyes with you, “You won’t know her, we grew up together and my father believes we are compatible ― I haven’t seen her in years.”

Knowing that they had history didn’t make you feel any better, you truly didn’t understand why it bothered you so much.

“I don’t care what you two are, I care about how you’re so unfaithful to your own words,” You sussed.

Jungkook stills for a second, as if was trying to understand you, before he nods. Yet he was persistent, leaning down over you. “Hey, ____, please, trust me. We are nothing, I just―my father would do anything to protect her and her family.”

That includes throwing you back to a man you now feared, a changed man who didn’t fight for the right reasons anymore. The tall young Captain stopped crossing your mind since the day you’ve started to trust the man in front of you. Maybe now you would begin to miss him, his embrace, his scent, his love. 

Your hand skimmed over the chain hanging down your neck, the ring shining in the light. It was a mark of trust, a mark of loyalty. Your face scrunched in thought, not noticing how Jungkook had caught sight of that ring. His nose scrunches before drawing back your attention with a squeeze of your thigh.

His breath hitched, his breath fanning over your hair, “I will protect you.”

His voice was sincere. As if he was trying to get you back on his side, it hadn’t worked. Words will mean nothing to you until he does what he promises, in the end he was unfaithful to his words, right? 

You merely nodded, eyes still stitched to the jewellery. 

Was it enough you wondered, these months with him. Was it enough to make you someone else, someone better. You had trusted him, believed in him but in the end could it overthrow your love for another, your love for Kim Taehyung.

It was hard, it was hard to believe in the words that came out of Jeon Jungkook’s lips anymore.

© archangegguk. 11 may 2019

[mininky]

Heavy Lies the Crown - 12.5

Summary: (Y/N) has the fate of her people on her shoulders and according to a seer, the only way to save her kingdom from the bloodthirsty wolves is by giving herself to the god of the hunt.

Pairing: werewolf!Namjoon x reader

Warnings: None, but I might give you a cavity.

word count: 1.7K

Prologue Chapter one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve twelve and ½ thirteen

A/N: I haven’t edited yet so sorry in advance if you find any errors, but in honor of finally finishing my linguistics final essay from hell I wanted to share this drabble from Namjoon’s POV.

   The first time that Namjoon set eyes on you will forever be etched into his memory. He's sure that someday when he takes in his last breath the scene that will play back behind his dying eyes will be that very one. Every morning when he wakes up next to your body he sees it play, every time he takes you he sees flashes of it. The way you moved so quickly, so fiercely through the forest clearing, the way you fought back without an ounce of resignation against what you must have known was a stronger beast. The way his wolf called out to him, roaring through in a way that was more violent that carnal lust and yet softer all at the same time. The path to love started at that very moment. And sure, that could be obvious given that you were his mate...but you were human. And that had left him unsure and afraid of how his fate might tear your very existence apart until very recently.

   When Namjoon was small his mother used to hold him on his lap and tell tales of how she met his father. How they fell in love. How the moon gave each and every wolf a pair perfect to them, a union that would make one so complete that every little flaw would be filled in until they were once again whole. When his father fell in battle his mother dropped everything, the howl of her pain as she left the village to enter the field into what she knew would be her own death still plays in his nightmares sometimes. She loved his father so fully, so much, that even though she knew it meant dying she would remain by his side. Fight by his side. Die by his side. Namjoon didn't have time to dwell on the anguish that was losing his parents, he knew that they died with honor and he then had to lead in their stead.

   He cherished that at the very least they died together, that they were able to stand their last fight together before being buried together. The moon gifted them with more than soulmates, they gifted them with a love that blossomed into Namjoon, who they would often declare was the living proof of a parents love. And so Namjoon cherished everything about soulmates, but at the same time, he never rushed trying to find out who his was. He knew that when the time was right the moon would gift him with a mate of his own. One that he would cherish the way his mother and father taught him to. Purely, truly, deeply. He had just always assumed that his mate would, of course, be another werewolf. Never had he even thought that it would not only be a human but the princess of the kingdom that had essentially waged war with his people.

   While he was surprised at his wolf crying out at a human he also wasn't at the same time. How could he be when in you he saw a woman that he would have been proud to show off to his parents? He saw a fierce warrior, a woman who could best be described as resilience itself. Beautiful, intelligent, strong, determined. You were everything for him to take pride in. And even when he sometimes saw you fumble, that side of you that was plagued with silent self-doubt he just found more reason to fall in love with you. Imperfectly perfect. He always treasured his mother's words, but he understood them so well now. He felt that as your mate, or as you say your husband, his duty to you was to be the half that filled you in. The half that helped fill in those cracks, the half that gave you enough love and trust to build you up. That was his role, to be a man worthy not only of you but could grow with you and for you.

   He can also still remember the first time that he felt you, the night that he sealed his bond with you. Lust that bubbled deep in his veins, trust that wrapped its way around his heart. He swears that there is no music more beautiful than the sounds of your moans, that there is no magic more awe-inspiring than your orgasms. If he were honest, he's been with others before. It's not unusual for werewolves, there is no vow of celibacy that wolves take the way that humans do. After all, finding a mate can take a very long time and needs...especially during the full moon...tend to make it difficult to wait to have sex with just your mate. But none of them have ever captivated him the way that you did, and of course, he didn't knot with any of the others. Before sex had been a thing born of mutual needs, but with you, it went beyond that. It was almost as if sex with you was on a spiritual plane beyond the physical.

   The moment he sank his fangs in and finalized the bond his wolf sang through him, and when he could hear your own soul call out to his he knew right then why his mother ran onto the battlefield that day. He would do the same for you. His wishes now were rather simple. Perhaps it's imprudent of him as the alpha of his pack, but he just wants you. He wants to cherish not just you, but the children you will someday have, until the last of his days. He wants his last breath to be in your arms, and he prays that if his soul is born on earth again that once again he will meet you all over again. Because you are his moon. You are love. You are trust. You are harmony. You are the resilience he needed to pick up his own broken soul and feel alive again.

   For a long time, he went through the motions. He was naturally disposed to being a good leader, having watched his father and mother his whole life. He understood what was needed, but he had previously been living just for his people. Going through the motions. And then he met you. And everything suddenly blossomed into a new tropical garden of colors. Each breath he takes feels different now. Because he knows now that no matter what you'll be right there by his side. He knows that you too would enter the battlefield for him. He's finally found that piece in his life. Not so much a missing puzzle, more like the addition necessary for growth. You keep him moving for himself, for you, for life.

   He's not sure if he'll ever be able to put it into words just how much you mean to him. He's not sure he'll ever be able to explain how when he lays in bed next to you late at night how you suddenly make the day feel complete. How when he wakes up in the morning you make his wolf sing. How when the full moon comes out all his brain can think of is you. He's talked to the others and he's found out that's actually a bit odd. They assume that it probably has something to do with the fact that you're human and therefore everything that's odd about this relationship should be chalked up to that. But he disagrees. He doesn't think it has to do with you being a human or even a witch which would place you as a being closely tied to the moon and the seasons. No, he thinks it's because his wolf knows that you are his moon.

   You see, it's normal for one to want sexual relations during the moon. Hormones and emotions run high but considering that you can't change that puts a damper on that. So normally one would just run through the forest. And he still does, but if he's honest he goes on these voyages against his wolf's wishes. He does it so he can ensure that the village is safe, that there aren't any fights or skirmishes what with the high hormones and prey drive at that time of the moon cycle. But when he had to leave you during the full moon he did so with his wolf shouting at him the entire time. He's sure his father would have a good laugh if he saw his son, the alpha and leader, curled up on the foot of his bed during the full moon. But honestly, he just wants to be by you and protect you. He can't describe it, all he can say is that when he made the journey during the full moon he felt so empty.

   Right now all of these thoughts are running through Namjoon, and he just wants to pour all of them out to you as the moonlight streams over your naked figured right next to his. But you're sleeping so soundly, so instead, he just nuzzles into your neck and breathes your scent in deep. Tomorrow morning he'll tell you. He'll try to explain all the ways he loves you when you're actually awake. And he'll tell you about how excited he is to take the next step in your journey. Because right now, as he lays there in bed with all these emotions running through his wolf is singing with pride. And he'll take you to his parents grave tomorrow. He feels it's only right to let them know too. After he tells you of course. That the family is growing. That the pride of his life is about to give him new pride, that in nine months time you'll bring to the world a new Kim. And that child will know nothing but love from you and him. He'll carry on the legacy of love that his parents left him finally.

   And someday, when Namjoon does finally take in his final breath he knows that his children will carry on the same will as his. This is his legacy. His love with you, one born in a way unexpected to all of the werewolves, will be his legacy. And it will be theirs too. He thought that there was no greater gift bestowed upon him than you, but as he lays there with this new knowledge he's jubilant to find out that you have given him once again a greater gift.  

[dailyaudiobible]

01/18/2019 DAB Transcript

Genesis 37:1-38:30, Matthew 12:22-45, Psalms 16:1-11, Proverbs 3:27-32

Today is the 18th day of January. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it’s a pleasure, of course, like every day to be here with you and step away into the calm, into some serenity. Everything that's being, you know, not cooperating in our lives right now, it'll still be there when we get out to the other side of this time, but our perspective may have shifted as we allow the word of God to wash over us and into our lives and just allow our souls to relax. This is a safe place and we can breathe, we can exhale. So, we’re getting to the end of another of our weeks together. Of course, this is our 18th step of 365 steps that will take us to the entire Bible and we’ve been reading from the New Living Translation this week, which is what we will continue to do today and tomorrow. And from our Old Testament reading will be reading…let me think about how to say that…from the Old Testament portion of our reading we’ll read Genesis chapter 37 and 38 and then we’ll move into the book of Matthew. So, first Genesis chapter 37.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we covered some significant ground as has been the case almost every day in Old and New Testaments, Psalms and Proverbs. They’re speaking loud and clear.

In the book of Genesis, so, from our Old Testament reading, we’re following the story…well…we’ve been following the story from Abraham to Isaac to Jacob. Of course, Jacob had a brother named Esau and yesterday we kind of read the big picture of where Esau went and who his people became and now we’re settling into Joseph's family and as we've already covered Joseph's name has changed to Israel and his children then would become the children of Israel and now we are beginning to understand their stories. And, so, as we've begun that journey, we see that the brothers have a little brother named Joseph who they cannot stand because he's a dreamer and he's young and he's a little bit arrogant and they can't stand him because he is favored by his father. And we read the account today of Joseph going back to Shechem and remember, Shechem is the place where their sister Dinah had been raped. Shechem is the place where Abraham, Abram, came into the land and was given the promise of the land. So, we keep seeing this kind of geographical landmark because really important things in the Bible happen, there. So, Joseph is sent back because his brothers, apparently, are shepherding their sheep up at Shechem. So, he goes there to look and it turns out that they've gone on to Dothan. And we know this, how this story goes, they’re going to kill Joseph, but instead they sell him. So, they human traffic their brother into slavery in Egypt. Alright, I want to pause here and take us on a very, very brief little side trail, a little bunny trail as it were, because I think it lays out context as we go forward. A few days ago we read the story of Lot, right, and his daughters and their decision to have sex with her dad and there are other parts of that story were Lot was going to throw his virgin daughters out to the throng to be gang raped and it brings up all kinds of stuff, stuff that looks remarkably similar to some of the political struggles in the world today. And, so, we can read certain stories and then a kind of basically back read our culture into those stories and say, “I don't agree with that story that’s in the Bible, that’s not how we should be doing things.” So, for example, like, you know, if there were throng around my house I would not consider throwing my daughter out to the throng in order to save my guests, even if those guests happen to be angels. Although, at least my knowledge, I’ve never had angels in my house. And I know for sure and certain, I've never had my neighbors, like, surround my house asking that I send out my guest so that they can have sex with my guest. Like, I’ve never been put in that position before and probably neither have you, but probably neither had Lot, but we see that Lot his offering his daughters in that story and so it gives us all kinds of heebie-jeebies because we can’t imagine that. And, so, because it was a poor treatment of women in this case, then we get all patriarchal and have all kinds of questions and this happens in some of the letters of Paul too. Like, I already know in the year, the emails that I'm gonna get. So, I want to stop at this particular juncture where we are right now in the story and point out that Joseph's brothers human traffic their own brother into slavery in Egypt and there were no women involved in this and what they did was evil. So, let's just understand that although we are going to experience some raw and unfiltered stories in the Bible when we back read our own time and culture into it we’re missing the point. Part of the point in the Lot story was to show how evil the world had become. Part of the point of the story, because we’re just beginning a very long story with Joseph, is to show how evil the world had become, like it wasn't just a sexist thing. And wat we’re gonna see as the story of Joseph begins to unfold is that in spite of evil there can still be good, in spite of darkness there can still be light.

And we get into the book of Matthew and Jesus is dealing with problems of His own because He's not playing along. Like, Jesus looks now like a superstar communicator who has some pretty miraculous powers to back Him up and the religious leaders are checking Jesus out but He does things that breaks their rules and it's inflaming them because they think they’re the keepers of the rules of God and then here is God breaking, apparently, His own rules when in fact all He's doing is showing them that the way they had interpreted the rules had gotten so backward that the heart and soul of why the laws existed in the first place had died. So, Jesus is being accused of being a child of the devil, which is where apparently where He gets his power from. So, He's healing people because he's empowered by Satan to do it. This is what the religious people are saying about Jesus. And, so, Jesus as His own response, right, and it's a logical response, “a kingdom divided by Civil War is doomed”, right, “a town or a family splintered by feuding will fall apart”, that's more close to home, that’s something we probably really understand. And then Jesus says, “if Satan's casting of Satan and he's divided and fighting against himself what you're saying is not making any sense.” But it's here that Jesus says something that is deeply poignant and that we should understand. Jesus says, “I tell you every sin and blasphemy can be forgiven except blasphemy against the Holy Spirit which will never be forgiven. Anyone who speaks against the Son of Man can be forgiven by anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven either in this world or in the world to come.” So, that is a pretty poignant statement and every time we come around this territory I think the same thing in my life, like, this particular story and passage of Scripture brings me back to a very specific place my life, a very specific time, because I grew up the son of pastor and before my father was a pastor he was an evangelist. We traveled around a lot. And, so, I was in church a lot and the idea of blaspheming the Holy Spirit as an unpardonable sin somehow got etched into my childhood and I lived in fear of it continually because how do you know? How do you know, which may have shaped so much of my own life, just trying to know, like, how do you know when you’re doing it right? Because this was one of those things where this is an unforgivable thing forever and ever. How do you know if you've blasphemed the Holy Spirit? First, we have to understand what blaspheming is. So, to blaspheme something is to defame and profane it. And we don't use the word blasphemy much anymore and if we do, you know, it's being it’s in the Bible. And, so, we are specifically talking about God, defaming and profaning God. So, Jesus is having this confrontation and being accused of casting out Satan by Satan and then He turns to this blaspheming the Holy Spirit talk and it's very like, you can go, how are these things connected? There connected because even though Jesus was accused of blasphemy it was actually the religious leaders who were blaspheming because they were saying that what the Holy Spirit was doing through Jesus and the outward signs of healing and miraculous events, that these things were actually not from God, they were from the devil, right? That's blasphemy and Jesus is giving a pretty compelling and stern warning that they're not going to listen to. And where it does become poignant is whether or not we’re going to listen because we might very easily say, “I would never do what they were doing. I would never say Jesus was of the devil. And for that matter I would never claim that the Father or the Holy Spirit. I mean that would never be something that I would say.” So, whew, thank goodness I will not be committing this unpardonable sin of blaspheming the Holy Spirit, which is good. And yet, when the Holy Spirit resides within His children, His redeemed ones throughout the earth, and we look at those fellow brothers and sisters and in one way or another deny the work of God in their lives we have wandered onto thin ice and we need to back away slowly. And that right there, that right there should penetrate the rest of our day. The religious leaders of Jesus time, they get framed in the Bible as being antagonistic and just, you know, only out to get Jesus and that's true, that is part of the story, but the truth is these were devout people trying to serve God, who had been corrupt because the law had lost its spirit and all they had left was a set of rules and ethics that they tried to try to live by because if they could do them perfectly than they could become righteous before God. Like, if they could obey the law perfectly than they could become righteous before God. So, when Jesus comes in and starts breaking the rules He's completely shattering their paradigm. And anytime your beliefs…the system gets challenged and some things get shattered, that's very disruptive. So they're not looking at Jesus as the Messiah, the son of David, the son of God, anything other than on a human being who seems to have miraculous powers, but it does not line up with their understanding of how things are supposed to go. So, they determined that the only way Jesus could be doing this much good would be by the power of Satan, which makes no sense until we find ourselves doing the same thing, until in small or subtle ways we find ourselves not being able to figure out how God could be using that person because they are such a sinner or that person because they have done these things or anyone over here, they've done…they’re doing things in the name of Jesus that are good in the world but they have some kind of dark piece of their history that we know. And, so, we can find ourselves blaspheming God inside of them because we are willing to deny God's power to redeem.

