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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

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the way it was - chapter 20

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

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1914

just because it's pouring down,

doesn't mean we're gonna drown

Roy was gently rocking her in place as they sat, his touch and comfort soothing her instantly. It helped her think more clearly in the emotionally charged room. He’d hugged her against his chest and Riza cuddled into his torso completely. Her feet were up on the couch, and she was lying against him. Her tea was long forgotten, but at least she’d stopped feeling so shaky. Morning sickness was a bitch.

She’d finally given into him, her need for his comfort. She was tired of fighting and hiding from her husband. They’d finally met on a middle ground after Maes’ death. It might be no man’s land, it might finally be peace, that was yet to be seen. Today’s conversation would decide their fate.

“Even though it terrifies me,” Riza began, breaking the silence that had blanketed over them. “I think… If I share it all now, we can finally air everything out. It was an extremely difficult time for us both and I think we need to discuss it, rather than shoulder it alone like I’ve been doing.” Riza shifted, moving herself closer to him. “I’ve done that since our first argument. I told myself just to get through Maes’ funeral in one piece, then I could deal with it all, but I’m exhausted.”

She was so tired. She’d spent her whole life hiding how she really felt and putting others before herself but now, pregnant and exhausted from her morning sickness, she was tired of it all.

“These past few days… I felt like I’d lost you.” Riza gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly in her fist. “I was…” Riza sighed. “I was upset about Maes. I know how much he meant to you and how close you both were, so I can’t imagine how you must feel about it all, but I was hurting too.” She heard his breathing hitch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Gracia and Elicia being left alone. I got Mia to school then went right over to see her…” Riza swallowed back the tears, remembering Gracia sobbing uncontrollably as Riza held her, letting her ride it out. “It was horrible. I was there for hours.”

Roy was silent as she let it all out and Riza was grateful. His hands had stopped rubbing up and down her arms in comfort. They remained still as her explanation washed over him.

“And...” Riza sniffed and willed the tears not to fall. “I had to tell Mia what had happened.” Riza swallowed past the lump in her throat. “She couldn’t understand it. She didn’t know what I meant by she’d never be able to see her Uncle Maes again,” Riza’s voice shook. “She asked if you were really sad the night you came home,” she sniffed, “and then asked if we’d be sad if she died.”

The silence was deafening in the room. Riza squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of losing Mia. She’d never wanted to bring that up again. She couldn’t lose her baby girl. Riza would die inside if she did. It would kill her to lose any part of her family.

Roy stood abruptly. Riza was so startled she fell sideways on the couch, needing to push herself up to a seated position to see where he’d gone. Her husband was pacing in the middle of the room, frantically. One hand was gripping his hair tightly, the other on his hip.

“I don’t want that.” His whisper was quiet, but she heard the sob in his voice. “I can’t lose her,” he pleaded, face crumpling. “I can’t – My baby girl.”

Riza hushed him, pulling him into a tight hug. Hands wrapped around her tightly. Roy pressed his face into her shoulder, his head dipped low as she felt his torso shake with his sobs. His knees shook beneath him and Riza had to hold his weight for a brief second. Riza knew exactly how he felt because she’d lost it like this when Mia had asked her the question. But it just showed she was too young to comprehend the concept of dying. She was too young to lose anyone. Too young.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Riza reassured him fiercely through her own tears. “She’s safe and happy with your mother right now.”

“And I left you to deal with all of that. I didn’t even think.”

Riza hushed him again. “You had a lot to deal with –”

“It’s no excuse,” he replied. His tone was firm, rising in volume. The grip on her tightened. “I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s because she’s only young. She didn’t understand.”

Silence enveloped them as they both cried. It was cathartic to do this together, Riza thought. It was finally all coming out and she felt better about it. A weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

“I won’t say I wasn’t angry at the whole situation,” Riza whispered. “Because I was. You were grieving, I get that, but you didn’t need to say those things. That’s when I thought we were done,” she admitted. “After everything happened, I thought you’d finally realised how much I burden you every day.”

His head jerked up from her shoulder, his eyes staring into hers with disbelief in them. It was a comfort, at least. “Never,” he replied vehemently, pressing his forehead against hers, as if it would somehow make her understand better. “That’s on me. You keep me sane. You keep me grounded. You keep me going.” His voice cracked on the last word. “You always have.” He drew himself up to his full height, meeting her eyes. His hands never strayed from around her body though. “There is a plot in the military that we think goes right to the top.”

Riza’s stomach twisted painfully and dread threatened to creep up her spine. She swallowed thickly, letting the weight of his revelation settle over her.

