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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 4 years ago

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Am I forgotten?

Chapter 7 - My Turn

Full fan fic here.

****

The Faerie Prince swiftly regained his composure and… laughed.

A booming laugh bouncing off the walls of the high-ceilinged room.

“And I know you mean every word, son of thorns,” he said, pausing to enjoy the effect of his words. Ty flinched but the hand holding the knife remained steady.

“You think I don’t know who you are? Who do you think put that outrageous price on your head? All these years, you and your siblings have created a wall of thorns around the half-blood pretender… Before you brought him straight into our lair…”

Ty’s face was an eerie green now. His gray eyes darted across the room towards the door. It was a flicker of movement but Kit knew exactly what it meant. They had to get out of here before it was too late.

Only, it already was. A second later, an army of Faerie knights clad in black came storming into the room, an array of swords and spears raised.

Ty knocked the Faerie Prince out and rushed to Kit’s side, whispering urgently in his ear. “They will separate us. Remember, there is only one way out.” Kit felt cold metal against his palm before he realized that Ty had pressed a dagger in his hand. Ty himself only had a knife.

A moment later, the Faerie knights had encircled them, more heavily armed and more adequately dressed than either of them were.

They fought relentlessly. As Ty had predicted, it only took a short while for the waves of knights to crush them apart, the strength of their number pushing Kit and Ty away from each other like lava running between rocks on the side of an erupting volcano.

It must have been a beautiful sight to behold. Two figures in every way opposites, a golden sun and a silver moon, twirling in the mass of dark warriors threatening to swallow them. Like two sailors who had fallen into the ocean, fighting for their lives in the middle of a raging sea. Only, they did not seem lost as they stood their ground, each of them creating a wide circle around him. Their moves were so swift they must have looked from above like two spinning wheels working together to catch Faerie knights into their rims, spitting out death and blood.

It was as if they were connected, moving in synchrony, despite the distance separating them.

All Kit could see were flashes of Ty’s black hair and the tip of the spears he had somehow salvaged from fallen warriors. All he could hear was the loud clang of metal against metal, the cries of the Faeries as they fell. He strained his ears to catch any other sound coming from Ty, any sign that he was in pain or in trouble. He heard none.

Kit himself had recovered two swords and was wielding them, again and again, the muscles in his arms and his back burning with continuous effort. Kit knew he was a strong and resilient fighter. Only, his opponents were legendary warriors with centuries of training, and they were too many. They kept coming, like a swarm of angry bees buzzing around a hive. For every fallen soldier, three more came at him. He knew Ty shared the same burden. They were not going to make it. The realization struck Kit as if a weight had been dropped at the pit of his stomach, overwhelming despair draining his body.

Ty, my love, I am so sorry.

Kit’s view of Ty was unobstructed for a moment and as he turned to look at him, their eyes met. Although Ty’s posture betrayed no fear, although he held both his bloodstained spears with an unyielding grasp, his gaze was filled with deep sorrow and unspoken words. It only lasted a second but it was as if Kit could hear the message his gray eyes conveyed. I missed you. I wish we had more time together.

As Ty disappeared again behind the throng of Faerie knights, a flood of images invaded Kit’s mind, enveloping his senses, numbing the pain and lending him strength, making him feel all powerful. A beautiful boy holding a knife to his throat in the cellar of his house in Los Angeles. The same boy laughing, his eyes glowing, a starfish in his hand. The same boy dressed in white at a funeral. The same boy looking over at Kit and giving him his sunrise-over-the-water smile. The same boy reaching out and brushing Kit’s hair away from his face. The same boy dropping a folded-up piece of paper in the back of a stone bird in Cornwall. The most brilliant, sharpest mind Kit had ever known. What a waste.

That’s when it hit him. Ty chose every one of his words very carefully. He never said anything that was obvious or unnecessary.

There is only one way out.

Kit looked up at the glass roof and felt the pull of the sky, the urge of the wind blowing against his face. He cried as he was struck by a searing pain in his back, as if his skin, as if his muscles were being torn open, leaving exposed flesh. His eyes were stinging with the agony that threatened to engulf him.

****

Ty whipped his head as soon as he heard Kit’s unearthly scream, ice rushing through his veins.

That’s when he saw them. Giant white-golden wings were sprouting from Kit’s back, their thick lustrous feathers fluttering with each of his moves, as if they were an extension of him. Kit seemed to be breathing heavily and he had one knee on the floor as if it had been brought there by the weight of his newfound power.

The fighting had ceased. All the Faerie knights stood frozen, staring in awe as Kit’s wings fully extended, so large they were at least as wide as Ty was tall.

Kit appeared to be in a daze but when he lifted his tear-streaked face to Ty, his gaze was intent and determined. He slowly rose, and he was as magnificent as an angel, his face glowing as if lit from inside by heavenly fire, his blue eyes cold and unforgiving. He uttered two distinct words, which resonated like ringing bells in the room that had fallen silent.

“My. Turn.”

Gasps echoed across the room as Kit made his way to Ty, his fluttering wings knocking out the Faerie knights who tried to stand in his path, their feathers as sharp as knives. Kit didn’t even move his arms to protect himself. He didn’t need to. Instead, he opened them in a welcoming gesture, as he moved towards Ty.

Ty snapped out of his stupor and started moving past the Faeries towards Kit, the two of them now closing the distance to meet halfway, before finally collapsing against each other.

Kit encircled Ty with both his arms and his wings, providing him with two walls of protection. “I’ve got you, Ty. I’ve got you,” Kit murmured, under the warm cover of feathers. Pushing on his legs, he shot upwards and they both flew towards and through the glass ceiling, which shattered as if made of thin ice, before soaring into the New York night sky.

****

Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia @clarys-heosphoros

#tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #cassandraclare #kitty tda #kit herondale #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #the wicked powers

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julemmaes · 5 years ago

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My saviour

“I’m the kid who never pays attention in class and you’re the one who always gives me the answer when the teacher calls on me” AU

A Matthew Fairchild and Lucie Herondale Modern Day School AU

Okay this is the very first time I write something like this, but I really enjoyed writing it, so if you’d like to read more (because for some insane reasons you liked my writing) let me know and feel free to send me a ship and a prompt. It could be anything from shadowhunters to acotar to tog.

If you find any mistakes in the language PLEASE LET ME KNOW, because as you can say from my bio, English is not my first language and I’d really appreciate constructive criticism.

That’s all, now go enjoy Matthew being a dork:)

Word count: 2,994

“Mr Fairchild? Perhaps you would like to be escorted to Miss Fray’s classroom? Perhaps you would draw in a more comfortable position.”

Matthew’s head snapped at the name of his favorite art teacher. He sat up straight, realizing that the gaze of twenty boys was fixed on him. He smiled at the teacher, putting the pencil on the desk and shrugging, “No Miss Wrayburn. I was listening, I am so interested in your lectures that sometimes I get lost in historical stories and I like to illustrate them.” He ended with a sly smile, resting his chin on his hands. Miss Wrayburn, noted for her severity as a history teacher, smiled in return, placing her book on the chair and crossing her arms on the chest.

“So if I asked you what happened between June 19th and 20th, 1944 in the Pacific you would be able to answer me?” She asked her and smiled at him with the same sarcasm. Matthew began to sweat: he had already brought home two very bad grades that week, if he brought a third one, his mother Charlotte would surely have sent him to a private school, and it would have been a suicide. Think Math, think. 1944, World War II, Japan, Roosevelt. His thoughts were interrupted by the small voice of the girl beside him, “The Battle of the Philippine Sea”, whispered with one hand in front of her mouth to avoid being seen by the teacher. Matthew stilled on the chair, before coughing and repeating what his classmate had just suggested. Wrayburn seemed surprised and tilting her head asked him one more question, but he had completely lost the thread.

The girl who sat next to him was beautiful. A stunning beauty. The locks of dark brown hair fell on her shoulders like waves and surrounded her delicate white face. The eyes of a pale blue were moving frantically, looking first at him and then at the blackboard, where the teacher was writing three important events of the war between the USA and Japan. He collected himself, looking again at the girl, before the teacher called him one more time, asking him to put into chronological order the battles she just wrote down. He answered quietly with the help of the girl and when Wrayburn considered it sufficient enough not to put a bad grade, going back to explain to the class, Matthew could finally bask in the beauty sitting next to him.

Her writing was so delicate and at the same time… ferocious. Yes, he was going to describe it as ferocious, as if writing were something that she did very often and gladly. Plus, she seemed to be writing down everything the teacher said, without missing a single thing. He wanted to introduce himself, but he didn’t know how to do it without disturbing her. Because she looked like the kind of student who would bite your head off if she lost the theacher’s train of thoughts.

He looked around again for the answer, as if looking at the door or at thewindow, the idea would appear in front of him. And that’s exaclty what happened.

He took a blank piece of paper and started scribbling something. The design took shape and a golden retriver appeared (which tremendously reminded Matthew of Mr Oscar Wilde, his dog) with a blonde hair like his and a sparkling green leash. Satisfied with his work he made a small cartoon over the dog that said “Pleased to meet you, I’m Matthew, but you can call me Math. Thanks for the rescue, could you help me with one last question I absolutely need to know the answer to cause my school career could be at risk if I don’t?”

He moved slightly away from the desk to see the final result and nodded smugly, bent the paper in two, before sliding it slowly towards the girl’s desk. As expected, she did not pay him much attention before the ringing of the bell and even after, as she collected all her things and put them quickly in the bag, she didn’t notice the drawing, putting it together with the rest of her notes. Matthew was about to walk to her and ask her what her name was in person, but as soon as he got up, he found himself in front of Thomas Lightwood, his lifelong best friend and the kindest person he knew. He passed him without ceremony to see if the girl was always in the class, but by now the only ones left were the two of them and the students of the next class were already entering and sitting at the desks.