Prayer:

Father, You have taken us through a big week and there's just a bunch of stuff that You brought up in one weeks-time and here as we prepare to close, You know, we’ve reached the end of the week You’ve left us with plenty consider over the next couple of days. Holy Spirit, come because we’re realizing that yeah, You’re gonna press in and You're gonna touch all the soft spots, but it happens quickly and we’re not always sure how to sort it out. And, so, we invite You into that disruption. So many times we’re like, “oh, there too much going on, I’ve gotta slow things down” when You are actually working in shaking loose things that need to fall away here at the beginning of the year so that You can actually answer our prayer of leading us on the narrow path that leads to life. And, so, we invite Your Holy Spirit into all that we’ve said today and throughout all this week. Come Jesus we pray in Your mighty name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, be sure to check in and check it out. Stay connected in every way that you want to.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, this is Valerie calling __ , I just wanted to call and pray for some of the prayer requests. Dear Lord, I just want to come to You right now and I want to pray for Marjorie and for her surgery that she’s having Lord. I pray that You will go before her and the doctors Lord and we know that You’ve already prepared a way, we know that You know the end. Lord we already know that You know the end result and what will happen. So, I pray Lord, I pray that You will just give anyone concerned with Marjorie’s case wisdom to know the right thing to do and I pray for her as well. I pray that You’ll give her peace, give her comfort and let her know Lord that she is in the palm of Your hand and that You have already worked out the solution and that You already know what is best for her. Lord, I also want to pray for, I believe it’s Margo in Australia, who is was heading to Liberia. Lord, I listened to Brian’s message today about being ready to go, just go, go where You send us, go where You plant us, and Lord I hear Margo’s heart and I know how anxious she is for her family, how her heart is willing but she’s also torn because she’s leaving everything she knows behind and her son just moved out. So, Lord I just pray that You give her an extra measure of peace. Sometimes Lord it’s just a little bit harder for mothers to just let go of everything even though our heart is willing, and we’re excited to serve You. But Lord I do just pray that You’ll just give her a measure of Your peace and Your comfort at this time. And Lord I also want to pray for Brandon that just called in about meeting reconciliation with his wife. I pray Lord that You will work in that situation and allow forgiveness to come into that Lord and I want to thank You that Prodigal called in. What an answer to prayer that is. Thank You, Prodigal for letting us know…

Hi DAB, this is Sharon from Southern California and I just heard Prodigal’s call and it lifted my Spirit. Prodigal, I am so thrilled to God to hear your voice. I’ve been praying for you as everyone else has. I called on the 31st, I gave a little update, things are worse between me and my daughter and I…I’ve been feeling lost, I’ve been feeling empty, I’ve been feeling…I can’t explain how you feel when you love someone and they don’t love you back and I’ve been functioning but my heart has not been in it. And your call was the first genuine smile I’ve had in all this time and I thank you, I thank God because God is in everything and everyone and your call reminded me that I am not alone, God is hearing me, He sees me and that He’s got me. So, thank you prodigal for calling in and letting us know that you’re still fighting that fight…gives me encouragement and let’s me know that I can still fight the fight, it’s not over. Thank you. Love you guys. Keep praying, I’ll keep praying. Bye, happy new year, bye.

Hello there, Daily Audio Bible family, this is Treasured Possession. The desire of my heart for 2019 is to go from phase to phase and not to experience periods of doubt, self-doubt, self-pity, despair, and going numb. And in 1 Peter 5:6-10 in 2 Timothy 1-7, I see where they divide the place where my hearts desire and God’s word are separated, my soul from spirit because I have a default in those weaknesses. In the story of Lot, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, I saw a picture stories of how shame, which is what those things come from, can destroy your legacy. Lot passed what was most precious to him to the enemy when in crisis when God was fully able to blind the enemy and deliver everyone. How many times have I tried in my human reasoning to argue with Satan. Just shut the door, trust God and invite God into my fear and grief. And shame turn you into a salt pillar. Your flavor, your faith can just turn into a pillar of regret. So, I cannot look back and let the treasurer my heart be my hearts focus, which is the loss in my past. And I can’t grief, pain, suffering and the lies of the enemy invite me into the cave of isolation and despair. I did this for years and just oozed it on myself instead of alcohol like Lot did. I let shame steal my identity. I let grief drown me until I could no longer show up for those I love and help them to discern by example how to of endure in faith. So, I pray, and I thank God because He’s called us out of the darkness into His marvelous light. Dear Lord Jesus, thank You for all You’ve done. Amen.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family. As I’ve reflected on the last few years in the Scriptures with DAB, I do so with such thankfulness in my heart. Nothing has changed me more in such a short amount of time then the pouring in of the Scriptures in my life on a daily basis. In early January 2017 a friend of mine made a Facebook post and attached a link to the Daily Audio Bible and I will be forever grateful to her. I had always wanted to read to the Bible but I would get derailed in that journey year after year until the DAB. I did finish 2017 and I finished it well and then I just kept on going. I have no doubt that the Holy Spirit brought the DAB into my life for such a time as this. Little did I know how much this beautiful rhythm I was establishing would sustain me through two very difficult years, but God knew. So, I really want to encourage new listeners to keep going with this and make the word of God number one priority in your life this year. God has handed us His word is food on a silver platter through this ministry and He has seasoned it well through Brian’s thoughtful commentaries. If you are a regular listener, I pray that you will use your sphere of influence to share the Daily Audio Bible. It can be as simple as adding a link to the ministry in your next Facebook post. This year I’ve added the DAB Chronological and Proverbs my daily reading and I’m very excited about that. So, thank you Brian, thank you Jill, thank you China and to all of the DAB team behind the scenes and the financial partners who keep this ministry going. I seriously can’t imagine my life without it. This is Marsha calling in from Monument Colorado praying for everyone that calls in…

Hi this is Scottish Tom from the Cleveland Ohio area and calling once again for Prodigal. Sorry, I’m a bit behind on the community prayer line. I’m still listening to last week’s one, but I did hear your second call and that was the message I was hoping to hear. But just know that we’re all here for you, we’re all praying for you and you can do this and call in as often as you need to. We’re all praying for you. Good to hear your voice again and good to hear that you’ve made that promise to stick with us. Take care. Bye.

[everlarkficexchange]

Dissever My Soul From Yours (part 2)

Written by: @alliswell21

Rated: Mature  *Smut Ahead*

Warnings: Modern AU; Age Gap; Mourning; Grief Stages; Hurt and Comfort; Angst; Brief Description Of Domestic Abuse; Implied Past Child Abuse; Smut; Guilt; Canon Typical Anger Issues; Fasten your seatbelts, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. All mistakes are mine.

Synopsis: Losing a loved one is hard enough, losing a child is torture. Peeta Mellark struggles to move on from the loss of his son, so he clings to the last piece of him left alive, his son’s girlfriend. Based on Prompt 106: Katniss is Rye’s girlfriend when he dies. Katniss and Peeta (Rye’s father) start to hang out to go through their grief together. [submitted by Anonymous]

Acknowledgements: Thank you Anon for this prompt, I wish I knew who you were to dedicate it to you, but I guess this way the story simple belongs to the universe :) Also thank you @kleeklutch for reading this through and helping me get my ideas straight… I truly loved your insights! lastly, thank you Everlark Fic Exchange from bring us all together! 

Other Notes: Excerpt of the lyrics to “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” by Randy Newman (Toy Story, 1995)

Excerpts and rewordings for the poem “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe; featuring the poem “Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe

This fic got away from me. I had outlined it to be around 8-10K words, but this monstrosity grew up to be close to 32K… this is the second part, and when I post the story to AO3 there will be an epilogue. 

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

I press the call button, but chicken out after the first ring and hang up tossing the phone on the couch next to me and putting a cushion on top of it for good measure.

  My childish fix doesn’t help one bit. The phone rings under the cushion all the same, because stupid smartphones are snitches. I miss the 80’s when the most technologically advanced phone was a wireless wall unit.

  “Hello?” I answer, pretending to yawn. I’m not sure what does that help.

  “Hey! Were you trying to call me?” She asks.

  There’s something about hearing her voice that makes my heart stutter. Suddenly I want to see her. Badly.

  “Rye’s headstone is ready.”

  There’s a pause on the other side of the line.

  “I’m coming over.” She says determinedly.

  I hear some shuffling, her breathing pattern fluctuating while she does who-knows-what. Then she asks if I need anything, if I’m okay. But I only make some nonverbal noises. I just want her here. I’m about to tell her I’m going to put the phone down, we can talk when she comes, but I hear the unmistakable turn of a key in my front door, and when I look up, there she is, walking into my apartment.

  Her hair is down, I’ve only ever seen it down a handful of times, but it’s the first time I feel the urge to run my fingers through it’s length. Pull on it a little. See what sounds she’ll produce if I do so.

  My groin area grows warm and tight, and for a moment I lose myself in this devious reaction to her, a primitive hunger unfurling in my core, all consuming and blinding to the rest of the world. I hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing but the scent of her. I watch her with sicken glee as she hurries towards me. I twitch excitedly when she drops in the couch next to me, willing her to just come closer.

  Yes pretty girl, come closer, put your sweet little arms around me, so I can… so I can… so I can…

  The scary voice of the mutt inside me gets fainter the longer I repeat the the last three words.

  So I can… Do what?

  So I can do what?

  “Peeta!” She squeezes my hand, breaking the cursed spell.

  I tear my hand out of hers as if her finger had burned my skin. She retracts her hand and her face turns scarlet in embarrassment, but when my eyes can’t focus on anything, her gaze fills with concern.

  “Hey, where did you go just now? Are you okay? I’m here.” She tells me soothingly, chancing a pass of her hand over my shoulder.

  I have the feeling she’s been trying to get me out of it for a while. I wish I could tell her I’m fine, but the truth is that I’m shaky.

  I don’t know what exactly just came over me. I felt like the wolf, disguised and salivating for Red Riding Hood’s tender flesh. I feel predatory. Dirty. Despicable.

  I start crying. It’s all I can do to release this darkness inside.

  I’m furious with myself when she mistakes my odd behavior as grief, and pulls me down to lay my head on her lap as the rest of my body curls into itself, because I should ask her to leave, I should tell her I may turn into a beast and devour her whole, but I refuse to deprive myself from her touch; because I’m selfish, because I’m disturbed in the head, because I’m a fucked up, lonely failure in love with his son’s girl.

  Somewhere deep down, I’ve always knew I a was goner, and I hate myself for being weak, perverted and a bad father. The worst part, I can’t make myself want to stop falling for her.

  ——-

  Rye’s headstone gets placed on his grave on a Thursday morning.

  It’s cold and windy out, though the sun is shining. I’m surprisingly calm through the whole event. It just feels like it’s the end of the story. He’s gone then, for real. Nothing will bring him back and his name glaring at me in that fucking rock is the proof.

  My father is bawling though. My mother can’t even look at the stone, it’s as if it hurts her, just glancing at it.

  The cynical part of me rejoices that finally something happened to force her show she actually gives a damn. The vindictive side of me wants to scream at her, that she’s a hypocritical bitch, she tossed me out on my ass when I told her I was raising the baby on my own.

  “If you think you’re big enough to ruin your life, then you must be big enough to be on your own.” Those words will be etched in my mind for the rest of my life.

  At the end, after everything was said and done, it turns out my mother loved Rye, doted on him even. Grandbabies have that effect on people. They make the most unfeeling individuals softer, loving, sweet. I’ll never know what that feels like, loving your child’s child. My hopes for grandchildren are buried with Rye.

  As if in autopilot, my eyes find Katniss and I stare at her, scanning her navy blue peacoat clad form from head to toe. Beautifully sculpted legs asides, I stop on her middle and stare where my grand babies should’ve bloom and be given life.

  She’s free to find someone else to fill her belly with children. Though she says she doesn’t want them, I’ve seen her interacting with my nephews, she’s amazing with kids.

  A possessive thought sinks it’s claws in my mind. Her womb should be filled with Mellarks, not some faceless schmuck threatening my legacy. But Rye’s is really dead, who’s stopping her from falling in love with someone else, marrying them, have children… be happy with a family of her own, where I have no place in.

  Now I’m angry at Rye for dying.

  He left me alone. He took my potential family with him into his grave.

  Katniss wanders off after paying her respects to Rye. Her mother and sister trail after her like a family of ducklings.

  When the three of them are together, is clear to see who the head of the Everdeen household really is.

  Prim came to the cemetery with two small bouquets. One she placed against the shiny, new headstone of one Rye Joshua Mellark, the other, I see her place in a vial on the mausoleum where ashes are put to rest.

  Something tells me that if I came snooping around, I’d catch a glimpse of Mr. Everdeen’s last resting place.

  “Bread Boy, when are you heading home?” Jo startles me, when she sidles closer on my left.

  I turn to look at her, but she’s staring at the Everdeen’s in the distance.

  “As soon as she’s done,” I gesture to the Everdeens vaguely.

  Jo frowns, so as way of plantation I inform her, “She came here with me.”

  Jo gives me a disapproving stare that I ignore. After a while she simply sighs. “That was ballsy of you. Stealing and rewording Annabel Lee.” She says in reference to a line I commissioned to be etched at the bottom of the headstone.

  She entones,

“Wingèd seraphs of Heaven   Coveted him. And this was the reason that,   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Navy seaman”

  I glare at her for a moment.

  “I thought Rye hated Poe.” She adds flicking her fingernails, and old habit of hers. It means she’s holding back.

  “He still knew it by heart.” I deadpan.

  “Because it was your favorite! You used to bored him to tears with it. How come you’re still trying to shove it down the poor kid’s throat?”

  All gloves are off now.

  “Because of her!” I point in the direction of Katniss, hissing and whispering harshly. “She loves Poe! and then he did too! I just didn’t know it until the wake. Then, she shows me some of his letters; he wrote the most beautiful poetry I’ve ever read, and he was fucking amazing, Jo, the kid had a natural talent with words we never knew!” I’m so angry at Rye.

  I’m also jealous. I feel like he hid something we could’ve have in common, bond over probably, and shared it with someone else instead. I feel he kept part of him from me, and that just hurts deeply.

  I paw off an angry tear from my eye, “He credited me for his love of dark poetry.” I say bitterly. “Apparently, lying to his girlfriend about how he adored her favorite author, instead of telling her he felt indifferent about it, was what got him into her pants. I don’t know, Johanna. It was Katniss’ idea, to include Annabel Lee since it was Rye’s favorite poem according to her.”

  Johanna’s face remains hard the whole while.

  “Did it occurred to you, that maybe your son did like your pal Eddie after all? Obviously he was into emo chicks I find hard to swallow. And since when did he have to show you his love poems? You were his dad! He loved you, but he was his own person too, Peeta.” She starts to walk away from me.

  “Tell me when get your head out of your ass. I’ll be here waiting with tequila, seeing as you refuse to listen to me.” She tosses over her shoulder heading towards my dad and brothers.

  I’m mad at her too!

  On the ride back home, we’re both quiet. Our hands kept brushing against the other over the center console the entire ride.

  We stop at a restaurant, because we are not ready to go back home to face our new reality after Rye.

  My hands keeps finding her waist, the small of her back, the end of her braid. She seems content with my proximity, leaning into me, holding on to my arm when we walk, and when we’re finally seated, the touches just get bolder. At one point, my forearm rests on her knee while we play thumb war on the table with our free hands.

