#[i went with juniper having gone with them to the hospital BUT if you want to change it lemme know!!] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wyvchard · 3 months

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What Someone Thinks is Best

Idea from this prompt

Agent Phoenix comes back a week after destroying a mind control machine, only to be more emotional than usual.

Content Warnings: Self-depreciation, Phoenix just getting the short end of the stick and enduring it, hospitals, failed mind control, verbal attacks

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"Phoenix, are you alright?" Reginald came to them in medbay as he sat beside them as they laid on the bed. "That week was awful. Well, not quite like the Juniper incident but... it was still quite harrowing."

They nodded, crumpling the bedsheet on top of them. "... I'm fine. There aren't any injuries. Why am I here?"

"Dr. de Lara found some concerning things. We're making sure you're in the clear. We're worried that the mind control machine messed with your implants." He looked at their paled form, noting the lack of things floating around via TK. "You know, for safety."

They nodded. "I was told that it will hurt and wow." A resigned chuckle escaped from their lips as they stared at the ceiling. "Not a lie." A wry smile laced their face as they reached their hand out for something.

Reginald handed them another pillow to scream into. His face is fixed with concern. "Agent, I'm worried about you."

Phoenix didn't dare look at him. "... I don't want anyone to worry."

"... What happened? When you were gone for a week, your earpiece and microphone were turned off, not to mention the tracker. Wherever it is you were staying clearly knows how to use a signal jammer."

They paused, eyes slowly growing with guilt. "I didn't mean to worry you, Reggie. Really. I was safe all week."

He sighed, choosing to focus on paperwork for now to get his mind off things. "I'll... believe that for now, Agent."

"See you." They waved him off, taking a few breaths before acknowledging the man who replaced their handler. "Dr. Marcel."

"Phoenix." He merely looked at them with a resigned sigh. "Let's get this over with."

"I don't want to worry anyone. I'm fine. It's just a headache. Another agent might need your attention more. You should-"

"You don't have to worry about the other agents. You're the last on my list for today. Now. Describe your headache before I imply that whatever you went through overloaded your implant and extending your leave."

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"Hey. Are you awake?" The gentle voice eased their discomfort as they leaned onto the source of warmth. "It must be pretty bad if they got you stuck on the strong stuff."

They mumbled incoherently, choosing to lean on the voice's source. "Not now." They started picking at the tie the other person was wearing, feeling the soft fabric slide between their fingers.

"... What did that Zoraxis operative say to you when I was at work?" Mr. Ambrose's expression was severe as he held Phoenix in his arms, feeling their steady breaths on his chest.

"He usually says high praises about you. But all I see is someone who never meets expectations."

"Nothing I hadn't heard before." They muttered, feeling more muddled as the medicine is slowly taking effect. "It's fine. Don't worry too much, alright? I'll be fine."

He merely looked at them with worry as he pulled the hug tighter. "Whatever that old crone said to you is not true, okay? I'll be back tomorrow night when you're alone. Please, even if you don't tell me, tell someone else you trust, okay?"

"M'kay." They yawned, sleep slowly taking hold of them.

He tucked them in the bed and walked across the room, eyes lingered at their sleeping form, before leaving with worries on his mind.

But that would pale in comparison with his responsibilities. If he wants to help them, he should start cleaning up the evidence of any agency involvement in that neighborhood.

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Reginald walked into the sight of his agent hugging a pillow he knows wasn't there before, a contrasting blue compared to the typical white provided by the agency.

"Agent, where did you get that pillow?"

"Hotdog." They murmured, hugging the long pillow tightly as if letting go would cause a disaster. "It's called a hotdog pillow."

He sighed, knowing that whoever visited clearly had their best in mind. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. It feels like everything is underwater or somethin." They turned to the side, their eyes more dulled than usual. "I can't get her words out of my head."

"Her? What did she say?"

"The Zoraxis operative there knows how to poke at your sore spots. She says I'm a disappointment or something."

"Oh, Agent, that's not true at all. You're the pride of the agency."

"Then, why did you leave me alone in the volcano? At that beach?" They laughed with tears running down their face. "You did say convention wasn't my strong suit. You probably didn't want to deal with the paperwork I leave behind."

"Phoenix, that's not true. I said it before and I'll say it again. If you're here, I'm here."

"... R&D must have gotten so disappointed when I decided to become a field agent. I mean, why would I use my brain where I could get killed anytime instead of staying back and be useful? See? Wow, maybe I wasn't meant to be here."

The beeps of the medical equipment filled the air as Phoenix drew in a sharp breath. "... Sorry. I didn't-"

"Agent..." Reginald's mind raced as he started wiping his agent's tears. His hands were more gentle than normal.

"... Among us, we almost always believe that I was the favorite. I mean, almost every time I ask pa for something, he hears me out."

Phoenix rarely talks about their family in this light and it gave Reginald a twinge of sorrow. This wasn't like them.

"I don't... I always feel like I have to make up for it. I have to justify it to them why..." They take a shaky breath. "They keep telling me they don't hate me... But I don't even know if it's a lie. If it wasn't, I don't know where it came from."

"He clearly chose you. I don't see why he would. You're clearly someone I personally wouldn't choose. Maybe it's the novelty, don't you think? The brashness of youth?"

"Ma'am, please don't think of him that way. He's made his choice."

"And I'm saying it was a stupid one."

"...Why am I your third favorite field operative? Do you think I rightfully earned to be that right?"

Reginald couldn't find the words to answer.

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"Mr. Crane." Dr. Marcel greeted the handler with mere words, choosing to remain fixated on the screen. "Phoenix will be fine. Although it would be rough for a few hours."

"That's good news, at least."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I saw this in my mailbox." Dr. Marcel waved an enveloped note. "I don't think it's your agent who sent this."

He took the note and checked for any traps, only to find none. Yet, dread only filled him when he realized that it was the same paper his agent uses.

Zoraxis makes sure that those breaking out of mind control spills secrets in case subjecting them to mind control again wouldn't be viable immediately. It keeps them silent. It should clear out in a day or so, enough time for the mind control to fully break. They have been exposed to the beginning stages but they were taken out before it can take a hold. I don't know what that old crone said during that week but I will find out.

"... That's not threatening at all." Dr. Marcel sighed as he turns to Reginald. "Do you think we can trust this?"

"It's likely. Whoever they are, they know about the inner workings of that neighborhood."

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"He usually says high praises about you. But all I see is someone who never meets expectations."

Is this why he said sorry?

"Why would anyone commit their life to you? The place is a mess, cluttered. You don't need this many magnets on the fridge. And you're the reason he's rarely home. Someone with a flourishing career in business shouldn't be tied down by someone like you."

I don't like her. I don't like her. I don't like her.

"Florian, why would you quit your job? You could work for Zoraxis, one of the best companies out there. And what? You threw that away because you can't deal with a strict manager?" Grey eyes from years ago look at me with intensity as she's clearly worried for me. "Look. I'm not saying you shouldn't do it but do you have a plan if you do decide to quit? Your future could be set. Zoraxis could acquire that company because your recent projects are promising. What will you do if you regret quitting a year or two from now? I just need you to consider that."

But the woman whose eyes I was looking at right now wasn't grey but dark brown.

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"Why are you wearing grey contacts? Not saying it doesn't look good on you but it's clear you're not really too happy about it." He frowned as he stared at them with intensity.

"O-oh. Well, you know my sister. She thinks I shouldn't quit. But my manager keeps taking credit for my work and I'm sick of it. Maybe if I have the same eyes as her, I'd think more like her."

"You know it doesn't work that way."

"I know but just maybe... I can delude myself."

"Just be yourself. She does have a point but there are more paths than working for Zoraxis. It might not be the life she thinks is the best you could do, but it's something you chose."

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"... Is it okay to feel conflicted about someone who only wanted what they thought is best for you?"

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@phoenix-and-found-family, this contains foreshadowing on how 13-12 could have been Candlelight.

@the-one-and-only-043, more lore for you as well.

#Agent 13-12 #13-12 lore #13-12 Recollections #My writings #ieytd #i expect you to die #agent phoenix #reginald crane #angst #cw self deprecation #This took way too long to write

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sunset-peril · 2 years

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Ashes Remain - Chapter Fifteen - Still Unsolved

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December 16th, 2027

10:05am

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Smoke rose over the ruins of Courtroom Number Four. The entire building was cleared while the police waited for the bomb squad to inspect for more explosives.

Phoenix had been in a meeting with Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth, and was unable to attend the trial in person. However, when one of Edgeworth’s personal detectives barged into their meeting, furiously scribbling on an e-notebook, and alerted to a bombing in the courthouse, his body felt fifteen years younger and he charged for the door.

One of Edgeworth’s subordinates, a twenty-four year old prosecutor named Naia Graves, accompanied them to the scene. She was processing the charges for the Space Center bombings, and Edgeworth planned to put her in charge of investigating this bombing.

Without knowing anything of the other trials, Phoenix knew the bomb had gone off in the Space Center trial.

When they arrived, Graves and the bomb squad ran inside. Edgeworth met with Blackquill and Fulbright, while Phoenix scoured the area for Apollo and Athena. Being unsuccessful in finding them, Phoenix approached one of the ambulance crews arriving on scene and told them the defense attorneys in the courtroom where the bomb went off were missing. Amidst the chaos, Juniper stumbled out of the courthouse with an officer’s help.

After securing Blackquill, Edgeworth went to comfort Phoenix. Graves’ voice blasted over his walkie-talkie. “We’ve found bodies! At least one of ‘em’s got a pulse. First responders are bringing her out while we recover the other.”

Almost immediately after she said so, paramedics rushed out of the building with a limp body in their arms.

Phoenix’s heart plummeted through the ground when he caught a glimpse of orange hair and a yellow jacket through their arms. “Athena!!”

“Do what you need to, Wright.” Shortly after one crew got Athena on a gurney and loaded her up, another crew brought out another figure, bleeding greatly, and one heavily burned figure. The burned figure was also loaded into an ambulance, but the bloodied figure was just laid on the ground and covered by a tarp.

“Incident report, Chief! Three bodies recovered, two female, one male. Identified as both members of the defense, and Detective Candice Arme. Arme was found dead.”

“Thank you, Graves. I’ll have the information sent to your partner to prepare charges.” Edgeworth lowered the walkie-talkie. “I’ll drop you off at the hospital, Wright. I hope to see your subordinates alive and well.”

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December 16th, 2017

7:15pm

Wright Anything Agency

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Wright was sitting in his office, in the dark, when his phone rang. “Ah, Edgeworth. How are things going at the prosecutor’s office?”

“We’ve got a suspect. Trial for the courtroom bombing begins tomorrow at nine a.m.. The suspect is being charged with terrorism, one count of murder for Detective Arme and two counts of attempted murder for your two subordinates.”

“Is there an attorney on the case yet?”

“Not yet, we’ve just finished indicting the charges. The hospital took their sweet time letting us know Doctor Cykes survived the bombing, so we had to wait to see if we were charging two murders or just one.”

“Who’s the suspect?”

“A ‘Juniper Woods’. She’s in questioning as we speak regarding her charges.”

His jaw tightened. “I want the case, Edgeworth.”

“Wright. This woman is accused of trying to kill your subordinates. Why in the world do you want to defend her?”

“I’ve gotten to know Miss Woods pretty well recently. I truly believe she didn’t set off the bomb, or plan to kill Arme, Apollo, or Athena.”

“You astound me. However, I will grant you the case. If you would come by my office tomorrow morning and fill the paperwork out, I’ll send it to the courthouse.”

“Thank you, Edgeworth.”

“Tell me, Wright, how are they faring?”

“Athena was out cold the whole time we were there, not surprising considering she’d been in surgery for about seven hours. Apollo was definitely worse for the wear, but he was at least conscious. He seemed better once she came out of surgery. He wouldn’t talk to us at noon, but was fairly chatty about 5:30.”

“Gavin said he was severely burned. Would you say that’s accurate?”

“If you want my opinion, I’d say he was nearly burnt to a crisp. Poor guy looked like a lot. He had Trucy set an alarm to go off as soon as he could get more morphine in him. Neither of them are good by any means, but Apollo is definitely better off… He’s conscious, required no surgery… and, well, Athena is suspected to be deaf. ”

“Ah, I see. That definitely messes with the plan. However, don’t worry too much about her, Wright. Even without her hearing, she is still our greatest weapon. The power to end this flows within her veins, not her ears. Why do you think I was willing to let her out of my sight?”

“I thought it had something to do with Kay and Sebastian. I remember you telling me something back when we first talked about me bringing her onboard, something about how her circumstances were ‘quite severe.’ Figured it had something to do with their penchant for trouble.”

“Oh no, they love her. Kay especially was disappointed when I received a notice recently stating she’s ineligible for adoption.”

“Y-You were in line to adopt her?”

“She reminds me of my younger days, bearing the strength I wish I had following that dreaded day. It pleases me how someone’s taken her into their heart.”

“That would be Apollo, actually. She’s been under his guardianship since November. Pavilion Crisis tried to seize her custody, but he wouldn’t let her go.”

“Shield’s always been a stickler like that. He’s got the whole staff wrapped around his little finger too. If our legal system wasn’t in the state it’s in, I would send my personal detectives after him and that asylum. Franziska's been chasing some horrid allegations concerning European asylums, and they make me more than a little wary of our own.”

“I heard about that on the news, something about how European asylums are allowed to execute patients with the lethal injection without going through the courts?”

“Yes. That very reason is why I could not give you many details about Doctor Cykes until she was in my custody. We could have lost her at any moment. It took many nights of sleep away from me and my team. There is much more to the story, but I am not permitted to speak of it unless absolutely necessary.” “

“Is Athena allowed to speak?”

“I’m not allowed to disclose that information. I will say, however, this all goes much deeper than a bomb on a rocket.”

“Sounds like it. This really is the Dark Age, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is, Wright. And if we lose this foothold we have, the courts could go under completely. With Blackquill in my hand, and Cykes in yours, we should hope it is enough. If the truth behind GYAXA’s HAT incidents eludes us once more, I would say for certain that we’ve lost our last chance.”

Phoenix finally rose from his chair. “Yeah, it’s for this very reason I returned.” He walked to his couch, glancing down at the jacket laying there, and contemplated of all he’d fought for, and of everyone that had been lost in the fight. “Time to bring it to an end.”

He grabbed his jacket and locket before heading out the door. The battle which decided the war was starting, and he needed to revisit everything he knew before walking into court.

Two trials were now connected, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it all went full circle back to the promise he made Edgeworth prior to being reinstated. He had the dreadful feeling Edgeworth was vastly understating when he determined all these happenings were much deeper than just a simple sabotage.

No, the world had gotten significantly worse when the original call from Edgeworth arrived, from a European phone number, asking if he’d like a young lady to join his resurrecting firm.

There was something dark and unholy lurking beneath it all, and a horrifying possibility where Athena was the thread bringing years of crime to a head just in time for this battle was beginning to become clear. He’d fought off his wrongful conviction the year before, if they could just undo the sentence of the prosecutor who sealed the Dark Age into being, perhaps the corruption could finally start to unravel.

His phone buzzed again, but with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

Phoenix looked up at the dusky sky, watching stars peek one by one into view as the golden sun faded beneath the skyline, before an ever-familiar voice met him on the device’s other end. “...Apollo?”

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statticscribbles · 4 years

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My Dearest, My Dead

Summary: Evelyn/Edgar, A look at what they want from The Farm

Evelyn writes; she keeps unsent letters and journals in the records rooms; with everyone’s files. Edgar says it’s her way of coping, the rest of The Farm just think they’re her records of everyone. She doesn’t think back to when she’d been told. She blocks out how she’d gone to Edgar sobbing, inconsolable with pain blurring her entire being. Edgar carefully took her in his arms and they spent days in bed. They didn’t have the Farm; they didn’t have their family to support them as they do now. Edgar talked to her softly, gently explaining how they can build a family, how they can create The Farm. How Evelyn will need to be the first to be harvested. He can’t take her pain of course, he reminds her; but she can help the cause. She agrees and when she wakes up it’s like nothing has changed; the memory of what happened buried under the stitches and bandages.

Edgar sits with her as she recovers, the stitches he gave her barely there, they dissolve within two weeks and she barely has anything more than a faint line on her side. She writes when he suggest it, a way to keep her feelings her own, but not let them fester inside her. He never asks her to read them, but when she wakes screaming and sobbing from nightmares she’ll read to him in her shaking voice until she calms enough to sleep.