He snorted taking his stuff and starting to walk next to Tom, headed to the science lab. An nudge from his friend made him turn his head in his direction, eyebrow raised as a question.

“Don’t make that face, you haven’t lost her. She’s with us in science. Has been for years actually.” he said putting his arm around him. Thomas was almost twenty centimeters taller than him, he was close to two meters, and he was huge. Last summer, he had put on more muscle mass than he liked to admit, and it had gotten even bigger.

“I wasn’t thinking I lost her, I just wanted to know her name. She saved my ass earlier, I could always buy her a coffee, you know, to thank her.” He reached his locker, trying to end the conversation, but Thomas didn’t feel the same way, “Sure, and Kit doesn’t blow up his house at least three times a week”; he giggled at his own joke before bringing a hand to scratch his neck. “Although, I have to be honest, I’d like to see you on a date with Jesse Blackthorn’s girlfriend.”

Matthew snorted posing the never-used book of history, and taking the unharmed one of science. Obviously she had a boyfriend. And of course it had to be Jesse fucking Blackthorn. Turning to Tom with a whipped dog face, he asked him if he was joking.

“Oh no, not at all. They’ve been together for a while, but like, just two years, and the fact that you don’t know they’re together is worrying. The whole school knows this.” he answered him as soon as they arrived at Thomas' locker, where the same ritual was repeated for the billionth time.

“I have to remind you that I don’t really give a shit about the people who are in this building or do I have to connect the dots for you?” Math asked leaning against the wall again. He was dead tired and they were only at the second hour. Thinking he was gonna stay in that place till four o'clock got his stomach twisted.

Thomas laughed and the conversation ended there. They saw Christopher outside the chemistry labs, tinkering with giant tomes and test tubes, while Mr Fairchild, Matthew’s father, tried to help him as much as he could without dropping anything. They didn’t have the time to get close enough that from inside the classroom someone was shouting and they both rushed to rescue anyone who had made two wrong substances react.

Tom and Math entered the biology classroom, taking place in the second-to-last row. A few minutes later the girl of history class entered. She sat down at the desk behind Matthew’s, who was about to turn around when the teacher came in, blocking his every initiative. The lesson began immediately and the boy could hear her pen running fast on the paper. He took out the necessary to draw and got lost in his world again and again and again. Until Tom hit him on the arm and he turned to his friend, asking what the hell he wanted.

“What the hell do I want? Well, Mr Fairchild, if you answer this question correctly, I might consider not failing you at my subject.” He couldn’t believe it. Not again. Matthew turned slowly to the teacher, reducing his lips to a thin line, waiting for the question that would end his life.

“If the function of ribosomes is selectively blocked in a cell, what do you immediately stop, Mr Fairchild?” Professor fade asked severely. He was ready to say that no one in that cabbage class would know the answer, but the voice of his guardian angel was as clear as light behind his back, “The translation.”

“The translation, professor.”

“Translation of what, Matthew?”

“Of RNA,”; she told him, once more.

“Of RNA, sir.” he nodded, seemed convinced of what he was saying, and sighed with relief when the lesson resumed undisturbed. He turned slightly, smiling at the girl from above his shoulder. She was staring at him and in her left hand, reaching out to him, she was holding a folded piece of paper. He took it without the teacher noticing and opened it discreetly. In the corner of his eye he saw Thomas trying to spy on what was written on the paper.

When he saw it was his drawing, his chest swelled. Next to her dog there now was a little blue bird, with her wings folded on her hips, so she looked angry. It wasn’t as pretty as his dog, and it looked like it had been drawn in a hurry, but it was very cute, and above it the inscription “What, do I have to save you again?” was clear in her perfect handwriting.

He had to refrain from laughing, because the drawing was most likely done right after the history lesson, so this would be the third time that Matthew needed to be saved.

He started drawing again, this time making a kitten trying to catch the bird from below, with the phrase “Don’t worry, this is quite simple. What’s your name?” He could have easily asked Thomas and he would have answered him in less than a second. When he put his arm back and felt that the paper was being taken from his hand, he smiled, beginning to mind his own business once again. Only when the bell announcing the end of classes rang did he realize that the only color he had used during that time was blue.

“My name is Lucie, Lucie Herondale. But you can call me Luce.” He saw a thin, pale hand appear in his field of vision, and he almost jumped out of the chair. He raised his head and shook her hand. He smiled in the only way he knew, with his dazzling charm, and when he spoke, the voice came out like a shrill sound, “I am-” he coughed several times, while Lucie giggled and there, behind her, was Thomas, eyes wide open, holding a hand to his mouth to avoid bursting into laughter, “You’re Matthew, yeah, I already know.” she smiled at him.

“Yeah, yeah. The dog. It’s mine. I thought it’d be cute and wanted to thank you for all these rescues. My mother would kill me if she found out that I didn’t study anything and I-” he was interrupted by the voice of someone who had just appeared on the classroom door. A boy as tall as him, with black hair and the eyes of a spooky, pungent green, was extending his hand toward her, while with the other one he was balancing himself on the door, “Lulu let’s go, Jamie and Grace are waiting for us in front of your locker.” He looked away from her to Matthew and vice versa a couple of times before smiling shily at the two boys.

Lucie turned to Jesse Blackthorn and with a movement of her head made him understand that she would be there in a minute.

“Of course, there’s no problem. I’d rather help people than see them fail.” she said turning to Math again, “See you in class, I guess.” She smiled at him one last time and, putting her hands in her pockets, went out, following her boyfriend into the crowded hallway.

Matthew remained with his waving hand raised in the air until Thomas' laugh awoke him from his trance. He looked at his friend, pushed him sideways to pass him, and unceremoniously he told him to fuck off.

“C’mon Math. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. Humiliating. I can laugh sometimes, right?”

“Why? With me you don’t laugh enough?” Christopher asked by appearing at Thomas' side out of nowhere.

“Jesus Kit, where did you come from?” said Thomas bringing a hand to his chest.

“From the chemistry lab, of course. By the way, Math,” he said addressing the blond one, “your father wanted to know if you’d eat at home tonight and I told him we were going out. Cause we do go, right? It is Friday and tomorrow mom and dad won’t be here, so I can go back anytime I want tonight.” Thomas was already nodding, starting to think in his little head the worst ways to risk their lives. Matthew was trying so hard not to think about Lucie Herondale, and that kept him from not being able to do so.

What an idiot he was. And that sound? Where did that voice come from? He was sure she was telling her perfect boyfriend right now how this dumb classmate who didn’t know shit had trouble controlling his fucking vocal cords.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours?” Anna Lightwood. Thomas' cousin and Christopher’s sister, but also Matthew’s faithful friend, was dressed exactly like him that day, which made her pout, “Classy. But I have to say that they look better on me.” she smiled widely, taking him and Kit arm in arm, and heading for the next lesson.

Luckily, Matthew thought, we all have art together. That was his hour of leisure, even though he normally did nothing different, but at least he would get compliments from Miss Fray, or how he called her, Clary. He had met his art teacher outside the school, in fact it was he who had told her that their old teacher would retire and that there was a vacant chair. They had become close friends during a painting course and when he met her at school he had felt nothing but immense happiness.

“Our Matthew impressed some cute girl today.” said Thomas in the tone of someone who’s been around. Anna suddenly stopped in the hallway, staring at him with gaping mouth.

“And let’s hear, who would be the lucky one?” she asked, again walking. Christopher seemed interested, too, but not as much as his sister, who looked like a child on Christmas morning.

“Nobody.” answered Matthew at the same time as Thomas said, “Lucie Herondale.”

“Are you kidding? But you know he’s with Blackthorn, right?” She asked him in astonishment, as she glared him, as if he were the only fool in the world who did not know which couples were in this stupid school.

“Yes I know, and I didn’t impress, we just talked because she saved my ass a couple of times.”

They continued to speak even after entering the art lab and even during the lesson. Matthew was surprised when he noticed that the teacher pretended not to listen when she passed by them, but that she tended her ear to eavesdrop better.

The next lesson would be that of literature, without any of his friends, and thinking of having to spend a whole hour without Tom or Kit made him feel sick, but maybe today he could do it. A rest hour after all the comments and jokes Thomas made would have done him good.

He sat at the usual place and with a pleasant surprise noticed that on the other side of the class was Lucie. She was chatting with a redheaded girl who had little dark skin. Matthew remembered she was one of the newcomers and that she had a particular name, Carla… Carlotta perhaps. Consuela.

He began to stare at his hands with a thoughtful glare.

How was it possible that in all those years he had never noticed her? How was it possible that they had so many classes in common that they never spoke? He looked up once more to look at her and noticed that she had moved into the desk next to his and her friend sat right in front of her. He greeted them both with a broad smile.

“Hey Math, this is Cordelia. She’s from Paris. Cordelia, this is Matthew.” He smiled at him and Matthew’s world was once again a little happier.

“I’m actually from London, but I’ve been living in Paris for the last five years.” Cordelia explained before paying attention to Miss Loss, who had just entered. A strange fellow, Catarina Loss.

She had the skin of a cadaveric white, and the hair was of a sky blue so bright that sometimes Matthew would get lost staring at them by how much it was intense.

He heard a comment from Lucie about his memory-loss episodes and laughed silently, starting to scribble on the desk.

Twenty minutes passed before the obvious happened, “Fairchild, who wrote Songs of Innocence and Experience?” They can’t be serious, Matthew looked briefly in Lucie’s direction and she giggled before miming with her lips Wlliam Blake. Matthew almost laughed when he began to speak, but after that the teacher immediately left him alone. Cordelia also seemed amused, because she looked at him from above her shoulder smiling and returning to the reading shortly after.