“I don’t have names yet, but I think that was what Hughes figured out. Or, it was just how deep this whole thing ran. Someone is controlling the military. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Riza’s stomach continued to churn. “The reason I asked you not to go after the culprit and get your revenge wasn’t me asking you to drop it,” she whispered. “I was terrified of losing you. Whoever is pulling the strings didn’t hesitate to kill Maes as soon as they found out he’d discovered them. I don’t want you to die too.” Riza gripped his t-shirt tighter again, shifting her face so that it was pressed into his shoulder.

“I know,” Roy murmured. “I know that now. I was unfair to you, and if anyone else had been there, I would have lashed out at them too. It wasn’t directed at you for any reason.” Riza felt him hang his head. “I’m sorry. When I found out you were in the hospital that’s when it hit me just how awful I’d been to you. At Hughes’ funeral…” He took a shaky breath, almost stuttering over the last word. “I saw how good you were with Elicia and Mia, cheering them up after such a sad day. You were wonderful with them. You told Elicia about your own parents. I overheard you talking about it and I didn’t think you would share that with anyone, but you did it to show her, and to teach her, that it’s okay to be sad when people leave us like that. All the way home in the car she’d raved about how ‘Auntie Riza had said this, and Auntie Riza had said that’. You were exactly what she needed.” Roy gave her a quick squeeze. “Gracia and I knew you’d helped her understand. When I came home last night, that’s when I realised, I was losing you,” he admitted in a whisper. “You couldn’t even look at me, and I don’t blame you.”

“I was still angry at you but frustrated at myself.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“I obviously didn’t help you the way I should have through this tough time. I never offered help like I should have.”

“You did try to help. I also never gave you the chance,” Roy countered. “I wasn’t exactly the most approachable person. We promised we’d look out for each other and I did the exact opposite. I shouldered it all and pushed you both away and to the side in my grief.”

Riza couldn’t think of anything to reply to that. All her anger had left her now and she was tired. Emotionally and physically. She wanted to put this behind them and move on. There was nothing else that jumped to mind that needed to be discussed, and she felt certain they’d done enough of that for one lifetime.

Now, they could start moving forward.

A short, strangled laugh left Riza’s throat as she thought about Maes. He was probably up there screaming about how they were both so stupid and too stubborn for their own good.

“What?” Roy asked, his tone both curious and surprised.

She shook her head, peeling it away from his shoulder. When she looked into his eyes Riza finally felt at peace. “I was just thinking about how Maes is up there yelling about how stupid and stubborn we both are.”

Roy blinked at her, then his face relaxed. “He was always right about that. And the fact that I’m a colossal idiot. He’s still right about that,” he smiled. It was tiny, but it was there.

“But you’re my idiot, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” Riza pressed a hand to his cheek. “I couldn’t. Who would I tease if you were gone?”

Roy let out a laugh then hugged her tightly after pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re right. Who would keep my sorry ass in line if you weren’t here?”

“To be fair, Mia probably could. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

His laugh was solid this time. “You’re right. We’d be eating chocolate with every meal and there would be ice cream for breakfast if she got her way. I’d be huge in size.”

They both laughed, smiling fondly. When their eyes met again, their faces softened. Roy lifted a hand to her chin, cupping it and lifting it. She licked her lips in anticipation of a kiss.

“I love you so much, Riza Mustang,” he whispered. “I know I can be difficult, and I have a lot of making up to do but know that feeling will never change.”

“I just need you,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’ve come back to us.”

Roy bent his head, his lips pressing against hers so softly. It was a caring and loving kiss. She’d missed that feeling so much. His hand slowly moved so his palm was cupping her cheek. His fingers moved into the hair by her ear as his thumb stroked her cheekbone lightly. It was gentle and hesitant when Riza needed more. She gripped his shoulders tightly, deepening the kiss and pulling his body closer to hers. The two of them moved together, basking in the love they held for each other.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Like I said, you ground me. You’re the one constant in my life I can count on, so is Mia, but I took advantage of that recently.” His head lifted so he met her eyes. “No more.”

She smiled at him. It felt like it had been too long since the last she’d done that.

* * *

Riza was stirred from her slumber by the ghostly feeling of fingers brushing over her face. She shifted as it tickled her skin, her face brushing against something hard, but warm. Opening her eyes, she saw Roy’s well-defined chest directly in her view. Glancing up, she saw her husband smiling down at her. He was propped up on his elbow, which rested atop his pillow, while his head leaned against a closed fist.

“Hey,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her cheek. His fingers abandoned her skin as he did so, but they returned to stroking her face after it. She sighed at his touch, snuggling closer to his body.

“Hello,” she sighed as his fingers made her shiver. “I didn’t realise I fell asleep.”

Roy chuckled. “For about two hours.”