  The waiter wishes us to enjoy the rest of our date, and she smiles brightly at him and thanks him. We hold hands the rest of our meal, all the way to the car and all the way up to my place. She spends the night in the spare room Jo hasn’t stayed in in 7 weeks. I’ve been counting.

  We change out of our nice clothes, I miss seeing her in a dress and heels, but I like her in her yoga pants more. I’m in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt with my socks clad feet on the coffee table, watching Impractical Jokers.

  She plops sideways next me, so her whole back is resting on my right side from our hips up. My arm goes around her automatically. This closeness feels natural, right, comfortable. Domestic.

  She’s reading some book, only glancing at the tv when I’m laughing very hard. During a commercial break, she asks if I’d like a drink or a snack. I’m not used to anyone catering to me this way, but she kisses my cheek, patting my chest, and all I do is nod.

  She comes back with a bottle of Mike’s and a bowl of popcorn, the resumes her place up against my body.

  “What about you?” I ask curiously.

  “What about me?” She questions not looking up from her book, twirling the end of her braid around her fingers.

  “You don’t want a snack?” I ask her, squeezing her side a little.

  She makes a face, “We’re sharing!” She looks at me with a ‘duh’ expression that simply shuts me up.

  I chuckle a little, and pull on her braid wanting to be playful, “Why do girls sit like that all the time?”

  “Like what?” She turns her head to look at me.

  “Crisscrossed applesauce.” I point at her legs. “It doesn’t matter where you guys sit, your legs always go like a pretzel under yourselves.”

  She looks at me under her lashes for a second, and shrugs.

  “Is comfortable.”

  “How? I’ve seen girls sit on the bakery chairs that way. It looks painful as hell.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you, Peeta. I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Yeah, but… isn’t it weird that every. Single. Girl does it? Hell, Jo sits that way!”

  “Then why do you ask Johanna about it?” She snaps aggravated.

  Well, I didn’t expect this vipery response. Girls do this regarding other girls too. They get catty.

  She goes back to her book moodily. I simply hug her. Rye’s mom used to have this same reaction to Jo. A hug usually mollified her, and as Katniss starts to relax in my embrace, I think I’ve succeeded, so I also go back to watch the tv.

  “Why does Johanna hate me?” She asks casually after a while.

  I turn the volume of my show down, though her nose is firmly planted in the book I realize with a jolt is one from the box I gave her a few months ago. Girls also like to seem casual about things that truly bother them. I remember that from Rye’s mom.

  “She doesn’t hate you.” I say softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s a strong word.”

  “Could’ve fool me.” She says under her breath.

  She doesn’t say anything further, and I wait a minute longer just in case, but I go back to my show since she’s yet to stop reading.

  Ten minutes later, she adds. “I don’t like her either. So I guess we’re even.”

  The truth is that neither has to like the other. I like them both and that’s what matters, but I know for a fact that saying that will just make her angry enough to leave, and I don’t want her to leave, so I keep my mouth shut.

  She leans her head on my shoulder a few minutes later, and without thinking about it, I place a kiss on the top of her head and rest my cheek on it.

  “How come you didn’t tell me this were all your books? I was bound to figure it out at some point. You’ve scribble on most of the margins. Which isn’t entirely kosher, you know. You’re defacing the books.”

  I chuckle, dropping another kiss to the crown of her head, “It wasn’t important. Sorry if my notes bothered you.”

  “I wasn’t bothered. I’m just telling you that other people would find that off putting.” She snuggles into me.

  She doesn’t say anything for a bit. Then she speaks quietly.

  “Rye told me once he felt like you were more involved in our relationship than he was. He was joking of course, but he said that he didn’t mind it as long as we kept the geeky to ourselves when he was around.” She closes the book and lowers it to her lap, her face finds the crook of my neck, but she doesn’t stay there long.

  She sits up. “You know what I thought about today?”

  I shake my head, my hand still resting on her hip, willingly her to sit back as she was.

  “I thought, that now that he’s officially gone, we don’t have to hide ourselves anymore.”

  She turns to face me, her eyes are filling with tears.

  “Does that make me a bad person?”

  She doesn’t let me answer. She’s up and inside the spare bedroom in the blink of an eye. She cries the rest of the night, locked behind the door. I just sit on the floor with my back on her wall and let her say her final goodbyes.

  ———

  It’s May 8th, Katniss’ 22 birthday, and she warned me to not even think of congratulating her. She’s going to see her sister and mother this weekend, back home in Panem, but today I took the day off and left the shop in my store manager, Rue’s, capable hands.

  Rue and Katniss met a couple of years ago at the bakery and hit it off despite there being a few years age gap. They speak a language of their own those two, and though I knew of Katniss’ birthday because of Rye, it’s Rue who insists I do something low key for her.

  At 6:15 I rap on her door, and rock on the ball of my feet holding a tiny bouquet of wild onions and katniss blooms behind my back.

She scowls at me as soon as she opens the door.

  “Wipe that silly grin off your face, Peeta. I’m warning you, I don’t do birthdays.”

  “Come on!” I cajole stepping into her apartment when she stomps back in. “You don’t even know what I’m here for!”

  She just glares at me, and I smile widens. I stick the flowers and inch from her nose, unable to say any of the words I had practiced on my way down to her floor.

  Instead, I just say, “I’m taking you up!”

  She’s staring at my flowers, still not taking them from my hand, but her eyes are as big as silver dollars.

  “Where did you get these?” She asks in awe caressing a petal of a katniss flower.

  “Garden on the roof,” I say nonchalantly.

  “What? That’s impossible!”

  “Not really. There’s a bunch of the things up there. If you wanna see it, then put on some shoes and I’ll show you.” I tell her easily.

  “I’m in my pajamas!” She protests.

  “So? I think you look cute. Plus nobody goes up there anyway.”

  We’re out her door and in the elevator in a heartbeat. She’s exuding excitement and it’s contagious. When we step in the 13th floor, there’s a flight of stairs we have to climb and then we’re on the roof of the building.

  Her mouth drops open in astonishment when she sees the sea of wild flowers all over planters in every inch of the roof, and in the very middle, there’s a picnic set up.

  “Where did all this come from?” She whispers out softly. Her hand gliding over the cheerful blooms closest to her.

  “Well, technically, they all came from Panem!” I say simply.

  “How?” She faces me demanding my answers.

  “I had your sister’s boyfriend find them for a fee, and then I just transplanted them here.” I say trying to shove down the ever increasing anxiety I’m feeling. “The duck potatoes were the hardest ones to get to take… you can recreate their habitat without water.”

  Her eyes snap to me dangerously. “What kind of fee did you pay?”

  “Monetary kind.”

  “How big of a fee? Because these plants are basically weeds in the woods back home, and if Rory dared to rip you off—“

  “Katniss! Can you for once, just enjoy something nice some has done for you? let someone else worry about costs and such for once.”

  Her eyes soften. “You didn’t have to go through this trouble,” she gestures around us.

  “Just say you like the flowers, and that you’re hungry, and we’re even,” I smile at her.

  She smiles back, albeit reluctantly and nods.

  We’re both wearing crowns of dandelions she weaved for us, dipping cheese buns in hot chocolate, when she asks seriously, “How did you come up with this idea?”

  “You said you wanted to go home. And I know you’re going to say you’ll be in Panem Friday evening, but when you talked about your favorite birthday being out in the woods with your father, gathering wild onions, and katniss tubers, and mint leaves… I wanted you have that memory back, but I’m not your father, I’ve never set foot in woods in my life. I know how to tend a garden, and I figured the city needed more pretty wildflowers, like you.”

  “Peeta…” she sighs my name, and I swear I’ll never forget the effect that sound had over my body and soul. Her eyes search mine, imploringly. “Why are you so nice to me?”

  I stare at her for a moment, the words that come of my mouth, escape without my consent.

  “You know why,”

  “I do?” Her voice is breathy, and dances away with the swift breeze.

  “You have, no idea the effect you can have…” my voice matches hers.

  I don’t think she meant to speak the words, since her lips barely move, but I heard them all the same, minute and ethereal, here a moment and gone the next, “kiss me?”

  And who am I to deny her anything?

  In the blink of an eye, I lean forward and pull her lower lip inside my mouth, I release soon after, to kiss her properly, and my hands move in to trap her face and pull her closer to me. Her hands take hold of my wrist and she just sighs contentedly against my mouth.

  In a matter of seconds, she’s migrated to my lap, and the kisses turn into a straight up makeout session. Things just escalate from there without any kind of brake. We are free falling, and neither of us cares.

  My lips and tongue seek her skin hungrily and she’s just too happy to oblige dipping her head back granting me access.

  Is an unseasonably warm evening, so we’re both wearing shorts, hers is a flimsy material that matches her tank top. I’m taking complete advantage of her skimpy sleep clothes, my hands caress the supple olive skin of her shapely legs all the way down to her ankles, then creep back to her hips.

  My lips are attached to her jaw, my tongue dances across her neck and collarbone. At some point, we ended up laying on the picnic blanket. I’m hovering above her.

  “Is this okay?” I whisper into her ear, nipping her lobe before sliding my hand into her hair to undo the braid.

  “Yes,” She sighs.

  I kiss her some more and she speaks raggedly against my lips.

  “Peeta. You make my heart race…”

  She takes my hand, and slips it flushed against herself from her hip, all the way to her chest, where her heart is indeed beating frantically. The palm of my hand is half on her breast and half over the spot where heart beats. Her tank rides up as she drags my hand up her body.

  I swipe my thumb over her nipple under the thin fabric of her shirt, and she arches her chest to meet the slight touch. I take it as permission to dip my hand under her top, and almost cry when I’m met with bare flesh. I push the tank top up and she raises her arms so I can pull it over her head. After tossing her shirt to the side I dive in to devour her perky, pretty breast.

  She digs her fingers into my hair, to keep my head in place. She didn’t need worry. I’m not going to stop sucking on her nipples any time soon.

  I’ve pinned her lower half to the ground with my hips, but I don’t dare move for fear that I’ll explode in my shorts. Katniss is making the most delicious noises I’ve ever heard, undulating her body against mine, and I have to give her something to stimulate her, so I bring a hand to her knee and let my hand travel slowly upwards and inward, as I suck and kiss her breasts non stop.

  I’m only aware of how big of a mistake touching her there is for me, when I find the cotton of her panties soaking wet and hot. She shouts as soon as my fingers find her.

  “Peeta… please…” she begs.

  So I slip one finger under her underwear, and find the glorious mess of her arousal, dripping wet and warm.

  “Fuck, Katniss… you’re soaked.”

  “Your. F-fault.” She meowls twisting under my weight.

  “My fault? Do I make you wet often?” I tease her slit unhurriedly.

  “Y-yessss. Ah… lot…”

  “When?”

  “I don’t. Knooow. All the tiiiiimeeeee?” I slide my finger inside her and her head rolls back.

  “Peeta… don’t… tease!”

  Her own slim hand snakes down our bodies, and palms the bulge in my shorts. Is too much, I pull away but she whines. She opens her glassy eyes, and stares me down until she’s wrestled my cock out of my shorts.

  Her grey eyes grow determined, she pulls my erection in her tight fist making me grunt with want. I push her panties aside, just as she positions the head of my cock at her entrance.

  “No more teasing!” She breathes out sternly.

  “Whatever you want, Katniss. Just answer me this question first,” I plead, and she nods. “Are you in love with me?” I hear the shakiness in my voice, the desperation, “I need to know.” I whisper into her ear, leaving a kiss in the shell.

  “Yeah,” she breathes out against my cheekbone. “Been for a while.”

  I picture in my head all the times I’ve caught her staring at me, blushing and smiling sweetly. I know in my heart she’s accepted her feelings and come to terms with them before now, I want to give her anything she wants, including my heart, if she asks for it on a platter!

  I press into her slowly to give her a chance to adjust to my girth. She gasps, and her clever dainty fingers curl around my shoulders tighter the deeper I go. She’s so wet and welcoming, her body offers no resistance whatsoever. Her walls envelop my erection like a fitted glove, accepting the intrusion with a warm, snug hug.

  She feels like heaven.

  Once I’m completely sheathed in her, all I can do is hold on to her hips for dear life while I wait for my lungs to breathe naturally. I’m scared I’m going to blow my load if I move, it’s agony trying to tell your body to calm the hell down when all I want is to get lost in the sensations.

  She seems to understand I need a minute, because one of her hands let’s go of my biceps, caress my face lovingly, then she kisses my jaw and nuzzles her nose on the side of my face.

  “We have all night, take me slowly.” She breathes into my ear.

  My forehead drops to the crook of her neck for a moment. It’s been so long since a woman has shown me affection, I want to soak it all up and live in her warmth forever. I kiss a path from her cheek to her mouth, and start moving slowly within her.

  Pulling almost all the way out, then plunging back in quickly, thrusting all the way to the hilt. The elastic of her panties rubbing on the side of my dick drives me insanely hard. Her hot breath hitches every time I enter her hightnenig the feeling.

  She barely makes any noises, her mouth forms a silent scream, I’m convinced I just expelled all the air out of her body when I slid in.

  I pick up my pace, when her feet lock around my calfs, thrusting faster and harder; that does it for her, and I swear is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  She moans my name over and over, her body seizing under mine, and her walls fluttering around me ushers my own release.

  I slump on top of her and she attacks my chin and neck with tight lip nips. She actually bites the collar of my t-shirt and pulls on it like a playful puppy.

  She giggles, and starts playing with a curl of hair that’s fallen on my eyes. My whole body shakes with her laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask her curiously cracking one eye open so I can look at her disheveled, beautiful, flushed face.

  Her hair falls wildly around her head like an inky halo. I love it. I love her.

  “Nothing really. I was just mentally calling myself a horny hoe… you felt so thick inside me, I was wondering how long I’d have to wait to see your hard dick properly? I was wondering if next time we could be completely naked? I could give it a lick if you think that’ll help…” she trails her short nails down my arm blinking her lashes innocently.

  Then, she purrs, “Can’t wait to give you head.” She has the fucking audacity to suck her bottom lip inside her mouth giving me a peek of her teeth and pink tongue.

  I’m rock hard and ready to go, just like that.

  She oomphs when I scramble off the ground pulling her up by the waist. I grab her top and shove it in her hands before picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder, like a sack of flour. She squeals and kicks at first, but then she just giggles as I bound down the stairs, leaving behind the picnic to deal with later.

  Her shorts and panties are still askew from before. I run a finger down her messy slit and inform her, “You can have me naked and in your mouth in a minute. But I’m eating you out first, so brace yourself sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet!”

  ———

  I wake up to a rain of sweet, loving kisses peppered all over my face by luscious, warm lips.

  I try to trap her in my arms, but she’s sitting in a very weird position just out of my reach. She giggles pecking my eyelid.

  “I have a meeting with a professor in an hour. I have to go.”

  “Is he hot? Your professor?” I ask sleepily.

  She chuckles. “No. Professor Lattier is awfully smart and a great mentor, but I don’t find him attractive.”

  “I don’t like having competition… the brainiacs are the worst!” I lunge at her and drag her back into the bed as she yelps. “They always end up charming the pretty girls, at the end of the movies.”

  She turns in my arms laughing, until she’s laying across my body. Punctuated with lazy kisses on the lips, she assures me, “You. Have no. Competition. Anywhere!” She smiles down at me, “I happen to like the jock, wrestling champs, with hearts of gold type… like you!”

  “Good! Everything is right with world then.”

  We kiss again. Languidly.

  “I’ll bring take out for supper this evening?”

  “But I texted Rue that I wasn’t coming in today either, so I could stay in bed with you all day!” I pout. “Can’t you just meet with the professor real quick and come home right away?”

  She giggles again, and kisses me all over.

  “I think we need a little break to rest ourselves, don’t you?” She combs my hair back off my forehead. “You can have me all to yourself tonight, I have to finish my graduation project this week, otherwise…” She runs the palm of her hand down my bare chest with a wicked smirk. “That was some birthday gift!”

  She’s fast though. Before I can move to pin her under me again she hops off the bed and blows me a kiss from the door.