He stared at Lucie, and thought that if anyone saw him they would think he was a pervert, because she turned to him, probably due to the intensity with which he was looking at her, and smiled at him.

Perhaps, to surprise her, he would start studying, so the responsibility would not fall on her alone, but in that moment, Matthew thought, it was enough to have his saviour by his side and everything would be fine.

Please leave a comment, even if you didn't like it, cause it would mean the world to me

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booksneedcaffeinetoo · 5 years ago

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Book Review: House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas

House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J. Maas

This review is going to be LITTERED with SPOILERS because idk how to talk about this book without giving away the whole plot.

Consider yourself officially warned.

I’m still debating on my rating, but for now here is my review. Fair warning: it is rant-y and ramble-y and hasn't been edited yet. I'll clean it up when I come back for a rating.

As always, content warnings are listed at the bottom!

Overall Positives:

• SJM has actually included a few gay characters….now they are all very minor side characters (Isiah, Fury, Juniper, and Declan) who are only present for maybe 3% total of the novel, but at least they exist??? So she gets points for actually having gay characters who aren’t killed off. You can say that she’s making an effort.

• The banter between Bryce and Hunt was pretty funny

• That scene with the knock-off My Little Pony dolls was funny

• I think there might've been a reference in the book to First Aid Kit (the sister folk duo) and it made my heart squeal because I love that band SO MUCH!

• Bryce actually has a great relationship with her mom and her stepfather! And they are both alive! And stay alive! I’m actually struggling to recall a book I’ve read where the main character in the book has a). both parents alive and b). a great relationship with them both. So that was really refreshing!

• Hunt in a sunball cap.

• Bryce and Hunt taking photos together. Way too adorable.

• Ride or die friendship. I love books that emphasize the importance of friendship.

• That LIGHT IT UP DANIKA LIGHT IT UP LIGHT IT UP scene....like i felt that...her happiness. so sweet. i teared up at that scene ngl....

• Pretty good depiction of grief. How even after years the pain of losing your friend doesn’t go away. How some people cut themselves off to cope and others don’t. How some take out their anger on the closest target. How some people remember the dead one’s birthday and other don’t. etc. etc.

• It really was a slow burn because they like didn’t even kiss until 75% into the 3,000 page book.

• Rhun is my favorite character in this book. He’s a goth softie king. I also loved the Demon Cat. And Fury. And Declan. And Flynn. And Isaiah. And Hunt. And Lele. And the dog. And Jesiba. And Randall. And….well….that’s about it….

• I have recently been getting more and more into Urban Fantasy so I am excited and glad that this book is UF. I also like how it takes place in a different world with a different history (although for some reason I went into this book under the impression it takes place in New Orleans…)

Overall Negatives:

• If I ever have to see the word “alphahole” again it will still be too soon. I get that she was going for meta and trying to poke fun at how the trope in so many UF books includes an alphamale love interest….but it just doesn’t really work because none of the guys she was calling an alphahole was actually acting like one??? Okay so this is kind of ramble-y but whatever. When I think of an alphamale love interest acting like a…*shudders*…. alphahole I think of the stereotypical shifter romance/erotica novel where the guy likes wants to punch any guy who stands too close or talks to his mate. I think of him making outrageous claims, always posting a guard, never letting her leave the house, etc. all without any cause. Having a literal demon serial killer who (at this point in the book) you believe RIPPED APART AN ENTIRE PACK OF WEREWOLVES and is killing everyone who is close to working on the same case as you and you are a half-fae who NEVER carries a weapon with you, doesn’t have magic, and no one beside your mom, stepdad, and dead bestie know that you can turn into a flashlight at will…..yeah it makes sense that the people who care about you would like you to have a guard. But that’s not “alphahole” behavior. Nor is when you’re starving yourself from guilt him being concerned and wanting you to eat, or wanting you to try to take care of yourself….that’s not “alphahole” behavior, it’s being a good friend/sibling. If someone wanted a guard on her PRIOR to her investigating the murder than yeah….that would be “alphahole” 100%. But that’s not what happened…one of the highlights of the book was Hunt calling out Bryce by telling her that she is actually the “alphahole” here.

• Fucking sunball = baseball. WHYYYYYY I thought it was soccer for so long until Hunt tossed on a “sunball cap”

• I thought that Violet Hall from Pucked was the most infuriating main character I have read in a long time until I met Bryce fucking Quinnland. It is a pet peeve of mine when a character acts like someone (usually lazy or a partier) and then gets pissed because people think they are how they act??? Like, if you act like an asshole then don’t be shocked if people think you are an asshole. Also she was someone who was terribly selfish and stupidly reckless for no reason for 99% of the book. Yeah she’s ride or die for her friends which is supposed to be her best quality but she is just terribly rude to so many people. Like take Lele for example. Bryce treated her horribly until Hunt was sold again, then was friends with Lele for like a week which someone equated to Lele being willing to die for her???

• Part two of that bullet above^: Why was everyone willing to die for Bryce? Maybe I hate Bryce because she reminds me too much of Jane Salone from The Bold Type with her ‘I’m always right’ attitude. But yeah, everyone is willing to die for her. I don’t get why though. Also everyone wants to fuck her. She can’t walk down the street without like five dudes wanting to fuck her. It was so annoying. Also how the hell has she not died by age 25!?!? There is a different between being bitchy with your algebra teacher versus being bitchy with some guy who could smite you before you blink. And all of them are like ‘oooh she’s not afraid of me like everyone else how charming’ and I’m just like NO. That’s like if I intentionally pissed off some mafia dom and instead of making an example out of me for dissing him in front of his mafia bros, he’s like ‘oooh you’re sassy wanna fuck?’ MAKES NO SENSE!!!

•Part three of the above^: okay before someone comes at me and says ‘well would you be saying the same things if she was a guy doing an acting this way’ well probably. I love the KATE DANIELS (Magic Bites) series. And Kate is a no-nonsense, can come across rude, and gives zero fucks what anyone else thinks about her. Kind of like Bryce, but less bitchy and has the power and skills to back up her recklessness. (No one around Bryce learns of her secret lightbright gift or of her sharpshooting skills until the very end so I am maintaining my ‘she’s reckless’ viewpoint based on everyone around her not knowing of her abilities when she does all of this dumbshit). Kate also is a fucking martyr who runs towards danger even when the odds are against her. Just like Bryce. But I love Kate and hate Bryce. So…yeah I think it was just a Bryce issue. It took until about 41% with the whole phone-Sandriel thing for me to stop finding her insufferable….but I still never really liked her after that...I could stand her for the occasional paragraph or two

• Speaking of martyrs…why is everyone one in this book!?!? NOT EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE A MARTYR!!!

• Another reason I hate Bryce (yes I’m back on that Bryce shit) is because after Hunt broke her heart he immediate thought upon learning who he was going to be sold (back to his old owner who is a sadistic fuck) her thought was good, he deserves it and all he did was break her heart and not want to be a slave anymore and kept something he knew would destroy you (which yeah, keeping that secret furthered his cause but still…) and I just????? Have???? No words???? Like girl you have a RIGHT to be PISSED but jfc that doesn’t equate to TORTURE.

• Ugh and then her whole ‘take me instead’ bullshit was so reminiscent of that Jules and Emma whipping scene from Lady Midnight I almost gagged for the level of cheese and martyr-syndrome

• Why is everyone described as “brown,” “golden brown,” or “tan”?! It’s like SJM is trying to not make everyone white but doesn’t want to fully commit…

• And was anyone uncomfortable/cringed at the ‘white angel wings are supreme to any wings with color’ bit....

• I hate books where the werewolves can talk outloud in human form. I cringed.

• Why was the calling people by their last name thing not consistent? I’ve read books before where characters flip between using another character’s first and last name, but there is context behind why they choose one or the other: the professional setting, if the person is happy or upset, who is being addressed, etc. But you’ll get Hunt calling Bryce “Bryce” and “Quinnland” within a sentence of each other? And literally every character did stuff like this. It was weird and not consistent at all.

Negatives About the Plot:

• This book really felt like three books in one: Part One (first 12ish%) being the day leading up to the Pack of Devil’s murder. And I do mean like every boring thing that happened. Part Two (the next 66ish%) being the murder investigation. Part Three (the last 22ish%) being where all the action occurred. The book felt like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. The summary promised a murder investigation so I was expecting it to be a KATE DANIELS-esque plot. But nothing of true importance really occurred during that investigation. We got some cool flashbacks with Danika, and some sweet moments between Hunt and Bryce…but that’s it. SJM isn’t Brandon with a Stormlight Archives (The Way of Kings) complicated interwoven plot. I think the book as whole would have been better if it was about 300 pages shorter.

• Nothing in the plot of true importance happened until the last 100 pages or so.

• I mean we literally got every single thing that happened during every single day of their investigation…it was….too much detail.

• When I got to 80% like every other chapter felt like the book should end. It could’ve ended on a cliffhanger. Like right after Hunt was found on that boat. But nope….

• Figures. SJM can’t have a main couple unless they both are super special. Did anyone else feel like she just recycled parts of ACOMAF in this book? Hunt: has wings and super special powers. Bryce: absorbs some super-fae juiced up power from a cauldron—er….I mean arch—to get extra powers and become the most super cool and super special fae in all existence because god forbid we have a heroine who isn’t the most physically powerful person ever. I mean, to hell with mental strength. Must be physically magically powerful or you’re no good!

• The only plot points that surprised me were the hunt being at the drug bust (because we got nothing from his povs that he was remotely interested in going back down that revolution road especially after his whole meeting with Briggs…still iffy with this one, because his thoughts in that cell sound like he actually was on board with it until he called it off because the drug is too dangerous but his call to the viper queen said she owed him a favor so…..) and Micah’s weird horn hard-on. Literally nothing else surprised me...