Riza’s eyes popped open. “Really?” she asked in disbelief.

Nodding, he shifted so he could kiss her head again. “You must have needed it.”

After their emotionally charged discussion of what had happened between them, Roy had kissed her softly. Riza wanted – no, needed – more, and dragged him into a deeper kiss, her hands tugging at his t-shirt, trying to get it over his head as quickly as possible. She’d meant it when she said she’d missed him. It wasn’t just his presence and his comfort. She’d missed his love too. She was desperate for the emotional connection they shared. Riza needed to reconnect with her husband. The bond between them was something she’d never experienced with anyone else before. It was so intense, Riza was lost without it during their hard time. So, she’d dragged him off to their bedroom and had apparently fallen asleep for two hours after it.

“I suppose I did,” she agreed. She let her eyes drift closed as she cuddled back into his side. “And I definitely needed that.”

Roy hummed in agreement, bending to kiss her again. “I’m just thankful that was the way things went. It could have gone the opposite.”

Riza’s eyes opened, her smile slipping from her face. “It could have, but I don’t think I could ever leave you, Roy,” she admitted. “We agreed we were in this together. Plus, we have the kids.” Her stomach fluttered at the plural word.

While he’d made love to her, Roy had cupped her swollen stomach in his hands, kissing the skin and whispering about how much he loved their little one already. He made promises and declared vows against her skin, his lips and breath tickling her stomach.

“We do, and I wouldn’t trade them both for the world.”

“Neither would I,” Riza agreed.

“I can’t believe we’re having a second one…” A smile spread across his face as he trailed off. “Sometimes I really can’t believe how lucky I’ve been.”

“Me too. Who would have thought I would fall in love with the scrawny city boy who appeared on my father’s doorstep one day?” she quipped, grinning up at him.

Roy laughed. “Who would have thought the shy, quiet girl who almost made me vomit when she cut the head off a chicken for dinner would fall in love with me?” he retorted. “I’m sure you did that on purpose, just for the shock factor.”

“Maybe I did,” she teased as they laughed together. “You’re the best person in my life, Roy, and always have been. I would never want to lose you.”

“I feel the same way,” he whispered, dropping his joking tone. He gave her a tight squeeze.

Peace washed over her body, solidifying in her mind that she was extremely loved by this man and he wanted her by his side. Her childish fears would not get in her way today, or in the future. She decided there and then, to actually listen to Roy when he told her how amazing she was, and how much he needed her, rather than smile and nod just to keep the peace. She was worthy of being loved, and she was a good person. She helped him, and that was all she ever wanted.

“I’m glad,” she whispered, shifting to press her lips against his.

Roy rolled her onto her back, so he was hovering over her. His knees were on either side of her hips, one hand on the mattress by her shoulder. The other hand lifted to her face, stroking down the side of her face, moving from her temple, down her cheek, to her cup her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, Riza,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hover just above hers, but not making contact. “So much.”

“I love you, Roy. Always have, always will.”

They were lost to each other once more under the warmth of their bedsheets.

* * *

“Hiya Mummy!” Mia called after they heard the front door to their home open. “Daddy!”

“Shoes off, Mia,” Chris commanded before they saw their daughter. There was a brief pause, then she came barrelling into their living room, Hayate hot on her heels. He looked as happy and excited to see them as Mia did, his tail wagging happily while his tongue lolled from his mouth.

“Hello, Mia,” Riza greeted.

Roy stood from his place beside Riza on the couch, disentangling himself from Riza’s hold. He bent low to scoop Mia up from the floor, twirling her around in place while she giggled happily. Hayate barked at his feet, his paws shifting on the carpet. Riza chuckled at their pup, betting that he probably wanted the same treatment.

“How’s my best girl?” Roy asked once he stopped spinning her around. Her body swayed in his arms, her head still spinning, while she giggled again.

“Good!” she exclaimed happily. “We went on the swings, we got some ice cream, we played fetch with Hayate and he jumped in the pond after his stick,” she giggled, leaning over her father’s arms to look down at their dog. As soon as Hayate saw Mia’s eyes on him, his tail wagged happily once more.

Mia continued to regale Roy with everything they did that day, and it sounded like a lot.

Chris approached Riza, one eyebrow lifted. Riza knew already what her question was.

“We’re good,” Riza told her with a smile, her eyes drifting back to Roy as he began to exclaim his surprise at what they did today, overexaggerating his tone and disbelief.

“I knew you would be,” Chris replied. “But that stuff still needs to be figured out. I saw how much what had happened was affecting him, and I could see it was beginning to tear you both apart.”

Riza felt her stomach twist uncomfortably, knowing that people had noticed their marital problems. However, what was done was done, and they’d made their way through it. That was what mattered.