  “You minx!” I call after and her melodic laugh trails down the hall and dies when she leaves the apartment.

  I try to sit up, but every muscle in my body screams. My junk is chafing too. She’s probably right about that break; I can’t imagine how she feels. I took her in every conceivable position I know, and made her cum at least twice as many times.

  I lay back down and reminisce on last night’s events.

  It wasn’t all just mindless fucking, we had some quiet moments filled with meaningful conversations or just easy banter. Our age difference was never an issue last night, and although in the last few years I’ve gotten a bit of a flabby belly, she seemed to enjoy my body as much as I enjoyed hers.

  It was what I’ve always pictured a healthy, mature relationship would feel and look like. I can’t wait to be with her again, and I don’t mean in bed.

  I want to take her out on dates, or just sit sit somewhere quietly and sketch her. My mind gets away from me, planing future trips to Europe, because once, she mentioned how she’d love to travel but never had the means to since growing up she had to help support her sister Primrose.

  I’m not a millionaire, but I’m pretty loaded. I could take her anywhere in the world. I think we should start with London, so she can visit all the places she knows from literacy. I bet she’d get a kick out of Paddington Station. We could get a Sherlock Holmes and also a Harry Potter tour… she’s so well read, my Katniss!

  But the human mind is just as much a pitfall of despair, as it is a well of dreams and noble ideas.

  MY Katniss?

  She isn’t mine.

  She belongs to Rye.

  Guilt, shame and self loathing hits me like a ton of bricks.

  What have I done?

  The roiling in my stomach gets painful and I have to rush to the toilet to vomit.

  I get up, shower, avoid looking at myself in the mirror for fear of what I’ll find in my reflection.

  The out of the blue, I have to see.

  The white hair in my temples looks painfully obvious now that my hair is damp and a shade darker. My two day stubble is also sprinkled with the white fuckers, mocking me.

  Suddenly I’m questioning if any of her actions were real. Did she mean anything she said last night about liking me?

  Our age difference is so stark and jarring when she’s not around to muddle up my thinking process. I can’t think straight when she’s around. I’m not sure is my memories of her are real or not. Looking back, everything has a shiny quality to it, too hypened.

  After getting dressed, I pull the covers off the bed and switch them for clean ones. I febreze the entire bedroom, because it’s smells like sex with her, and I can’t deal with the emotions her scents stirs in me.

  But I’m jumpy. I need something to do, so I go through a box I haven’t dare touch since packing it back in winter. I’m not ready for this, but in the dark recesses of my mind, some nagging voice suspiciously similar to my mother’s says that I deserve punishment for being a weak creep.

  My hands tremble when I grab Rye’s duffle bag. He never got the chance to fully unpack.

  I’m a despicable piece of shit! Here I was planning some romantic trip with his girlfriend, when I never once asked him if he wanted to go somewhere. Granted, we did travel some when he was young, we visited most of the important landmarks all over the continental US, and when he graduated high school, before boot camp, we went with Jo to Hawaii for two weeks. He tried to look excited, but I knew he missed Katniss the whole time. I wish I had asked her mother permission to bring her with us.

  Could I’ve been that dad that condones their underaged children have sleepovers with their sweethearts? Did any parent in the world actually allow that?

  I gave my child the best life I could; why do I steal from him in death, is beyond me.

  The tears start falling freely as soon as I unzip the bag and I’m met with my boy’s scent. The first t-shirt I pull out of the duffle, I recognize as one he’s had since high school. I completely lose it.

  I bring the worn cotton to my nose and breathe my son in. I hug the shirt to my chest and scream in pain. I can’t go on for maybe an hour, and really I should just stop, find one of those hermetic storing bags, so every ounce of my Rye’s precious essence is preserved. But I need to atone for what I did. I can’t even think of it or call it by its name, but the ugly sensations twisting the pit of my stomach into a knot won’t let me have a reprieve, so I keep unpacking, and then I see it, rolled up into a sock, stuffed into a boot, a tiny black box.

  I don’t wanna open it, I don’t wanna know what’s inside, but what else could it be?

  And now I’m filled with full hot white rage. So much so I want to go find her, yell at her, tell her how much I hate her for what she’s doing to me, to Rye. To his memory, but I don’t, I just sit there and cry.

  ————-

  “Knock, knock!” Her voice is cheerful, carefree, innocent, and grating in my ears.

  Up until this point, I’ve only blamed myself for the betrayal of Rye. But now that I hear her, I realize she was an all too willing participant in this debacle,

going as far as inciting the events. She has a responsibility too in this mess.

  A small voice in the back of my mind tries to tell me that I’m just projecting my own guilt on her, that my anger is unwarranted, that she has no idea of what I’ve been stewing in my head all day, but I want to be angry, I want to lash out, I want her to feel as sad and hurt as Rye probably does right now!

  ‘It’s the grief talking’. “It’s the truth!” I argue with myself with low growls.

  She walks in the kitchen and the smell of fried rice attacks me, making my stomach churn uncomfortably.

  “Hi handsome!” She greets obviously to the storm brewing in my chest. “Did someone forget it was my turn making dinner?” She asks playfully when she sees me hard at work kneading some dough.

  “I didn’t forget. I just don’t want Chinese food” I say quietly.

  She had been unpacking bags but abruptly stops, I glance at her for the first time since she left this morning, and I punch the dough harder than is necessary.

  She’s so beautiful it’s gutting me out.

  The smile etched in her face slowly falls as the tension in the room mounts.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I bought all this food because I’ve been ravenous all day after last night. I could’ve gotten something else.” She chuckles nervously.

  I stop kneading, and take a beer from the fridge.

  “I think you better leave.” I say flatly, take a nice long drink from my bottle the whole time staring her down.

  “Are you… is this… did I miss something? what’s- what’s the matter?” She’s visibly stunned, there are around 10 little containers of take out sprawl on the counter, she eyes them wearily, but starts putting them back in the plastic bags she brought them in.

  I have to hold onto the back of a chair, just to feel in control of myself.

  I can see the concern in her eyes. I know her well enough to know she’s trying to tamp down her own emotions, she’s very wise that way. If she doesn’t understand something, she waits until she can see the whole picture.

  “I just… I can’t deal with y— ‘it’ right now.” I bow my head and squeeze the back of the chair until my circulation cuts.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Her voice is thin and broken.

  That’s when I scream at her.

  “You don’t think cheating on your dead boyfriend is enough wrongdoing?”

  She flinches at my outburst, frozen in place.

  “He bought you a fucking ring, you know, and you repay him by sleeping around?” I accuse her viciously.

  She’s panicking, but I don’t feel anything right now, other than shame and guilt, and she’s the cause of it. The floodgates of hell have been opened, I can’t stop the vile that comes out of my mouth, even though I know I’m being completely unfair.

  “My son hasn’t been in the ground five months and I’m fucking his girl raw! But you ask if you’ve done something wrong? You’re letting me, a man 18 years older than yourself, fuck, you who can barely rent a car legally! You should be mourning my son, not sleeping with me, that’s what’s wrong!”

  I take a lamp from the corner of the counter and throw it across the kitchen until it smashes on the wall besides her.

  She shrieks and slings herself the opposite way.

  She doesn’t move for a minute, huddle by the refrigerator. She looks terrified and my heart breaks into a million pieces.

  “I— Katniss—” I try.

  She shakes her head, extends her arm and gives me her palm to stop me, to keep distance between us. She grabs the bags of food trembling like a leaf from head to toe, muttering under her breath between choked whimpers something about the homeless around the corner, and how much they’ll appreciate a nice warm meal.

  Her face is a mess of tears and snot.

  I want to rush to her, wrap her in my arms and apologize a million times, whispering in her ear that I didn’t mean it, that it’s not her fault, that I’m a jerk and a fuck-up just like my mother always told me I was.

  But I don’t move and inch. I’m not just an useless fuck-up, I’ve turned into a monster, an abusive mutt. I’ve turned into my mother.

  I’m paralyzed. My body doesn’t respond to my frantic commands, not even when she hightails out the kitchen.

  “Katniss?” I plead choking back a sob.

  But the front door slams after her.

  ———-

  It’s been a week since I scared Katniss away, and I feel like shit.

  I run into her in the lobby. She perks up, standing straighter, and I can’t help my wandering eyes.

  Her hair is loose today, and she’s got makeup on, she’s wearing slacks and a nice flowy blouse. I wonder where is she coming from, but instead of talking to her like a normal person, I ignore her.

  My eyes flit back towards her, then I board the elevator and we just stand face to face, staring at each other mutely. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek and holding to her big girl purse as she calls it, for dear life. Neither of us move but eventually the elevator doors start closing.

  There’s a fraction of a second in which her eyebrows arch expectantly, like she’s giving me a chance to do something; her gaze searches my eyes, but I see the disappointment dulling down her usually sparkly eyes. She finally lets her eyes fall away. The last thing I see before the doors are shut, are her shoulders hunching.

  My eyes are stuck on the spot I last saw her, but in front of me is only my own reflection on the buffed steel surface of the elevator.

  I look even older.

  Is better this way. I have no business messing with a 22 year old. She can do so much better. She did so much better. She used to have Rye. Now she’s got no one because I took myself from the equation.

  The next day I come home to a neat pile of books on my coffee table that weren’t there when I left for work in the morning. On top of the books is a note hastily scribbled in Katniss’ loopy handwriting, and on top of the note, the spare key to my apartment she had never gotten around to return until now.

  My eyes prickle with unshed tears.

  She returned even the books she took the day of the wake.

  With a pang to the heart I pick up the note and stick it on the fridge, right on the place she had leaned her head to cry on, because I deserve to be reminded everyday of the things I’m not allowed to want, let alone have.

  ‘Alone’

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ’round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—

  Edgar Allan Poe

  ———

  It’s been over three months since I last saw Katniss. Closed to 9 months since laying Rye to rest.

  Thanks to Rue I know Katniss graduated college last week. Her mother and sister were here for that, and she got a job her professor recommended her for. She didn’t even interviewed for it! It doesn’t surprise me. She’s so smart and clever, she is also such a hard worker.

  I was so proud of her, I think I smiled the whole time Rue was talking about Katniss’ accomplishments.

  “You should call her.” Rue says and my smile fades. “Whatever fall out you two had, it’s obvious you miss each other.”

  “No. I’m being realistic, she doesn’t need me holding her hostage to some loyalty to Rye. He’s dead, she’s not, she deserves to live her life.”

  “I understand you want her to move on, but so should you, Peeta. Loving someone is not a sin. But not fighting for that love… well, that’s just tragic. Don’t look at me like that, mister!” She sasses when I just stare at her in disbelief. “I’ve known how you felt for her for ages.

  “You think you’re so discreet? Well, it’s pretty much written all over your face. That lovesick puppy face you make when you say her name is a pretty obvious giveaway.”

  “What? you’re exaggerating.” I protest.

  Rue just cocks her head to the side, stares at me and says, “But, am I?”

  ———-

  I get a ping on my phone and I’m surprised to see it’s from her.

  17:55

Katniss: Hey! Can we talk?

  I delete the message. It’s taken me too long to get her out of my system to fall into this rabbit hole again.

  The next day, she calls, and I let it go to voicemail. She calls two more times and I let them ring until the phone goes silent. She leaves messages, but I don’t hear them before erasing them.

  She texts again two days later.

  18:33

Katniss: When will be an appropriate time 2 call U?

  28:34

Katniss: Or U can call me. I’m free anytime

  I ignore those too.

  Johanna finally comes to the city, once I tell her I cut Katniss completely off my life.

  She dusting a picture of Rye wearing his 8th grade quarterback uniform.

  “He hated football.” I say glancing at the picture. “He hated wrestling. He hated baseball. He hated art. He hated everything!”

  “He loved track and swimming.” Jo says smiling down at a picture of baby Rye eating a lemon wedge.

  “Two things Katniss is good at.” I grimace. I didn’t mean to say it aloud. But all comes back to her at the end.

  “Good riddance.” She breathes out. “I’m so relieved you’re not seeing her anymore.”

  My heart squeezes tightly in my chest. I feel like Johanna during Christmas all over again, when I didn’t want to go to Panem and she could understand why I wouldn’t just get over my sadness and join my brothers with all their living sons and have a merry holiday.

  “Why? What did Katniss ever do to you, Jo? What is it about her you hate so much? She’s a sweet, caring, smart, beautiful girl. She doesn’t deserve all this hostility!”

  Johanna is just staring at me weird.

  “WHAT? Goddamnit?” I yell.

  “You’re crying.” She says simply.

  I hadn’t notice. Having tears rolling down my face is so commonplace now, I don’t even feel them anymore.

  Johanna breathes deeply, gets up from her spot and gives me a hug. “I don’t hate her. I just don’t think is healthy for you to hang out together.”

  “I know that! You don’t think I know that? But is not the way you’re thinking. You think she’s gonna hurt me, when in reality I’m the one who hurt her. That’s the reason I let her go, because she needs to be protected from me.”

  Jo looks perturbed, and she doesn’t know half of it. So I fill her in on my doomed relationship with Katniss. The whole time, she just made faces, interjecting here and there, piecing the story together.

  “Peeta! Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her?” She asks anxiously and a little grossed out.

  When I don’t answer she says my name again in disappointment. “Were you at least safe?”  

  I refuse to answer and her face tells me just how bad I’ve fucked up as if I need her judging me, it takes her a while to look at me again, but she finally resolves that the next thing I need to do is have hot date, expensive food, and a good fuck with a lady more on my age bracket, and I’ll be good as new.

  I don’t want to date and fuck anybody other than Katniss, but I let Jo convince me that her remedy will work, because it’ll be like a rebound. I’m not sure about her logic, but I let her set me up in a date, for the next weekend.

  On Saturday night, I open my front door, and jump back startled, when I find Katniss with her knuckles poised to rap on my door.

  I frown. She’s persistent.

  And as pretty as ever, if a bit fuller looking. Johanna would have a field day talking about how round and rosy Katniss’ cheeks are.

  She’s startled too, but undeterred.

  “Hi, Peeta!” She says shyly, “Um, do you have a minute? I’ve been wanting to talk to you. It’s kind of important—“

  “Sorry, I’m late for a date.” I say stepping out of the apartment and locking the door.

  “Oh?” Her eyes flit away, I see the pain in her face, and it sucks.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime next week.”

  “Mmm, m-my lease is up actually. I’m moving back to Panem in a few days. But I have to t—“

  My phone rings, and it’s my date.

  “Sorry, I have to take this… I’ll try and catch you up?” I walk away, and see the agitation in Katniss’ gray eyes.

  “I just need a minute, just a minute,” She practically begs. But then holds back, standing in the middle of the hallway.

  I answer the call and my date tells me she’s 10 minutes away from the restaurant, so I hurry away to the elevator. When I turn around Katniss is still standing there, dejected.

  It strikes me as odd. Her eyes are always so sparkly, even during Rye’s funeral her eyes sparkled, but right now they look dull and sad.

  I’ve just walked away from the girl I once sworn didn’t want to lose. And a conflict unfolds inside me, on the one hand Rue’s telling me to fight for her, on the other, Jo keeps telling me I’m better off without her.

  Who I’m I gonna listen in the end?

  ———-

  I’m pissing drunk. I can barely hold myself up, but I do my best, until I’m in front of the door I’m looking for through slitted eyes.

  I pound on the door as savagely as the coordination of a man with this level of intoxication can muster.

  And then I start slurring loudly.

  “Kantiss! You cock-blocking, cock-blocker!

  “Kantsissss. You win goddamnit!

  “I miss you!

  “Hell, I’m fucking in love with you!

  “Kat-niiiiith!”

  I pound on the door again, “I’m yours! And I’m sorry I’ve been such a… mmm… Kat—” I slip a little.

  When I get up, I start just chanting her name.

  “Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss,”

  A door two apartments down the hall flies open, revealing a bewildered Katniss in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. Her hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun. I sigh like a schoolboy when I see her stalk me, looking positively angry.

  “Heeeey, purty thang!” I smile dreamily at her.

  “What the hell are you doing, Peeta? You’re gonna get us in trouble!” She pulls me away from the door I’ve been hollering at.