• I really though Reid would play a bigger role considering Bryce used to date him and is fam is responsible for that drug....but nope. The dude is like never even mentioned.

• Ugh...that villain speech. Maybe I'm just like...what's the point? Why not just zap the bitch why do you need to tell her your life story!?!?!

• Also let's be real, Danika's password never would have been allowed to be that simple nor remain unchanged for 2 years. But whatever.

• It’s also pretty cringe that Bryce freed Lele just for her to die…………..

• Why is Jesiba’s shop impenetrable (the building and cameras) until it’s convenient for it not to be…I mean it sounded like nothing could break into her building or the cameras but then… Micah just easily waltzed in there and Declan easily hacked into the security cameras….makes no sense but okayyyyyyy…..

• ....or about how the dog can teleport and undo locks until once again it's convenient for him not to be able to so she can dramatically save the day (look I also have issues with her valuing her pet's life over Lele's in that scene...also isn't the dog supposed to be like terrifying, it could've fought while her and Lele got out. not really sure how the water which delayed him like two seconds helped more than her dog would've....look, i love pets and i don't want him to die but i don't want Lele to die either!)

• Bryce and Hunt literally never have a talk about everything???? Like I get the world almost ended but neither of them had a thought like I know we need to talk about everything that happened on the boat. About if his love for Shahar trumps his love for me. But that can wait… Because those were all fears she had before but now vanished???? I get not wanted to have verbal talk but a thought from Bryce would’ve been nice.

• How can you run, carry a sword, and shoot a gun all at the same time? Still trying to figure out the logistics of that all....

• Why is SJM's adult book the least smutty thing she has written so far!?!?!?!?

• The love saves everyone and everything line is so fucking cheesy I can’t.

My Overall Feelings:

• The book couldn’t choose a plot. Did it want to be a crime book? Did it want to be ACOMAF? Who the fuck knows.

• This would have worked better as a TV series than a book. Especially that scene where Bryce is trying to save the city and everyone is just watching it happen on the jumbo screen at the summit. In book form it was just….weird….and felt disruptive...and someone could've started flying to help out. Plus I like watching shows with characters like Bryce but hate reading books with characters like her if that makes sense...

• Also if the summit is just between the leaders of CC then why did Sadriel have to be there? Why does it happen only every 10 years? Why does it have to take place outside of the city if no other leaders from other places are present?

• Why don’t we get a map of all of the other countries that were mentioned?

• This book was wayyyyyy too long. It would have been much better if it was reduced to 500ish pages instead.

• Also the character’s flip-flopped with their character development way too much. It wasn’t consistent.

• This is definitely one of the better SJM book’s I’ve read, but it won’t be one that I’ll reread. It is too long with too many boring bits in the middle.

• But hey! If you love SJM then you’ll probably love this book…

Content Warnings and Trigger Warnings: restricted eating, self-harm, drug use, alcohol consumption, implied rape, mentions of abusive relationships, suicidal thoughts, depression, emesis, slavery, terrorist attacks, grief, gun violence, death, murder, violence, torture

View all my reviews

#this review is so long it ran out of space on goodreads lol #book review #house of blood and earth spoilers #crescent city spoilers #crescent city #house of blood and earth #booksneedcaffeinetooblog

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dramaticveron · 5 years ago

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Chapter 7 ~ The One The Devil Sent

Night soon came and I listened at the door for the hallway to clear for a while. Hopefully the ballerinas were asleep by now. I grabbed an lantern and slipped out the door, quietly shutting it behind me. I looked up the hall where it connects to the rest of the opera house. Nothing except the sounds of creaks of the building. I looked to the end of the hall, where there was the wall which god I hoped was a trapdoor.

I stalked down the hall, lantern beside me, unlit, as I looked up at the tiny hole. I inched my finger in, and tried to see if it would open. No. But I did feel a tiny hole. Guess who might have something to fit in said tiny hole.

Got to love Victorian use of hair pins. I slipped one out of my hair and inched it inside the hole and heard a click, and I pressed against the door. It started to open as I slipped inside, taking out my pin. A few steps in and a noise alerted me to my behind. The door was closed, and it didn't look like it would open again. Fuck. I would have to find another way out. I looked forward and started to walk again, lighting the lantern as I moved forward. I looked around, the smell of sewage and decay hitting my noise. "God that smell...." I mumbled, trekking on and covering my nose.

A cracking noise hit my ears as I paused, looking around, before looking up and jumping forward, landing on my hands and knees, the lantern broken now as I looked behind me. A solid wall had fell, and was mere centimeters away from where I was just moments ago.

"I'm going to fucking die in here." How could I forget of all the traps, the traps the Phantom was known for putting in his catacombs. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! I stood up, not bothering with the lantern. The glass was shattered and I was now in the complete dark. Hey maybe the story would fix itself if I died at least.

Yeah that is kinda morbid. I sighed as I leaned against a wall, feeling my way around. Within 30 minutes, I finally found light, after of course getting injured and finding myself escaping death a few times. Not like I could go backwards so I kept going forward. Let's go over injury count: bleeding knees, bruises everywhere, a bump or two on my head, and a cut on my shoulder. Let just say I may need to see a doctor and say I fought off a bear or two.

I went towards the light, finding myself looking at the lake and looking in the distance. Candles. Please tell me this is it.

Right as I said that, sloppy organ music hit my ears. It was horrible, unlike what you expect from a man who life was either composing or killing people for somebody he is obsessed with.

I looked at the water and slowly stepped in, finding it very shallow and pushing myself forward towards the main area, seeing the area I knew from my 'kidnapping'. I soon climbed up to the mainland as the organ music stopped.

ERIK'S POV

The slosh of water caught my attention as I stood up, my fingers leaving the organ. It was doing nothing but breaking me. Since the previous night, my head had been focused on Victoire, even if I was supposed to be focused on My Christine.

I whipped around and allowed my voice to boom out, turning to see who dared entered my lair. "Who goes there?" I saw who it was and blinked a bit.

"It is just me." I made eye contact with Victoire, who looked beaten and bruised. Blood soaked her shoulder. Suddenly, worry built up in me. Wait why.

"How dare you tread on my domain. Do you wish to die, ballet rat?" I hissed, glaring start her.

"I have a deal for you." She said, taking a few steps before sitting down at a sofa facing another sofa.

A deal...? Now I was truly curious why Victoire was here. I slowly made my way down to to the water level.

"I will help you get Christine to fall in love with you, and not with the Angel of Music she believes you are." She looked to me so boldly.

VICTOIRE'S POV

Yeah my body was burning. Fuck. Hate this. I hate pain. But I had to stay strong in this moment. "I will help you get Christine to fall in love with you, and not with the Angel of Music she believes you are." I looked to him, shoving away all of my pain in my body, my eyes seeking his dark eye and the light one behind his mask.

Raoul liked the old Christine, but Christine liked the angel. Perhaps if she saw him, she might get this story back on track a bit. Honestly, I was just winging it at this point.

"Say I do agree to the deal, what do you want in return." He hissed a bit, before stepping away, going to a shelf and looking for something.

"I will let you decide what to give me in return." I simply said, really not expecting to get this far.

"Let me teach you to sing, Miss Bournival." Ok wait what.

"Teach me....to sing Monsieur?" I asked, questioning a bit, even if i clearly heard what he said.

"You have raw talent. It simply needs to be trained. If you help me get my Christine, then I will be your vocal tutor." He came over to me and forced me to sit down on a nearby sofa as he grabbed some thread from a medical kit and a needle.

This was a good deal.

Time with the phantom while I fix the story. "Deal."

#poto #phantom #phantom of the opera #andrew lloyd webber #christine daae #raoul de chagny #original character #madame giry #meg giry #erik destler #erik

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tinglecannon · 6 years ago

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Sproutlings

Day 6 of @huwumi-week-2018 prompt: Growth/Bloom. Have some huwumi kids! Also on Ao3 with better explanations on the kids. Part 1.

---

Married life was easy to adjust to. Becoming parents was a little more challenging, however the reward was well worth it.

There's a loud crash from the baby's bedroom, and Fuyumi can practically see the way Hawks’ wings would jolt seeing the crash in real time.

“What was that?" She shouts from the living room as she folds laundry in front of the TV.

“Nothing!" Hawks yells back.

Fuyumi isn't convinced in the slightest, but considers letting it slide until another bang comes from down the hall. She sighs deeply, placing the towel she started folding aside and rising to her feet.

When she approaches the door she can see her husband with his brow furrowed as he attempts to change Asuka's diaper. Flurries of crimson feathers collect the pieces of the now broken lightbulb from the lamp while individual ones dance over the baby's head to distract her as he works. Their son, Hiroaki, is holding the trash can for feathers to drop pieces they pick up into it.

“Hi, mommy." Hiroaki greets. He looks up at her with his goldish brown eyes and smiles. His white hair is still damp from his bath and his pajamas are a touch too big, allowing space for him to grow into.

Fuyumi walks over and kneels in front of him. “Hi, sweetie. What happened?"

“Nothing!" Hawks whips his head over towards them, but turns back instantly when Asuka lets out a loud whine. “Oh no, angel, daddy's here, see?" He softly coos at her until she gurgles a laugh.

Hiroaki points at the where the lamp used to be, giving Fuyumi a pretty good idea of how it got knocked over. “Was she trying to fly again?"

Hawks sheepishly chuckles and nods, continuing to coo at Asuka.

He warned her when they found out the baby would have wings that she might accidentally break things a lot; it was an issue he had growing up and it caused him a lot of hardship as a child. Personally, Fuyumi can't fathom getting mad at her darling little girl for it (or having gotten mad at a baby Hawks either), she's only an infant, naturally her quirk control isn't going to be great.