“I’m glad you worked it out,” Chris added, offering Riza one of her rare, small smiles. “Otherwise I would have smacked him upside the head for being so stupid to push you away.”

“Thank you, Chris,” Riza replied, genuinely.

“Don’t mention it,” Chris replied, her tone gruff.

Riza smiled, noticing how she looked slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude. Despite being Roy’s mother, she still supported Riza wholeheartedly, and that was appreciated. In the past, her father had always taken Roy’s side, even going so far as blaming Roy’s failings or lack of progress on her, stating she was distracting him. It was nice to have a parental figure’s support once in her life.

Chris’ tone softened when Mia squealed loudly as Roy began to tickle her, not letting her escape from his hold. “I’d do anything for you both, you know that.”

A proud smile spread across Riza’s face. “I do. Thank you.”

“And for that little girl,” Chris added. “Even if she does run me off my feet all the time.”

Riza chuckled. “She’s well known for that.”

“Honestly, it was every five minutes. She’s always on the move.”

“Tell me about it. I used to look away for one second when she was a baby and she’d managed to crawl across the room to pick something up to put in her mouth. I needed another set of eyes.” Riza laughed fondly at the memory.

“Come on, Hayate!” Mia beckoned her friend loudly, leaving the room. They both ran up the stairs hurriedly, and Riza noticed she wasn’t limping.

“She’s going to get changed because she’s “all sweaty”,” Roy explained, adding in air quotes.

“I’m not surprised,” Chris snorted. “She ran about all day. I couldn’t get her to sit still for her lunch.”

Roy laughed, slinging his arm around Riza’s shoulders, then pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for looking after her today,” he added, his tone sincere. “We really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Chris stated, as if it were obvious she would. “I’d do anything for you two. Even if it means I end up in a heap by the end of the day because she’s run me ragged,” Chris added, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Mia. Then, Chris narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m glad to see things turned out for the best.”

“They did,” Roy replied, but his tone was slightly solemn.

“Good, because I would have killed you, Roy Boy, for letting this one go.”

Riza blushed lightly at the compliment while Roy chuckled beside her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Part of her was so close to opening her mouth to protest, but then she remembered her promise to herself earlier in the day. She was good enough. She was worthy of their love and support.

“She definitely is,” Roy grinned, pressing another kiss to Riza’s temple.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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heilewelt · 4 years

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2019 is over. Here are a few things I loved.

This year went by way too fast and occasionally I feel like I haven’t done anything, haven’t experienced anything. Busy with a full-time job time flies by and it’s been way too quiet on here. However, in the last couple of days I reflected on the musical side of the year, wondering if I experienced as little as I think and remembered some very fine moments, concerts, album I fell utterly in love with and new discoveries.

Orville Peck is the combination of all. I did an interview with him earlier this year and he has been such a great conversation partner and seeing him live just made be fall in love forever and always. I’m fascinated by the way he creates his character on stage and his performance – somewhere between a Country star and the theatrical elements of an musical and musically influenced by all kind of genres, even punk and grunge. I kept returning to his debut album “Pony” all year long. This love won’t be over anytime soon.

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Most loved concerts in 2019 in no particular order:

Patti Smith.

Archive. Favorite all-time band. 25. Anniversary concert in Paris. Do I need to say more? This band keeps being incredible.

Reignwolf returned to Berlin with a new album “Hear Me Out” and it was one hell of a show. Purest Rock’n’Roll. Sweat was involved.

The Raconteurs. 10 years. It was about time. I went to see them in London, Cologne and Berlin and it was such a joy!

KISS. The best. The last concert in Berlin. Perfect.

Caspian are an absolute must live. They always made me feel all the feeling – joy and sadness were lying so close when I saw them live in Dresden. They didn’t play in Berlin this year, so I had to travel to the nearest town.

Ida Mae are such a wonderful, heartfelt band. I saw them a few times this year and every time they got better and better. Glad they are stubborn and wouldn’t want to be a country pop duo but a very fine Blues influenced Folk music.

Low Cut Connie was a complete surprise. I remember winning the tickets and thinking I’d see a nice quite Folk band as I haven’t checked their out beforehand. Boy, was I wrong! Jerry Lee Lewis meets Elvis meets Elton John. What a live band – within a minute they had me dancing.

Faces On TV got me dancing.

North Mississippi Allstars reminded me what (live) music is for when I almost forgot it: to make you forget about daily life and enjoy the moment. What amazing talents and what a joy of playing live.

The Picturebooks are another band to save Rock’n’Roll. Always fun to watch.

Matt Andersen doesn’t need much. He just sits there with his guitar and it’s all you need. He makes you dance, feel, laugh. His energy and laughter always blows me away.