  “Wait!” I exclaim alarmed. “Where we going? I been knockin’, and callin’ and tellin’ ya shit… you-you came out of the wrong door!” I look back at the door but still go willingly after her when she tugs on my hand.

  “Uh, sorry to break to you, Peeta, but you were about blast down the wrong door.”

  “Na-uh! You live in D12!” I inform her proud of myself.

  She glares at me. “I know! It’s been my address for a few years now. But you were screaming at D10, you’re lucky Dalton is out of town.” We are about to cross under her threshold, but she turns around sharply. “Did you drive here? How did you get home?”

  “I drove myself silly! But first I stopped at the vodka store, because you can’t get smashed without vodka!”

  “So you did this to yourself intentionally,” She rolls her eyes and pulls me inside her apartment.

  “Duuude! This is exactly like your old place! Look it, it even has the same stain of pasgetti I left on the carpet!”

  She huffs. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

  “Are we gonna… do… IT?” I whisper the last two words as if I’m saying something naughty.

  She shuffles me inside the bathroom, and frowns a little with her fists on her hips. Without turning to look at me she says in a no nonsense voice, “We are not gonna have sex, Peeta.”

  “Whyyyy?” I whine. “You’re hotter than a hapaleño! Wait, that ain’t right… ñalapeño, haranero?”

  “It’s either habanero or jalapeño. Sit down here and take off your shoes and socks.”

  “Yeah! That’s it! hañavero!” I smile goofily, doing as she commanded.

  I’m not very coordinated so she has to help, and once my feet are bare, I wiggle my toes at her.

  She bats my foot away before gesturing with her hand. “Shirt.”

  I raise my arms so she can pull of my shirt off, but it’s a button up, so she has to undo the top three buttons before pulling it over my head.

  “You didn’t tell me why you won’t let me do you?”

  ”Pants and underwear off. We’re not having sex because I’m angry at you, Peeta. Plus, you’re skunked and smell horrible.”

  “I love you!” I tell her.

  This makes her stop for a second to glare at me, before continuing.

  “I love you too. Even though you’re a jackass.” She deadpans. “Sit tight for a second, I’m gonna get the water.”

  She takes her own close off real quick and we get into the steaming shower together. She washes my body as if I was a toddler. She even bats my hands away sternly when I try to touch her breasts.

  “You have amazing boobs! I think I’m in love with your boobs.”

  “I know. Turn around and rinse off.”

  Once she declares us cleaned, she gives me a towel and I do a mediocre job drying myself. I follow her to bed. We climb naked under the covers, I’m so tired I don’t even try anything funny.

  “Marry me, Katniss. We should get married,” I stare into her face, while she settles next to me.

  She combs my hair softly, not quite smiling.

  “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

  “Willyousayyes?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hey, Katniss, have I ever tell you about Lavinia?” She shakes her head. “She has auburn hair and dark green eyes that you’d think are emeralds. She was the first girl I fucked. We fucked like bunnies. In the car, in the movie theatre, in the public library bathroom, in her folks bed, in my dad’s bakery closet. You name it, we’ve fuck there. I knocked her up. She wanted to have an abortion, I told her I’d support anything she wanted, because I was scared shitless.

  “Lavinia’s daddy was a preacher. He didn’t let her have the abortion, but she didn’t want to keep the kid. So, the day Rye was born, I fell in love for the first time, ever! I felt bad I wanted Lavinia to abort him. The child was a joy to be around. So sweet, so funny and opinionated. Lavinia only met him a couple of times. She didn’t come to his funeral because she felt guilty. Her loss. My boy had a family that doted in him, and family who adored him, and a gorgeous girl to call his own, he never really miss her as a mom.

  “But that made think. Maybe, just maybe, Rye was here on borrowed time? And then I think back on all the wonderful times we had together… he was my greatest treasure, my greatest accomplishment and my greatest love. I wish I had given him siblings. I love babies, but the right woman never came along until you showed up, and I feel terrible that I’m stealing from Rye, but I went to see him tonight instead of going on that silly date. I mean, I went to the restaurant, but one small conversation with Ms. Cashmere sweater- whatever her name is- and I knew I wasn’t gonna stay long, and she didn’t regret it either.

  “But, yeah… I went to Rye’s grave, I came clean to him. I told him how I felt for you, and I asked him to forgive me. I told him, that if you’d have me, I’d try my best to honor and cherish you as much as as he did. And I would treat you with love and respect… and then, a breeze started blowing. Sweet and fragrant and warm. It felt like he gave me his blessing, which was further confirmed when I got to my kitchen and was drinking my vodka, and in my head, I heard him reciting some words, and then he said I could borrow his poem. So, here it goes:

  “— Our love it was stronger by far than the love   Of those who were older than we—   Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above   Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul   Of the beautiful Katniss Everdeen; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams   Of the beautiful Katniss Everdeen; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes   Of the beautiful Katniss Everdeen; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

Katniss Everdeen.”

  I pause and look up at her, she has tears in her cheeks, silent ones, but not angry ones.

  “Did you see what I did there?” I ask her trying to wink. I’m still pretty drunk, but this, I’ll remember in the morning.

  She smiles sadly, “Yeah. You replaced Annabel Lee’s with mine. So clever, Peeta. Just one problem, won’t mr. Poe be angry for your plagiarism?”

  “What are you? Poetry police? Nevermore!” I shout and she finally gives me a real smile.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “Nevermore!”

  “Nevermore yourself!” She chuckles, “Go to sleep, you crazy man. Who goes to the graveyard at night?”

  “I had important business with my boy.” I yawn. “Hey Katniss. I won’t forget to ask you to marry me tomorrow. I remember everything about you! So think about your answer? I’d like to know what’s in your mind. I know you don’t want babies. I’m okay with just being us two. But if you ever change your mind, that’s cool too… just think about it. Say you’ll think about it,”

  I don’t hear what she says, sleep catches up with me, but I’m okay since my beautiful Katniss Everdeen is next to me. All my nightmares nowadays are about losing her.

  ———-

  “Peeta?”

  I hear her voice coming groggily from her bedroom. I would’ve answered, if I knew where my voice had gone to.

  I hear shuffling and moving in the other room, then she pads almost silently to the living area. I hear her sighing and walking again. The bathroom door opens and she screams when she turns the light on and she sees me sitting in the tub.

  I don’t turn to face her.

  I can’t.

  My eyes are fixed in the grainy, black and white picture I snatched from the fridge door this morning after getting dressed and attempting to make some very strong coffee for myself.

  I’ve been sitting in the bathtub with my knees drawn to my chest staring at this image ever since.

  Once she recuperates from the jump scare, she walks cautiously inside, lowers the toilet lid and takes a sit. She says nothing, but feel her inquisitive eyes on me.

  All I can think to say is, “Is this what you were hounding me to talk about?” I caress the glossy picture with my thumb.

  My eyes flit to her quickly.

  Her hands are neatly clasped on her lap.

  She nods slowly. “It is.” She confirms.

  “Why didn’t you say anything last night?” I ask her holding her eyes for a short moment.

  “Your were drunk as a skunk! Your head wasn’t in a very good place, and earlier when I went to see you, you acted like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

  I release a stuttering breath. She’s right, I did dismiss her without giving her the chance to say her peace, and later I just barged in here like a mad man.

  “And… You’re keeping it?” I’m trying hard to tamp down any emotions I’m feeling, which are confusing at best.

  “I am. I really want it.” Her voice is small but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

  “Is this why you’re going back to Panem? What happened with that job offer here in Capitol City?” I ask nervously.

  “I turned down the job. My mama said I could come back home, she’ll cut down on her hours at the hospital to help watch the baby, while I figure what to do for a job. I could apply for few positions there, it shouldn’t be that bad. And Prim…” she hesitates grimacing. “Prim will go to medical school as planned with her scholarship and grants and the small chunk of money my father had the foresight to save all those years ago.” She shrugs, “We’re gonna make it work.”

  “So… your mother knows?” I keep running my thumbs over the sonogram.

  “Of course she knows. I had to tell someone. Who better than a highly qualified nurse practitioner who’s also my mother?” There’s a hint of reproach in her tone.

  I feel like such a tool right now. “Does she know who the daddy is?” I enunciate.

  She frowns. “I didn’t have to tell her actually. She… she kinda just knew. She wasn’t even mad, just… disappointed.” She sighs.

  “Okay. And… what about me?”

  “About you? I guess is up to yourself.”

  Then before I swallow down the words, because I know it’s a terrible, terrible, terrible stupid thing to ask, my mouth runs idiotically in the worst possible question ever. “Any chance I’m gonna be a grandpa?” I grimace right away. I know this is costing me mayor points with her, and I can’t afford that as it is.

  I’m surprised she still responds.

  “I would have to be 19 months far for this child to be your grand baby, if that was even a remote possibility.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Not that I have to justify this to you, but FYI, including yourself, I’ve slept with only two people my whole life, and neither is related to the other.

  “Rye and I never had sex. We never had the chance. The night he got murdered would’ve been our first time. He wasn’t concerned with sexuality, in fact, sometimes I wonder if he was asexual or something. I guess we’ll never know. Now, can you stop with the weirdness?”

  Well, this is news.

  Katniss and Rye were serious since before he was deployed. I never actively thought about Rye having sex, it’s just too strange, disturbing and gross to think about, but it actually surprises me more to hear he and Katniss weren’t physically intimate than the opposite. Too many implications that only the two of them understand.

  The way he spoke about her,  or how he looked at her like she was the sun. I know my son was smitten. I can’t imagine him not wanting her sexually.

  But I guess, you don’t have to be physical to express love for somebody. Besides the one crazy night of passion, Katniss and I have never been romantically involved, yet we had a level of intimacy I’ve never experience before, and I’m completely smitten with her.

  “Katniss, I honestly don’t wanna know about Rye’s sexual life—“

  “You brought it up!” She snaps.

  “Sorry.” I mutter sheepishly.

  “You should be!” She’s fully scowling now, “The issue with sex with Rye was always a touchy subject for me. For the longest time, I thought that there was something wrong with me, or that he was a closeted gay guy with a girlfriend, wouldn’t had been the first sailor to do something like that.” Her legs are crossed now as well as her arms.

  I’m no body language expert, but she looks very defensive and unapproachable right now.

  “Look, my bladder’s shrunk to the size of a lima bean. I’ve been holding it all this time because I think it is important we have this conversation, Lord knows we have too much shit to deal with, we may even need professional help depending on the direction we’ll take with this, but I have to pee, badly, and I really want a break from this conversation, because you keep putting your foot in your mouth, and my patience is running thin,”

  I assent, knowing she’s right and willing to start being the man both her and the baby deserve, I climb out of the tub heavily. I pass her still sitting on the toilet, bouncing one leg impatiently and her arms still crossed over her chest.

  My mind starts wandering down the wrong path, but I force myself to bring it back and keep it on the straight and narrowed. I won’t let go of the sonogram though, and I’m not sure what am I gonna tell her, but I’m keeping it.

  Once in the living room, I don’t know what to do with myself. I keep pacing in a irregular circle, from the kitchen to the tiny two chair table that doubles as her dining room, around the couch and back to the kitchen to start my loop again. After three laps of that, I start wondering if the baby is hungry?

  I should’ve asked Katniss when was the last time she ate. I should make her breakfast! I have cheese bun ingredients upstairs. She likes those!

  I knock on the bathroom door and speak loudly. “Hey, Katniss… I’m gonna go make us something to eat. Text me if you want me to bring it down here, or we can eat up if you like.”

  “Okay,” comes her response. “I’m feeling nauseous right now, but I can eat!”

  The idea of someone saying that, for real, tickles me, but something tells me laughing out loud about it right now will be counterproductive.

  I’m almost giddy hopping on the elevator and waltzing through my apartment door. I turn on my oven, gather all my supplies, set Pandora to something cheerful; I’m feeling ska, because is that kind of morning, old school but colorful.

  30 minutes later, my buns are in the oven, and my figurative “bun in the oven” rings my doorbell.

  I sigh dreamily when I see Katniss.

  I wonder if the fact that I know she’s pregnant makes any difference in how I look at her? So I indulge myself in simply staring at her in a way I’ve never allowed myself before: unapologetically hungry.

  Her hair is wet and tightly braided, she’s got clean comfortable clothes on and is barefooted. She realizes I’m starting at her feet.

  “I just felt like it,” She says jutting her chin out at me.

  I raise both my hands in surrender. I’m not going to say anything. I’m smarter than that. Instead, I direct her to the breakfast bar where I’ve set my best china, glass and silverware. I wanted to put flowers on the table for her, but I don’t have even a measly fake one in here, so quickly I whipped up some frosting, in a few several colors, and voila!

  Flowers!

  Sugar flowers stuck to an upside down mixing bowl, but still, flowers. A whole bouquet of wildflowers, like the ones I used to have out on the roof, before everything fell apart, and I never returned to tend my garden.

  I usher her to her seat, and help her on the stool, though I know she’s perfectly capable of getting on it herself, I can’t curb the need to touch her… any part of her.

  “For you!” I plate two cheese buns on a dish I’ve pipped wild onion blooms on the edge of.

  Katniss’ eyes go wide.

  She takes one cheese bun delicately, and bites into it with relish. She closes her eyes while chewing, and after swallowing, the floodgates lift.

  I panic. I jump from my stool and round over to her, I pick her up bridal style, and carry her to the couch.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it!”

  “Nothing is wrong!” She cries loudly. “The buns are perfect.” She heaves a deep breath.

  Now I’m at a loss, wondering what triggered this episode. “Okay, but why are you crying then?” I try to be as gentle as possible.”

  “I’ve missed cheese buns! I’ve been craving them for weeks, but you were ignoring me, and I went to the bakery to buy me some, but they were out… and I was so hungry! I ate a whole large pizza all by myself, and threw it all up after… now I can’t even smell pizza, I start gagging.”

  She gives me look of misery, then asks me in a tiny voice.

  “What if the same happens with Cheese buns? What if this baby decides to hate them. They’re my favorite food ever! I don’t wanna have to start eating gluten free. I want my bread to be gluten full!”

  “That’ll be ironic, actually. I mean, It’s a baker’s baby.”

  She cries even harder after my attempt at a joke.

  “This isn’t funny, Peeta! Your baby is making me sick! She hates food!”

  “She?” I ask, Katniss isn’t even showing, but I wonder if science is advanced enough, you can tell a baby’s gender so early on.

  “It’s a She… Everdeen’s only give girls,” She grouses.

  I smirk, “Mellarks only give boys,” I smile at her. “Ask my mother, she’ll complain about it. No daughters or granddaughters for her.“

  I lean back on the couch, and she falls on my chest like a rag doll. I start rubbing circles on her back and feel her relax on top of me.

  “One thing I learned in biology when I was a kid, is that men give the gender chromosome. So maybe is a boy…”

  Then all the excitement of the news, crazy as they are gets smashed to smithereens.

  “So… I’m not looking to replace my son.” I say bluntly.

  She sits up and looks down at me wearily.

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  My arms fall off of her when she stands from my lap. I let her go, because I need my space right now.

  “What are you asking then, Katniss?” I cringe internally, I sound accusing even to myself.

  “I’m not asking you anything!”

  “Really? Because you sure as hell wanted to tell me I knocked you up, very badly!”

  She blushes violently. Her eyes are on fire.

  “Is the responsible thing to do!” She yells. “You have the right know. In the sea of irresponsible shit I’ve done in the last few months, this I wanted to do right, because I owed it to everybody: you, Rye and the baby and myself. Whatever you do with the information is totally your prerogative.”

  She’s crossed her arms again, but let’s her shoulders fall. “I was hoping you wanted to be part of the baby’s life. I know you already raised a baby from infancy and this is like starting over again, so I’ll understand if this isn’t for you—“

  I dig the heels of my hands in my eyes. And then say what’s on the tip of my tongue.

  “Let’s get married, then.”

  She frowns. “No.” She answers emphatically.

  I roll my eyes in frustration. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because last night you were drunk as fuck, borderline alcohol poisoned, and you still managed to do a better proposal then.” She says throwing her hands in the air.

  I did propose to her last night, at least twice, and it did sound better than what I just said.