It seems Asuka's wings are different from Hawks’ where the feathers can't willing be removed and replaced, though it's too early to really tell. Her small, pale red wings flutter happily when Hawks holds her up and snuggles his face against hers, resulting in a stream of loud giggles.

Fuyumi really can't understand how anyone could be angry; her two birds are absolutely adorable.

A small fleck of red catches her eye. “Oh, Tsubasa!" She reaches over and touches his wrist. "You're bleeding!"

“Hm? Oh, that's not anything to worry over.” He spares the cut a fleeting glance before turning back to Asuka.

“We should still bandage it.” Fuyumi frowns. She tugs his hand towards her so he moves to gently cradle Asuka in his other arm, still not paying the cut any attention.

She's about to head to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, when Hiroaki walks over and gently wraps his small hand around his father's wrist. “Let me help, daddy."

Small crackles of ice and frost emit from his palm, chilling Hawks’ skin enough he shivers and goosebumps prickle on his arm. Hiroaki releases his grip and the frost fades away almost instantly.

As does the small cut.

Hawks and Fuyumi gawk at his hand, then each other, then at their son. “How---"

“I got a bump a couple days ago so I iced it better!” Hiroaki smiles wide.

"You..." Fuyumi's eyes dart back and forth from her husband's disappeared wound to Hiroaki. “You have an ice quirk? Your quirk has manifested?”

"It's not just ice, it has healing effects...” Hawks whispers in awe. “That’s amazing, Aki!"

Hawks excitedly asks their son for more details on when it first happened, and their son shyly retells the event. Meanwhile, Fuyumi is still examining her husband's wrist lost in thought.

“Honey..." She murmurs. Hawks looks at her and cocks his head. “Our family is incredible."

Hawks chuckles under his breath, and gently drags his hand out of her grasp to caress her cheek. “Yeah, we really are...”

His face morphs from a fond smile to an amused smirk. "Hey, wanna start a Pro Hero family group?”

#huwumiweek2018 #huwumiweek #huwumi #hawks x fuyumi #bnha hawks #todoroki fuyumi #original child character #fanfic #my writing #tinglecannon #day 6: growth/bloom

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freyayuki · 2 years ago

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Final Fantasy Record Keeper Realm and Elemental Relic Draw Banners Part 3

Every 15 days that players log on to the Final Fantasy Record Keeper (FFRK) mobile game, they get 1 Realm/Elemental x 11 ticket.

These tickets can be used on Realm and Elemental banners for a 10 +1 pull that guarantees at least 1 relic that’s of 5-star or higher rarity. These tickets can also be obtained as special rewards from campaigns and limited events and the like.

Earth Elemental Lucky Relic Draw Banner

Recently, I’ve been throwing the Realm/Elemental x11 tickets that I’ve been getting at the Earth Elemental banner since my earth tech is lacking and I can’t even build a full physical or full magical earth team.

Most of my tickets gave me nothing but trash so I didn’t even bother taking screenshots.

I remember one ticket giving me a single disco orb which turned out to be nothing more than a dupe of the Emperor’s (from Final Fantasy II) Ultra Soul Break (USB).

Really freaking frustrating to get such a lousy draw. I don’t even have anything else for the Emperor so even if this had been new, this wouldn’t have made him usable.

One ticket didn’t turn out to be so bad though. This one also gave me 1 disco orb but at least I got something new.

Not just that, this one also gave me an Awakened Arcane Soul Break (AASB). Got Rain’s (from Final Fantasy Brave Exvius) AASB, Lava Floor.

This is my first relic for Rain but at least it’s an AASB. Here’s to hoping that I can get his Sync and other relics in future draws.

Rain dabbles in 2 elements - earth and fire. From the looks of things, he’s a DPS with a bit of support since he can help imperil. If I manage to snag the rest of his kit, I can see him making it into my earth team.

I don’t see him making it into my fire team though since I already have lots of relics for Vincent Valentine (from Final Fantasy VII and Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII).

Vincent can imperil fire too. He’s my secondary physical fire DPS. Of course, my primary DPS is Genesis Rhapsodos from Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII.

That’s because Genesis is currently my absolute, most fave Final Fantasy char. He’s the reason why I’m playing Final Fantasy Record Keeper.

Much later, another ticket actually gave me 3 new items. Not only that, Dr. Mog actually showed up and turned 2 disco orbs into 7-star relics.

Hell, yes! It was really nice to see that. Only got to take a screenshot of the last relic though.

But, well, as it turned out, that last item was the most important and most relevant anyway. The other 2 were, unfortunately, trash.

Nevertheless, although it turned out like that, I’m still pretty pleased with this draw. After all, it could have been much worse than this. Could have ended up with yet another dupe. At least this pull gave me new items.

One of the 7-stars, the “useless” one, was Rinoa Heartilly’s (from Final Fantasy VIII) Limit Break Overstrike (LBO) or Limit Break Over Flow (LBOF), Angel Wing Permafrost. It deals magical ice and earth damage.

This wouldn’t be so bad (have Genesis’s LBO and it’s a great addition to the rest of his kit. This can only be used once though and it doesn’t provide buffs or anything else other than damage so you do need other tech for the char in question) if I had more tech for Rinoa.

But, IIRC, the only things I have for her are one of her Ultra Soul Breaks and her ice Chain Soul Break (CSB).

The other item I got was nothing more than a 5-star Burst Soul Break (BSB) so didn’t even bother taking note of who it belonged to. There’s no point in bringing someone without at least 1, preferably 2, BDL relics to a difficult boss fight.

Anyway, as for the other 7-star that I got - this was Gaia Whip (IV), a whip-type relic which contains Rydia’s (from Final Fantasy IV) Synchro Arcane Soul Break (SASB), Eidolon Zantetsuken. Hell, yes! Super special awesome!

Here’s to hoping I can get her AASB sooner or later because, yeah, unfortunately, this is my only relic for Rydia.

No, wait, I think I also have one of her Glints. Still need at least one of her Awakenings though.

Still, it was great to obtain this Sync. Rydia’s now part of my magical earth team although I still need more earth relics.

Much, much later, tossed yet another ticket I’d been able to obtain on the Earth Elemental banner. Two disco orbs showed up. Dr. Mog didn’t make an appearance but this still turned out to be a pretty good pull anyway. Well, sort of.

Acquired 2 AASBs - Galuf Halm Baldesion’s (from Final Fantasy V) and Onion Knight’s (from Final Fantasy III).

Onion Knight’s is physical but it doesn’t give en-earth which doesn’t make it all that good for my physical earth team. Have like 2 of his USBs but unless I luck into more BDL relics for him, I don’t see myself using him.

Galuf’s AASB has en-earth. This is my first BDL relic for him but I still see him as being part of my physical earth team, especially if I manage to acquire more stuff for him.

The only issue is that this thing shows up on the upcoming fest banner 5 where I’m also planning to do some pulls.

Galuf’s Sync is also there, and I think one of his USBs, so one of the reasons I wanted to pull on said banner was to get more earth tech. I guess I can only hope I don’t end up getting dupes of this.

Anyway, Dr. Mog made an appearance on another ticket I threw on this banner. Got this creature that looks like a bird.

Was trying not to get my hopes up too much since this could well be yet another LBO. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case this time.

Ended up with Enna Kros’s (from World of Final Fantasy) Synchro Arcane Soul Break, The Creator’s Rules. Yay for another magical earth relic!

This is my first relic for Enna. Here’s to hoping I can get her AASB sooner or later as well as the rest of her stuff. She’s definitely joining Rydia on my magical earth team.

Well, it’s not like I have a lot of options anyway which was why I’m throwing all my tickets on this banner. Ideally, I’d like to be able to get at least 2 BDL relics per char.

Anyway, this pull gave me a 6-star item as well although it wasn’t that good. Got Krile Mayer Baldesion’s (from Final Fantasy V) Limit Break Glint (LBG).

I think the only other relic I have for her is one of her USBs so this one doesn’t make her usable. Heck, it doesn’t even deal damage.

All it does is “temporarily infuse all allies with the power of earth” and it can only be used once. Decent Syncs and AASBs already do that so, yeah, this LBG is meh.

Final Fantasy VI Realm Banner

Much, much later, decided to try my luck on the Final Fantasy VI (#ad) realm banner since there are a lot of FF6 relics that I’m still missing.

One of the ones I’m most interested in getting is Mog’s Awakened Arcane Soul Break 2 (AASB2). This is practically required in order to do some of the endgame content like the Dragonking Dungeon fights.

It’s actually frustrating how important this relic is and how there’s no easy way to get it because it has yet to be featured again on a banner.

Yeah, there are ways to clear fights without this relic but this will definitely make those battles easier.

Well, assuming you have the DPS Soul Breaks to go with this supporting relic anyway. Mog’s other relics are useful too, but his AASB2 is the most important.

There are so many relics on the Final Fantasy VI Realm banner that it’s gonna take a miracle to actually get Mog’s AASB2.

Still, what’s the harm in trying, right? Even if I don’t end up with Mog’s AASB2, maybe I can get some other relic that could be of use to me.

This pull gave me 2 items. One was a 5-star so was already disappointed when I saw it.

At least the other was a 6-star. It didn’t stay that way for long though. To my surprise, Dr. Mog appeared and turned the 6-star into a 7-star. Nice!

Now I can only hope I’m about to get a Synchro Arcane Soul Break (SASB). The 7-star relic soon revealed itself to be a bell. Don’t recognize it though.

Got to the draw results screen and soon found out that the 5-star I got was Celes Chere’s Glint Soul Break. Meh. Have some of Celes’s relics, including one of her Syncs and AASBs. Those are infinitely more useful than this.

As for the 7-star item - well, I could hardly believe this but that bell turned out to contain Snow Ensemble, Mog’s Sync.