In the places before Riverdale they do not dwell on those they had to leave. Evelyn does not write to them, she burns the records, she does what Edgar says. He promised her they’d have their family and as they move on from the last town they’ve taken from Evelyn can’t help but be relieved it’s one step closer. She does not have doubts she knows Edgar will succeed and they’ll have their family, have their farm and everything will go back to how it was. She wonders if they’ll move back to the first town they took from, she decides she’d prefer not to, she likes the idea of Riverdale, of it being their final home; where they started is where they end. She finds it poetic; Edgar agrees. Evelyn is far too excited to start their plan, Edgar reminds her they might still need to move, still need to leave. ——————————————————————————–

In the sister’s of quiet mercy, past the Gargoyle King’s chamber, beyond the tunnel that leads out; there’s a room locked from everyone’s eyes. The only two who have seen in are Evelyn and Edgar. Edgar told Alice it was the room where they’d ascend. It was a way to stave off her curiosity, to hush the reporter’s urge that still bubbled under her skin. Evelyn had caught her trying to sneak down; Alice was understandably confused when all Evelyn did was start sobbing; broken wails and injured animal sounds drowning out any of the farms regular noises; even the pipe system was drowned out under her crushed voice. Edgar was there in moments, snarling into Alice’s ear and telling her how Polly would be punished for her sneaking around, grip on her arm almost breaking it. Alice doesn’t understand where the viciousness comes from, how it vanishes the instant he moves from her to Evelyn; it’s not love she reasons, but something darker. The way Evelyn folds into him mumbling nonsense and dates long past has Alice wondering what exactly that room is meant for. She mentions it to Charles when she sees him next; he promises he’ll look into it.

Charles brings her half used information, snippets and pieces of the past members in the Farm, they all talk of similar doors, similar rooms, and how Evelyn always fell apart at the idea of others in the room The door was always locked, bolted and there was no window, no way to see what was inside. They’d spoken how no one entered and no one left. It was thought to be the records room; until the records room was mapped out. The room big enough to house two people, with bed on either side. Alice shot down that idea; Edgar and Evelyn already had their own room; they had no need for another one. —————————————————————–

Evelyn wakes to Edgar’s arms around her, she doesn’t move wondering if he’s awake as well. “Betty’s staying with us.” “That’s good.” “She’s smart, bound to figure out some part of what we’re doing.” “That’s bad.” Evelyn frowns her headache coming back as she remembers the nightmares she’d had; she can faintly remember Edgar sedating her but she’s not sure if it was last night or months ago. “I had to dear, you were going to start screaming, can’t worry anyone now can we.” Evelyn nods letting him kiss her forehead as he pets her hair. “We’re having another group today, would you like to join?” “Maybe; I know today is; tough for both of us.” He nods nudging her to lie back down so they face each other. She watches the way his eyes track her face, and as he brushes his thumb against the corner of her mouth she knows he’s not seeing her as she is now. She wonders which version of her he’ll see the most today. “We’ll be together; through all of it. Like always.” He speaks softly nodding to her, his hand running down her arm as he pulls her close.

She’s not aware she falls asleep again, just as she’s not aware she’s awake once more. She’s aware she’s sitting in a chair. She knows Edgar helped her, she can smell his soap on her skin and the shampoo he uses in his hair on her own damp locks. She turns her head to see not only her journal, but a new book and a fresh vase of flowers. She reaches for the flowers wincing when the IV tape tugs against her skin. She grabs the book easily enough and starts to read. She glances at the almost full bag, she knows she’ll have hours left.

She’s barely a third through when Polly walks in. She’s reading, thankful she decided to leave her daily journaling to before bed. “Oh sorry.” Polly’s about to back out of the room when Evelyn watches Juniper fussing in her arms. “Tilt her chin up.” Is all she says before she flicks another page in her book; Polly’s surprised when Juniper quiets. Alice asks to talk to her, and Evelyn declines. “Evelyn.” Alice starts and watches how she turns her head, regarding Alice nervously. Alice isn’t sure why she’d been so anxious recently but it seems like every sound had her on the knife’s edge of panic. In the group session earlier some sort of beeping alarm went off and Edgar had to sedate Evelyn. She looked terrified even when she was sleeping. Betty has theories about Evelyn’s guilt, about her knowledge of the organ farming but Alice knows she can’t share it with her daughter, she just hopes she’ll be able to get her and Juniper out before anything else happens. ————————————————————-

Evelyn knows she’s dreaming, she always knows when she’s dreaming after being sedated; everything is too dull or too vibrant. She can smell too much, everything is too crisp, too clear it makes her wan to close her eyes, to turn away; but she knows she can’t. She must look to understand. She watches her husband, her Edgar, always trying to do good, always trying to help people; why he’d become a trauma surgeon in the first place. She knew he was going to help thousands. She didn’t understand why she had to be one of the first. The car had swerved too far out, it had been dark and icy, it would have happened to anyone. She knows this is what the doctors tell everyone, that they never stood a chance in the tiny car against the truck, against the weather and the distance from the town, from the hospital. Edgar saves her, she knows he does, she can smell the soap and shampoo he uses, unchanging since they’d met in school. He knows it comforts her.

She lets the dream happen, she knows she can’t wake herself, she’s tried time and time again, she knows not when this will twist from dream to memory unsure if it already has. She follows the gurney; the ambulance no longer makes sound, she can’t hear the shouts, the screams from the doctors. She knows this is a memory with how everything seems to settle for a moment, the saturation dropping, the sound no longer fogged. Her vision no longer blurry. She sees her own face, blood covered and she can’t help but gag with her memory self and she tries to breathe, she looks up and it’s a dream once more, Edgar rushing over, his hands running up her arms promising her he’ll save her, the fact she can see him the giveaway it’s only a dream again. She knows she’s dreaming and she can feel herself crying already; she watches herself on the gurney, reaching to the other one, Edgar moves them both closer despite that they’re going to different operating rooms, despite that she knows Edgar can only save one. She wonders why he chose her. She can hear screaming from the other room, she knows she’s dreaming but she cant help the panic, the need stop the screaming, she shakes on the gurney, twisting and trying to shout, only managing to choke on her own blood as someone that’s not Edgar pricks her with a needle and a mask is placed over her mouth and nose.

She wakes shaking and gasping scrambling off the bed trying to pull herself free of wires and tubes and IV’s that are no longer there. She sobs, throwing herself from the bed and trying her best to stand and move towards the door. She’s sure she’s the source of the screams, the pained broken animal that bubbles from inside her chest. She can hear footsteps and collapses into the arms that open the door. “I’m sorry; I’m sorry, what about Elizabeth, you need to fix her, she knows; she knows, she knows! You left her; you left her!” She chokes on her own sorrow as Edgar’s arms hold her up. He kisses her forehead once more, not bringing her back to their room, but to the common room, he sits with her; both Cheryl and Polly appear instantly, worry on their faces. Fangs and Kevin bring her a blanket and she sits, confused and blinking in the sunlight filled room as they stay next to her. Cheryl smiles, running her hand up her arm in comfort. Polly braids her hair. Kevin and Fangs start talking about something they saw on TV, a distraction she thinks. Edgar sits next to her and she reaches out for him. “Elizabeth she-“ “It’s alright Evelyn, it’s alright.” He rubs circles on her back as she starts to cry again, confusion on her face. She watches Betty back out of the room, she watches the look her and Alice share before Alice smiles at Evelyn trying to be comforting. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Everyone chorus’ Edgar’s voice, concern and confusion lacing their words. ——————————————————————————-

Evelyn doesn’t need to ask, she waits until its far past anyone being awake, Edgar rouses her she’s still confused about how she ended up asleep on the common room couch, her hair braided and one of Fang’s hoodies around her shoulders, but she lets Edgar wake her and walk with her. She knows he doesn’t need to support her but he does it anyways; the closer they draw to the room the more pronounced the limp she has gets; he can tell she’s nervous. The door opens with a hiss, it’s been sealed to prevent decay; she’s not sure how it works, only that it does. Edgar steps in first, letting the lights flicker on before Evelyn steps through. The door hisses closed behind them, sealing them in with the rest of room’s content.

“It’s beautiful, Evelyn runs her hands along the bed frame, the side table where Edgar’s notes and drawings sit is where she touches next; where he keeps most of his medical supplies from his days as a surgeon is the last she touches, always in the same pattern. Evelyn’s fingers tangle in a blanket, letting the soft fabric run through her fingers. They catch, as they always do on the bloodstains that haven’t been washed out. “What troubles you about today love?” “We’re home; we’re back we- We shouldn’t have come into her room without her.” Evelyn trembles and Edgar’s arms wrap around her. “Dear, she’s here remember? In the hospital, we just have to bring her home, once everyone agrees to ascend, we can bring her back. One human soul has to be given back if we give up hundreds. It would only be fair, of course.” His fingers undo the braids in her hair.

“Can we visit her?” Her voice is small and Edgar nods, they don’t need to sneak out, but still they do, taking the tunnel the sister’s had closed up. Moving past the hospital security is easy enough, and as they both stand outside the room, Evelyn starts to cry. Edgar wipes his own tears along with hers. They nudge the door open, the room exactly the same as it was two years ago. Everything the same, just as if they stepped out for only a moment. “Hey Elizabeth, how’re you doing sweetheart?” Edgar offers into the darkness, only the beeping of the machines answers him. Evelyn’s grip on his arm tightens, he knows this is too much for her, but he nudges both of them closer. He needs to see her face. “Please.” She whimpers and he nods, sighing as they step back towards the door, a step and a half and they’re back in the hallway. Edgar carries her back to the Farm, back to their room.

“You did so well this time, you got all they way into her room. I’m so proud of you.” “Shouldn’t have to be.” She mumbles upset at herself; Edgar shakes his head kissing her softly. “Remember what the doctor’s said, you can’t blame yourself for what’s happened to her, just like I can’t blame myself for not being able to help her. I saved my wife. I saved the love of my life. You’re safe, you’re alive because of me.” Evelyn nods swallowing. “You should have saved our daughter.” Edgar tenses. “I will. I’m going to bring her back; I’m going to wake her up. I swear.”

Evelyn wakes up alone, she��s told Edgar is performing pain removal on someone and she nods letting him have his peace, she’s seen his notes, his drawings and ideas, to create enough pain to draw his daughter’s soul back to the living; to give up the soul’s from the farm, to trade for hers. She’s fairly sure it won’t work, but she’s foolish enough to let Edgar’s hope and delusions infect her like the pain he inflicts on others. She wonder’s what is worse, living with her pain, or what he’d take away to free her from it.

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#edgar evernever #edgar evernever x evelyn evernever #evelyn evernever #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale request #the farm #this was written like at the beginning of the farm plot being introduced so its kinda old #the farm riverdale #stattic

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greatpeanutcomputer · 4 years