  “I don’t want you asking me to marry you, because I’m pregnant.” She deflates plucking a cheese bun from her plate, then sitting on the corner of my coffee table facing me.

  “I want the baby, though.” I stress. “I just don’t want to replace or replicate Rye.”

  “No child could ever replace another.” She says looking older than her age, not for the first time.

  Sometimes I forget Katniss is truly and old soul trapped in a young, hot body.

  “Peeta, this baby complicates many things. I’m going back to Panem because my mom wants me there until I know what I want to do about my future.” She pauses. “I’m terrified.” She confesses. “Not of the baby! I want this child so much I feel like I’ve been living a lie forever. Which is scary in a different way.” She explains.

  She takes a bite of bun and I just stare quietly. Not moving a muscle.

  “People will gossip,” I point out stupidly.

  She shrugs, “Prim’s not talking to me at the moment. She called me a hussy. What do I care if other people talk about me?” Her lip quivers.

  I’m beyond pissed off at Primrose. I don’t understand how she could’ve said something like that to her big sister who has always sacrificed for her.

  “Don’t go back to Panem then. Stay in the city.”

  She shakes her head, staring at her half eaten cheese bun. “Mama says Prim’s just in shock. She’s grieving Rye, and she’ll come around when the baby is here.” Katniss shivers.

  “But Prim was so nasty when I told them you were the father. She yelled that I went after you because I’m some kind of horrible gold digging cunt.” She breaks down. “I never thought my little sister could be so mean and angry…”

  I grab her in one swoop move and sit her back in my lap, where she belongs.

  I kiss the shell of her ear, her neck, her jaw.

  Her hands grasp my shoulders, and her mouth opens up when I kiss her lips. I feel our lives aligning again.

  “Everything is gonna be fine, sweetheart,” I tell her raining kisses on the side of her face. “We have each other.”

  She relaxes against me, letting me hold her close. She moans softly into my mouth. I bring us down from the steep road we’re taking. It’s incredible to me how fast we go from zero to banging just with a couple of kisses.

  “I’ve wanted you for so long. Sometimes I’m convinced I’ve wanted you even before Rye was taken from us. If anyone is a hussy, that’s me, not you. You’re so… pure! An angel. The only bright spot in my sad, dreary life.” I hesitate for just a moment, but I take her hands in mine, and look her straight in the eyes. “I love you, Katniss.” I say seriously.

  She blushes, but her smile is more radiant than the sun. She tries to hide it thought.

  “I know,” she mumbles, the ghost of her smile hovering. “You blurted it out a few times last night.”

  “And, you?” I ask nervously, “You love me. Real or not real?”

  “Real,” she smiles softly.

  “Marry me?” She makes an unconvinced face, so I rush, “We will go at your pace. We will do as you say. I’ll support your decisions, always.” I kiss her lips again and rest our foreheads together. “I don’t want you to go back to Panem. Will you consider moving in with me? Or at the very least renewing your lease?”

  “I told my mother I wouldn’t go back to you until we got some things worked out.”

  “You… told your mom about getting back with me? Like she knew you’d want to come back?”

  “I told mama everything. And I mean, everything! She knew you’d try to lure me back in eventually. She asked me if I’d consider it, knowing how badly things went? I said I might. I loved you enough to think about it. So… we’ll see.”

  “So. You’re saying there’s a very good chance?” I know I’m pushing it, but I need to make sure.

  She huffs. “If we do this, Peeta, I have a list of demands:” she announces business like, “I want you to seek anger and grief counseling, because I’m not a fucking statistic! I will not live with you in fear that something would trigger a hijacking episode and you’ll yell at me and destroy shit in a fit of anger. I get that you grew up watching your mother doing that exact same thing, I just want it to be clear, I won’t tolerate that behavior. You never did it to Rye, which means you can control it. So, control. It.”

  I grimace. “Katniss, I already felt like shit about the whole thing. How do you think I feel now, knowing I threw a lamp near you, and you were already pregnant?” We just stare at each other for a moment, “You want me to get help? I will! Today!”

  “Good… I’ll consider your many proposals, then”

[wroughtironhero]

Once and Future

     Let me tell you the story of a king.

     There was once a young girl who dreamed of a world filled with smiling faces.  So that it might come to pass, she took up a sword and cast away her humanity.  Even if it would not last, even if the price was her own life, she would see her dream come true.

     She fought many battles and defeated many foes to secure peace for her lands.  She built a kingdom and gathered together there paragons of chivalric virtue to protect her people.  She was the ideal king who discarded her happiness for the happiness of her people.

     Even so, she knew that its end would come still.  To save her people, she and her knights sought out the holy grail, a relic capable of miracles, one which might avert the terrible fate before her.  However, despite their searching, the grail was never retrieved.  With no other choice, the king and her knights returned home.

     Yet her return was a not a welcome one.  In her absence, the people rebelled and turned against her.  Her knights likewise succumbed to conflict with one another.  The kingdom fell to civil war and finally ruin with the final battle on that bloody hill.  There, she had claimed her promised victory, her promised defeat.  Letting go of her sword, she passed on to slumber in an eternal dream.

     And so her story ends.

     Although, you and I know there’s more to it than that, don’t we?

     “Fou?”

     I jump to consciousness with a shock, jolting upright in bed and sending the small creature that was standing on my chest flying.  My hands dig into the mattress beneath me, threatening to tear its cushioning.  Darting my eyes around the bare room, I only find my Master standing at my side, recoiled in shock, and the strange animal now climbing onto her shoulder.  With a deep sigh, I slide my legs off the side of the bed before burying my face in my hands.

      “Good morning, Master.  My apologies if I startled you.”

     That was the first time I’ve slept in ages, the first time I’ve dreamed in... more.  As a Guardian, sleep is no longer a necessity for me.  Yesterday, however, was tiring enough to make an exception.

     She chuckles nervously, pulling the beast from the perch of her shoulder and into her arms, hoping it won’t cause any more trouble.  Thankfully, the mass of white fur seems content with her petting for time being.

     “Oh, no, I’m sorry to disturb you!  I’m just so used to seeing you already making breakfast at this hour I that I came in to check on you, but then Fou dashed in while the door was open and...”

     Her explanation dies in her throat before she can finish it.  I can read the concern in features as she chews at her lip.  She’s worried for me, or otherwise nervous about something.  Hardly surprising, but it wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t.  Leave it to the girl trying to save the world to worry about the health of a dead man.

     “Anyway, I’m just glad you’re okay.  When you’re feeling up to it, I need your help with something, but I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”

     I shake my head at her as I stand upright, crossing my arms.

     “No need.  I think I’ve slept enough for the next few lifetimes.  Now, what would you ask of me, Master?”

     Call it a bad habit, but I don’t have time to mope around.  Humanity’s continued existence is riding on us and I’m one of the few reliable Servants we have around here.

     After letting the now struggling Fou down to scurry off into some other corner of the facility, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before she opens them once more to stare at me with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

      “Archer            No.  Heroic Spirit Emiya, this is something only you can do.”

     Mash’s shield, the greatest protection of Sir Galahad, sits in the shallow water beneath Chaldeas, reflecting the globe’s deep blue light, the light of humanity.  As the core of the round table, it is a perfect catalyst for calling heroes and legends of all kinds to our aid and is the backbone upon which Chaldea’s summoning system, FATE, is built upon.  Even so, it has limits.  No matter what system is utilized to summon Servants, no spell can draw in a soul beyond the reach of mankind.

     “I’m sorry, Master, but it’s not possible.  She’s no longer within the cycle.  You’d have better luck attempting to travel to the isle yourself.”

    My Master stands across from me, glaring up to my level.  Miss Kyrielight looks back and forth between us, nervousness furrowing her brow.  It’s far from the first time she’s seen us argue, but it still bothers her all the same.  Watching an argument between your two senpai can hardly be considered a calming experience.

     “After everything we’ve seen, do you really think the rules you know still apply?  The world’s already ended, Archer!  This wouldn’t be the first impossible thing we’ve done.”

     It pains me to admit it, but she’s right.  The only constant in a Holy Grail War is people finding ways to break the rules.  With the appearance of the singularities, it seems even the most iron-clad of the world’s laws have crumbled to nothing.  The King of Magic’s meddling might be meant to doom us, but it’s proven to work in our favor.

     After... after we returned the sword, Bedivere ceased to be.  His very soul was burnt out of existence by his silver arm.  The loss of the soul is the most true form of death there is, a fate not even the mightiest of Heroic Spirits could survive.

     And yet, when we returned to Chaldea, we found him summoned to us.  Even as his spirit was erased from existence, his heroism earned him a place within the Throne.  An impossible paradox saved him, bringing one of her closest allies to our side.  So if he could be summoned after being erased entirely, then...

     “...What could I possibly accomplish?  I’m no Knight of the Round.  I’m nothing more than a simple magus, an anomaly in the system.  I have no greater connection to her than any Servant that’s done battle with her.”

     “That’s not true!”

     Mash finds her voice, objecting to my feigned ignorance.  My eyes go wide as she speaks of knowledge she can’t possess.

     “You were never an enemy to her!  You were          ”

      She quiets herself before she can finish.  The looks she and our Master exchange tell me this was a secret meant to be kept between them.

     “I’m sorry, Emiya-senpai.  Senpai wanted to tell you herself, but I couldn’t say nothing.  Hearing you talk like that...  As a Servant, I just couldn’t bear to listen any longer.”

     The room seems to spin around me.  I look dumbfounded to my Master for answers, but she tends to her clearly distraught kouhai before me.  The redhead takes her Servant’s hand in hers before squeezing it gently.

     “It’s alright, Mash.  I understand.  Hearing that from another Master, it’s only natural to be upset.”

     Finally, my patience wears out.  I step forward, demanding an answer.

     “Master, what is the meaning of this?  What do you two          ”

      Stepping away from Mash’s side, she silences me with a stare I’ve seen only once before.  It’s the stare of a demonic and tyrannical Master who has put her foot down.  There is no argument to be made against her anymore.  With the same cold, but somehow fiery gaze, she explains herself to me as though I were nothing but an amateur.

     “You’ve forgotten something simple, Archer, a fact that should be burned into your memory.  When a contract is forged, the Master and Servant’s minds are linked.  In dreams, the Master learns of their Servant’s past, allowing them to understand their identities beyond their true name.  Ever since the beginning in Fuyuki, I’ve had my suspicions, but Camelot proved them beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

     Her words pierce through my defense of stoicism, fracturing the image of a cold hearted Guardian I’ve so carefully built up.  With one statement, she destroys the Hero of Wrought Iron and reveals the man it hides.

     “I know who you are, Emiya Shirou.”

     With that, the truth is laid bare.  My hands fall to my side, limp and empty.  Once again, I have suffered an incontrovertible defeat.

     “          So, I’ve been found out.  And here I thought I might cling to some small part of my dignity.”

     A pitiful chuckle leaves me as I cover my sight with a single hand.

     “If you know that much, then you should know this changes nothing.  The King of Knights answers the call of the Grail no more.  There is no catalyst great enough to draw her from her eternal rest.”

     “You’re wrong, Emiya-senpai.  Becoming one of her knights, I should know.  There are some connections that can never be severed.”

     Mash interjects once more.  The both of us turn to face her, as she beams a bright, serene smile, folding her hands behind her back.

     “A sword will always return to its sheath.”

     Kind words fell the beast in a way no blade ever could.  Any protest left within me is utterly routed.  Even through such distant separation, the contract remains.  Who am I to deny it?

     “...You are right, Miss Kyrielight.  I should not waste another second.”

     Steeling my resolve, I approach the shield and extend my left hand out to it.  The two girl stand at a distance from me, ready to provide support.  Magical energy flows out from me and my Master in kind.  The price of a summoning must be paid and for this miracle, the cost is high.  Blocking out the strain, blocking out my surroundings, blocking out any disbelief within me, I press on.

     Closing my eyes, I dive deep into the sea of my memories.  Within their depths, I seek out that one moment in time.  Hardly a second passes before it arrives, like a beacon of light shining through the fog.  It should come as no surprise.  I’m sure I’ll remember this scene vividly, even when I’ve gone to hell.

     Clang.  A beautiful sound.

             That light.  Only that sound is something I’ll never forget all my life.  The sound of the bell that announces the commencement of battle.  The beautiful sound from her flawless armor accompanies her figure.

    “          I ask of you, are you my Master?”

     Her voice is still clear.  The image in my memory did not erode over time; even now it is still etched deeply into my heart.  It was as if time had stopped.  The scene lasted less than a second, but I still remember it vividly, even in death.

    “I, Servant Saber, have come forth in response to your summons.  From this time forth, my sword shall be with you and your fate shall be with me.

               Now, our contract is complete.”

    ...Yes, the contract is complete.  She chose me to become her Master and I swore to help her with all my might.  The moonlight illuminated the darkness.  The knight’s figure appeared in the shed as if to reclaim silence.  As I think to myself, that familiar name slips out of my mouth.

     “Saber...”

             I still cannot forget that blue light.  Her blonde hair bathed in moonlight had texture as fine as grained gold.  Even now, these clear blue memories live on inside my heart.

     You have found your salvation.  You do not regret your path.  The dream we believed in, you made it come true.  I can ask for no more.

     ...But I want to see you.  Even if I have to continue on as machine, I still want you to hear my voice.  This trust and love for you has never wavered, not me as a hero, but the boy who could never protect anything and in the end, wholeheartedly became your sheath.

     That is why I must make this one last selfish request.

     The hammer comes knocking down.  My circuits roar to life, working to give shape to the image in my mind.  Ingrained within my very being even in its absence, I recreate it without fault.  The ultimate protection of King Arthur, Excalibur’s paired other half, the holy relic that gave purpose to my existence, is returned.  Avalon, the Ever-distant Utopia, the singular link to the isle of the fey appears before me once more.

     “Please come...  Saber!”

     From the center of the shield, a pillar of golden light erupts.  The brightness is enough to rob me of sight.  The force of it is enough to knock me off balance and prone.  Propping myself up, my vision slowly returns to me as the wellspring of magical energy fades.  As the light dies down, the figure before it becomes clear.

     A flowing gown of blue, white, and gold.  Golden hair tied perfectly in a bun by a singular blue ribbon.  Emerald green eyes that seem to sparkle in the light.  A cobalt shimmer of air in hand obscuring an unknown weapon.  As though to eliminate any remaining doubt, a spark of pain ignites in my left hand, in the mark that should be long and permanently faded.  There is no mistaking it.

      “...”

     She’s back.

[existentialexitwounds]

BAT (The Prototypical Son)

Electric Jesus in the Crippling Garden Through an ember haze in morning's grace, Past the yard and through the garden, A swath of light etched in the night, Reminds me of that face. Years removed, and I am still stumbling -- wandering through that empty space. A memory too far to be told, but never too far to hold. In my hardened heart, I found happiness. Lost in the wilderness. With what's sore, A startled soul, What I have turned stone. A few words and you were gone. And for all my hardened moments, And my softened atonements, I was wrong. With my hardened heart, I found happiness. Lost in the wilderness. With what's sore, A startled soul, What I have turned cold. With a better heart, another start, My soul worn; My shoes torn. Past the haze, With symptoms of the heart rephrased. Left with what I'd ask. Who was crucified before you? Letting go of this dogma I've been unboldly clinging to ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Prototypical (S)On[e]s Past the yard and through that unearthly garden, Swaths of light etched in the night. We fell like ember leaves from trees of disbelief. As lights in the sky, the brighter fire in our eyes. Through the amber haze of mourning’s grace, Pierced the Earth with the shape of our frightening forms. Scorched everything between the seen and unseen. Ways to hide what I mean and the path of a dream. My soul worn; My shoes torn. Past the haze, With symptoms of the heart rephrased. Left with what I’d ask: Who was crucified before you? Letting go of this dogma I’ve been unboldly clinging to. By violet light and mourning’s flight, A feeling that moved through me left hung to a tree. Spinning angels in a black rib cage. In my hardened heart I found happiness, with what's sore, what's turned stoned. And for all my softened atonements and hardened moments, I was wrong. Left with what I'd ask: who was crucified before you? Letting go of this dogma I’ve been unboldly clinging to. That somber dwelling muse takes me, breaks me, makes me whole. Not (a)way or a whim but for to hold. That pathless path untold. How we lasted longer than the rays we traced. And those fallen kingdoms of past disgrace. We’ll get past the algorithmic and the rhyme. Pastern: If sadness can bring joy, best to get to the joy and not give everyone a headache. I'd rather start soon than start late. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I am an aloner. It’s in the way I stand. I may have fallen deeply in love with you. But my feathers are colored brightly blue. I am a runner, but they won’t let me run away with you. Ways to hide what I mean and the path of a dream. My soul worn; My shoes torn. Past the haze, with symptoms of the heart rephrased. Left with what I’d ask: Who was crucified before you? Letting go of this dogma I’ve been unboldly clinging to. By violet light and morning’s flight, A feeling that moved through me left hung to a tree. Spinning angels in a black rib cage. And no wonder why I asked why. To ask if there is wonder in the why. But in the wondering, there is wonder. To be that facet pulling moments from the dream. In my hardened heart, I found happiness. Lost in the wilderness. With what's sore, A startled soul, What I have turned stone. A few movements and you were gone. And for all my hardened moments, And my softened atonements, I was wrong. Past the yard and through that earthly garden, A swath of light etched in the night. I fell like ember leaves from trees of disbelief. As lights in the sky, the brighter fire in my eyes. Through the amber haze of mourning’s grace, Pierced the ground with the shape of my frightening form. Scorched Earth between the seen and unseen. Ways to hide what I mean and the path of a dream. We are all running, but towards what? It’s not about the winning or the losing, the story or the storm. Let’s see if we can retrace this path my our own way. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ATR (END OF FIRST BOOK)Chapter title from poem: Pastern learns what his past has been.