Welp, who would have thought I’d actually get a Mog relic from this pull, huh? Too bad this hadn’t been his AASB2 instead.

While it’s really nice to see Mog’s Sync, it’s also true that I can’t really use him with just this.

If this had been his Awakening 2 instead, I could make him work but his Sync just isn’t that good when it’s the only thing I have for him. Ah, well. Maybe my next pull will give me Mog’s AASB2. Hopefully, anyway.

Another ticket gave me Shadow’s dark Chain Soul Break. Actually pleased to see this because this is one of the good dark Chains. Plus, I already have a few relics for Shadow, including his Sync.

Final Fantasy IX Realm Banner

Decided to throw my next Realm/Elemental x11 ticket on the Final Fantasy IX realm banner. This gave me 3 golds. Then Dr. Mog actually appeared and turned one of the golds into a 7-star item.

The first relic I got was a 5-star Burst Soul Break for Amarant Coral. Meh. Bursts are horribly outdated by now and pretty sure this is like my first relic for Amarant.

The second relic I got was a 6-star Awakened Arcane Soul Break for Kuja. It’s for the magical dark element. Can always use more dark relics so pleased to see this even if this is like my first BDL relic for Kuja.

The 7-star I got was Vivi Ornitier’s Sync. It’s for the magical ice and lightning elements.

IIRC, this is his second Sync. It’s nice to see this but I’m pretty sure this is my first BDL relic for Vivi so can’t really use him unless I can get his AASB.

Final Fantasy Record Keeper Realm Banner

Threw a ticket on the Final Fantasy Record Keeper realm banner in the hopes of getting Elarra’s Sync 2 and/or AASB. She’s a really good support, healer, and buffer.

Unfortunately, all I got from this ticket was Wedge’s AASB. It’s new but meh. This is like my first BDL relic for him.

And it’s for the wind element. My wind teams are pretty stacked already so don’t really have a use for this unless I luck into more of Wedge’s relics.

Final Fantasy VI Realm Banner

Went back to the Final Fantasy VI realm banner where I was able to get Locke Cole’s Limit Break Glint (LBG). Meh. Useless.

At least this ticket also gave me a 7-star item. Got this rod or staff although don’t know who it belongs to.

It was only when I got to the draw results screen that I found out that I just got Strago Magus’s Sync. It’s for the magical water element.

I think this is my first relic for him but at least it’s a Sync. Here’s to hoping I can get his Awakening and other relics soon.

My next ticket gave me 2 golds. One was nothing more than a dupe 5-star Glint Soul Break for Leo Cristophe. Meh. Completely and utterly useless.

The second gold was this 7-star pink ribbon.

This turned out to be Terra Branford’s Arcane Dyad Soul Break (ADSB) or True Arcane Soul Break (TASB).

Too bad I don’t have Terra’s Sync or Awakening so can’t really use this.

My next ticket gave me Strago’s Arcane Overstrike Soul Break (AOSB). It’s new but meh. Wish this had been his AASB instead to go with the Sync that I just got for him.

My next ticket gave me 2 golds but they were both dupes. Ugh. How utterly disappointing.

One was a Burst Soul Break that probably belongs to Kefka Palazzo judging from its name of Dancing Mad (VI). The second was Locke’s fire Chain Soul Break.

Another ticket gave me a dupe of Shadow’s Burst Soul Break. Ugh. What’s with all these dupes? So frustrating. Feels like I’m just wasting tickets now. Wish I could get something new and useful.

My next ticket gave me something new but, unfortunately, it wasn’t useful at all. Ended up with Setzer Gabbiani's Glint+ Soul Break. This is like my first relic for him so meh. Useless.

Conclusion

So what about you? Which banners did you use your Realm/Elemental x11 tickets on? How did your pulls go? What do you think about the rates on FFRK? Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions by leaving a comment below or by reblogging or replying to this post.

Notes:

screenshots are from my Final Fantasy Record Keeper game account

#final fantasy record keeper #featuring pulls for #terra branford #rinoa heartilly #galuf halm baldesion #vivi ornitier #enna kros #krile mayer baldesion #kuja #strago magus #setzer gabbiani #and more #games #ffrk #mobile games #ffrk banner pulls #ffrk ticket pulls #ffrk realm/elemental tickets #gacha games

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pherryt · 8 years ago

Note

Prompt generator suggestion! #69, Supernatural, Destiel pairing, hurt/comfort

So, here you go - a Canon Divergent (End of Season 8, Start of Season 9) Destiel fic with Hurt/ComfortFor everyone else: It is deliberately Canon Divergent because Li hasn't seen past the season 8 finale. So Shhhh....don't tell her how much (or how little) I've changed to fill this prompt :DThere is also a teaser, hidden in here, of something I want to touch on more in a much longer season 8 fix it fic that I hope to be able to get underway sometime. But i need to finish other projects first. Word Count : 1623 (added a read more because it’s long. Hey, i’m getting the hang of this! I didn’t even have to look it up this time :D )

______________________

The sky would have been beautiful…if Dean hadn’t know what the bright, falling streaks of light really were.

Helping a slightly unsteady, but surprisingly alive (thank god!), Sam to the Impala with the newly cured demon’s help (Crowley was eager to make amends in any way he could, and Dean was inclined to let him), Dean couldn’t help but send up a prayer, uncertain if Cas could even hear him.

Cas, man, tell me you’re all right? Please. You’ve gotta be all right.

Getting everyone settled, Dean turned the keys in the ignition, but continued to stare out the windshield, wincing at every white-blue streak that hit the ground. Sam looked over at him in concern and sympathy. “I’m sure he’s okay. How many times have we thought him dead or gone and he’s always come back?”

Dean cleared his throat and nodded, refusing to look at his brother. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.” Dean got the Impala moving, grateful that Crowley didn’t attempt to reassure him as well. After all, this was all his fault. If hadn’t been digging after the Angel Tablet in the first place, none of this would have happened.

The drive back was silent, heavy. Dean couldn’t even bear the thought of the familiar tunes that normally soothed him. All he could think was that he had to get back to the bunker as fast as possible. Cas would find them there.

If he was okay.

God, if you’re still out there, listening, please let him be okay. Dean knew the prayer would be useless. God hadn’t answered any prayers in who knew how long, but his phone had remained silent, and if Cas could have, he would have called him, called Dean.

With every mile, Dean felt more hope and fear pressing in against him. By the time he pulled the Impala to a stop in front of the bunker, he was filled with dread. He looked towards the door of the bunker, hoping against hope that he’d see a tan trenchcoat standing before it. A dark head of hair tilted at him.

But he saw nothing and his heart sank.

“Dean,” Sam started, “If they fell, Cas might not have his wings anymore. It might just take him a little longer to get here – “

With a growl, Dean shoved out of the car and slammed the door shut. He hurried away from his well-meaning brother and to the front of the bunker, rounding to the stairs that led to the slightly underground door –

and came to a shocked halt.

There was a tan trenchcoat against the door, but it was slumped to the ground and covered in blood. Dean’s heart stopped and then started again when he saw the slight rise and fall of the body before him. He nearly tripped in his hurry to reach Cas.

“Cas? Cas! Shit, shit, shit! Are you okay?” Dean knew it was a stupid question. Of course Cas wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t help it, his mouth running away from him as he fell to his knees beside the apparently heavily injured Angel and carefully reached out for him. “Fuck, Cas, why the hell are you bleeding? There’s blood everywhere! Why aren’t you healing yourself?” Another stupid question. In his head, Dean already knew the answer.

Cas’s head inched up slightly with a groan and his eyes squinted at Dean. “Dean?” his gravelly voice was broken and low.

Sam reached them then, as Dean ran his hands over Castiel, checking him over. Sam pulled out the key and got the bunker open, the lights turned back on and gestured Crowley in, before turning to offer Dean his help in getting Cas inside.

Refusing his brothers help, Dean made to help Cas to stand, but the first touch to the Angel’s back made Castiel cry out in pain and Dean recoiled.

Exchanging worried looks, Dean didn’t turn Sam’s help down the second time, and together the managed to get Cas inside, down the stairs and through the bunker to Dean’s room.

Sam had halted in front of one of the other empty rooms but Dean had shook his head. “No, Sam. I’m not taking my eyes off him again.”

Having learned from their first mistake, Dean didn’t bother attempting to lay Cas down on his back, but maneuvered him onto his front, stripping him down to his boxers and wincing at every cut and gash and bruise the Angels skin revealed.

Cas passed out before they even made it to the bed.

“Dean, his injuries – “

“I know, Sam!” Dean cut him off, then covered his face briefly and forced himself to calm down. “We’ll deal with it later. Just…get me our first aid kit okay?”

“Already on it,” Sam said quietly, slipping out of the open door. Together, the brothers cleaned and stitched and bandaged every wound they found. Cas woke up briefly a few times with a groan or a whimper. Dean hesitantly gave him painkillers, vowing to keep careful watch over his usage, remembering all too well the future that Zachariah had once shown him.

The Angels had fallen. Cas had been working on a spell to close Heaven but obviously he’d been tricked. He must have fallen too. But what did that mean? Did that make them human? Was Cas human now? Was that why he was unable to heal himself?

Sam left Dean alone with Cas, saying something about attempting to calm down a very freaked out Kevin. Dean didn’t even look up as Sam left. He just stared at the Angel in his bed with a heavy heart. Relief that Castiel was here, that he was still alive flushed through Dean, but at what cost? He itched to be closer, but he restrained himself. It was clear Cas was in agony. He didn’t need Dean making it worse.

Instead, he hitched his chair as close as he could get to the bed without falling into it and kept vigil over his best friend, but at some point, he must have fallen asleep. Dean jerked in his chair, nearly falling out of it, woken by a strangled sound beside him. He whipped his head around and down to find Castiel awake and curled in on himself, shaking, tears rolling down his face and his chapped lips suffering even more abuse as the Angel bit them, trying not to make a sound.