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HORROR

Mashobra is a small hamlet about thirteen kilometres from Himalayan town of Shimla an hour's drive from there through a winding ,twisting narrow moountainous road througha landscape of sheer virgin beauty. With the comping up of a whole lot of hotels guesthouses and resorts. it has become quite a crowded place today.Once this was no more than a peacefull little village situated in the middle of a thick coniferous forest- stark and glorious.Mashobra is my birthplace.Despite the fact that i spent only the first year of my life here i have a special attachment to it.THE lonely hills supporting a dense coniferous forest the lush undergrowth the exotic himalayan birds the glorious sunrise and sunset-they all hold a magical attraction for me.I love the intensemystical silence that gets interrupted only by the tweets of the birds,or by the chattering monkeys fighting inter troupe battles. And when the wind blow through the bush,it creates its own music-intensely haunting and hypnotizing.this pristine forest is timeworn-mony of these luxuriant deodars pines junipers, and oaks tall on these slopes have witnessed several generations come and go.they are mute witnesses to epochs of the known and the unknow history.Mystery is concealed in every nook and corner of these mesmerizing hills.I remember one episode from the time i was a little schoolgirl.I had gone with Pa to Mashobra,where he was presiding over a seminer at the GramSevak training centre.His seminar had continued unendingly ,leaving me bored and hungry.Our driver Sant ram offered to take me for crispy hot pakoras to a dhaba at talai abiut a kilometre away I jumped at the tempting proposal.An almost flat undulating patch of the grassland,that steadily rose up into a hillock to the south and subsided into a gradual velley to the north,talai was a very alluring playground.I chased butterflies around a small insignificant pond of green thick scum of moss, while hot pakoras were being freshly fried for me at the dhaba. Once we sat down to eat, Sant Ram informed me,"you knows ,baby ji entine area acquires its name from this humble pool-Talai ""oh". My eyes roved around to unearth more mysteries.I than spotted a large mansion hidden behind a thick cluster of trees at the top of the hillock.Who lives that house, SantRam?""That's the faridkot estate owned by the Raja of Faridkot.Faridkot is an panjabi." Hmm Visible from the dhaba was also a dilapidated house."Why is that house so broken and worn out?No one lives there?" I asked, enjoying a hot pokara in yummy tamarind chutney."Oh Baby ji, it is supposed to be a bhootia banngla a haunted house."I stopped munching. my interst in a ghost made me forget how famished I was. Ieyed the house in an entirely new perspective.curiosity and fear were two strong contenders in my young mind producing goose pimples all over my little body but I allowed my curiosity to override. Hesitating a little, i asked, Really ? Teel me about it.Sant Ram was quiet for a few seconds .He must have been making up his mind whether to tell me the story."there had been a terrible fire here long ago." I watched the dhaba owner nod spiritedly. His upheld opinion added more flavour to the story.I now noticed the blackened stone structure and the frameless windows and doors-whatever had survived the assault of fire and time. Sant Ram elaborated,"the fire broke out at night. the lady living alone in it was fast asleep and was burnt alive. Some think the fire was started deliberately-asabotage. IT is belived that her spirit lives in the house.""Who was the lady? Didn't she have children?" "No, no children. She was very close to the Raja, hos special friend, you know-girlfriend. He had given her this house."Sant Ram explained with a meaningful smile. He thought I would not understand. But I had instantly perceived what he meant;the way he exchanged glances with the dhaba owner. " But , no one dares to touch the house. people who tried had bad experiences once they began removing the wreckagr."What bad experience, Sant Ram? i insisted timorously .it would be a nice ghost story to tell to my friend."They fell ill, or had nightmars i which a woman told them to leave her house alone etcetera ." Sant Ram's pursed lips and enlarged eyes unnerved me, which he didn't notice. "No one dares to repair or live in that house,despite it being located at a very prime site.All of a sudden, it occurred to me that the ghost was perhaps watching me from the ruins. My little body shivered.I hurriedly gobbled the leftover pakoras. "Sant Ram, please take me back to pa." the house, seemingly right out of a horror story had begun to frighten me.Much later,when I was a young collage girl, I come to know about a creepier supernatural incident that had transpired here in Mashobra many year ago with someone very close to my family. It happned before I was born In 1952 at the behest of the government at new delhi, a Gram Sevak Training Centre came up at Mashobra and Pa was appointed its first principal. My family lived on the first floor of the main building. its ground floor had the administrative offices. The lecture rooms and the auditorium were housed in an adjacent building. The Students' hostal and the staff quarters were about a kilometre walk down the hill near the famous coutts garden.The student and staff community wasn't a large one.There were about twenty students and six members of the teaching faclty. only one of the lecturers ,Raj Vaidya, was married. It was a mid-january evening of the year 1953. Dark clouds had descended like a gigantic rolling ocean in the sky.It had been snowing non-stop for the past two days.Two feet of frozen vapour covered the land scape,hiding all colours under its white caps.The bitter cold had restrained folks inside their home.The students and the teaching staff of the centre were on two months long winter break. only my family and some of the administrative staff had remained behind at the Centre.The deserted expanse was even more desolate now and over whelmingly silent.It was well after dinnertime.My parents were in the sitting room warming their feet in the dying fire at the fireplace and exchanging notes on the day's events before retiring for the night. they were jolted out of their reverie by a loud knock on the door. " I wonder who has come at this time.," Pa got up from his chair to check on the unexpected caller. When the door was opned in breezed a draught of chilled wind and centre's compounder krishan das Negi. wrapped in a blanket over his khadi coat, BUSHEBRI cap and a home knit woollen muffler he stood shivering with a worried frown creasing his brow. Pa quickly shut the door. "I am worried about Hari ram's health," Pa later expressed to Ma. he looked so ghostly pale.I wonder what's wrong with him then he added hope the doctor on duty is efficient.By lunchtime there was still no news of the sick man if everything went well they should have reched the hospital by ten thirty, Maybe eleven even if they went slowly." Pa eyed the telephone."I had specifically asked Krishan to call me.Why hasn't he?'His restlessness made Ma concerned for him."Why don't you call the hospital?. she posed."I have tried the hospital reception,Can't get through."Pa shook his head dejectedly."they must have got busy looking after the patient,or maybe the telephone there is out of order.You know it's very common in winters.WIRES SNAG." Ma tried to put his mind at ease.She wanted keep them away from this unfortunate death. they were too tnder to be exposed.It was later that details were divulged to her.of about four miles when they came across a huge mound of snow completely bloking the road It was a minor avalanche but couldn't be cleared without the help of the public work department. but there was stranded on the orther side of the blockade agreed to return to shimla and arrange for the required. Hari Ram condition continued to deteriorate. his body went into tremors and he began to get disoriented. By and by he went silent. the men accompanying him thought he had fallen asleep.The temperature was dropping fast and the light was fading. they waited and waited for someone to arrive to clear the road.None came when Krishan tried walking Hari Ram up, to make him drink some tea, he realized he wasn't hotnanymore. Had the fever subsided? He then realized Hari Ram wasn't breathing.he trived reviving him all in vain Hari Ram's spirit had long been released and his body now lay lifeless.Hari Ram belonged to a remote village in theog tebsil of Himachal. He had lost both his parents ,however his two older brothers still lived in the village with their families.Pa telephoned the agriculture inspector posted at theog, asking him to inform Hari Ram's family of the misforture. He expected Hari Ram broyhers to take his body to their village for the last rites.Meanwhile the body was kept buried in snow for two days. when even by the thidr day nobody reached Mashobra to claim the body, pa sent another urgent message. Pa quickly shut the door."What brings you here at this time,Krishna?" Krishna rubbed his ice-cold hands."Sir,Hari Ram is running a very high fever for the past two days,and it's showing no sings of subsiding.I have been giving him paracetamol table every four hours since yesterday but it hasn't made any difference ti his fever. There is no cough no running nose." Hari Ram was the peon at the centre. "Stomach infection?" Pa asked ."No, Sir. No diarrhoea, no vomiting. He's complaining of a severe headache though.i fed him half a slice of bread and half a cup of ter with great difficulty.He hasn't eaten anything else the entire day. I don't know what is wrong with him .I checked his temperature before comeing to you. it was 105`fahrenheit since the evening he has also been blabbering incoherently he's very serious SIR he need to see a doctor.Hmm we must admit him in a hospital immediately. Pa shook his head worriedly."It is too late now, sir. driver pitamber has left and his house is three kilometters away There is no way we can take Hari Ram to the hospital now.'Oh NOT much can be done immediately in this bad weather keep cold compressess on his forehead and try to keep his fever down.If his condition doesn't improve by the morning go and fetch pitamber from his house and take himto SHIMLA, TO Snowdon hospital.Krishna appeared dismayed. it wouldn't br easy to plod through mounds of snow early in the morning in the bitter cold especially if he was going to be looking after the patient the entire night. Pitamber should be reporting on duty around nine. Sir. Even if I leave at seven to call him we can't be back before nine .'YOU forget Krishan,tomorrow is sunday. pitamber will not be coming. go as early as you can. Let's not take chances." oh yes, sir I WILL leave as soon as I can." And Krishan once again retreated into the dark cold night. there was no improvement in weather conditions the next morning. It was a daRK COLD AND blustery day. around nine there were noise of hectic activity outside. The frozen engine of the jeep took consistent effort and warm weter to come to like.Krishan and Pitamber brought Hari Ram on a chair and lifted him into the jeep. He had lost tremendous weight in just a few days and looked so pallid that Pa was taken aback. A STRANGE abnormal look in his eyes was frightening. Despite his condition he threw a weak smile at Pa. "you" ll be fine Hari Ram, Pa assured him be strong.Hari Ram nodded faintly. I ll be back soon he whispered.Pa stroked his head.of couse,you ll be!Before they left pa gave Krishan strict instructions,"Call me as soon as you reach the hospital.I wiill speak with the doctor on duty." though he personally knew a few doctors at the hospital he also knew that it being sunday not many doctors would be available at the hospital except the ones on emergency duty. THE clock tricked on. there was no information about hari ram's health even by the evening.Finally at five o' clock, Pa had enough of waiting around in tension.grabbing his overcoat he got into his snowshoes."where are you going in this cold? It'll be dark soon."Ma eyed him check.""You can't walk till the hospital,ten miles away in this snow,"Ma expressed her apprehension."No,I am not going to the hospital.Of course not! Will just walk till talai.I need some exercise."Ma nodded. A short walk would do him good ease him out a little. she ardently prayed for hari ram's health as she stood at the window watching Pa trudge through the snow. he had been away for barely fifteen minutes when Ma rushed out on hearing the sound of an approaching vehicle. It was the centere's jeep as she had expected Pa alighted from it.He looked pape and immensely miserable. In an instant Ma realized that things weren't good.Pitamber got off and rushed to help other from the back of the jeep.Krishan was next to dismount.Then both of them removed hari ram from the jeep.he was wrapped in a sheet from head to toe."Oh my God! What happened? Ma was shaken and upset."Sorry, memsahib we couldn't bring him back alive,"Krishan spoke through his choked throat. tears streamed down his cheeks. pitamber sobbed openly "He was such a wonderful man. why did he have to go so early?"Ma closed her eyes and silently prayed for the departed.the handsome cheerful face of Hari Ram hovered for the departed.The handsome cheerful face of Hari Ram hovered before her eyes.He was too young to die.After the intial shock she hurried inside to her children.The body couldn't be kept forever .this time he was told that hari ram's family was finding it difficult to travel due to the blocked roads.It was left on Pa to undertake the required ceremonies. Early next morning a priest was arranged. he came reluctantly;he couldn't be blamed. It hadn't stopped snowing for the past four days. More than three feet of snow covered the entire expanse of the town, draping it in white as if in mourning for the departed.Hari Ram's body was taken in the jeep to the cremation grounds. Clearing a small patch. they made the funeral pyre under a makeshift tin roof. It become very difficult to light the damp wood. finally krishan consigned the body to flames after a great struggle and many tins of ghee. the priest half-heartedly chanted mantras for the peace of the departed soul and shivered continuously in the cold. As if this wasn't enough a raging blizzard struck soon after the pyre was lit. blinded by the snow crystals, they all had to beat a hasty retreat.THE next day when krishan and pitamber went to the cremation ground, they were stumped. Hari Ram's body hadn't burnt completely. the keeper of the cremation ground had neglected his job of watching over the burning pyre. they were now in a dilemma ."the best thing now will be to do the needful in haridwar suggested krishan. Hari Ram's remains were anyway to be taken to haridwar as customary in hindu religion."how will we take these half burnt remains there? Pitamber probed. "The interstate bus service has been suspended dee to the snowstorms. And ,i don't think I can take the risk of driving through this strom.We'll get stranded for sure so don't even make that suggestion to principal sahib."Neither were the remain in a condition to be kept for too long. the keeper of the cremation grounds suggested burying the remains of hari ram in a suitable place realizing it to be the most expendient proposal in the given circumstances the men complied and kept silent over the whole affair.Early march with the culmination of the winter break the hustle-bustle of the insitute was restored. In the close knit community of the centre the death of a young man was shocking-almost unbelievable. Hari Ram's affable smile happy go lucky persona and free spirit had fetched him lots of friends among the staff and students. Now he was so far away from them all.A condolence meeting was held which held which was attended by all except one person associated with the community. Raj Vaidya a senior staff member had returned without his family. his wife neema had stayed back to spend more time with her parents looking after the younger doughter just a few months old was easier with the help of her mother .

the routine at the institute resumed. the cold began to wane and with it the memory of the departed. A new man replaced the deceased and life's routines continued.Summers arrived in may and Neema Vaidya returned home.the day temperature were comfortable twenty five degree and the night were cool the bright sunshine had begun to spread its golden warm cape over the mountains. the honeysuckle creeper scrambling up on one of the pillars in her house's portico was in full bloom and had spread its heavenly aroma far and wide. THE chestnut tree was once again filled with prickly fruits the apple,plum,and apricot tree on the hilly terraces were laden with small unripe fruits. May 10,1953 around four in the afternoon- the routine bustle in the students' hospital adjoining Neema's house was missing usually the students returned after classes around this time but presently the annual examinations were going on and today's paper was scheduled for the afternoon. IT would finish at five her husband was on invigilation duty and hadn't come home for lunch.the hectic toil since the morning had exhausted the mother of two children ever since her exhausted the mother of two children ever since her return a few days ago her seven=months=old chitra had been a bit cranky taking time to adjust to her new environment her three-year-old veera was happy to be back with her father and in an overly playful mood. today much to her relief both her gils had decided on a long afterniin nap.It was a warm languorous afternoon inducing drowsiness and Neema took advantage of the opportunity. A short nap of half an hours was very rejuvenating.Once up she decided to finish her knitting. There was no season in shimla when the children could do without woollens. opening the window of her sitting room wider to enjoy a fresh cool breeze she sat down on an easy chair facing the window with her knitting. She must have been at her work for berely five minutes when she dropped a stitch and got focused on retrieving it. it was then that she heard a voice.someone greeted her from the open window."How are you,Memsa'ab?"She raised her eyes from her task to check on the visitor a man in a loose whitish shirt stood just outside the open window. oh hari ram ? I'm fine. seen you after a long time how are you?""how's veera?""Children are doing well thank you."i'll take veera with me."thank you hari ram not now she's sleeping. with great difficulty she went to sleep."Neema smiled."Maybe later in the evening you can take her to play outside. Hari ram nodded and left.She found nothing amiss except hari ram had sounded very different his voice was much deeper and distant as if he was making an effort to speak.

Hari Ram had often looked after looked after Veera. He was such a fine person.After chitra had been born he had been a big help when neema was struggling alone with the household chores and her children before she had gone home to mandi for winters he had come so often whenever he had some free time at hand. He loved to play with her little girls, especially veera-a very happy and lively child ,and very pretty with lovely pinkish complexion and large expressive hazel eyes. ever since she had learnt to talk she had become a non-stop chatterbox.Neema would smile seeing Hari Ram burst into laughter at her baby prattle.It 'll be nice if Hari Ram came in the evening to take veera out to play. Raj will come tried, and probably won't have the energy, Neema reflected and continued to knit blithely.Raj came home late the evening around six thirty.Students had appeared in his subject's exam that day, so it had taken him some time to count the papers and make the bundles.With the bundles under his arm,he reached home with the intention of starting to correct immediately,after his usual cup of tea. THE children were up and playful.it was a pleasure to come back home to his lovely family.the couple sat down to their evening tea in the dining corner of their sitting room Little chitra was happing gurgling in her father's lap and veera was making all efforts to climb onto his lap too.What an attention seeker she's becoming! wouldn't let her father have A cup of tea peacefully. Neema gently held the child's hand and pulled her towards her. Veera go and play with your toys.No, I want to sit on papa's lap. You take chitra away , the three-year-old persisted."Papa is tired,beta.""No,papa is not tired.He will play with me.""Now,don't be an adamant child,and come here,"the mother chaged her tone to sound firmLet her be Neema. She needs an outing. though I need to start correcting the papers,I'll take the girls out a while after I finish the tea."No, you don't have to. you can do your corrections .Hari ram said he would come to take veera out to play.He's late. Maybe he's on his way."Raj stared at her. 'What? what did you say?'"Hari Ram had come in the afternoon, around four. I told him to come in the evening and take Veera out to play,"Neema reiterated. She couldn't understand the changed expression on her husband's face. she lifted her cup to take a sip."Are you sure it was hari ram the peon?It could have been someone else,"Raj spoke gingerly. Neema put her cup down on the saucer.why someone else?don't I know Hari Ram? He used to take veera out to play so aften and at times help me with the household work. It could have been the new peon who has joined recently Raj affirmed despite his doubts.He know that the new peon was nowhere close to resembling hari ram.He was short short and stout unlike the deceased man moreover Neema hadn't even met the new peon. what wrong with raj? Does be think I can't recognize people well? why are you saying that?Being away for a few months has not made me forget Hari Ram's face."when did he last come to help you?Raj spoke warily his heart in his mouth.beads of perspiration had collected on his brows.Neema remained unawere of it all."Hmm... He come after a long time today. Neema frowned and than said,"In fact for the first time since my return from mandi. "did he come in-inside the house?" Neema wondered why raj sounded so anxious and afraid NO, he stood outside at the window. children were asleep so I didn't feel the need to let him in. Though he will come now; he said so Neema sipped tea and watched Raj looking at the window as if it was something out of the world. why was he acting so weied? The window was still open. beyond it the twilight was slowly slipping into night. Only the pillar was faintly visible in the grey haze the cool breeza of the mountains streamed in generously through the window wafting in a little chill. Neema couldn't grasp what was making Raj so nervous,He was trying to stand but couldn't since veera sat at his feet.Neema please hurry shut the window. The desperation in his voice was palpable. Why does be want to shut out the lovely breeza? Neema relucatantly got up. she peeped out of the window. the fragrance of the blooming flowers was heavenly. she took a deep breath and lingered at the window for a few seconds.Neema shut the window Raj's voice rumbled a mixture of concern and fear.OKay I'm closing it why are you getting so worked up? Neema grudgingly closed and bolted the window and returned to finish her tea she frowned when she took a ship It had gone cold She liked to drink it hot she peeped inti Raj's empty cup and then picked up her cup and moved towards the kitchen to reheat it. Raj was sitting absolutely still on his chair looking pale and distrubed. What gone wrong with his mood Neema wondered would you like another cup of tea, dear.?NO, When Neema returned with her steaming cup refilled, she found Raj still sitting frozen in the same pose as she had left him. He was tightly holding in the same pose as she had left him.He was tightly holding on to his daughters. chitra was peacefully playing with her father's tie. Veera had lovingly rested her head on his chest and was sucking her thumb.Is something the metter?Are you not feeling well?"Neema sat down with her cup of tea.I relly don't understand.....understand what?, Neema lifted her cup and brought it close to her lips.Hari Ram is dead."What rubbish! He was here around four in the evening ." She frowned. She was about to take a sip but her hand froze in mid air."Did he die after that? He seemed all right. Was it an accident "NO. he died this winter, when we were away, Raj spoke slowly guardedly. he didn't want to frighten Neema. but he hadn't chosen the right moment. A choked scream escaped Neema's throat. she dropped the cup with its hot tea on her lap, scalding her thighs. the cup rolled down crashed on the floor, and broke into fragment. the children got frightened at the clattering and their mother's sudden reaction. they begen to wail. Neema's vision automatically traversed to the window. She was relieved it was shut. She was shivering and her burnt thighs hurt. But she remained glued to the chair. The couple gazed at each other. Had Neema known about the man's death and then had seen his ghost, it could have been taken as a figment of her imagination a hallucination. but she had no inkling to the fact that Hari Ram had died while he was away to mandi. No one had bothered to let her know for Hari Ram was a forgotten man now out of most lives and minds. After comforting their daughters, the couple rushed to the little shrine in the corner of their bedroom. they lit a lamp burnt a bunch of incense sticks and offered prayers for the peace of the wandering soul. they prayed for the safety of their daughters. "Please protect us. No harm should ever come to our little family," They appealed to God. Later when Neema went to the kitchen to cook dinner, her husband followed her with his daughter still held protectively in his arms. The silence around their house felt unnerving. The students were busy preparing for the next day's exam and there wasn't the usual bustle around. Neema loudly and continuously incanted hymns to keep the restive spirit a bay. She could berely give attention to her cooking. As they sat down for dinner ,Raj expressed, "Neema, let's just keep quiet over the incident. There in no need to spread panic among the students. Most will not believe us anyway. Neema nodded. there was hardly anybody here with whom she shared that kind of rapport except with Mrs. Sharma the principal's wife she was like a older sister. But if Raj was insisting there most be a good reason for not disclosing it unless the ghost appeared tp more people, it may be a good idea to keep it a secret. The next few weeks went by smoothly. There were no unwanted visits no eerie visitor. the dread and dismay to fade from their lives. The routine at the training centre went on undisturbed. NONE except the couple had the knowledge about a wandering spirit among them. but they had prayed for its peace and perhaps that had its effect Hopefully the spirit had gone to its eternal rest. The examination at the school were over and the results were declared. The students prepared to go home. the first year batch on annual vacations whereas the graduates would soon jobs. the weather was warmer than the previous month. the weather was previous month the bushes on the hills were filled with vibrant blooms. their exotic, heavenly fragrance infused hearts with joy. Pa decided to organize a special treat for his students and a ferewell for the outing batch. After some deliberation He came to the conclusion that nothing would be more appealing to the young folks than the Indian Cinema.IT was very rare for the residents of this far-removed mountainous region to be able to watch a movie. the nearest cinema hall was in shimla, not easily accessible to all. Also it would be a big hassle to take everyone to a theatre at shimla. So, he decided to bring a cinema hall to the institution. He spoke with the director of the public relations department and he agreed to send his moblie cinema van complete with a screen projector and spools of the latest hindi film.Aankben starring bharat bhushan and nalini jaywant. He would also send along his technicians to set up a mini cinema hall for a day.When the announcement was made about the show there was an air of excitement in the campus. indian films becomes the hot topic for discussions the actors the movies songs and singers the debate kept on till the cinema van arrived on friday morning.Though the movie was to begin after lunch at two all students arrived from their hostel by ten in the morning as soon as the word spread that the cineama van had arrived on they requested the canteen owner to prepare early lunch and he happily obliged. HE didn't want to miss the show either So a picnic in the lawns before the moving got added to the entertainment a package.The technicians got busy setting up the moving theatre surrounded by a crowd of chattering curious excited students. By one thirty a big crowd had assembled outside the makeshift cinema hall word had spread in the two-mile radious and many families arrived uninvited for the show. So the movie was running a full house.Pa's contentment was marred by the fact that Ma wouldn't be joining him. she had developed a severe headache and had declared her inability to come. Another missing member was Neema vaidya. Her infant daughter was running a fever and she decided not to risk exposing her further. The machinery developed some snag and the movie show could begin only by two thirty.Once the black and white movie began the excited chatter instantly died down. Although the area around Neema's house was never a crowded zone due to the presence of the student community, its was seldom that still during the daytime.there would always be some kind of activity, sounds, and laughter around. Today, an overwhelming silence hovered on the region like hushed mist over a clam ocean. Ma swallowed a paractamol table with water and decieded to take's it easy. It was a rare opportunity to rest in the afternoon. All children including the hyper youngset, were away for at least three hours. She made hereself snug inside a quilt. Soon the medicine took effect and she was fast asleep.