Chapter start soliloquy:

Featherless Wings over Vagrantseæs

I was born on the ground and so strangely (un)afraid, lost in a world of expectations and faces I did not make. Per chance I might say, all I felt and how I fell this way. Through smoke and dust and somniferous gusts of somnambulists’ rage. Came crashing down through waves of fiery stage. Through the rows and death thro(e|w)s of treacherous ways. But up through deception I was raised, though no deception I maintained. Between gods and monsters I strayed. And the fire that waits for that fire. And the things I won’t relay. No revenge to say as I wish you well upon your way. But one to dream, that I might stay and stay.

From shattered shards amidst a flood I built my hope. A home from the pain and the vagrant trespasses of a broken heart. In my home I hid my loneliness, a wandering eye from all that had been. And if I could begin, I’d speak of love and do it all again. But some things break and the damages can not be faked, t̷a̷k̷e̷n̷ a̷n̷d̷ n̷o̷t̷ t̷o̷ r̷e̷a̷w̷a̷k̷e̷n̷.̷ Taken to reawaken, so I that I will and may speak of love again. The shadow of a sleeping heart and the violent stirring from a dream. So I stand here awoken, more angry than alive. And for once you were right, an animated corpse of who I had been. And philosophically speaking, I will see you to the very end as a friend and no stranger to the mend.

The Tempered Intemperate

Those special acts between the lines of a lie. How they glitter and gleam by stealing rays from the sun beneath the dream. The glimmering glamour of a clamoring fire Held in the space of the mind from places unseen. That half-light and light beneath a hollowed hallowed chrysalis tree. And all the gifts stolen from us. Our smiles, our hopes, and our dreams. And the light unlight outside that mind. And lo how we love still until we’re still and dead and done. Yet we are not dead and somehow done. I will see you at the gate you guarded. How unhappy it made you feel to deny what wasn’t yours. I will open it up to let you in to witness what’s ours. In wishes for cloths wrought and weathered under a moth’s wings where no excuses you will bring. That wanton not wanting, how the wanton want that. All I ever known or owned is words, and how I love(d) to share them with my friends whether they watched or watched not. Time is a keeper and I keep good time. And how I mind and minded and how that lets me know I’m real.

Exegesis ἐξηγεῖσθαι and Existential Exit Wounds

If I moved, would I feel moved? As sleep's chambers grace our hidden wings with such sweet defeat. If I loved, would I feel loved? As I have loved only to have love removed from me. And could I write so plainly, no one would still see me. (Meaning understand::Not some other thing.) In all the wanton's wanting and all the faultless faltering, how I wish to breathe so breathlessly and true those three words I always held so closely but never felt close to me. Why is beauty only beautiful if it is bleeding. As people pay so much for so very little but not much for peaces of the heart. And so (ᵢ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜᵣₐdₑd ₘᵢₙₑ 𝆑ₒᵣ ₙₒₜₕᵢₙg::ₜₕᵢₛ 𝆑ₒₙₜ 𝆑ₑₑₗₛ ₛₐᵣ𝄴ₐₛₜᵢ𝄴) I have given mine to someone. It is all black, everything. As I surface from my broken dreams. In a world full of expectations, places, and faces I did not make. No closed mouth ever fed. How I have been temporary to everything that hasn't loved. A sigh of oh wells etched out across the expanse of eternity.

When I was so simply not simply looking for those and thee who saw me as permanent and outstretched I would breathe so breathlessly and true to reach through this dream and make them permanent to me.

How I want to give to you, what I never had. (a chance and everything and the things beyond everything.) (and I will and we are and and I want [but not wantonly] and I am.) [But I am no one's God; I am my own.]

The Prototypical [S)[On[-e]s) Past the yard and through the unearthly garden, Swaths of light etched in the night. We fell like ember leaves from trees of disbelief. As lights in the sky, the brighter fire in our eyes. Through the amber haze of mourning’s grace, Pierced the Earth with the shape of our frightening forms. Scorched the things between the seen and unseen. Ways to hide what I mean and the path of a dream. My soul worn; My shoes torn. Past the haze, With symptoms of the heart rephrased. Left with what I’d ask: Who was crucified before you? Letting go of this dogma I’ve been unboldly clinging to. By violet light and mourning’s flight, A feeling that moved through me left hung to a tree. Spinning angels in a black rib cage. Lost in the wilderness with what's turned cold. In my hardened heart I found happiness, with what's sore, what's turned stoned. A few words and you were gone. And for all my softened atonements and hardened moments, I was wrong. Left with what I'd ask: who was crucified before you? Letting go of this dogma I’ve been unboldly clinging to. Your somber dwelling muse takes me, breaks me, makes me whole. Not (a)way or a whim but for to hold. And for all my softened moments and hardened atonements, I was right. That pathless path untold. How we lasted longer than the paths we traced. And those fallen kingdoms of past disgrace. We’ll get past the algorithmic and the rhyme. For one chance that you might glance my way. Years removed, and I am still stumbling – wandering through that empty space. Left with images reminding me of that face. A memory too far to be told, but never too far to hold.

“In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you” ― Oscar Wild

We are all running, but towards what? It’s not about the winning or the losing, the story or the storm.

What is a soul is a question no one ever asks. Is it of this world or outside it? And if it’s outside it, what is it writ on. And if it is writ outside it, why.

This is the closet thing to truth I could reach. I hope it reaches someone and more. Sometimes we fall when we feel this alone that our wings break loose because they can no longer keep us from all that we love. And I wish that someone to know, that I love them. There will be no short supply of people that don’t get you (or it) in this world. There will be no short supply of fear in our minds and hearts. And no short supply of intense love in my mind where I feel truly deserved. And again, and terribly unfortunate – no short supply of utterly dumb and worthless fear to confuse things.

——————————————————————-

Pastern: My mother used to always say: “You do not know how to act.” And she was right. I’m not a good actor. And in some ways I was right in being wrong because I do sincerely aim for my actions speaking louder than words. Rather I would give people courage than take it away in telling them a question is wrong and that they are to be seen and not heard.

Lyre: There is nothing wrong with spending your life in question. It’s the clinging to certainties and high tides that raze and sink all ships. Some people clutch their guns, some people clutch their pearls, some people clutch their children, and some people clutch their crystals. Many mistake reining a child in for appropriate discipline, never thinking what a person is being disciplined towards. Often it is towards a fall instead of a landing. What is a soul is a question no one ever asks. Is it of this world or outside it? And if it’s outside it, what is it writ on. And if it is writ outside it, why. ________________________________________________________________

Older Pastern: Fallen angels and Baroque Renaissance angels, not technically accurate, but they may speak to something deeper that does not rely on fear. I do not want people frightened, but I am aware there are times when certain people should be, but I aim to ensnare the unafraid. One must appear weak sometimes to protect the vulnerable, the broken, the abused, and the hurt.

______________________________________________________________ Pastern: If sadness can bring joy, best to get to the joy and not give everyone a headache. I’d rather start soon than start late.

[triscribe]

Alrighty *flexes fingers* time to share the brewing details of my newest heart-wrenching, soul-tearing Voltron AU (as my friend @knightlychika puts it, anyway)

To start: the Garrison mission to Kerberos that was abducted by Galra has a slightly different crew list. There’s Commander Colleen Holt, her daughter Katie, and their pilot Lance McClain.

When they were separated, the younger pair were taken to the Arena, where Lance had a bit of a breakdown over never seeing his family again. Katie snatched a sword from a surprised guard, attacked her friend and wounded him deeply enough to keep out of the fighting pit before being thrown in herself. To the surprise of many, the tiny sixteen year old defeated her monstrous, previously unbeaten opponent, earning the title of Champion.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Matt Holt gets himself irrevocably banished from all Garrison holdings thanks to his continued investigations into the Kerberos mission; rather than give up, however, he makes a home for himself in the desert near their headquarters, and continues to receive intel from the inside courtesy of his best friend Shiro, and the other man’s psuedo sibling, a pilot prodigy by the name of Amy Kogane (more on her later).

Only half a year after Kerberos was declared a failure, the trio are meeting at Matt’s campsite to discuss future plans when they’re stumbled upon by a couple of cadets: Pelony Laxum (known as Plaxum to her friends) and Shay Morris. The two girls don’t mean to eavesdrop, but after hearing what they do they’re eager to help. (...Well. Plaxum’s eager; Shay has a habit of just going along with her friend.) Amy starts to bond with the younger students, which pleases Shiro to no end, so he convinces Matt to put up with their continued involvement.

Then.

An alien ship crashes in the desert.

The Garrison, of course, attempt to swarm it, a course of action that of course causes the single arrival to panic and fight back. Fortunately, he only subdues the humans rather than outright kill them, which is what convinces Matt to help the stranger escape and hide him at the camp. When the others show up, they get sucked into helping the alien retrieve supplies from his wrecked ship - including a supply of nanite-translators that he gets to attach to all of them, making communication a lot easier than constant charades.

The alien introduces himself as Keithiek, a member of a secret rebellion attempting to sabotage and bring down the Galra Empire. He came to Earth on a mission to investigate the exceptionally strong quintessence readings present on the planet - something he admits his mother was the one to discover years before. (It also comes out that he had a more personal reason for being the one to come; namely, his father was human. In a private conversation later, Amy asks him about the weapon he uses in battle: a blade capable of switching between knife and sword forms, with a glowing violet symbol etched into the hilt. As it turns out, she has one just like it, though that doesn’t get mentioned to Keithiek until later.) When Matt asks, Keithiek admits that, yes, they had intel that the Empire was interested in the little backwater planet as well, even going so far as to snatch up a few of the natives when they ventured to the very edge of their solar system.

Convinced that going with Keithiek is the only way to find his sister and mother, Matt promises to help the alien find whatever it is he’s looking for as well as get his ship repaired. The others follow suit for one reason or another.

The next day, they go hunting, Keithiek’s quint-sense leading them to a canyon dangerously close to Garrison HQ. Somehow, Amy has some degree of the same ability, and with the two of them triangulating, the group is able to find a cave with dozens upon dozens carved renditions of a huge lion. Suddenly, Plaxum touches one, causing the whole lot to glow and a torrent of water to come rushing down the cave tunnel. Washed away, down, down, down into a deep cavernous pool, the five of them struggle to reorient themselves and get to a shoreline. A light from beneath the water level, however, attracts Plaxum’s attention, and she swims downward - discovering a giant lion robot within a blue shield. The barrier opens at her touch, and then the lion swallows her up. More than a little surprised, the other humans nearly attack; only Keithiek’s hurried explanation of the Lions of Voltron get them to pause. Plaxum quickly coaxes the massive machine to open up for her friends as well, and then off they fly.

What follows is a hair-raising joyride across the breadth and width of the desert, culminating in a rocketing rise straight up from the surface of the planet. In no time at all, the Lion’s reached space, and the Galra warship that was responsible for shooting Keithiek down. Plaxum quickly gets her bearings in steering for combat, as they lead the ship away from Earth, inflicting damage along the way.

About the time they manage to actually destroy it is when a huge portal opens up. Plaxum says the Lion is encouraging her to head for it; reluctantly, the others all agree to go through.

On the other side, they soon arrive at a beautiful white and blue castle; inside it are all that remain of the once-great Altean kingdom - Queen Tiura (wife and mother of the deceased Alfor and Allura), her earnest if young defender Hiron (nephew of Coran), and her mind-bound pets the Sparrows.

It is soon decided that since the Blue Lion has obviously Chosen Plaxum to be her new paladin, the other humans should make contact with the rest of the Pride to see if they would be accepted as well. Otherwise, the first step of reviving Voltron would be seeking out anyone with a close enough quintessence frequency to each of the respective Lions to potential be a Paladin. To this end, Keithiek promises to stay with them, as his quint-sense is more refined than Amy’s.

Before long, there are once again five Paladins of Voltron: Plaxum with Blue of course, but also Shay with the Yellow Lion, retrieved from a mining world; Amy with the Red, stolen from the middle of a pirate camp; Matt with the Green, found on a quiet jungle planet; and Shiro with the Black, awoken from her long rest within the Castle. And just in time, too, for a Galra warship soon arrives from the aforementioned mining world, necessitating the combining of the Pride to form the Defender of the Universe.

They, of course, succeed.

In the days of training afterwards, however, new tensions rise and require sorting out. Hiron is determined to force the paladins into bonding faster; Tiura is still in mourning for her lost family/people/planet and a bit slow in curbing his enthusiasm; Amy has become downright awkward when it comes to interacting around Keithiek; and Matt is becoming more and more desperate to get a move on with finding his mother and sister. The intrusion of the native Arusians and subsequent party bring things to a head, especially when the remaining Galra from the earlier battle attack and take over the Castle.

Keithiek is injured protecting Tiura from an explosion in the control room - the rest of the paladins disburse to do what they can, with Shay accompanying Hiron to a Balmera, Shiro and Tiura checking on the Arusian village, Amy and Plaxum staying with the critically wounded halfling, and Matt being caught in-between places when the enemy shows up. He engages in a high-stakes game of hide-and-seek with the Galra drones, getting a bit of an advantage when he captures and reprograms one floating sentry bot to be his ally, dubbing it Willy. Channeling his inner Sneak, Matt manages to sabotage the attempt to get the Castle airborne, before sending Willy off with the Queen’s Sparrows to disable the particle barrier. Then, he pulls away what’s left of the Galra forces in order to give Amy and Plaxum the opportunity to take their remaining guards down and move Keithiek out of the way. What Matt did not plan, however, was to enter a one-on-one with the leader of the enemy forces, a particularly nasty Galra by the name of Thok, whose swordwork nearly takes the human’s head off even before he brings mindgames into it (he starts with threats about what the Empire does to its prisoners, getting more graphic as he realizes just how powerful an effect the words have on his opponent, eventually tumbling to the fact that the paladin must have lost someone he cares about in such a way). Shiro and Tiura arrive in time to interrupt, thankfully, and while the former distracts Throk the latter drops a chandelier on his head.

Once Hiron and Shay return from the Balmera with a replacement crystal for the Castle, Keithiek is loaded into a healing pod, Matt apologizes for nearly ditching the team, and Tiura starts making greater efforts to get to know the humans (as well as keep Hiron in line). Once their injured friend is back on his feet, the Castle takes off for the Balmera, Shay being rather insistent they return to free the Balmeran Hunk who helped her and Hiron at the cost of his own freedom.