My favorite festivals couldn’t be more different from each other: Watt En Schlick on the beaches of Dangast, Germany, this August and the UK version of AmericanaFest which takes place in a couple of small clubs in Hackney, London, UK. Both are not very big and feel just intimate in a way. Friendly people who organize the festivals, great audience and the selection of the artists is very diverse. I loved both festivals.

Albums, EPs or songs that have been played a whole lot this year in no particular order: The Raconteurs “Help Us Stranger” – I’ve been waiting for this album 10 years and I’m so glad these four found their way back into the studio.

Reuben And The Dark “UnLove” – I love Reuben voice for so many years but with “UnLove” it felt like a renewed love. Especially the song “Breath” gets me every single time.

Poor Nameless Boy “Wake Up Call” – for reasons I don’t understand his music always feels like home, very comfortable, even when the topics are not that comfortable.

deFrance “Second Wind” – I should’ve written a review about it. I met Drew DeFrance earlier this year at Americana Fest UK when he played guitar for Arkansas Dave. “Second Wind” is a bit of old school Rock’n’Roll, some Friday night music but for me it just doesn’t get boring. I enjoy it so much and feel terrible for not writing the deserved review about it. Listen to them. Just do it.

Arkansas Dave “Live at Music in the Park at Montreux Festival” – Dave’s live energy is fantastic. I travelled to AmericanaFest London in January 2019 mainly to see him live and he’s so good. The live recordings from the Montreux Festival capture his energy on stage perfectly. Rock, blues and fabulous guitar play. Great dude as well. Hopefully I get to see him again in 2020.

Great Defeat – “A supergroup of bands you’ve never heard of” is written in their twitter bio but I know the bands and I love them and therefore I love this band.

Sunset Sons “Blood Rush Déjà vu” – “Alien” on repeat.

The Glorious Sons “A War on Everything” – Actually my album of the year, with “Panik Attack” being my hymn for the year.

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Blown Away Soundtrack – It’s a movie by two guys travelling the world, meeting musicians in every country and compiling this wonderful record. My favorite song is “Radiate” with Jack Mantis. I saw it live after the movie was shown in Berlin and couldn’t forget it.

Sam Isaac “This Year” – This EP is the reason you shouldn’t start your End of the Year list beginning of December. It was released on the 27th of December. He could have joined Great Defeat as my love for his music come from the same time and because of the same record label Alcopop. I stumbled over his new EP on the 27th when it was released. I didn’t knew it was coming. That evening I listened to it until I fell asleep.

My favorite new discoveries:

Rival Karma are so much fun. Gotta love this bearded, guitar/drum, rock’n’roll duo.

Rosborough has a sweet Irish accent and makes heartfelt music.

I found Ian Noe through an instagram post of Jason Momoa. What a beautiful deep voice!

Beranger are super fun. Their concerts are fun. They have classical piano and Pop and Beranger is an entertainer par excellence. Whether it’s on a small floating stage or a sold out venue in Berlin. He plays Mauerpark, Berlin, and there you just can’t sit quietly on your piano to have the people stop at your place. Certainly one’s to watch.

Willie Jones combines Rap with Country. Sounds like it doesn’t fit? When Willie Jones takes care of it, it’s a perfect match but to experience his music to the fullest you got to see him live!

And now let’s get 2020 started with a bit more live music and a few more words written!

Thank you for reading,

Dörte

#eoy2019 #music

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rivertellsstories · 6 years

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Winnie tells her kids about the Tucks

None of all the tricks the old ladies had entrusted to him were helping him. Hugo had tried everything from singing songs (daddy, you can’t sing!) to giving them milk with honey. It seemed to be working a bit on Angus, but Mae had gotten a sugar rush from the honey and was bouncing on her bed. Frustrated he ran a hand through his hair and considered just leaving the room and telling his wife that the children had fallen asleep without a problem. Knowing Winnie, she would see right through him and give him that I-know-you’re-lying-look. Seriously, sometimes he thought his wife was way more observant than he was and he was a police officer for God’s sake.

Speaking of Winnie, she had just entered the room and was looking at their son and daughter with a fond smile on her face. “They’ve got this from you. I was a good girl, always in bed at seven.” He drew her into his arms and buried his nose in her red hair. Age was painting silver streaks in it, but he loved them just as much as he loved the wrinkles that were showing up on both of their faces. Something about the whole growing old together thing always made him feel warm inside and his heartbeat slowed down, because her whole presence felt like home to him.