A kilomettre away, Neema fed both her daughter. chitra had been restive since the morning; her fever made her cantankerous. Neema put nasal drops into her blocked nose,soothed her, sang her a lullaby and fimally managed to lull her to sleep. Veera was playing with her toys. her sleeping hours were decreasing day by day as her curious little mind was focused on the discovery mission.It was a lovely summer afternoon with a cool and pleasant breeza blowing gently. Neema opened the window to allow fresh air inside her bedroom. she stood there admiring the blooming flowers even though the intense silence in the area was making her uneasy. A fleeting memory of the eerie incident of last month crossed her mind but she immediately tossed it out. Hadn't they prayed ardently for the peace of Hari Ram's soul? She once again joined her hands and said a quick, silent prayer. But the loneliness depressed her today. She felt left out. She wanted to watch the movie. She had seen only two in her lifetime. that was before her children had been born. Raj hadn't even offered to stay back with the babies and allow her to go.But then he was needed to maintain discipline among the students. Neema heaved a deep sigh and withdrew from the window.Since Veera was up and playing, she couldn't lie down to rest even though her back felt stiff.There was some stitching left to be completed. She had been stitching dressess for her daughters. She kept the sewing machine on the tabe and sat down to work on it. An icy draught of air entered her room through the window. she shivered a little. the wheel of the hand-operated sewing machine continued moving in circles. The needle sewing machine continued moving in circles. the needle went up and down to attach the small bodice of the frock with the skirt.A sudden dimness in the light made her wonder if it was getting cloudy. she had her laundry drying on the clothesline outside. The weather in shimla was so unpredictable. the pre-monsoon rains would start any day, declaring an end to the divine summer season of shimla- her mind kept wandering from one thought to another. Her hands deftly kept on stitching the dress.A stray dog enjoying the late afternoon sun in the porch suddenly whined breaking her thought process.The whining become distant. The dog had rushed away. Had someone hurt it?

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stattic-writes · 5 years

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My Dearest, My Dead

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

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#edgar evernever #evelyn evernever #Chad Michael Murray #Zoé De Grand Maison #riverdale imagine #riverdale cw #riverdale fandom #riverdale #riverdale season 3 #written

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blogofpureimagination · 6 years

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Firecracker

Taking place after goblet

Juniper Potter x George Weasley

Rating: M (later on but for now just Potter stuff)

Chapter 1

Walking through the field I could see the park in front of me seeing a mom and her child playing on the play sets, but what had caught my eye was my brother sitting on the swing set. Making my way to him I took the spot next to him and just sat there feeling the heat beat down my neck.

Seeing the mothers leave and our cousin come striding up made me groan “Hey big D, beat up another ten-year-old?” Harry asked him scrunching his face in the heat.

“This one deserved it.”

“Five against one wow good on yea Dudley.” I called out shaking my head. “Very brave of you.” Harry added under his breath.

“Well you’re one to talk moaning in your sleep every night. At least Im not afraid of my pillow,” he mocked laughing with his cronies, “no don’t kill Cedric! Whose Cedric your boyfriend?” he pushed.

“Shut up!”

“He’s going to kill me mum!” my blood was boiling my hand reaching for the wand that was currently tucked away feeling a hand stopped me I looked towards Harry “Where is you mum. Where is your mum Potter? Is she dead?” the straw that broke the camels back had snapped. Harry leapt up pulling his own wand out bringing it to Dudleys throat.

“Uh guys.” I called looking up at the now darkened sky getting up from the swing I felt some dread seep into my body.

Everyone looked up “What are you doing?!” Dudley asked.

“Nothing.” Just then everyone started to scatter away, following my brother I felt myself fall to the ground gaining my footing chasing after them looking around I saw black masses following my brother and cousin. Dementors quickening my speed I raced towards them. Entering the tunnel, I stood in shock watching my brother cast a protonus charm I still haven’t mastered that, but seeing the dementors flee I ran over towards Harry “How did you do that Harry?” I asked before hearing squeaky wheel looking up I pushed his wand hand away not wanting him to be caught and be in trouble for more than he already was in.

“Miss Figg.” They both said looking towards the old lady who was making her way towards them

“Don’t put your wands away... they may come back.” She reassured them as they both pulled Dudley up from the ground as they made their way back to home the sounds of Dudley’s groans filled the air. “Whole worlds gone topsy-turvy.” She said looking all around her.

“I don’t understand. How do you know...?” June asked peeking a glance towards the lady.

“Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on you both.”

“Dumbledore asked you? You know Dumbledore?” Harry pressed.

“After You-Know-Who killed that poor Diggory boy last year... did you expect him to let you two go wandering on your own?” she stopped “Good Lord, they said you two were intelligent, now get inside and stay there. Someone will be in touch soon.” She said her goodbyes pushing the three towards their home while making her way back to her own house.

After making their way into the house they could the tv blaring about the weather “Diddykins? Is that you?” they heard their aunt call out, feeling a weight lift itself from their bodies they realized that Dudley had let go and marched into the living room where a shocked cry came from the lips of Aunt Petunia. “Oh shit.” June mumbled heading into the living room.

“Duddy, Vernon, come quick!” she called for her husband. Who upon walking in scowled at the two siblings “We’re going to have to take him to the hospital.” She concluded wrapping her arms around Duddleys round shape.

“Who did this to you, boy?” he asked and slowly Duddley raised his pudgy finger to point directly at Harry. Juniper put herself in front of her brother, uncle Vernon marched towards the pair “Happy, are we, now?” he pressed more “You’ve finally done it. You’ve finally driven him loopy.” He accused before turning back towards Petunia.

“He didn’t mean harm, he was protecting him!” June defended straightening her spine “If he hadn’t saved him, Diddykins would be a lot worse off.” She tried explaining pointing towards the boy who sat in a zombie like state.

“I’ve reached my limit with you two, do you hear?” he seethed letting a little slobber come out of his mouth.

“Really couldn’t tell.” June sassed crossing her arms.

Before Vernon could respond a letter flew in through the mail slot “What’s tha-.” Their uncle started to ask before the letter started to talk for itself.

“Dear Mr. Potter. The ministry has received intelligence that as of six twenty-three this evening... you performed the Patronus Charm in the presence of a Muggle,” June’s faced paled she knew she wasn’t in trouble, but this stilled scared her because she knew what was to come for her brother “as a clear violation... of the Decree of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery... you are hereby expelled.. from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hope you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk.” The letter then fell to the ground becoming just a plain piece of paper.

“Harry...” June went to console her brother.

Uncle Vernon on the other hand had the biggest smile on his face lift his spoon in his hand “Justice.”

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #oliver phelps #oliver phelps imagine

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makomaragi · 6 years

Text

Title/Prompt: The Moon

Pairing: Prof Aurea Juniper/Fennel (Scientificshipping), though they aren’t actually together yet here.

Rating: PG maybe? Nothing graphic at all but a lotta shit with ptsd related things.

Fandom: Pokemon

kind of based on an idea @crazychooklady had sent me, but then I fucked up and made it sad.

The professor had been at home for nearly an hour before the time she realized she hadn’t eaten all day. She only realized it because the sun had disappeared from the sky, the moon’s light doing a poor job of lighting the room now.

It was easy to forget to eat when she stayed so busy all day, feeling as through she made fifty laps around the entire lab by the time the day was over. Trainers arrived to pick out starter pokemon, back to her office to fill in their information, more paces in the other direction to switch out and receive pokemon from trainers farther along in their badge quests. It seemed as though the work never stopped, not that she was annoyed by it, just that there never seemed to be a moment to gather herself in the midst of it all. If the lab didn’t have set hours of operation for trainers, she was sure she’d never find time to do anything else. Keeping in touch with them in her off time was one thing, but she was certain she’d never get any sleep at all if trainers arrived at all hours to pick out starters. All of this on top of her own research.

Peering in her fridge, there weren’t many choices. Some frozen dinners, some fruits and vegetables she felt obligated to buy that she was pretty sure had been in there for a while, some hard boiled eggs and...not much else.

It felt like she always ordered delivery from the same three or four places, not that there were many to choose from in Nuvema. The microwave dinners didn’t seem all that bad.

Grabbing two of them at random, she uncovered the contents and put them in the microwave one at a time, throwing them both on plates and retiring to her bedroom.

“Here, I made you some dinner. Please eat something.”

Fennel pulled the covers off over her head, pushing herself upright. She looked over the plate Aurea had put on the nightstand, back at the professor, then back at the plate. Macaroni and cheese, something that resembled mashed potatoes, and breaded chicken. “I’m not really hungry right now. Thanks, though.”

Her Munna nudged her shoulder, letting out a soft cry. The Pokemon rarely left her side these days, either hovering over her or snug against her side as she was now.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Fennel gave her whimpering pokemon a pat, “Yesterday? The day before? I don’t know, I had some water while you were gone.”

Aurea chose to ignore this for now, settling next to the other woman in the bed and helping herself to dinner.

“Your appointment is tomorrow at 4. You’re not skipping it this time, I’m leaving work to take you.”

Fennel made some sort of dismissing grunt, sliding back down in to the bed. “I really don’t want to, but if you’re making me.”

“Your Munna has been sick for weeks, Fennel. Please, do it for her, at least.”

The dream scientist wasn’t about to argue with Aurea on her Pokemon’s welfare, especially because she was right on this one, and it was something that could be helped. The nightmares she was having constantly, while she didn’t remember vividly, were all the same. No wonder Munna had getting sick from eating them when it was all she could provide for her. She couldn’t even take care of her dearest Pokemon anymore without fucking it up even subconsciously.

“I said I would, Aurie.” Munna nuzzled against her again in clear concern of her master.

The professor accepted this answer, returning to shoving food in her mouth. If Fennel wasn’t going to eat, she easily could of finished her plate as well. But this was no time to be selfish. She held up the fork in front of Fennel, who stared at it for a few long seconds before hesitantly taking a bite.

“That’s not too bad,” she admitted as she pushed herself more upright.

“Well, yours is right there, help yourself. Before it gets cold.”

The scientist finally placed the plate on her lap, stirring the noodles around and taking a few lazy nibbles, but mostly moving the food around on the plate.

Such was how Professor Juniper spent her free time lately, eyeing the other woman like a Pidgeot, ensuring she was getting some type of nourishment. She couldn’t recall how long Fennel had been there now. Three months? Four? Six?

There was no point in asking Fennel of her long term plans anymore, because she didn’t have any.

Fennel outright refused to return home to Kanto, even though they both knew it was probably for the best that she did. She wouldn’t go back home until she proved her point of her studies in Unova, and even Professor Juniper hadn’t the slightest clue what that was anymore. Hadn’t the Dream Yard been her end game?

Fennel had remained in her apartment in Striaton for about two weeks after the explosion at the Dream Yard. Technically one week, spending a few days in the hospital as a precaution despite her repeating that she was fine. Until one day she had called the professor, sobbing that she couldn’t take it in that city anymore, and without a second thought, was whisked away to the apartment above the Juniper Pokemon Lab.

But the thoughts and the nightmares didn’t stop.

Aurea caught her talking to her mom on the phone a few times. She wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t telling the entire truth, either. Fennel had told her that she was staying with her friend until she figured out what she was going to do, which was partly true, but she wasn’t actively trying to do anything, either. The explosion at the Dream Yard had made international headlines, she couldn’t have hidden it from her family even if she wanted to. They had made the trip to Unova to visit her in the hospital and stayed with her for a few days, but Fennel wanted them gone. They had went as far to book her a flight home, which she refused.

The professor felt like she was intruding if she had been there while Fennel’s family was. She had never met them, either, though Fennel always spoke fondly of them in the past. It just didn’t seem like an appropriate time to meet her best friend’s parents and sister.

She managed to visit her twice in the hospital, even admitting to Fennel that she wasn’t sure why she was there besides more than a wellness check. Fennel had made it out of the building with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises, while she knew others on her team weren’t as lucky.

The only thing Fennel cared about initially was finding her beloved Musharna – that was, until, she realized how lucky she was to of made it out. Or maybe she knew it all along and it was using it as a distraction to her guilt. Either she had given up or her waking life became as hellish as her nightmares, because it was shortly after that she found herself where she was now, crashing in her best friend’s bed.

It was coaxing from both Aurea and her own mother that drove her to finally see the doctor about her uncharacteristic insomnia and nightmares. She wasn’t sleeping, she wasn’t eating, she wore the same pajamas for days at a time. Then she complained that the medicine prescribed to her only made her want to sleep, which only resulted in the panic attacks and nightmares that seemed more frequently than not lately.

The pair had been sitting in silence for a while – Fennel still barely picking at her food, the professor tossing her own empty plate aside.

“Have, um...you talked to your family lately?”

“My sister is thinking about moving here, to Unova. She developed a new PC system that the League took interest in,” eyes still on her plate in disinterest.

“I heard something about that.”

“So stupid. It’s like she’s coming here just to show me up, that she’s successful here, and I’m not.”

“She wanted to bring it to Unova to come help you, Fennel.”

“Then why here? Of the tons of other regions, she happened to pick the one that I moved to, to get from far away from home as I could? She’s doing it to shove it in my face, how is that going to help me?”

“Because she cares about you, and so do I.”

“I don’t know why,” Fennel placed the still mostly full plate back on the night stand.

Aurea never knew what to say when Fennel made such statements about herself, only deciding that her actions would speak louder than words eventually. She knew agreeing with her sister moving to the region would only make her more hostile, and despite Amanita having the best intentions, Fennel had only seen it as a ploy to humiliate her for some reason.

Aurea must have shifted her weight unintentionally, probably in the discomfort of the conversation, which caused Fennel to latch on to her arm, pulling it against her chest and holding it between her arms.

“Please stay with me,” Fennel pleaded with her in the same tone as she had just about every night she was there. Affection was never something that came naturally to the brunette, but she never seemed to mind when Fennel did this, despite her feeling extremely stiff at the initial gesture. Nor did she understand why Fennel always seemed terrified that she was going to leave at any given point. Once she was in the bedroom with her, it was usually where she needed to stay until the next morning if only to quell both of their worries. The full size bed was an upgrade from the twin mattress on the floor that they shared in their old apartment, but it probably wasn’t meant for two people. Aurea had become accustomed to sleeping alone in the larger bed with room to spare, but anymore it didn’t make a difference to her if Fennel shared it with her or not.

“I don’t care if you get your laptop or phone or whatever and do work, but please just stay here. Wake me up if you think I’m having another nightmare, if Munna starts acting funny...or just wake me up in general, so I don’t sleep deep enough to have a nightmare.”

The professor had lost her share of sleep just as well over the last few months, even if it wasn’t for the same reason Fennel had. She lost count of the nights she had purposefully kept herself awake to keep an eye on her if she was having a particularly bad night, thankful both in the moment and in the morning that coffee existed. “Hopefully they’ll give you some different medication tomorrow, or something, I’m sorry that I don’t know how this works.”

“They keep telling me it takes a while to get in to my system to do whatever it’s supposed to do...but I know what it’s doing, and how I’m feeling, why do I need to wait?”

“That’s why you need to go to your appointments and tell them.”