Their first night on the flight, Amy also makes a confession to Keithiek, showing him the knife her unknown mother had left to her - one with an identical mark as his own Luxite blade. When she admits that it was selfish of her to keep it from him and offers it over, knowing it rightfully belongs with his people, the weapon Awakens and changes to a sleek sword. Keithiek tells her such a thing could not be possible if she were not part Galra herself, and a DNA check done with help from the confused Hiron is enough to confirm that the pair are siblings - twins, in fact. They wait a bit before sharing the news with the rest of their friends, who all accept it with varying amounts of shock. (Shiro, in particular, is bewildered by the strange turn of events, but soon takes it in stride and starts treating Keithiek as a baby cousin, much as he does Amy - or Acxa, as her brother claims her Galra name should be. In retaliation, the girl dubs him ‘Keith,’ to Shiro’s amusement.)

They have to pause long enough to fight off a fleet of pirates trying to steal back the Red Lion, but eventually make it to the Balmera and soon liberate it from Galra control. His family long gone, Hunk decides to leave with them, bringing enough material from the Balmera with him to have a small crystal garden aboard the Castle, which delights Tiura and Hiron to no end.

From there, the members of Team Voltron begin travelling the galaxy, looking for allies, fighting the Galra where possible, and keeping their eyes peeled for any prisoners matching the descriptions of those taken prisoner on Kerberos.

One rebel group they make contact with has within its ranks the previously not-much-noted Lance McClain, who eagerly goes with the first humans he’s seen in a year. The pilot/sharpshooter hits it off with Hunk, flirts only once with Amy, flirts several times with Plaxum, goes cold any time he’s near Keithiek, and reluctantly tells Matt what he can about his little sister, some of which he saw first hand and the rest of which comes from rumor.

Katie had given him a deep enough wound in his arm that it became infected and, rather than healed, was replaced with a basic-functions prosthetic. Rather than blame her, however, Lance was grateful, knowing that he would have been a dead man had he set foot in the Arena. Afterward, he was sent to a work camp, and gathered what info he could from new arrivals.

Piling up her victories, Katie had been noticed by the Druids, and started to receive ‘improvements’ from them; there were no conclusive accounts of what, exactly, had been replaced, with stories ranging from her arms to her legs to half her skull. Everyone agreed, though, that the Champion was terrifying. In recent months, she’d vanished from regular Arena matches, appearing only on rare occasion. It was rumored she’d been selected to become the personal attack dog of a high-ranking Galra, but Lance didn’t know anything more about that.

Sickened by the thought of what his sister must have gone through, Matt retreats into himself for a while, with only Green and Willy for company.

The next major development comes when the Castle gains an intruder.

None of the paladins are able to stop the masked and hooded figure who takes a running tour through the lower halls - that achievement goes to Keithiek, who simply steps in the intruder’s way with a wide grin, happily greeting ‘Uncle Thace’.

The stranger removes his disguise and hugs the halfbreed, murmuring how grateful he is that the young idiot hadn’t gone and gotten himself killed. It’s quite a surprise for the grown Galra to meet Amy and learn of her and Keithiek’s shared parentage, but he handles it well. At the following meeting, Thace explains that he’d been sent by the Blade of Marmora to track down his wayward nephew (as, technically, Keithiek is apparently considered too young to have left headquarters, and snuck off on the mission to Earth without anyone’s approaval). When asked why he was no longer on his long-term undercover assignment, the Galra grimaces, saying that he tried to liberate a prisoner who’d had no wish to be liberated. They of course ask who; Thace shocks them all by saying simply, ‘the Champion’.

This is how they gain a proper picture of what happened to young Katie Holt.

Her left arm from the shoulder down had been replaced by a new model of prosthetic, one meant solely for war; the skin and outer muscle layers of her feet had been removed, metal boots of the same function as the arm grafted to what remained. The girl’s psyche had been tweaked as well - according to Thace, she no longer spoke, showed no emotion in her face aside from combat rage. Most of the changes had been at the suggestion of Prince Lotor, head of the Druids and Zarkon’s Heir, who wanted to craft the perfect bodyguard and assassin - and succeeded, according to most.

Matt refuses to believe that his sister is beyond saving; even through the next several missions Voltron undertakes, he keeps gathering intel in an attempt to locate her. Even when the team splits up to accomplish multiple tasks for an attack on Zarkon’s headquarters, he’s still thinking about Katie; something that nearly results in disaster when he doesn’t pay enough attention during the break-in to Beta Traz with Shiro, Lance, and Plaxum.

Surprisingly, on the way back from their thankfully-successful rescue operation, it’s the fidgety Slav who provides some much needed distraction, by telling Matt that in the majority of realities, it was him who was taken by the Galra, and Katie who became the Green Paladin in order to find him. Matt reciprocates by asking Slav to talk about those alternate possibilities, which helps the space-caterpillar calm down about the present and its potential disasters.

The peace doesn’t last long, though - when they come back from the weblum with bags of scaultrite, Shay, Amy, and Keithiek also tell of the silent being they met and reluctantly worked with - one bearing the stylized armor worn by Lotor’s highest followers. Clearly, all are expecting Matt to rant at them for not interrogating the Galra about his sister, but he simply gets down to work preparing for the attack.

Everyone they can get pitches in for the battle - Blades of Marmora, Lance’s rebel group, all the allies made through Tiura’s political outreaches - and things go well for the most part... Until Zarkon’s personal version of Voltron comes out to fight, helped by the dark-quintessence weapon created by Lotor. When a key moment of sabotage expected by the good guys does not occur, Keithiek enters the stronghold along with Hunk and Lance. They meet up with Ulaz, who goes on the blow up the reactor himself and insists that the boys retrieve someone before stronghold goes dark. Within an inner sanctum, the three find a blue-haired Altean being kept in something that looks like the Galra version of a cross between a healing and cryo-pod. Attempting to get her out, though, proves rather difficult when the Galra soldier from the weblum shows up to interrupt them.

During the following fight, her helmet is shattered, and Lance freezes up when he recognizes Katie Holt. She doesn’t recognize him, though, or the sound of her own name. The only reason the boys survive the following fight is due to the fact they got out of the room - Katie doesn’t pursue them past the threshold, but rather resumes her guard position by the imprisoned Altean.

When the power of the stronghold goes down, the trio cut their losses and flee, picking up the injured Ulaz on their way.

Final results: Zarkon is weakened to such a point that Lotor kills him as an act of ‘mercy’ before claiming the crown; all five paladins of Voltron have been dropped into comas, leaving their friends and allies to try and regroup; Ulaz reveals that the imprisoned Altean is Empress Honerva, Zarkon’s wife and Lotor’s mother, who fell ill ten thousand years ago and has been kept in suspended animation ever since as Zarkon was convinced that he needed Voltron in order to cure her. Evidently, Lotor had brainwashed Katie into thinking that it was her own mother she was protecting, hence why she chased the boys off but didn’t leave her post.

In the infirmary, Amy wakes up after Keithiek spends a night curled up beside her on the medical berth. Investigation from Tiura and Hiron leads them to conclude that it was achieved by the close contact of their nearly identical quintessence frequencies. With Shiro, Matt, Shay, and Plaxum still out of commission, though, a new arrangement of temporary paladins must be chosen.

The Black Lion accepts Amy; the Red, Keithiek; the Blue, Lance; the Yellow, Hunk; and the Green, Hiron, to the surprise of many, including himself. Their new mission is to find Colleen Holt, to get her to hopefully snap her daughter out of Lotor’s brainwashing, then rescue Honerva. In the meantime, Thace, Ulaz, and Slav head to Earth to track down close family members of the paladins in the hopes that at least one for each will be a close enough frequency match to wake up the sleepers. Very quickly, they’ll locate Plaxum’s mom and Shay’s older brother, and engage in a bit of snatch-and-dash in order to get the humans back the to Castle. The girls are more than a little ecstatic when they wake up. Sam Holt takes a bit longer, as the man’s gone off the deep end with the disappearance of his son, but at least he willingly comes with them, joking that it’s the strangest trip to the afterlife he could have possibly pictured. His reunion with Matt is a lot more tearful.

Then, a million to one chance while bringing down a Galra communications outpost gives the current paladins a clue as to Colleen’s current whereabouts. Still in recovery, Plaxum, Shay, and Matt have to remain in the infirmary while waiting to hear the results; they congregate around Shiro’s berth, and all jump about a foot in the air hours later when he asks what’s going on.

(Turns out, having multiple quintessence frequencies that had bonded with his own was enough to wake the man up. Tiura in particular is bashful about not having realized this earlier and put all five paladins in close proximity together.)

There comes a longer delay than expected when Voltron is returning the Castle, only to change course for an Altean distress beacon. They vanish through a massively powerful rift for a few hours, to the distress of everyone else. The prize when they return, though, is beyond worth it:

A second Voltron.

One made of Wolves rather than Lions, but still.

They tell a tale of another reality, one where the Altean Empire kept ruthless control of their universe by ‘making peaceful’ the races they enslaved. The sole remaining members of a group called the Guns of Gamora were attempting to hide away a newly created Altean weapon - the Wolves of Voltron. Among them were two familiar faces that had shaken Hiron: an alternate version of his mother, Hira, who’d been among the enemy, and a still-living exiled princess Allura... Who came back through the rift with them, chosen by the Black Wolf to be the leader of the other Voltron.

Things are awkward aboard the Castle for all of two ticks before Tiura and Allura fall into each other’s arms, crying and laughing all at once. 

The paladins rearrange themselves: the paladins of the Lions are the restored Shiro, Matt, Amy, Plaxum, and Shay, while the paladins of the Wolves are Allura, Hiron, Keithiek, Lance, and Hunk. With the rift closed behind them, the princess has no choice to return to her own reality - but she admits to not being terribly upset, as everyone who was dear to her heart had been killed in recent times by the Altean Empire.

And the first mission the two Voltrons undertake together is the retrieval of Colleen Holt from the near-perfectly secret prison she’d been kept in by Lotor.

The battle would have been straightforward enough with only one Pride of Lions; the addition of the Pack of Wolves practically makes it child’s play.

Rescued and thoroughly bewildered, Colleen rides back to the Castle with Shay, who tells her a little of what’s been going on. The woman doesn’t truly believe any of it until they get there and she falls into the waiting arms of her husband and son.

Afterward, comes the more difficult task.

The Wolves take on Lotor and his high command while the Lions guard their paladins and Colleen heading for the new stronghold where a member of the Blade of Marmora caught sight of Katie. Sure enough, they find both her and Honerva; unfortunately, the girl doesn’t recognize her mother, and nearly kills the woman before the others intervene.

Matt is the one to take her on in single combat; who calls the seventeen year old by her full name while their mother is too shell-shocked, yells details about their old life at her, tells stories even in the midst of the fight. Katie’s movements slow with every word he says; the rage in her face starts to dim away, replaced by confusion. The final straw comes when he says she’ll always be his baby sister, his Pigeon.

Katie screams.

She sobs.

And she doesn’t resist when he pulls her into a hug - just mumbles her brother’s name over and over again.

...

So, what do you all think? This got so much longer than I was anticipating - not to mention all the plot twists I added in on the spur of the moment that even gave me pause. Oh geez - just noticed I’ve been sitting here writing it for more than two hours. How’s that for inspired concentration?

[danmarkreid]

Discovering Stability in Chaos

“Whatever happens, my dear brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord. I never get tired of telling you these things, and I do it to safeguard your faith.” (Philippians 3:1)

“I feel like nothing in my life is stable right now, that is except for my faith, marriage and key friendships.”

These words escaped from my lips recently on a Sunday evening. A group had collected, huddled around pieces of paper with the words “The Gospel According to Mark” etched across the top. We were engaging our minds and our hearts. Individuals were sharing their reflections and what it would mean if they truly acknowledge Jesus as king of their lives.

In a moment of confession, I bumbled out the above words. A weight began to lift off my shoulders but there was still fear and doubt lingering underneath. How do I find meaning in this crazy journey that I am on? Would the God who I had given my life and trust to be faithful? Would I end up alone? Would I end up as a failure? My mind said no, but my heart was not so sure.

As those following along know, it has been a crazy two years. I am only four weeks away from my two year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. In the course of this time I’ve had a son, had surgery, gone through radiation, gone back to work, seen my community implode and left my job. Now I am trying to figure out what to do with my life while in the background, preparing for a second child, and needing to make some major decisions around where we will live. I would never encourage someone to undergo so much transition at once, and yet, a lot of the change is out of my control. In many ways, it has been a prolonged season of loss and stress. Things are constantly being stripped away, bringing pain and grief.

During my sickness I read through Philippians. I desired to get an opportunity to study it in community to help reinforce the themes that I had learned. That opportunity came at the beginning of January of this new year. It is amazing how scripture can speak to you right where you are at in such profound ways. The words leapt off the page again.

In the book, Paul describes his spiritual resume and why, for many reasons, he should be one of the most righteous people. He has done everything right and been placed in the right place at the right time. What is shocking for the audience is when he says, “Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ.” (Philippians 3:8).

Paul has learned the example from his saviour who “Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” (Phil 2:6-8)

It is a season where things are being stripped away: facing my mortality, leaving an unhealthy workplace, and facing uncertainty about the future. In light of these things, there has been a lot of loss and a refining of who I am and my identity.

Paul writes with great certainty that nothing he could aspire to or achieve is greater than the privilege of knowing his God and suffering for him. As I reflect, I realize how far I still am from that point. I want to be perceived as successful in my career and known as a great pastor, teacher and leader. To lose everything to gain Christ, and only Christ, sounds attractive in a Bible study as an ideal but it gets contested the moment it ends. There is a battle for my soul and many days I am tempted to believe that I will end up alone or overlooked or with nothing to my name (as if the point were to build the kingdom of Dan in the first place). You can see how it unravels and underneath there is a vulnerable, scared, selfish and somewhat conceited man that I have to face in the mirror.

Could it be that the greatest call is to truly be content to lose it all and in the end only have Christ? That someone is actually searching for Christ all along when he or she pursues other narratives or things, unaware that He fulfills whatever need we are struggling to appease?

And yet, in my moment of weakness and confession, feeling like I am losing it all with nothing stable, a close friend offered wisdom. He remarked, “Isn’t odd that the only things you state that you feel you have that are stable (faith, marriage, close friends) are the very things that so many in society are actually deeply longing for?”

A strong, unwavering faith and worldview that grounds me and carries me through suffering and pain, providing meaning, purpose and hope at every step of the way. Steady relationships that provide support, nourishment, encouragement and loving truth. People that know my heart deeply and reflect back to me what they see, the good and the nasty. People that have not abandoned me or coiled back, even when I was at my lowest.

His words struck me and challenged me. In many ways I was gaining the very things I had always longed for, prayed for and strived for. Still, in the face of adversity there are still so many cracks in this broken down vessel that is me. More refining to be done, more purification needed, way more humility and selflessness to be birthed.

Two years of pain and suffering have been a great gift to me in so many ways. I think because it continually drives me to my knees. I am still amazed by how insecure I am in my gifts, in my passions, in my own beauty as a person. I am learning how much I need God and others. I am thankful that through the difficulties I am learning how to submit to Christ and die to my own desires. Hopefully Christ can teach me to empty myself like He embodied when He came to earth. One thing is certain, I am far from the point of being exalted, and that is undeniably best for everyone.

These revelations bring joy and gratitude. I am thankful for my marriage, for my health, for my friends, for those I get to walk with. It is crazy to think about how well I have recovered from my cancer journey physically. In addition, I am grateful for a chance to rethink church, career, where we will live and how we will approach it, even it it keeps me up at night and reveals how little I trust God. I am thankful for an opportunity to expand our family and learn to love another child, because Marcus has been such a gift and I treasure my time with him.

I think I’m learning how letting go and loss can actually create a gateway for joy and celebration. It’s still counterintuitive but so are most things in the Christian faith! Hopefully if I can let go of my own needs for affirmation and glory, I will understand more deeply Christ’s costly love for me and continue to be changed by it.

Here’s to 2018. A year of uncertainty, endings in some places and beginnings in others. May I have a better sense of how Jesus gives us his peace by the end of it. Hopefully I can continue to let go of some things and centre my life around the things that really matter. Thanks for reading and hopefully a new year brings you a sense of meaning and hope as well. Here’s to health, friendships, new life and learning through hard times.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7)