With a quick glance at the clock, Dean realized Cas was due for another dose of medicine. “Shit, Cas…” he stumbled to his feet and fumbled for the meds and a bottle of water. “Here, these will help.” Dean held the pills up to his lips, assisting Cas in swallowing them down, holding the bottle for him. Water dribbled down his face and Dean gently wiped it up.

“Dean, I –“ Cas’s voice stuttered and hitched and Dean hurried to reach out a soothing hand to him.

“Sshhhh…Cas, take it easy and try not to move too much, okay man? I don’t know what happened but you’re a mess, especially your back.” Dean swallowed, trying to keep an even and calm tone. The twin gashes going down each shoulder blade were long and deep and nasty looking.

And he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what had caused them.

“Did…did Sam…?” Cas fought to speak and Dean crept closer, his hip hitching up onto the bed, Cas’s hand clutching at Dean’s arm.

“Yeah, yeah, he did it. Gates of Hell closed and he’s alive! I mean, I don’t know how, but he is. Now all we gotta do is get you better, okay?”

“I failed…” Cas whispered, his eyes closing.

“It’s not the end of the world, Cas,” Dean said. “You’re here, you’re safe. We got your back, okay?” Dean straightened up, tried to get up on his feet and let Cas sleep when the Angel pulled at him with surprising strength, a sob ripping out.

“Don’t – don’t go. Dean, please,” Cas choked out around the sob. Dean’s heart ached for everything Cas must be going through, all the pain – both physical and emotional – and against his better judgement, Dean kicked off his boots and slid into the bed beside him, pulling Cas as gently into him as he could, tucking the Angel’s head under his chin.

“I’m here, Cas. I’ll stay, as long as you want me.” Dean murmured the words into Cas’s ears, closing his eyes and running his fingers ever so gently through the Angels – ex-angel, he corrected himself – hair. He hummed a soft song, not even thinking about what he was doing, and increment by increment, Cas relaxed against him, the sobs quieting down and the shuddering slowing.

“Always…always wanted, Dean, always wanted to stay,” the words were so soft, Dean almost hadn’t heard them, wasn’t sure he was meant to hear them. “As long as it was with you. I think…I could truly face anything, as long as it’s with you.”

“Then I’ll never leave you alone, Cas, you got that?” Dean swore. Cas’s fingers tightened where they clutched at Dean and he nodded his head against Dean’s chest, bumping into his chin gently.

They said nothing else, but drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. The days ahead would be hard, Dean knew. But he’d do whatever he could to help Cas heal, and to adjust to being human.

Dean had almost lost him today. Had lost him more than once and it had been devastating every time. He couldn’t let this chance slip away on him again, the way he had every other time Cas came back like a miracle.

And this time, Dean was determined that he would finally admit he loved Castiel.

#supernatural #writing prompt #destiel #fallen castiel #hurt/comfort #season 8 finale #season 9 start #canon divergent #li-izumi

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bki-writing-blog · 6 years ago

Text

No. 6

Otto wasn’t sure how many more phone calls he could take. His parents were the subject of the first call that came in two months ago, when the bacterial plague started to take lives. Since then, every call he’s tried to make to family or friends was not answered by them, but by a government agency a few days later, notifying him that whoever he tried to contact recently was confirmed dead. Every. Single. Time. By becoming a librarian, Otto hoped to continue living the quiet, introverted lifestyle he never grew out of, but he had never imagined such a scale of isolation. A week ago, Otto crossed another name out of his directory, his last friend in the Los Angeles area. No more family. No more friends. There was one contact left in his phonebook under the name: “Kode.” He was a friend he hung out with when he still lived out in New York before moving to Los Angeles when he was thirteen. He had actually been the first number Otto had put into his phone. When he called his number, a chime sounded off followed by an automated voice. It said that the number could no longer be reached and that the system would send him a correct number in the future if one could be found. That’s the moment Otto decided to go to New York. He wouldn’t miss a possible chance to see the last person on Earth he knew; he had built up enough guilt from not seeing anyone else before they passed. Plus, if he couldn’t see this Kode again, he could at least get some comfort in seeing his hometown again.

Otto was reluctant to step foot in LAX with some of the extra security measures, but if he really wanted to get across the country fast he knew he would have to put up with them. Because the bacteria developed new strains quickly, newer versions of the cure and vaccine had been issued, the latest being No. 6. While international flights remained grounded, today cross-country flights were allowed – Otto considered himself lucky. Beyond the security line was a cylindrical tube that connected all the way to high ceiling of the terminal. Inside the machine, plastic restraints unfolded from the walls onto Otto’s arm. A needle drew a blood sample and another tool cauterized the injection hole from the needle. Otto looked away to avoid a fit of squeamish fidgets and growled from the pain as the exit door opened. He scuttled to the conveyor, slung his bag over his shoulder, and took deep breaths. He never wanted to be inside one of those things again. Otto had trouble putting his earbuds in his ears with his surgical mask in the way. Even after wearing it non-stop for two months – besides for the relief that was a meal – it still annoyed Otto. It was uncomfortable now, but he knew he shouldn’t dare to take it off. Not here. It was annoying looking at everyone wearing them too; they reminded Otto of dogs wearing muzzles. Otto sat down in a row of seats and looked at the ticket information on his watch: “Flight 0029 | LAX > LGA | 10:42AM March 7th, 2032.” Sullen faces of others stared at the television above.

“…the number of lives taken by Hysuina is currently reported to be just over 6.1 billion, around seventy-two percent of the 8.5 billion people who walked this Earth before the Hysunia pandemic. The latest of the now 136 states to be declared collapsed or politically inert is Mongolia, as no official response has been given to UN communication attempts for over a week. The UN is still hotly debating about what should be done regarding states where it is confirmed that all of the former state’s citizens have perished-”

A boarding announcement interrupted the television audio. Otto and a small group of passengers were lead out of the fire escape and onto the tarmac itself instead of walking through a jet-way. He was somewhat surprised to see only a few small private jets on the tarmac. He recognized the plane his group was being led to as a Cessna Citation X+, a more streamlined private jet with swept back wings and a curvy fuselage. After climbing the steps into the plane, Otto moved along the tightrope narrow cabin, counting twelve seats. He thought it was odd that the some seats were oriented backwards and facing other seats, but remembered this was a business jet, not an airliner. He sat in the back, already nauseous. Outside the window, there was a team of airport staff scrapping parts off of a Boeing 787. The jet airliner looked like a model kit fresh out of the box with components neatly categorized around it.

Otto touched down at LaGuardia at around six o’ clock, shortly after the sun had disappeared to remind people on the other side of the Earth that this still wasn’t a nightmare. He was happy to be off the plane, but hated being rescreened upon entering the terminal.

The city was far different than what his memories told him. The entrances to the subways were barred up and police tape hung like spider webs. A sign read: “Contaminated Bodies Inside! Closed until further notice.” The elevated rail tracks didn’t rumble and screech above Otto’s head. There were so few people on the street that it wasn’t a requirement to bump shoulders. The former terrible gridlocked city streets now had traffic resembling that of a remote mountain highway and no taxis could be found. Every so often a patrol car or ambulance would whip past Otto. What was most frightening to Otto was the absence of lights in the skyline, as if Death itself had smashed nearly every one like mailboxes. Hardly any people were left to use them. “The City that Never Sleeps” may as well have been replaced with “The City that Never Awakens.” He trekked to Upper East Side Manhattan. The building where he grew up had only a couple of lights on in the windows. No children were playing or laughing on the street like he did years ago. Just then, Otto’s phone buzzed. A “Do not reply” message had been sent with a phone number, which Otto called immediately. When Kode picked up he sounded lifeless, but his voiced warmed up after Otto jogged his memory about times they shared, like dissecting frogs together in middle school. He hesitated when Otto asked to come over, but brushed whatever awkward feeling there was by saying,

“Who else is going to visit me?” When Otto asked where he was living, Kode asked, “You said you were outside your old building?”

“Yeah…” Otto replied, looking at the desolate state of the building and trying not to become upset. One of the windows now had a silhouette of someone looking out, holding a hand up to their ear. The figured waved over in its direction with its other hand before Kode said,

“Come up.”

Otto tripped on a cluttered pile of garbage in the stairwell. He was approaching the third floor door when it banged open above him. A woman ran down screaming for someone to help her. When she saw Otto, she latched on to his shoulders with both hands.

“Please! Help my son! He’s collapsed! He’s…” Her voice drowned in her tears.

“I’m sorry,” Otto said, forcibly removing himself from the mother’s grasp, “I don’t know what I could do.” She begged him to help her as she tried grabbing onto him again. Otto ran up the stairs until he hit the fourth floor. He could hear the lady continue stomping up the stairwell.

Otto banged on Kode’s door. It opened to reveal a tall lanky man. Otto’s head only came up to his shoulder. Otto had always looked down to him when they were younger. It was displeasing to him to have to look up now. Kode’s hair was now blonde and disheveled instead of stealth black and tidy, and his clothes looked so wrinkly that they could have just come out of the washing machine with him still inside them. Kode welcomed Otto inside. The apartment’s main room was quite small; there was only just enough room for two loveseats facing each other with a low coffee table in between them. Kode invited Otto to relax while he got some beverages out of his fridge. Hung up around the room’s walls were different insects in display cases, some still trapped in amber. A good deal of aluminum soda cans and glass beer bottles cluttered the coffee table on top of a reprint of The Cask of Amontillado, and the pile of pots, strainers, and pans suggested no one had washed the dishes for weeks. Otto noticed the beige fabric loveseats were covered in a variety of faded stains. He was grossed out as he sat on the carpet – the cleanest part of the room – and tucked his legs under the coffee table.