“I’m so, so, sick of this. I just don’t want to feel like this anymore. I’ve been such a burden to you.” Fennel tightened her grip on Aurea’s arm for half a second before letting go entirely, if only to push her hair out of her eyes. “You know...I always used to look forward to dreaming...good dreams, bad dreams, whatever. I know for a fact it makes different types of dream mist, and it was something I wanted to study for a while, but not anymore.”

“I think that you should try to sleep, but if you don’t want to, I’ll stay up and watch some movies with you, or whatever you want to do.”

Fennel gave a shrug at the suggestion, not caring one way or the other. “I’m okay with us just sitting here, especially if you have stuff to do. You can sleep if you need to.”

Aurea removed the remote from the night stand, hitting a few buttons and scrolling through various streaming services until she found something that would keep the other woman distracted. For some reason, Fennel always liked the cartoon Ponytas. She never appeared to react to anything happening on the show, but it seemed to calm her down. It wasn’t that the professor was annoyed with her, let alone mad or even upset, it just felt as if she repeated herself every single day since she had been there with no improving results. Every conversation seemed to put Fennel on the defense when there was no reason for her to be, or the opposite to which she became confrontational over nothing and never an in between.

She’d stay up all night watching silly cartoons if it meant a few hours of peace for the dream scientist.

#my fics #scientificshipping #fennel #professor juniper #femslashfeb2019 #femslash february #pokemon fanfics #pokemon fic

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expectyaytions · 6 years

Text

Continuation of Season Premiere but with SweetVee feelings aka a friendship Drabble

**uneditted for the time being. I’ll spruce it up before posting on AO3**

The air was stale with cigarettes and flat beer. The sound of pool balls clicking filled the background as Fangs shared his latest gossip about Moose and Kevin. Jughead was shaking his head when his phone buzzed on the table. His brows furrowed as he swiped to answer, “Alice?” Sweet Pea And Fangs went silent, their eyes on Jughead. He jumped up, panic filling his eyes, “where are you now?”

The three of them were in FP’s truck, Sweet Pea driving with his teeth clenched. Jughead was in the middle sandwiched between the other two; breathing heavily.

“Jug.” Fangs ventured. “Do you want us to call FP?” Jughead nodded a silent stream of tears dripping off his cheeks. Fangs made the call -finishing up as they pulled into the ER lot.

Sweet Pea had barely put the truck in park before the trio was hopping out of the car and into the hospital. Alice and Polly were there with two wailing babies. Four sets of eyes crying eyes greeting them. Alice popped the baby to her hip and yanked Jughead into her arms. She sloppily and tearfully explained what had happened.

“They think it’s a side effect of her adderall abuse.” Polly sniffled bouncing Dagwood in her arms. Her aggressive anxious bouncing was only upsetting the baby more.

“Can you two?” He motioned to the infants. Sweet Pea and Fangs hurried to the nearest baby and carefully wrapped them in their arms attempting to mimic the soothing bouncing. Sweet Pea pushed the pacifier hanging off a clip on the pink sweater gently between the babies lips. The doctor came out then and the three were gone. Sweet Pea and Fangs just made eyes at nervous eyes each other.

“Dude where’d you get the sucker thing?” Fangs loud whispered

“It’s attached.” Fangs pulled the crying baby away from him to examine. He found the pacifier and resumed attempted bouncing. The baby in Sweet Pea’s arms had resigned to sniffling and staring up at Sweet Pea. Her tiny fingers grabbing at his zipper and buttons of his jacket. His heart swelled a little and he shook his head. The clicking of high heels on concrete caused him to look up. Veronica Lodge was running in heels through the door.

“V!” Fangs called as she drew near. She looked at them oddly before Fangs spilled everything he knew. She nodded and sat in the chair between them. Her hands moving to the bottom of the babies tiny bare feet.

“Juni, your toes must be freezing.” Sweet Pea felt like an idiot for not noticing. He wrapped his free hand around the babies feet, massaging them gently to warm them up. She hurried to the gift shop on the other side of the waiting room and emerged 5 minutes later with two pairs of baby slipper-shoe things. She slipped a pair on each baby. She pressed a soft kiss to each babies head. Sweet Pea would be lying if he didnt take a slightly deeper inhale while she was leaning across him. She smelled amazing. “Well aren’t you two just naturals.” Sweet Pea tried to smirk, but instead smiled. It made him feel good to be decent at something that didn’t involve crime or mechanics. He smoothed the babies hair and grazed his finger on her cheek. She grabbed at it, holding his one finger between both of her hands. The pacifier fell out of her mouth as she babbled at him. She drew his finger to mouth and started sucking and biting. However her lack of teeth made it painless. She continued her baby babble while munching on his finger.

“You’re enjoying this too much Sweets.” Fangs teased. Sweet Pea just winked at him. Fangs was the only person who knew that someday Sweet Pea wanted kids. He wanted a wife and a family. To everyone else the tough exterior said otherwise.

“Hey V, can you take this one? FP’s calling.” Veronica took the baby and stood and started the bouncing thing.

“How do you that?” He asked. His forehead wrinkling.

“Do what?”

“The little bounce thing.”

“Oh I just use my knees. I guess.” Sweet Pea nodded still watching her movements. She had a bounce and a little turn. “Try it.”

“No, I think it’s a woman thing.”

“It’s not, try it.” She tugged at his sleeve. He sighed and stood up. He tried to do the bounce turn, but it was a little too much. Veronica guided him though, and after a half hour of instruction he was doing it. He was pleasantly surprised at his new found talent. Veronica high-fived him.

“You know what they say?” She asked him a small twinkle in her eye.

“What?”

“Nothing’s sexier than a man holding a baby.”

“People say that?”

“Oh yeah. I mean look at you. Leather jacket, neck tattoo, gang patch and you’re all soft for a baby. Girls love it.”

“You hinting at something, V?” He winked. She smiled in return. What’s her name?” He asked.

“Juniper.”

“Juniper” He echoed. He down at her sucking on her pacifier.

“Don’t be getting any ideas Pea. I see that look in your eye. You’re too young.” FP called out as they headed to the information desk.

“Hard to do with just one person FP.” He wasn’t wrong though. He knew the look that was covering his face.

//-//-//-//

Polly emerged from the doors shortly after. She kissed the top of each babies forehead. “Do you mind watching them while I find Edgar? It’s urgent.” Sweet Pea nodded. The pair resumed their sitting. The babies were slowly falling asleep. Sweet Pea had shed his jacket and now sitting in a plain back T-shirt with Juniper’s head resting on his shoulder, her tiny finger clenched into a fist around the collar of his shirt.

Affer two hours, it was nearing midnight.

“Where did Polly go to find Edger? Guyana?” Sweet Pea muttered. Veronica was laying on the small couch. His jacket tucked under her head with Dagwood asleep on her chest.

“Probably. She’s definitely drinking the kool-aid.” FP and Alice entered the waiting room.

“Apparently Alice is too.” Sweet Pea muttered just loud enough for Veronica to hear.

“ Do you guys mind driving the kids to Alice’s house? We’re going to take the truck. I’m leaving my bike for Jug.”

“Sure.” Sweet Pea agreed looking to Veronica for confirmation. She nodded at him sitting up. The four of them gathered their belongings and headed to the parking lot. Alice handed Veronica the keys. “I can’t drive mrs.cooper. Sweet Pea will have to.” Alice handed him the keys.

“Those are my grand babies - drive carefully and under the speed limit.”

“Yes ma’am.” He and Veronica strapped the babies into their car seats. Sweet Pea trying to mimic Veronica’s actions across the seat. He managed to click everything into place and shut the door. He tossed his jacket at V once they got in. “You’re cold just take it.” She obliged.

“Thank you.”

They backed out going extra slow and headed to the Cooper house.

Veronica chuckled, “feels like we jumped into the future or something.”

“Yeah?” She smiled and nodded.

“Just heading home together with the kids.” Sweet Pea raised his eyebrows and smiled. He could see what she meant, the entire cliche. They were silent as Sweet Pea pulled into the driveway. FP and Alice were already there, the living room light on abc the truck parked on the street.

They took the babies from the teenagers arms. And it struck Sweet Pea as odd seeing FP carefully holding a baby, flawlessly doing the bounce and twist. FP handed him the truck keys out of his back pocket.

“I’ll call you if I need a lift.” Sweet Pea nodded and said good-bye to the two oldest and two youngest people in the house. He opened the truck door for Veronica before getting in himself.

“Can we go to Pops? Before you take me home.” He looked at her curiously. It was almost midnight. They didn’t have any obligation to be in each others presence. Why did she want to spend more time with him.

“Sure.”

“I just don’t want to go home.” Her eyes cast down at her wringing hands.

“I understand. Two shakes and a basket fries sounds almost perfect right now.” She perked up glancing over and smiling at him.

“Have you ever tried dipping your fries in your shake?” She asked him.

“Um no, that sounds gross,”

“It sounds gross but I swear it’s so good.” He tossed her a disbelieving look as they drove the night streets with the windows down and Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on fire” humming through the stereo.

#sweet pea #riverdale #sweetvee #veronica lodge #veronica lodge x sweet pea #sweet pea x veronica lodge #southside serpents #fangs fogarty #sweet pea x veronica #sweetvee drabble

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siriuslyxpadfoot · 6 years

Photo

Well I just heard the news today It seems my life is going to change I close my eyes, begin to pray Then tears of joy stream down my face

The baby AU no one asked for with a lovely little Azkaban twist

OOC: This fic involved the canon character Fay Dunbar, but she has been aged down two years to be in the year below Ginny rather than in Harry’s year. Super brief appearances by Remus and Andromeda. @juniperthelionheart

Sirius prowled through the halls, unsettled as he always was by how familiar it was but different at the same time. Most of the portraits were the same, but the people and even smells were not. In his human form, he may not have noticed it, but Sirius didn’t spend much time as a human anymore.

He paused, crouching down behind a tapestry near the Gryffindor common room portrait. If anyone looked too closely they would see him, but the only flag that would raise would be an illicit pet roaming the halls.

The portrait opened, and someone stepped through the portrait. Although his head was hidden, based on what he could hear, he was pretty sure there were two girls who had walked out, and they were moving rather quickly.

“Wait, Fay! Fay!” A male voice that matched with a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing through the portrait. “Dunbar!”

Sirius froze.

“No, Seamus. I don’t care. Whatever the excuse is, I don’t care.”

Seamus. That one was in Harry’s year; he’d figured that much out, and Sirius tried to focus on him, but it was hard when he’d heard her name. Had Jasper had children?

“But Fay—”

“Seamus, stop talking!”

The authority in her voice sent shivers down Sirius’ spine, and he popped his head out without even thinking. He froze at what he saw.

Of the two girls, it was clear which had been speaking, and Sirius might have gasped as a human at how much she looked like Juniper. Her face was softer, less angular, and her hair much darker, but the resemblance was still striking. Even as he tried to convince himself, Sirius doubted more and more that Jasper could be her father.

He watched frozen as she continued to argue with the Finnigan boy before turning on her heel and marching off with her friend. The walk wasn’t quite the same, but there was no doubt the girl carried herself like her mother.

Seamus watched her walk away, shoulders sagging with a defeat that reminded him of a young Peter. The very idea filled him with rage, and Sirius growled without meaning to. Seamus whirled around, a smile breaking across his face as he saw Sirius.

“Hey buddy,” he said, crouching down with his hand out. “Who do you belong to?” He make a clicking sound of beckoning that Sirius couldn’t stand, and since his cover was blown away, Padfoot took off down the hall. After rounding a few corners, he ducked into a passageway, mouth lolling out in a pant as he thought.

Juniper had a daughter. Juniper had a daughter with her own surname. Obviously she had to younger than Harry because Juniper certainly didn’t have a kid running around when they’d been together.

He squeezed his eyes shut with a whine, not wanting to think about that time. He’d been happy and naïve and lied to by Peter. The happy moments with people like James, Remus, Lily, and Harry hurt for everything that could have been if Peter hadn’t betrayed them. Thinking about Juniper hurt in different ways. He knew Remus now hated his guts. He didn’t know how she felt. He only knew she hadn’t been at the trial.

Maybe she’d been running into someone else’s arms in comfort. Maybe it had been a one night stand or maybe it had been common law, but clearly she’d found her way to someone else.

Because he hated himself and had for the past twelve years, Sirius began to do the math.

Harry had been born at the last possible minute to be in his year, and if she was the same, that would make her October-made. October of… He paused, going cold despite the fur covering him. October of 1981. November at the latest if she’d come early.

Sirius swallowed hard. It was possible. If it was an immediate rebound gone wrong, it was possible. He hated to think about what that would have put Juniper through, dealing with knowledge of what he’d supposedly done and a new baby from someone else.

But what if.

No, Sirius physically shook his head, fur flopping about.

Fay could not be his child. There was no possible way. Juniper would have told him if she was pregnant. The very idea that he could have a child filled him with a kind of dread Sirius had never experienced in Azkaban, and he thought he’d felt it all.

Sirius raised his head and let out a howl to get out his feelings.

As soon as he’d done it, Sirius knew he shouldn’t have, and he quickly dashed down the passageway to get as far from his own noise as possible. He could not get caught over something that might not be true.

Throughout the year, Sirius stayed focused on his mission. Peter needed to die, and Harry needed to be protected. But he couldn’t help shadowing Fay Dunbar whenever the occasion arose. He learned she was a first year who was boggled by her best friend’s muggle devices and preferred caramel to chocolate. She didn’t have Juniper’s nose, and he spent an hour one evening in Myrtle’s bathroom trying to decide if she had his. It could be.

Peter remained his primary concern. Then Peter got away.

But Harry. Harry was everything Sirius could have hoped for and more. He had friends who were smart and brave, and Sirius couldn’t help thinking Harry was everything James and Lily could have wanted. He was amazing.

Sirius couldn’t be with him for now, but he knew Sirius would be there for him.

Even better, Remus had seen it all and finally forgiven him. Remus didn’t hate him anymore. Sirius went from having nothing in the world to his best friend and a godson.

And now he had nothing to distract himself from the issue of Fay Dunbar. He might have a daughter to add to his growing list of people left in his world.

While staying with Remus, Sirius worked up the nerve to ask about Juniper. She’d never gotten married, but after it all, Remus hadn’t been able to stay in contact with her. (Sirius tried not to begrudge him for it.) He confirmed that Fay was Juniper’s but couldn’t tell Sirius when she’d been born. “Spring, maybe summer,” was the best estimate he could give.

Driven to desperation, he reached out to Andy. After many tears—and a few conversations with his niece—Sirius finally asked what he’d been afraid to. She pursed her lips and said she’d do it. According to hospital records, Fay Dunbar had been born May 16, 1982.

Juniper was almost three months pregnant when he went to Azkaban.

In late June, Sirius finally found himself on her doorstep. It wasn’t until after he knocked that his heart seized at the thought of Fay answering the door.

Because of that panic, he wasn’t properly prepared to see Juniper for the first time in almost thirteen years.

For a moment, they stood staring at each other, neither breathing.

Finally Juniper spoke. “You came.”

“I came,” he said and had to take a shaky breath. “I’m here.”

They stared for a moment longer before Juniper moved so suddenly that Sirius had little time to react. He barely had his arms up in time to catch her. Once she was there, though, he couldn’t let go.

The two of them stood locked in an embrace on her front step for longer than Sirius could care to guess. When they finally moved apart, Juniper let out a nervous giggle. Sirius realized he still had his arms loosely wrapped around her waist. He thought about pulling back, but he was feeling selfish.

His voice was soft as he asked, “Does she know?”

He felt the shiver run through Juniper’s body. “You know about her?” she whispered.

Sirius nodded, not trusting himself to speak but trying anyway. “I-um, I saw her… At Hogwarts.”

Juniper’s eyes widened, and Sirius realized belatedly how threatening that could have sounded, especially when Juniper didn’t know the truth. Her child’s father was an infamous murder… who had found her at Hogwarts.

She nodded toward the open door. “Maybe you’d better come in.”

When Sirius hesitated, Juniper added, “She isn’t home. She’s at a friend’s. She won’t be back for a couple days.”

He followed her into the house, pausing in the doorway to look around. It clearly belonged to a teenager, but Sirius could see signs of Juniper anywhere. He saw a small box up on the fireplace, and Sirius moved toward it without thinking. “You still have it,” he said quietly as he picked up the music box. It had been his present to her on their first anniversary.

“How could I have gotten rid of it?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to keep any evidence of your relationship with a murderer.”

They both stood still, not looking at each other as they both debated how to continue forward.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Juniper look up, a familiar stubborn set to her jaw. “You’re not a murderer.”