“From my side? Are you sure about that? I wasn’t the one who got lost in the woods you know.” The remark made her eyes sparkle with something Hugo had never been able to identify. Multiple times he had tried to get her to open up about her disappearance, but he always got a mysterious smile in return. Notions of those days always made her look fond, longing and a tad bit sad at the same time. When she thought of it, childish innocence shone through her ageing face and mixed with the wisdom she had gained throughout the years. She looked ethereal in those moments, both impossibly young and old at the same time. Winnie possessed a weird sort of everlasting beauty.

His wife sat down on Angus’ bed and patted the spaces beside her. As his kids sat down next to her, he sat down in the ancient rocking chair in the corner of the room. With soft gestures, Winnie brushes her daughter’s red curls and she laid her son’s head on her lap. With a most gentle voice, she started to tell a story.

“When I was eleven years old, I ran away from home.”

Hugo’s eyebrows shoot up at the statement. “You ran away?”

“Let mommy tell the story.” Mae grunts just as Angus says: “Don’t interrupt mom.” His wife gave him a teasing wink. “It’s rude to interrupt people Hugo dearest.” Sighing, he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry darling, please continue.” Both of his kids made noises of agreement at that statement.

“So I ran away and stumbled upon a boy in the forest.”

Mae gasped. “Was it daddy?” When Winnie shook her head, Mae frowned. “Then why are you telling this story?” His youngest has always been a sucker for romantic stories and Hugo didn’t know where she got it from. “It is a romantic story, sort of.” This answer seemed to please her and Mae gestured at her mother to continue.

“This boy’s name was Jesse Tuck and was being all weird about the spring in our woods. He told me not to drink from it. Do you wanna know why?”

Angus nodded so enthusiastically his head almost flew off.

With a secretive whisper Winnie got closer to their kids. “It’s because...the water from the spring turns people immortal!”

The kids seemed to eat it all up, but Hugo doubts that that really happened. Though when he looked at his wife, he saw no trace of lies on her face. Winnie was not a good liar and Hugo was curious about what happened.

“Of course I didn’t believe him. Later that day, I met his brother and mother. They kidnapped me.”

“They what?” Hugo asked incredulously.

Calmly Winnie repeated the phrase. “They kidnapped me. But it wasn’t that bad to be honest. They took good care of me. His dad got so excited that he went fishing, just for me! His mother lent me the clothes of his brother’s child. She even showed me her wedding dress! It was a most beautiful thing. Mae Tuck taught me some important things.”

Mae’s head shot up at the mention of her name. “She’s got the same name as me!” Winnie nodded. “Guess the name of the father.” Shyly Angus answered her. “Was it Angus?” Proudly, Winnie placed a kiss on her son’s nose. “Exactly.”

“That day, Mae told me that looking back, is something to look forward to. At that time, I didn’t understand her. She would live forever and at that time, that I thought that was the most amazing thing ever. But now...”

Winnie looked at her children with the utmost adoration in her eyes. As they looked at her in confusion, she hugged both of them close. Then she turned towards him and in her eyes he saw everything he felt at the moment. He couldn’t put the amount of love he had for his wife into words and hoped his gaze conveyed as much emotion as hers did.

“Now I know better. Immortality is nothing next to this. But there are people who would do anything for it. A man in yellow found out the secret of the Tucks too. He threatened to kill me if they didn’t disclose the location of the pond. He ended up getting killed by Mae. Then your father and grandpa turned up, ready to arrest my kidnappers.”

Angus snorted at that. “Way to go dad, you were three years too late.”

“The Tucks are now on the run from the law. Before he left, Jesse gave me a vial with water from the spring. He gave me the choice to drink it when I became seventeen. As you can see, I didn’t drink it. I dumped it over my toad. The end.”

As the children giggled over the story while Winnie tucked them in, Hugo mulled it over in his head. When he arrived on the scene, he had indeed seen a family of four. Growing up, he had also heard the stories of melodies that had been coming from the woods since forever. When he thought of all the strange stories he had heard, it didn’t seem that Winnie’s story was less than the truth.

“Did all of that really happen?” He asked her and Winnie nodded. “I kept some sad parts out for the children, but I didn’t lie. You may choose to not believe me if you want.” Once again he drew her into his arms. He kissed her softly on her forehead. “Winnifred Foster, you are many things, but a liar is not one of them. I believe you.” She smiled up at him and kissed him on the lips. “One day I will tell them the full, uncensored story of the Tucks. Will you listen too?” While tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he nodded.

As Mae and Angus Foster-Jackson entered the graveyard, they saw a family of four standing at their mother’s grave. “Angus, look at that boy. Blond, tiny and certainly not older than seventeen. Do you think that’s the Jesse Tuck mom talked about?”