“Hopefully watching a movie isn’t too boring for you,” Kode said dully. “I couldn’t think of what else to do on such short notice.” He had his arms full of bottles of beer as he tried to clear off the coffee table. He dropped two of the glass bottles and stood silent in front of Otto. Otto noticed his arms shaking and his knees locking as he stared at the jagged glass chunks. When Otto asked him if he was alright, Kode jumped and contorted his body around at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Of course, of course… just dropped some glass… Making a mess is part of life, isn’t it?” He shrugged and rushed around muttering, “I’m sorry, mama,” before he finally found a dust pan. After cleaning up, Kode laid out numerous bottles of beer on the coffee table. Kode stuck Watchmen on DVD into the player and sat across from Otto. Otto didn’t want to take the beer Kode offered him, but didn’t want to be rude either, so he took one off of the coffee table. After both men took off their masks, Kode downed his first bottle with the fervor of a passionate churchgoer drinking grape juice during communion. His head and the bottle’s butt rotated up and down like the way the pendulum of a clock swings. Otto slowly sipped his beer.

The movie had played halfway before a brownout plagued the apartment. Kode reassured Otto that these were common and that the power would be back up in half an hour. He turned on some electric lanterns he had around the apartment. Otto couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Do you even remember me?” Otto blurted. Kode squinted his eyes at Otto.

“Sort of…” Kode responded, “But having you as company is still better than having complete strangers over, or nobody for that matter.”

“So that means… everyone you know’s-” Otto started hesitantly before Kode cut him off.

“Yeah…” Kode sighed, nodding. There was a slight quiver in Kode’s voice. He finished his fifth bottle with a gulp and smacked it with the other empty bottles, adding to the accumulation already on the coffee table. He turned to Otto and said, “I guess that’s one thing we have in common then, eh?” Otto waited another minute before he let his next words hit the air.

“So… you must like to drink… a lot?” Otto said nervously. Kode shrugged.

“I used to a lot with friends before the… I stopped for a while though, about five years. I’ve only picked it back up recently.” Otto knew he must’ve unearthed precious memories. The distance in Kode’s eyes were scarier looking away than when he stared directly into Otto’s eyes.

“These insects seem… interesting.” Otto said, unsure if it was a good comment.

“Yeah, I got into that in college. Took an entomology course. We had to keep small collections as a requirement,” Kode said. He glazed over his collections one more time. “Those were fun times.” Otto looked away from Kode as he ran a hand through his hair. Catching up was a lot harder than he had imagined. Kode picked up another bottle and groaned. He asked Otto if he wanted any ice for his beers. Otto politely declined. Otto thought it was strange that he stumbled down the hallway to get ice, but then Kode was already strange in Otto’s mind. Kode came back with a bag of ice. He picked out an ice cube and placed it in his mouth. Then he resumed drinking, but not for long. His body suddenly swayed back and forth and he had trouble sitting in his seat, as if overran by anxiety. “Say Otto…” Kode started, “I want to show you something.”

“Show me something?” Otto asked, glad the conversation seemed to be turning positive.

Kode nodded excitedly. He stood, picked up an electric lantern, and lured Otto with big slow beckoning hand motions at the apartment’s hallway entrance while displaying a wide grin. Otto – who was tired of sitting in semi-darkness and thought that getting up and moving around might make the beer in his stomach settle better – agreed and followed Kode down the hallway.

“It’s in my mother’s room,” Kode said. They stopped at a door on the left. Insulated foam was jammed under the door. Kode opened the door carefully as if there were some wild animal sleeping behind it that shouldn’t be awoken. After Otto inched inside, Kode closed the door behind them. There was nothing in the room that belonged in a bedroom. Instead, there were piles of boxes of frozen food, bags of ice, fogged up jars with insects inside, and a large shiny refrigerated vendor cart that was in the center of the room. Brown and dark red stains had painted the waterlogged carpet surrounding the cart, the sight of which agitated Otto’s stomach even more. The room seemed more organized then the rest of the rooms in the small apartment and smelled of something rank enough to burn one’s nostrils, but not of something that was unbearable. It reminded Otto of the day in middle school when his biology class dissected frogs once more. Finally, Otto noted the coldness of the room when he started to shiver and he was able to see his own breath waft in front of him like a scared ghost. Kode marched over to the cart. The wet carpet squished and foamed under his feet. “This is where I freeze captured insects until they die, but it’s more purposeful than that alone. It’s all about what’s in here.” Kode rapped a couple times on the top of the vending cart and shot raised eyebrows toward Otto. “C’mon, get over here.” Otto stepped lightly to the other side of the cart. Kode gave Otto the lantern and shoved the cart’s top door back with both hands. A plume of fog arose out of the cart and Kode moved some bags of dry ice over. Finally, a gray and wrinkled woman’s face poked out from the dry ice. The lips had cracked, looking like slabs of tough rubber. The hair looked like it would snap if you breathed sweaty air onto it and the frost on the eyelids could probably have kept those eyes shut. Otto covered his mouth and nearly ripped the door off its hinges to get out of the room. He barreled down the hallway with wet feet, tossed the lantern onto the couch, and threw up in the kitchen sink. He finished heaving as Kode stepped behind him.

“Jesus,” Otto gasped, “I have a stomach made of tissue paper!”

“Oh I’m sorry, does my love for my mother make you that sick?” Otto turned around to face Kode and wiped his mouth. Now that he could think clearly, Otto fired back.

“Love?! Who the fuck calls shoving their mom’s body in an ice cream cart love? If you really loved her you would’ve buried her!” Kode shrugged while Otto snapped back on his mask.

“I almost did, I even pumped her veins full of formaldehyde. But let’s just say burial plots are a premium these days. I couldn’t bring myself to go through with a burial anyways. I couldn’t give her away; I wanted to preserve her legacy, her being. That’s what I am doing now… preserving…” Kode’s eyes became the darkest Otto had seen them that night. He stared down at the mess of bottles. “None of this would be necessary if it wasn’t for this damn Hysunia. It’s just not right for something so small to take my strong, hard-working mama away from me… no one understands how much I loved her.” Otto felt heat in his lower chest as he remembered how he drove three hours to attend his parent’s funeral at the church they attended in Palm Springs, to say goodbye to what used to be them.

“I’m pretty sure everyone living today knows exactly what that feels like! I know what that feels like!” Otto shouted.

“Nobody!” Kode bawled back. His shoulders were hunched over and his back shuddered with every raspy breath. He picked up a bottle by its neck and chucked it at the wall. The pieces sparkled and shimmered as they twirled in the electric lantern’s ocean of light. Kode’s face looked undisturbed and he was silent, but as he picked up more bottles, he gritted his teeth more and his grunts became louder. He sliced the edge of his right hand opposite to the thumb on broken glass, but shrieked and threw two bottles at once to punish the inanimate object. When there were no bottles left, he stood still and his chest heaved. He said with an uncontrolled voice, “But it’ll all be fine in the end. When this whole thing blows over, everything will be normal again! ...And mama will be fine.” A hint of hope dug onto Kode’s voice. Otto had come out here as a desperate act of loneliness, but the disrespect Kode displayed for his mother overpowered his original feelings. This wasn’t the Kode he thought he knew. Otto gathered his belongings.

“You know keeping a contaminated source will land you in serious trouble right?”

“Are you going to tell them then, Otto? Or will you leave me and my poor mother alone?” His eyes couldn’t lock still as he glared at Otto. “Some friend you must be to call the cops on your longtime pal. Where are you going?” Otto stared into Kode’s eyes one last time with his hand on the door handle. Kode’s stare was wicked and Otto didn’t like what he saw looking back at him. Otto mustered up the courage to say,

“I can’t sleep here tonight knowing there’s a body in the next room over. My stomach nor my mind will allow it, because it fucking disgusts both of them.” Otto braved the night and walked the whole journey back to the LaGuardia area. He checked into a motel next to the airport and spent the remaining hours of the night trying to calm down his stomach and his mind.

Otto woke up exhausted. His heart raced from just getting out of bed and difficulty breathing made the surging heartrate worse; it felt like Kode’s insects were in his windpipe, still alive. He saw large purple Ganglion cysts speckled on his upper arms that sent panic down his nerves. Otto quickly dressed in multiple layers. Calling the police on Kode wouldn’t be in the day’s agenda nor would flying back to Los Angeles, but Otto knew what would. He stepped into the trash-filled alley next to the motel, the pain of the sunlight knotted in his eyes. He frantically rummaged through the motel’s overflowing dumpster, his arms burning. Otto threw up before finding a glass bottle. He smashed it on the alley wall, the noise almost fully dampened. He put the broken bottle into his bag and walked briskly to Central Park. With his heartrate, it felt as if he sprinted there. Any voices were muffled and lost. Otto hurried to Bow Bridge overlooking the park’s lake. He took in the sight as he ripped off his mask to take in whatever fresh air he possibly could. He leaned on the concrete railing for about fifteen minutes before his peripherals became fuzzy. He didn’t have long. Otto took out the broken bottle and held the sharp edges to his neck with both hands. After all the Hysunia had taken from him, Otto wouldn’t let it take him. Maybe he’d even see his parents and friends again. He twisted the bottle as it plunged into his neck, severing the jugular veins. The area was cool right before hot blood cascaded and filled the spaces between his layers of tops. He dropped the bottle and stared out across the lake, clutching onto the railing. He collapsed within the next minute. The screams of the few people around him were muffled to whispers. He stared up at the sky, his vision becoming less and less. In that moment, Otto could’ve sworn he saw Montresor walking away from him with a full stride as the last thought Otto could process grinded along the top of his mind: “May he rest in peace!”

#science-fiction #sci-fi #science fiction #scifi

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