“You’re not even going to ask?” Sirius said and immediately wondered why he seemed determine to pick a fight.

“I don’t have to,” she said. “I’ve always known you aren’t.”

He turned, arms opening as he moved toward her again. They stood in a hug again, and when Juniper let go, she kept one arm around him as she walked them over to the couch, both touching the other as they went.

On the side table was a picture of Juniper and Fay. Sirius picked up the photo, fingers tracing over the frame as he studied in. Next to each other, the resemblance was even more striking than he’d suspected. They even had the same smile. When he looked up at Juniper, he found her watching him with a strained smile, sadness heavy in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I was going to.” Juniper looked down, and Sirius wrapped an arm around her again automatically, unable to stop touching her now that she was in front of him. “I actually knew… that night. I was waiting until your birthday because I’d only known for a couple days.” She swallowed hard. “It was going to be a surprise, part of your present that we were having a baby.”

“We were having a baby.”

Sirius could practically hear how the conversation would have gone, and despite wanting to stay strong, he felt tears coming to his eyes. He’d been fighting them off from the moment he’d laid eyes on Juniper, but knowing her plan was too much.

Juniper held him, letting Sirius bury his head against her neck as he wept, and she continued to speak quietly above him. “I almost told you anyway. I had enough Ministry friends that someone could have pulled some strings and let me see you or at least tell you. Riya talked me out of it, but I can’t blame her for it. You were headed to Azkaban for life. I was never going to see you again. It… I was afraid it would hurt you more.”

“It would have,” he choked out. Sirius stayed there another minute, and despite the silence, Juniper let him.

When he finally sat up, they locked eyes, saying more in that moment than the entire time they’d been talking.

“Tell me about her,” Sirius requested. “Tell me about Fay.”

Juniper smiled, her face lighting up with a kind of love Sirius wasn’t used to seeing. “Her full name is Faydra Siriana Dunbar.”

“Siriana,” he repeated, tears returning to his eyes. He was able to hold it together enough for her to continue, although he continued to cry through her explanation of Fay’d stubborn spirit—“inherited from both of us, I’m sure”—her creativity, the natural ability she had a broom, and her natural ability in charms. Sirius’ smile grew the more she said about their daughter.

“She sounds perfect,” Sirius said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of her face. He hesitated, but Juniper never had given him an answer for the question she’d asked outside. “Did you tell her about me?”

Juniper looked down, and that look told him everything he needed to know. Sirius drew back, although he knew he was being unfair. Juniper was completely within her right to have not told Fay, and he should have assumed as much when she hadn’t told him either.

“When you broke out last summer,” Juniper began, speaking slowly and carefully, “I almost told her. I… Part of me hoped you were coming here.”

Sirius ducked his head, flooding with shame all over again. He’d considered it. He’d strongly considered finding her, but he’d needed to deal with Peter and see Harry. As much as he had wanted to, Sirius hadn’t been able to consider the rejection that might come with seeing her.

“She knows now.”

Sirius jerked his head up, staring at her with wide eyes. “When did you tell her?”

Juniper shook her head. “I didn’t. She’s a smart girl. I didn’t have to tell her anything because she figured it out. When she was freaked out before school started and again at Christmas break, I told her she didn’t need to worry about you and that everything would be all right. I… I’ve been crying a lot. No, don’t feel guilty!”

Sirius’ eyes widened as she grabbed the sides of his head. “Don’t you dare hate yourself for that, Sirius Black! With everything you went through, me crying a bit isn’t something to dwell on.” She continued as though the interruption hadn’t happened. “She’s good at arithmancy and math too. Plus, I wasn’t exactly subtle on her name. We were on our way back from the train when the school year ended when she asked me pointblank. I couldn’t lie to her.”

Sirius took a deep breath through his nose, searching her face for any hint of how the conversation had gone. “How did she take it?”

“She surprised me,” Juniper admitted. “She didn’t make any accusations or bring up the rumors about your arrest and escape. She asked how we met, if I loved you.”

He rubbed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “I loved you. I never stopped.”

Her eyes shined, and Juniper tilted her head up to blink back tears. “I know,” she said, voice breaking. “I never stopped loving you either. And—”

She broke off, letting out a few shaky breaths against his shoulder as they embraced again. “I told her everything,” she said. “All the things I’ve kept bottled up for years I told her. I told her about your smile, about the way we were when we were together. I didn’t tell her we started off as…” She laughed, not sure how to put it. “I did explain that I was drawn to you and that we ended up together without meaning to. I explained that I loved you and that you loved me and that you weren’t the person that The Prophet made you out to be. I—”

Juniper stopped, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I told her that if she wanted and if you came to find us… that I wanted you in our lives.”

Sirius didn’t think, he didn’t analyze. He reacted on instinct, pulling her in for a tight hug. “You want me? You still want me?”

“I do,” Juniper said, and Sirius could feel against his shirt that she was crying again. He realized he was too.

Without pulling away, he asked, “What did Fay say?”

“She’s a little apprehensive,” Juniper admitted as she finally pulled back, her hands still firmly on Sirius’ arms. “She wants to know you, though. You’re her father, and if you’ll accept her, she wants to love you.”

“I do,” he said, voice breaking. “I want to. I- I already do. I already love her. I love her as much as I love you.”

“I love you too,” Juniper whispered.

The two looked at each other for a moment before Sirius leaned in, and Juniper met him halfway for their first kiss in twelve years.

As they broke apart, Juniper rested her forehead against his. “I could send an owl,” she said quietly. “I could ask Fay to come home early.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Sirius admitted. “You said she’ll be gone a couple days?”

Juniper nodded without speaking.

“I could… stay?” Sirius suggested. “We could let her stay with her friend, and we get to know each other over again—get on the same page before she gets back.”

He shivered, afraid of what Juniper would say, even after all this, but she smiled and reached up to run a hand through his hair. It wasn’t as bad as it had been. Thanks to people like Remus, he’d been able to clean himself up, but he knew it wasn’t as nice as it had been once upon a time. Juniper didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d like that,” she said. “I want to know you again, Sirius. I love you. I want to be the family we should have been.”

Sirius pressed another kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I love you, Juniper. I want to be a family too.”

#sinspiration #juniperthelionheart #future #future au #what do i even tag this as #the thing that ripped my heart out

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ikesenhell · 6 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here.

NOTE: This gets sad. Terribly sad. Apologies in advance.

Looking back on his life, Kenshin had to shakily admit to himself that this was the most terrifying thing he’d ever done.

“Stop bouncing your knees,” Sasuke hissed in his ear. “You’ll crease the pants.”

“I am not bouncing,” Kenshin snapped back, but smoothed the front of his suit nonetheless. A beat. Sasuke leaned in again.

“Shingen asks if you’re nervous.”

Kenshin turned his head completely this time, staring past his Best Man to the smarmy looking groomsman next in line, and flicked him off. Shingen blew him a kiss back.

“If no one gives me your head for my wedding, I’ll be extremely disappointed.”

Shingen framed his face with his hands. “Still attached. Be disappointed.”

The organ started. The men all straightened up on their cue, and Kenshin wondered for the thousandth time why he hadn’t taken at least one (or two, or eight) sip of sake before they’d started this. Some of her bridal party started down the aisle, and then--

Oh.

Kenshin wondered if it would be too out of place to just sink to his knees. There she was, a vision in silk and lace, and he couldn’t decide if he loved all the sudden picture-taking from cellphones in the congregation (more of her to look at later) or if he wanted to steal her from the assembled right now.

Mine. She is mine. And I am hers. And her smile is for me alone.

Nobunaga and he exchanged a curt nod as the other man passed him off to her, and Kenshin considered the finer points of saying to hell with this and just kissing her now. But he waited. Oh, he stayed himself and waited, reciting the vows without much else in his head but her.

And there was the fateful line--”Til Death do us part”--and he remembered why he was so terrified again. Kenshin caught her hands in his and squeezed hard, harder than he meant to, trying not to consider not just the possibility of her death but the utter truth of it, the grave-dust that awaited them all, not just her, but hers concerned him the most--

But she stilled his thoughts with a touch on his cheek and a smile that thawed him. She knew. She knew him too well.

And at long last, he could kiss the bride.

They had a daughter, and only the one. There were complications.

“The headaches shouldn’t be too bad,” the doctor sighed, wrapping up her examination. “Take some asprin, make sure your blood pressure stays nice and even, and keep an eye out for any more pain. Okay? The infection is gone, but we don’t want to see any... further complications.”

Kenshin didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was that he had a beautiful, wonderful wife and a darling baby daughter, and he was going to spoil them both.

They named her Juniper. She took after him in some ways: heterochromia, it seemed, hung on through the family line. She had his very serious expression when displeased, a fact that tickled Shingen so terribly that it brought him to tears of laughter.

“I keep expecting she’ll threaten to cut off my head!” The man wheezed, pausing from his half-hearted attempt to feed her apple sauce. “She really doesn’t like this!”

“Of course not,” Kenshin answered, affronted, and realized all at once that he was making the same face as his daughter. “Sweet apple sauce is disgusting.”

For his wonderful Princess’ part--he insisted she take a medical leave from work. The headaches had not stopped, not at all. Some days she was so dizzy she could barely get up in the morning, and it scared her so badly that she would roll back into bed and cry. Kenshin held her in his arms and kissed her forehead until she fell back asleep, then resumed his intermittent googling to try and discover anything that could help. A few times he texted Sasuke to complain about the lack of studies into post-natal, woman-centric healthcare and complications.

I’m not in obstetrics but I hear you.

Then why don’t you do that? Someone has to fill in that gap.

Sasuke didn’t respond. Kenshin truthfully didn’t expect one.

Juniper grew more and more each passing year, and he wanted to cry at every fresh inch tacked onto the wall of the pantry.

She was sharp and sweet, a brilliant student and a kind heart like her mother. He was so, so, so grateful for that. Some nights he would just sit at the dinner table with them, the pizza in front of him untouched, falling further and further into love the more he watched the two of them. A decade ago, he never would have imagined himself capable of so much love. But now--oh, god help him, now there was nothing in the world he cared about half as much as the two beautiful, incredible, unspeakable people in his life.

Shingen made an innocent comment once about how beautiful Juniper was getting. Sasuke had to talk Kenshin down from stabbing him.

His Princess didn’t work anymore. The headaches and dizziness had only grown worse over the years, and no amount of doctor appointments or MRIs had gotten them any closer to a solution. Some nights she woke up sobbing from them, and he quietly filled their porcelain tub with warm water and lavender bubbles, fetching a candle for their only light, and slipped into the bath with her. After a while she would still in his arms and go back to sleep, and he, loathe to wake her after the hard-won rest, would wait until the water was freezing around him before disturbing her again--and that was only to make sure she didn’t get a cold.

She didn’t complain about them. Not much, at least. But when one of the attacks came on, he could see the frigid moment of panic and denial rising up in her eyes, the treacherous thought on all the things she’d rather be than in pain, still, constantly, and those fateful words from their wedding floated through his mind like an omen.

Juniper called him at work when she was sixteen about the first one.

“She’s on the ground--” His so composed, so sweet daughter was sobbing, barely coherent. “She like, she’s twitching, I can’t--she won’t respond--”

Kenshin didn’t bother with anything except his car keys, already headed to the parking lot at the first sob. “Ambulance. Call one.”

“I d-d-did, I--”

“I’m calling Shingen, he’s closer,” he snapped, then added, “It’s okay, Juni, it’s okay, she’ll be alright--”

“Okay, okay, please dad, please come home--”

“I am, honey. I am.”

It took only two seconds of him sobbing into the phone before Shingen said he would drive over and hung up, no explanation required.

The second seizure happened when they were in the hospital.

There was a name for her condition, a damn name, and Kenshin contemplated hurling the doctor that told him it across the room. There was no cure. That she hadn’t had a seizure before was likely because of his insistence that she stay home and relax, which barely eased his blooming self-hatred.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, stroking hair away from her beautiful, incredible, perfect eyes, planting kisses on her fingers. “I should have done more.”

“You ridiculous man,” she sighed, nothing but grace. “No one could have done anything.”

Kenshin didn’t like accepting inevitability into his life. “I love you.”

She smiled at him. “I love you too.”

Juniper went to college on a full scholarship for a dual degree in Political Science and Japanese, and they were empty nesters. Out of anxiety, he moved his office back home to be with his wife, setting his desk in the same studio where she liked to sit and do paintings. They had a help dog now, a golden retriever named Molly. She had sensed her seizures twice before they happened and bought valuable time, but even so, Kenshin wanted to be there.

Mornings were softer affairs than before. He woke in the golden glow of her, wrapping his arms tight around her body and worshiping every perfect inch of her with his fingertips. Her hair grew in grey in streaks, and every time he found a new one he would kiss it, thanking it for the grace that he could see them arrive. Time with her was a valuable thing. As they aged together, every sunrise where he could see the youth of her slip into her glorious twilight years was a gift beyond compare.

God, he loved, loved, loved her so much.

“I’m getting old,” she sighed one morning, staring at herself into the mirror.

“As am I,” he answered, stroking a fingertip over her cheek. “And what a blessing it is that I get to share it with you.”

The Big One--as he would call it to himself later, much later, when he couldn’t even name it to himself--happened on a Wednesday. Molly began barking and jumping around, trying to get to the phone, so Kenshin dialed the number, and barely had he gotten to the second digit before she was on the floor convulsing.

She was unconscious by the time they brought her to the hospital. Shingen and Sasuke had to hold him back when the doctor gave them the prognosis.

In all honesty, he didn’t remember most of the week. Juniper arrived at some point and collapsed into his arms in tears, barely able to hold it together for her mother. Shingen pointedly took turns keeping watch in the hospital room when he knew Kenshin was too tired to stay awake, ignoring all irritable insistence that he was just fine, thank you, and could stay up still.

She woke up once--only once, and not for very long, and Kenshin cradled her in his arms and kissed her over and over and over until he saw the smile form in the crease of her lips.

“I love you,” he gasped, barely able to form the words without crying, and god forbid he cried in front of her right now. “I love you. I love you. Death can’t take you from me.”

She couldn’t talk, but she wrapped her fingers in his shirt just over his chest and tapped there--one, two, three, as if to say I live here. Of course he can’t.

A week later, she was gone.

Juniper moved home over the summer. She insisted it was to save money, but Kenshin couldn’t help but notice that whenever she was out, either Sasuke or Shingen were there, pointedly making him participate in the world. Even Yukimura joined in on the ridiculous circus, but Kenshin was too drained to snap at them in his usual way.

Besides. With his Love gone, he needed someone to keep his head on straight.

Fall came and Kenshin cried the night before Juniper left again, holding tight to his chest the pillow that his wife used to sleep on, and he dreamed of her.

My love. My sweetheart. What are you doing?

He held his breath and willed his heart to stop pounding so he could hear her better, and the pillow transformed into her--her legs between his, her arms against his chest, her perfect lips against his.

I love you. I love you. I love you. And Death can’t take me from you.

Juniper married her college sweetheart and together they adopted a son, also named Kenshin, and every day he would either come by their house to see his grandson or would call.

He was old, now. He’d retired at last, setting himself stubbornly into the same house that he and his wife and his daughter had lived in, despite all of Sasuke’s well-intentioned wheedling that he ‘downsize’. How could he? His memories of Her were omnipresent, sure, but he could see where the brush strokes she’d made fell on his walls, the tick marks that matched the inches his daughter grew on the pantry wall, the vague impression of one of her sandals in their patio where she’d stepped in wet concrete. Nowhere else had that.

The week before, he knew.

He couldn’t quite make it up the stairs anymore, so he settled stubbornly in on the couch, but not even that could explain the persistent pain in his chest. Some nights he could see her hands rubbing his shoulders, her eyes bright and beautiful on the pillow next to him, her smile luminous and a tap tap tap on his chest as if to say, you’ll join me soon, my love, won’t you?

And one of those nights when he closed his eyes, Kenshin already knew it was the last time. He laid out all his affairs on the kitchen counter, neat and precise, and told his daughter and grandson he loved them, and penned Shingen and Sasuke and even Yukimura thank-you-notes that he was too hard-headed to recite to them with his own mouth.

This time, when she came to him, he reached out and touched her back, solid and real as the couch under him, and when she pulled him up they were both young again. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her over and over and over until she was gasping and laughing (but no crying--no, never crying, not ever again).

And--not for the first time, he remembered his vows to her all those years ago, and mentally scratched out that one unnecessary one: Til Death do us part.

#Til death do us part #kenshin uesugi #uesugi kenshin #ikesen kenshin #modern kenshin #sickness tw #seizure tw #death tw #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #modern ikesen au #my writing #sadness #sasuke sarutobi #sarutobi sasuke #ikesen sasuke #shingen takeda #takeda shingen #ikesen shingen

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redditnosleep · 7 years

Text

The Lake In The Woods

by coffinstuffer

This is a story about my sisters. Juniper and Marigold. June and Mary. Twins born on the first day of September. Two and a half years older than me.