Angus scoffed. “Do you really believe mom’s stories about immortal humans? You’re not a kid anymore Mae, grow up.” But as he looked at the group of people he noticed more and more similarities with his mother’s stories. The red headed woman and her husband couldn’t be anyone other than Mae and Angus Tuck. The older brother had to be Miles Tuck. Their mother had borrowed his son’s clothes. The blond boy had the same look in his eyes as his mom had when she talked about the Tucks. Impossibly fond and sad at the same time.

Mae saw disbelief, happiness and sadness dancing across her older brother’s face and took his hand. She inhaled deeply and walked over to the family with her brother in tow. “Hello!” She called out. “Are you by any chance the Tucks?”

Startled, they looked at her and Angus. “My mother told us your story so many times.” Realisation dawned on them and Angus smiled at them as tears welled up in his eyes. “Would you tell it to us one last time?”

Ps: I didn’t proofread this and wrote this on the train. It’s kind of garbage-y, maybe I’ll edit it later

#tuck everlasting musical #tuck everlasting #winnie foster #hugo jackson #jesse tuck #angus tuck #mae tuck #miles tuck #rivers stuff #fanfiction #fic

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imsopaigeyo · 5 years

Text

Prey: Part 1

Shawn Mendes Fan Fiction

Three Years from the present day.

July 4th 2015. The first meeting.

“I’m really happy you’re coming out tonight Marcy” Bradly said to me as he was spinning in my desk chair and playing with the pencil I was previously using to do homework. We had been friends since the day my family moved in next door. Almost 10 years of friendship.

“Have I ever missed one of your famous 4th of July Parties? No matter how much they push me out of my comfort zone.” I joked, but there was an incredible amount of truth behind my words.

Bradly was friends with the most popular kids, not just in our school, but within our entire town. He was one of the most charismatic and likable people that I knew. That translated to him being friends with anyone and everyone. I however was the girl that knew all the answers but never raised her hand. I would often peal the wood around my pencil tip to avoid having to make the dreaded trip to the pencil sharpener in fear of drawing too much attention. These parties caused me an insane amount of anxiety, however this was for Bradley.

“Well considering this is the only time of year you actually socialize with anyone other than me or your family, I don’t feel bad about it. You need it.” Bradley flashed his glorious smile. I have almost grown immune to his charm over our many years of friendship.

“I talk to Addy” I pointed out, more pleased with myself than I probably should have been.

“She’s my girlfriend! You are practically forced to talk to her!” Bradley laughed as I finish tying my shoes.

“Well I enjoy talking to her” I argued. While the socialization between the us was a must, I did genuinely enjoy the friendship that was evolving between us two. Even if it was only due to Bradley.

“Marcy you do realize you've warn that same exact shirt to this party for the past three years.” Bradly said standing up causing me to roll my eyes. I suppose it was officially time to embark on this journey.

“It’s my party shirt” I said jokingly lifting the collar of my breathable yet very warn gray tee shirt. This was the shirt I felt the most comfortable in, and I always wore when I knew I would be in a high stress situation. “Let’s kick it” I took a deep breath as Bradly through his arm around me and we made our way across the street.

The party went on much like the other years for me. I stood as far away from the crowd as possible without trying to come across as anti social. I did my best to keep Bradly in my view in case I would need to find someone to talk too. I would look around and notice what faces were familiar to me. However, I would never approach anyone. With What few people approached me, I would make polite small talk with until I or them would awkwardly walk away, then I would curse myself for being so awkward.

There were a few differences at this party then the last. There were more people than last year, however that did not surprise me. The amount of people has gone up every year, for Bradly was incredible at making new friends without loosing any it seemed.

Also this was the first party where alcohol was very much prevalent. I again knew this was going to happen eventually . The past few years there were a few kids that would sneak some here and there, but this year it seemed that everyone had a red solo cup in there hand filled with some mysterious liquid. Except for me.

“Marcy I brought you a drink!” I turned to see my second favorite face that could be at this party. Bradly's girlfriend Addy, I knew that I could talk to her without feeling awkward or out of place. However the thought of consuming alcohol under this much stress scared me, just as I was about to politely decline i was cut off. “No worries, it’s Sunny D! Bradly told me it’s your favorite” she smiled handing me the glass.

“Thanks Addy” I was thankful, for all of the thoughts running through my head were making me thirsty. And Sunny D was indeed my favorite.

“Of course! Now come on, Bradly wants to introduce you to his new friends!” Addy said grabbing My arm gently and pulled me through the crowd.

I knew better than to protest. For this was apart of the yearly tradition. At some point during the party, Bradly always deemed it necessary to introduce me to his top new friends of the year, and they always managed to be different than the last.