We lived in rural Wisconsin. Our father was a long haul trucker and our mother waited tables at the Denny’s. Mary, June and I were great explorers, charting the woods behind our modest home with construction paper and dulled crayons. We spent most of our time playing outside, sun, rain or snow.

There was safety in numbers. We were always back in time for dinner. In retrospect, I’m not even certain our mother knew just how far from home we strayed.

This is a story about a lake we found, a couple of miles into the wilderness. It was a Saturday in early February. We were bundled up in puffy jackets and snow pants. When we first came across the clearing, it was striking. The most beautiful thing my young eyes had ever seen.

Crisp white snow, sprawling flat as far as the eye could see. There wasn’t so much as a twig or a paw print to interrupt the pristine blanket of powder.

It was Mary who realized there was water beneath. She pointed out the reed stalks that speckled the perimeter. Even approached what must have been the edge, crouched down and brushed away the snow to reveal ice. She was always very science minded. Even with her mere twelve years of experience on the planet, she was one of the smartest people I knew.

So of course, she was the first to ask why we’d never seen this lake before. In all our years of wandering, we must have come this way at least a dozen times. I had no answers. I simply shrugged and pulled my hat down tighter around my ears to stave off the cold.

June was silent. Staring out into the vast expanse of white.

Other people had trouble telling my sisters apart, but I never did. They had the same wavy chestnut hair, grey eyes, and angular jaws. They had the bones of birds, thin and fragile. But June was softer. Quieter. She had more freckles sprinkled across her cheeks. Mary questioned and June listened. That was the way it had always been.

“Do you hear that?” She almost whispered, gaze glued to the horizon.

“What?” I asked, somehow feeling I should be just as quiet.

“The crying… someone is crying.”

“Junie, what are you talking about?” Mary straightened up, dusting the snow off her gloves.

June raised a finger to her lips, requesting silence.

I didn’t hear anything. No birds. No rustling trees. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced a deeper or more unsettling quiet.

If there’s one skill Mary never quite developed, it was keeping her mouth shut. It only added to the gravity of the situation when her eyes widened in sudden comprehension and a full minute passed before she said anything.

“Where is it coming from?” She wheeled around, staring at the frozen lake, just like June was.

June took a few steps closer to the edge of the lake. There was an odd look in her eye. One I’ve never seen before or since. She looked empty. Like an upright shell with nothing inside it. Her face was devoid of any expression.

Mary, on the other hand, was growing more agitated by the moment.

“We have to look for help!” She blubbered. “There–was a hunting cabin a little ways back, wasn’t there? The Darby boys have a hut out here–we’ll go get them.”

June didn’t give any indication of agreement or dissent. Mary grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it.

“Ryan. You and June stay put. Stay right here and I’ll be back.”

I nodded, confused, more than a little afraid. I still didn’t hear anything. I accepted it all. Because the prospect of both my sisters going insane at the same time seemed less plausible than my just not being able to pick up on what they were hearing.

Mary bounded off, leaving boot-prints in the snow. I watched her run until she disappeared between the trees. When I turned around, June was already a few feet out onto the lake.

I called to her, asking what she was doing. No response.

I yelled that it could be dangerous and that she should turn around. She ignored me.

I started crying. At first they were crocodile tears. The kind a little brother can usually muster when he’s trying to get pity or attention from his older sisters. But it turned all too real when the resounding crack echoed through the air. June sunk below the ice instantly.

My cowardice is probably the thing that saved me. I was paralyzed. Shocked and terrified. There was a gaping hole where my sister had been. No matter how much I wanted to move, to run to her, to save her, I couldn’t do it. I just stood there as the seconds ticked by into minutes and she was surely dead.

Time is a funny thing to pin down. I couldn’t honestly tell you how long it was before Mary showed up, with two of the Darby boys in tow, and I tearfully choked out what had happened.

The Darby boys looked at me in utter bewilderment. Mary frowned with concern.

“Ry… June is right over there.”.

Mary pointed. I turned to look. There was no hole in the ice. June was standing a ways off, next to the edge of the pond, still staring at some undefined point in the distance.

Apparently, whatever sound Mary heard had stopped. The Darby boys rolled their eyes and grumbled about what wild imagainations my sisters had. But they walked us back towards a more clearly marked trail, and said we shouldn’t wander off so far.

June didn’t say a word the whole walk home. The hairs on the back of my neck kept prickling, like someone was staring at me. But any time I glanced over, June was looking straight ahead.

Maybe I imagined it. But I could have sworn there were droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes.

This is a story about how my sister started to change.

I was still a little young to understand the finer points of puberty. But June’s came early. We were sitting on the couch together when she bled through her soft, pink sweatpants.

She didn’t stand up right away. In fact, she probably noticed long before I did.

“Huh. Guess I’m a woman now. Fucking fantastic.”

She started shaving her legs and wearing tighter clothes. She’d put on makeup in the girl’s bathroom at school. She used to have lunch with Mary and I. But with the change in appearance, people started to notice her. It wasn’t long before she sat at the same table as the girls who had money. The girls who lived in big houses, and carried around real leather purses, and drank pilfered strawberry vodka when they had sleepovers. It wasn’t long before June started talking to boys and twirling locks of hair around her index finger as she giggled at jokes that weren’t funny.

June used to come into my room late at night and sit on the edge of the bed.

Sometimes she’d talk to me. Sometimes she would just stare. Either way it seemed threatening in a manner that was hard to place. I would pretend to be asleep if it was late enough. But we both knew I wasn’t.

Sometimes I would cry.

“You watched me die, Ryan.” She would say, in that soft, eerie calm voice. “You didn’t even try to save me.”

“I’m sorry.” Pressing my face into the pillow didn’t hide the tears. But I didn’t know what else to do.

“You don’t love me.”

“I do, June. I’m sorry. I–I was scared–”

“You have no idea what it’s like to drown. All that stuff about it being peaceful is bullshit. It hurts, Ryan. It feels like barbed wire wrapping around your lungs. It’s like being trapped in a tiny box, that keeps getting smaller and smaller until you’re completely crushed.”

She would lean down to whisper right in my ear. Her hand on the back of my neck, squeezing just a little too hard, was icy as the first snow.

During the day, she’d carry around those little chemical hand warmers that skiers put in their gloves. But she wanted me to feel the cold, because it was my fault.

“Say you love me, Ryan.”

“I–I love you, June.”

“Good boy.”

Frank Darby went missing. I was probably the last person to see him alive. Or well, the second to last.

I saw him climbing out of June’s bedroom window a little after sunset, while I was raking leaves. It wasn’t a secret what they’d been doing. I’d gone outside because I could hear the slick sounds and creaking mattress springs through the thin walls.

June climbed out after him, smiling much too wide. Her hair was messy, and her face was flushed. The two of them got into the branches of the tall maple tree that grew beside our house, and shimmied down it.

They walked towards the woods, holding hands.

Just as they were about to disappear into the trees, June looked over her shoulder and winked at me.

The park rangers found Frank about a week later. I didn’t see the body, only heard stories. It’s hard to say what was embellished and warped in the game of telephone that spread through town. But the most common details are that Frank’s throat was ripped out, and his ribs had been cracked open. Whatever killed him took his heart.

My mother fell ill. Stage three breast cancer. I was twelve. June and Mary had recently turned fifteen.

Mary cried a lot. June spent most of her time at the hospital, stroking mom’s hair and feeding her soup.

Sometimes I wonder if her hands were cold. I wonder what my mother thought about that in the fading twilight.

Mom died in the middle of the night in early spring. June was the only one in the room with her.

Joe Darby met a similar fate to his older brother, for a slightly different reason.

Joe asked Mary to the homecoming dance.

At that point, Mary was wearing glasses. We didn’t have much money, so her dress was from the thrift store—several decades out of fashion.

She and Joe swayed back and forth at arm’s length. Smiling awkwardly. Or that’s how I imagine it happened. I wasn’t there.

I was there for the shouting match in our backyard. When June called Mary a cunt and they pulled each other’s hair and fingernails broke skin as they tumbled on the ground together.

Joe went missing shortly after that. Mary spent a lot of time searching the woods for him. After June apologized, they went together. They disappeared into the trees, holding hands, and a pile of bricks settled at the pit of my stomach.

Mary came back with damp hair and stopped wearing her glasses.

A few days later, the police found the shredded remains of Joe Darby. Once again, missing his heart.

This is a story about a lake in the middle of the woods, and how my sisters tried to drown me in it.

It was a foggy winter morning. My sisters kept throwing each other meaningful looks across the breakfast table, communicating in that way twins will. Having a conversation I could never hope to understand.

I was fourteen, and afraid of them both. When they asked if I wanted to go on a hike, I said no. They didn’t insist. They didn’t have to. Mary had made breakfast. The sleeping pills were already in my system.

When the drowsiness hit, I tried to make myself throw up, but it was too late.

They put me on a sled and dragged me out into the forest. I was unconscious for most of it. Just little flashes of trees and sky.

They waited for me to wake up. They were standing over me, completely naked, smiling wider than a human mouth should be able to stretch. They didn’t seem uncomfortable, despite the frigid wind whipping through their hair, and the snow between their bare toes.

“Can you hear it yet, Ryan?” June laughed.

“I’m sure you will soon. You’ll join them. All of them, at the bottom of the lake.”

“Screaming for help.”

“Begging for mercy.”

“It’s a little pathetic, really.”

I wanted to believe I was dreaming. But I knew I wasn’t. In a dream, my sisters would have shifted into something monstrous. Their hands would have become talons. Their teeth would have morphed into fangs around a forked tongue. But they looked the same as they ever had. Identical except for the freckles.

They each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me to my feet with a surprising strength. They stepped in tandem, slowly towards the edge of the lake in a grim procession. I was the star of it all.

My survival instincts must have kicked in about halfway to the ice. I began to struggle and scream, sure that nobody was listening. What is there to do when faced with imminent death but shriek at the heavens for mercy?

As I screamed, there was a swelling chorus of tortured cries. It sounded as if the ground hand opened up beneath me to unleash the anguish of the damned. The deafening noise echoed all around us. Centering on the lake. The lake that was no longer frozen over, but frothing and steaming like the surface of a cauldron.

My sisters held my shoulders firmly and lowered me into the water. Feet first. It was blistering. Painful beyond the point where I could distinguish heat or cold. It burned. That was all I knew.

Perhaps it’s poetic that a Darby saved me.

Perhaps it was divine intervention.

I tend to think it was nothing but dumb luck. It’s hard for me to believe in God anymore. Or at least, I can’t believe in a God that is fair and merciful. The only thing I know for sure is that evil exists. Something dark and twisted claimed both of my sisters, and will never give them back.

But a gunshot rang through the air, just when the water was lapping at my knees.

June released her grip on me suddenly. My center of gravity shifted backwards. It was enough time for me to wrench out of Mary’s grasp and crawl back up the snowy bank of the lake. I couldn’t stand. But I kept pulling myself along, farther and farther away from the water.

Two more shots in rapid succession cracked through the air above me. I saw the eighty-year-old grandmother Helen Darby, with a floral handkerchief tied around her head, holding a double barrel shotgun. Aiming it at the lake.

I didn’t turn around until long after she rushed past me. June’s naked body lay prone on the lake’s shore, bullet wound in her back leaking blood into the ground. Steam floating into the air from her torn flesh.

Mary was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t hear any more gunshots. Helen Darby circled around after a while. She put me back on the sled and dragged me to the hunting hut, where the rangers came to get me.

I lost three of my toes to frostbite. I considered myself lucky.

After my sisters disappeared, Helen Darby effectively adopted me. Whenever my father wasn’t home, she’d make a point to stop by. She’d teach me how to cook, help me figure out how to run the washing machine, knit while I did my homework or watched TV. Most importantly, she’d sit in the living room with the shotgun, long into the night. Making sure whatever had gotten a taste of me didn’t come back for another bite.

When I was old enough, or rather on my fifteenth birthday, Helen gave me a gun of my own and taught me how to use it.

Part of me knew it was all a little bizarre. But I could pretend it was about the grandsons she’d lost. She was just treating me as their replacement. We only talked about what happened at the lake once, and never again after that.

It was a cold night in December. We were sitting by the fireplace, listening to a radio broadcast of A Christmas Carol. Helen had been drinking gin straight from the bottle for a couple of hours. She often got sad when she drank. Her baggy, wrinkled eyes shone with a hint of tears, and the corners of her mouth sagged downwards.

“There’s something wrong out in the woods.” She said suddenly. Unspoken context looming over us. “It takes the little girls and kills the men. It’s been there longer than this town. Folks just stopped believing in it.”

I had so many questions but couldn’t voice any of them. I just stared at her wide eyes.

“It still talks to me. Always talks to me. It tried to make me kill my brother. My husband. My sons… but I’m too old for it now. It can’t do much besides talk. I’ve tried avoiding it but look what that did. No. Somebody has to stay out there.”

She took another long swig from her bottle.

“You know, I’m not going to live forever, Ryan.”

I nodded, solemn. Life already a tangled mess of grief. What better cause could I pursue than wardenship?

“You know what has to be done when I’m gone.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A sigh of relief.

This is a story about how I moved into a small cabin in the middle of the woods. I hunt and fish, and sell lumber to whoever needs it.

I don’t hear the voices or the screams. But some moonlit nights there’s a rapping on my window. I see the silhouette of a shriveled, naked woman with matted chestnut hair.

One day, she will probably finish what she started. Until then, I will keep watch, and do my best to pass along the story.

The worst things happen when we try to forget the warnings of a different time. Don’t wander in the woods. Don’t stray off the path. Something evil might get you. Just like it got to me.

#creepy #horror story #lakes #water #woods #author: coffinstuffer

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sagenundlegenden · 8 years

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The Infernal City lore notes

Posting for a friend, these are notes I made after reading the Elder Scrolls novel The Infernal City. Just random things that struck me as interesting or notable. Spoilers, definitely.

PART ONE

PT ONE Ch 1:

- Pushbottom is the slum of Lilmoth- “Imperials had dwelt here, too, in the early days when the Empire had first imposed its will and architecture on the lizard people of Black Marsh.”—now dominated by criminals and political opponents of the An-Xileel

- Attrebus rescued a colony of Argonians from slavery

- Glim: “My people knew slavery under the old Empire. We knew it pretty well.” Annaig: “Yes, but that was ending when the Oblivion crisis happened.”

- Lilmoth’s imperial estates were looted, but some foreigners kept on by the An-Xileel as advisors (like Annaig’s father); ch 3- “only licensed foreigners” allowed in Lilmoth

PT ONE Ch 2:

- Penitus Oculatus: has Inspector rank, barracks is the Telhall; are taught not to question orders “You are an instrument, a utensil of the Empire.” (Intendant Marall to Colin)

- Colin thinks of a Nord story about a baby born with a knife for a hand; his mother had been impregnated in a rape and attempted murder; the baby cuts his way out of her and she laughs as she dies; when his victims ask him who he is, he answers “Dalk” which means knife in old Nord

- Colin’s assassination target mentions a book called Astorie Book III and quotes from it: “No food, no wine, no lover’s kiss is as beautiful as a long deep breath.”

- One of the PO is a Khajiit

PT ONE Ch 3:

-the An-Xileel ruling council is called the Organism, in Lilmoth led by Archwarden Qajalil

-Argonian native language is called Jel; Lukiul=”assimilated”, used for Saxhleel who have adopted imperial culture; Xhu=okay; Xhuth!= exclamation;

- “The Hist gave his people life, form, purpose. It was the Hist who had seen through the shadows to the Oblivion crisis, who called all of the people back to the marsh, defeated the forces of Mehrunes Dagon, drove the Empire into the sea, and laid waste to their ancient enemies in Morrowind.

The Hist were of one mind, but just as he was four beings, the mind of the Hist could sometimes escape itself. It had happened before.” – the city tree of Lilmoth was a fragment left over from a tree destroyed 300 years earlier b/c it went rogue

-Lilmoth is mostly sunken into the soft soil; its patron is Xhon-Mehl the Fisher, Ascendant Organ Lord; the An-Xileel had excavated an ancient pyramid that used to be part of the city

- the Psijic priest Urvwen warns about Umbriel, says “We don’t teach our beliefs to outsiders. We counsel, we help.” “Help with what?” “Change… Change is inevitable. Indeed, change is sacred. But it is not to be unguided.” “Mundus—the world—is a very delicate thing, you know. Only certain rules keep it from returning to the Is/Is Not… I feel the ropes of the world, and they have become too tight. And that is never good. That is what happened in the days before the Dragonfires first burned—“

PT ONE Ch 4:

- Lazarum of the Synod had created a flying spell; Synod has conclaves, members have to pay dues

- Annaig does virtue tests on a substance from Oblivion, finding out its main property is restorative, secondary alteration

- Drykillers- only non-Argonian mercenary company in Lilmoth

- Glim thinks Coo is a venin bat or bloodmoth

PT ONE Ch 5:

- Black Marsh coast is lined with mangroves which look like crouched spiders with legs interlocked; there was an Argonian folktale that they originally were spiders that had gone against the Hist and earned their wrath

- Umbriel resembles a giant jellyfish but the underside is like a mountain ripped out of the earth and turned upside down; the top is level with towers and arches; there is a long, drooping fringe hanging from the upper edge like a lace collar disheveled by the wind and frozen in place, or like spider silk but some shining, and constantly dipping down then returning to the center of the island

- Glim starts to return to Lilmoth in a Hist daze

PT ONE Ch 6:

- if Argonians go far enough away from the Hist, they don’t hear anything

- Glim says “What the Iyorth was that?”

- From Umbriel they see humans, Argonians, sea creatures including Dreughs marching; some Bretons at Hereguard Plantation (one of the only farms still run by Bretons) fight the Umbriel creatures

- Glim understands that the rogue Hist only wants the “Lukiul” (assimilated) and foreigners to be killed by Umbriel; the An-Xileel and Wild Ones had gone away during the siege

- Annaig mentions a person called Irenbis Songblade who exploited faction fighting in Cheydinhal, probably in a story

PT ONE Ch 7:

- Umbriel residents speak a dialect of Ehlnofex

- Argonians do not have a sense of time, all moments are together as one

PART TWO

PT TWO Ch 1

- Attrebus: “The Empire is still reclaiming territory, both literally and figuratively. There are many battles yet to fight before our full glory is reclaimed.”

- Attrebus wants to fight for a place called Arenthia in Valenwood, Mede I won’t allow it

- Mentions bandits around Cheydinhal

- Annaig’s last name is Hoinart

- “Titus Mede had been—and was—many things. A soldier in an outlaw army, a warlord in Colovia, a king in Cyrodiil, and Emperor. And to Attrebus, a father. They looked much alike, having the same lean face and strong chin, the same green eyes. He’d gotten his own slightly crooked nose and blond hair from his mother; his father’s hair was auburn, although now it was more than half silver.” - Titus has curly hair

- Mede is not concerned with Umbriel moving towards Morrowind

- Says he took the city with under 1000 men; “routed Eddar Olin’s northward thrust with barely twice that”

PT TWO Ch 3

- New town of Ione, where Attrebus has a house—an Oblivion gate opened right in the middle of a company of soldiers, commander Tertius Ione led the defense w/ a cobbled-together militia of local farmers, he disappeared but a Breton came out who was half mad & died a day later; gate later exploded

- Sardavar Leed- “where the ancient Ayleid elves had once herded his ancestors, bred them for work and pleasure.”

- Vaermina – “Dark Lady”

PT TWO Ch 4

- the Ayleids used a metagastrologic in their banquets- like a drug that stimulates the taste sensations

PT TWO Ch 5

- Colin mentions an insurgent faction from County Skingrad called the “Natives”

- Describes magic as “the spark in himself that belonged not to the world but to Aetherius, to the realm of pure and complete possibility. He was lucky—this was easy for him. If he’d needed to start a fire or walk on water, it would require training, a mental sequence worked out by someone else to convince him that such things could be done. But for what he was doing, he need only focus and pay attention, look beneath the rock that everyone else didn’t notice.”—is able to conjure up the ghosts from the attack

PT TWO Ch 6

- “cats are less than friendly with the Empire they had once been a part of”

- Riverhold is swarming with imperial agents

- slarjei- desert animal

PT TWO Ch 7

- Penitus Oculatus was watching the Thalmor; there was a Thalmor sympathizer sleeping with an official in the war ministry

- The rebel “Natives” in County Skingrad are supplied and funded by the Thalmor

- Mede says “the Thalmor are in everything these days” “their aims are obscure”; Colin objects “their goal is clear—the pacification and purification of all Tamriel—to bring about the new Merithic (sic) era”; Mede responds “we have an inkling of their long-term goals, Inspector, but their intermediate plans are less scrutable”

- Colin says they are harassing refugees from Summerset Isles and Valenwood

- Mede says Leyawiin is still restless under his rule

- Colin’s inspector says he could get assigned to spy on Nords

- Colin drinks Colovian highland ale with juniper added, popular in the west; most Colovians in the IC are military

PT TWO Ch 8

- Rimmen has an Akaviri shrine called the Tonenaka with 10,000 statues, canals

PT TWO Ch 9

- Cheydinhal is famous for thirty-layer cakes

- Khajiit mounts are like apes, with thick forearms half the size of their rear limbs, with red stripes (Senchetigers—pt 3 ch 5); a Merish looking woman had black tattoos on her skin

- “the moons come from the east”

- Je’m’ath= protection for a favor

- The Khajiit start hospitality with a ritual of serving cake sprinkled with moonsugar and a few drops of liquid—this is a rite of hospitality that confers protection on the guests; they then ate honey and date soup

- The appearance of Khajiit depends on when in the moon cycles the kits are born

- The potentate of Rimmen has declared free clans outlaws

- There is no law in the north of Elsweyr since the Empire left—bandits roam freely

- Rimmen has domed buildings of white stone, a palace with a golden dome & sheets of water; there are “viridian moths”; only half of the residents are Khajiit and most of those are skooma addicts

- Attrebus and Sul buy moon sugar at the “Kingdom of Rimmen State Store”

PART THREE

PT 3 Ch 2

- Skyrim has steam baths, which have spread as a fashion occasionally in Cyrodiil

PT 3 Ch 2

- A former 18th legion soldier who fought with Mede is working as a regulator for the Kingdom of Rimmen because there is little work in Cyrodiil

PT 3 Ch 3

- scratching under one’s chin and then under the other person’s is a Khajiit greeting (or show of respect?)

- “Seidar”— like a debt of honor

- Northern Elsweyr is swarming with renegades in hill forts

- Vivec held up the Ministry of Truth (described as “a moon from Oblivion”) and after he died or disappeared, Vuhon and others built the ingenium that used souls to keep it aloft; the ingenium exploded, hurling Vuhon and Sul into Oblivion, and the Ministry fell to earth, triggering the eruption of Red Mountain

- The ingenium used souls to keep a vent into Clavicus Vile’s realm open; Vuhon may have made a bargain with Vile to trade energy for souls

- When Sul arrived in Oblivion, a black figure named Umbra tossed a sword back through the rift; this figure had cut a piece of Vile’s power off to make the sword more powerful, after which Vile had circumscribed the walls of his realm to imprison the figure there—only the sword could get through the rift

- Vuhon made a pact with Umbra to make a new ingenium to let him escape Vile’s realm

PT 3 Ch 5

- In the collapse of the old empire Bravil and Leyawiin were independent and at odds; Water’s Edge was protected by remnants of the imperial navy and served as an alternate port

- College of Whispers outposts are called cynosures

- Attrebus’ sword is called Flashing

PT 3 Ch 7

- Khajiit call Hircine “the Hungry Cat”

- Hircine will always give prey a chance to escape for the sake of the hunt

- Khajiit expression for dying is to be “on Khenathi’s path”

- They are confronted by a driver of Hircine’s hunt who is a werebear- tall Nord with blue markings on his chest riding a bear

- Hircine hunts with a pack of werewolves; looks like an enormous man with the antlers of a stag

PT 3 Ch 8

- Vivec City is now Scathing Bay, a perfectly circular lake with an island at its center that is indented by a crater; the Argonians perform some kind of ritual there

- Some Argonians settled in southern Morrowind but would be in Umbriel’s path

- Sul’s real name is Ezhmaar, his lover is Ilzheven; he summons her as an ash wraith

PT 3 Ch 10

- Colin uses the Cloak of Nocturnal for stealth

PT 3 Ch 11

- Glim has a faintly chlorine scent

- Sul conjures a crocodilian daedroth who snarls in hate at him but must obey his command

PT 3 Ch 12

- Sul uses a white-fire spell called balefire

- Vuhon had devised a way to use living souls to power the ingenium, but it requires “large” souls—Ilzheven had one of these; Sul tried to free her and the fight destroyed the ingenium, sending the Ministry hurtling to land

- Vile tightened the circumscription after the sword was thrown through, and the only way Vuhon could escape was to leave with a piece of Vile’s realm “twisted like a sausage skin until it separated”; he came to Mundus so that Vile couldn’t pursue him; he was able to seal the rift but is searching for the sword through agents, and wants to bring Umbriel to rest on White-Gold Tower

PT 3 Ch 13

- Sul summons a powerful daedra but it makes blood come from his nose

#Elder Scrolls #Argonians #Hist #Dunmer #lore

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tripstations · 5 years

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Odyssey’s end: exploring Milos and Sifnos, Greece | Travel

Dawn was breaking as I swam out from Paliochori beach. Twenty metres offshore, in the first rays of sunlight, I could see bubbles emerging from the sea bed. There was a roaring in my ears, like Poseidon’s kettle about to boil, plus some alarming gusts of warm water. Island of Milos, I thought, you are full of surprises: a volcanic Jacuzzi in the sea itself. Then I got out of the water and walked up the beach barefoot, straight into my second surprise: a thorn bush.

Milos & Sifnos

I yanked out every single one of the finger-long spines, but the last one broke off in my ankle. An hour later I couldn’t put my foot down. Was Milos having a joke? Anyone for island-hopping?

Milos was the fifth stop on my exploration of the lesser known Aegean islands, a journey that has revealed the wonderful diversity within those specks of land scattered between mainland Greece and Turkey. But Milos, I was fast realising, is different on a wholly different scale: starker, sharper and sometimes downright weird. There’s a beach only accessible by ladder, a taverna that stands in the sea and strange rock formations everywhere.

I was staying in a lovely hotel, Villa Notos, tucked into the cliffs on the outskirts of the port town of Adamanatas. My next few days were supposed to be spent hiking, but that prospect now seemed unlikely. Elena, the hotel owner, dug around in my ankle with a needle and declared the thorn too deep. I caught the bus up the mountain to the hospital where a stern-faced doctor spent 10 minutes exploring the interior of my ankle with a longer needle, then told me there was no thorn. I agreed: anything to escape his alarming ability to withstand pain, in other people. I could feel the thorn. I named it Odysseus and put a plaster on the livid red scar where he had entered the Trojan horse called Kevin.

Clambering down the ladder to Tsigrado beach on Milos. Photograph: Kevin Rushby/The Guardian

Elena at the hotel was determined to find things I could do while hosting Odysseus. She called her friend Dimitrios, who had the keys to the caves under the hotel. I only had to hop down two flights of steps and there was Dimitrios next to a huge iron door that I hadn’t noticed before. We entered a long tunnel in the rock and walked into the mountain.

“In the second world war,” Dimitrios said, “the Germans occupied Milos because of its natural harbour. They tunnelled into here to create stores and a hospital.”

For years after the war the tunnels lay empty and unused, a warren of cool caverns, crying out for a purpose. Now Dimitrios and friends have started putting on art shows, which add surreal touches to some of the spaces.

I went up to see Elena. “Sit down on your terrace and we’ll bring you food.”

In the tunnels below Adamanatas town, Milos Photograph: Kevin Rushby/The Guardian

Elena is Greek hospitality incarnate. Sit in front of her impressive desk overlooking the little beach below and before long coffee and cake will appear. Give it a little longer and some fascinating story will emerge, maybe about her great grandfather, who refused to surrender his pistols to the government and was named after his moustache – I’m summarising. Homemade cheese pie came on a tray with coffee. Later a bus timetable and map arrived, along with a message. I was to go to the costume and cultural museum up the mountain at Plaka.

The bus services on Milos are excellent. I rode up the hill, then limped through the labyrinthine lanes of Plaka. Down by the sea you might find “happy hour” bars and souvenir shops, but Plaka feels authentic: family houses, children’s toys in the alley, cats, a few good restaurants and bars. One of the houses has been turned into a museum. It’s a tiny place and you could easily miss it. There are no videos, no interactive exhibits, not even a demonstration of anything. Were it not for Odysseus, I would never have gone, and never met the custodian, Iro. “Elena Gaitanis sent you? Did you know her surname means ‘curly moustache’? Let me show you her great grandfather.”

His photo was on one wall: a piratical outlaw in giant pantaloons, pistols in his belt and that eponymous moustache. No wonder that when the island governor had demanded he surrender his pistols, Gaitanis had sent word: “Come and get them.” But nobody dared.

Iro (left) with visitors in Plaka’s cultural museum. Elena’s great-grandfather is in the photo on the wall. Photograph: Kevin Rushby/The Guardian

With Iro as guide the museum was a revelation, a window into the former life of the island. She told me how every evening in Plaka would end with each housewife calling in her chickens by name, showed me the surprising dresses women wore for their wedding nights, explained how the priest got his daily bread, and so on and on. Each time I was about to leave, she yelled, “Stop! There’s one thing I must show you.”

Eventually I hobbled away and climbed steps to the top of the hill, the fort, where I enjoyed the magnificent view and took off my boots. The plaster was intact. Another bus ride took me back to sea level and the wonderful Klima, a series of colourful boathouses dug into the cliff. I swam and fell asleep on a bench. Next morning Elena enquired after my ankle. The plaster had survived one swim and two showers. Odysseus had gone quiet. I could walk again, and island hop too.

The last island on my adventure was Sifnos, a 50-minute ferry ride away. It loomed up on the horizon, looking massive and forbidding and far quieter than Milos. I stayed at Delfini, a friendly little hotel on the rocky coast within walking distance of the port. I took a rest day for the sake of my ankle and then set off at 5am on what I had decided would be my last and most ambitious yomp of the trip.

I climbed the vast mountainside opposite the hotel in semi-darkness, crossed a windy ridge and then took an ancient cliff path through crumbling antique terraces fragrant with juniper, thyme and sage. I drank from springs and explored abandoned villages. Lizards and partridges scattered before me. At midday I reached Vathy, a seaside village popular with French tourists.

Kevin on the trail on Sifnos

After a swim I chose the simplest taverna and ordered revithada, chickpea stew, a Sifnos speciality. George, the owner’s son, talked proudly of the island’s culinary traditions. “When people have a cooking question in Greece, or they want a recipe, they say, ‘look in Tselementes’. It’s a book – the book. Tselementes has come to mean fine cooking. But Nikólaos Tselementes was a real person, a chef from Sifnos.” (He wrote an influential cooking series in 1910 called Odigos Mageirikis but his name has become a synonym for “cookbook.”)

George brought me caper salad, another Sifnos delicacy. Eventually I dragged myself away and continued walking, now in stunning heat, over a couple of hills and down to a deserted beach at Fikiada, where I collapsed in the shade after a swim.

Later, in golden evening light, I found some spectacularly ancient olive trees, hollowed-out giants that might have been saplings when Alexander the Great was alive. The oldest olive tree in Greece is said to be more than 3,000 years old.

George and his mum, owners of Taverna Symposio at Vathy on Sifnos. Photograph: Kevin Rushby/The Guardian

I walked on and on until dark, then caught the last bus home. My Greek walking epic was finished.

It had been a wonderful and inspiring journey. Behind its success lay a comprehensive and reliable ferry system (it never failed me), and a dependably hospitable roster of small family-run hotels. I never ate fancy or expensive food, often happy with pies from the bakery or a salad. It was the simple things I enjoyed most: the morning light, the sun-blessed tomatoes, the antique cobbled paths, the cool swims, the falcons playing with the wind.

Every morning at dawn I pulled on my boots, eager to get outside and see what the day would bring. And they all brought sheer pleasure.

Except, of course, for Odysseus. That accursed wanderer came back to England with me, hiding under the miraculously tenacious plaster. And then, when I first got in a car to drive, as if in horror at the end of my glorious summer of walking, he protested. I reached down, ripped that plaster off, and there, stuck to the surface, was a grisly black thorn, a centimetre long. Odysseus had made his point: my island-hopping was over – for now.

• Accommodation was provided by Inntravel, whose three-centre, ten-night, self-guided Enchanting Cyclades walking tour starts at £915pp, including B&B, notes and maps, transfers between ports and hotels and an internal flight Milos to Athens. Book ferries at ferries.gr; Folegandros to Milos €39.80, Milos to Sifnos €15, Sifnos to Piraeus €50. Accommodation in Athens was provided by The Foundry Suites (apartments for two from £102)

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