This was my least, and favorite part of the party. While I hated the anxiety that came along with meeting so many new people at once,I knew after this portion it would then be acceptable for me to leave.

“I’m for-warning you now, Brad has had a bit too much to drink. So just play along with his antics if you can.” Addy yelled to me over the roar of the crowd and I stiffened unsure of how I felt.

“Oh joy” I said Sarcastically. I had nothing against drunk people, only that I had never really dealt with one before.

“MARCY!!!!!!!!” I had heard Bradley obnoxiously yell only to then be embraced with a large and very smothering hug. “ I just want everyone to know how cool this chick is” Bradly yelled to everyone although no one was really listening to him. There was far too much commotion from everyone around. “Let’s go girls” Bradly then demanded the two of us.

Addy, gave me a pleading glance and mouthed “just go with it” and I reluctantly followed Addy and she followed brad into his crowded kitchen up to the table where there was a group of boys sitting around playing a game of cards. One of which looked incredibly familiar. I figured that he was probably a football captain for a rival school or something like that. I most likely saw a few of his posts on Instagram.

“Boys, Boys, Boys” Bradly drunkly got the entire tables attention and my insides began to twist anticipating all of the attention Bradly was about to cast onto me. “I want everyone to meet my best gal pal, Marcy Mae Dawson!” He said then proceeded to clap by himself.

I smiled and waved as I usually do when Bradly introduces me to his friends. Only this time was much worse considering an entire table of incredibly attractive teenage boys were gathered around a table.

There was a very very awkward moment of silence until Addy gracefully entered the conversation. “Marcy this is my cousin Johnson, and his friend Jack, Cole, Drew, and Shawn.”

“You mean Shawn mother fucking Mendes” Bradley drunkly yelled. “A mother fucking rock star. You here that Marcy there is a rock star at my party” Bradly aggressively sat down into his kitchen chair throwing his hands up. Almost falling if it wasn't for Johnson catching him.

Things clicked at that point. I had seen Shawn Mendes on line quite a bit, I even followed him on vine and he was really taking off. I was a little star struck but not really surprised. If anyone would have a celebrity at there party it would be Bradly.

“Alright buddy why don’t you have some water” Shawn handed Bradly his own glass. “It’s nice to meet you Marcy” he then smiled at me and my insides twisted this time in an entirely different way. I smile at him wanting to say more but not wanting to risk saying something stupid so I stayed silent.

As Bradly tried to take a sip of water he dropped the entire glass all over him self. “Well damn” he moaned as Johnson handed him some paper towels and I got a bottle of water off of the bar and handed it to Addy knowing she would have best chance at getting him to successfully drink it.

I stood my arms crossed, looking down at my feet and stealing a few glances at Shawn. Still amazed that it was actually him. While this was incredibly entertaining, I indeed did want to get home. As the table started to have discussion and share a good amount of laughs I couldn't help but begin to think of when the best time to leave would arrive.

“Marcy, would you like to sit down, I can go find another seat?” Shawn had asked me and while the offer did make me swoon, I thought this might be my only shot to escape.

“Oh no that’s okay, I was actually just going to leave. Thank you though.” I said trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Whattttt?? Marcy no! Addy tell Marcy to stay” Bradly whined but Addy nodded at me before reassuring Bradly that it was late. I smiled at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Bradly, thanks for having me. Nice meeting you all.” I said turning to leave in fear that if I stayed to socialize more I would make a fool of myself. As I turned to leave I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around expecting Addy but I was entirely shocked to see the eyes of Shawn Mendes a foot away from mine. This caused me to stumble back as I’m sure it would most however I was lucky enough to regain my footing prior to completely embarrassing myself. Shawn laughed causing my face to turn red im sure almost instantly.

“I just wanted to check and see if you were okay to get home, would you like a ride. I haven’t drank anything.” He asked and my eyes went wide.

Does he think I’m drunk now. How horrible would that be. I actually meet a celebrity and they think I’m trashed when really I’m just a giant pile of awkward.

“What! Oh, no I’m not, I didn't, I don’t drink. All I had was Sunny D!” I defend.

“Sunny D?” He laughed even more. Does he think I’m lying? Oh god.

“I swear, you can smell my breath” I defend. Smell my breath? what is wrong with me. “I’m just really clumsy.”

“I know your not drunk Marcy” he laughs. “Just making sure you have a way home.”

“Oh okay.” I say reassured. I then realize he is still waiting for an answer. “NO” I scream when I realize I’m not answering. “I’m so sorry I didn't realize you were asking me. I live right across the street. I just. God I’m so sorry.” I say rubbing my forehead looking down trying to avoid eye contact. This is mortifying. I expect him to walk away but instead his soft giggle escapes his lips again. I look up to see his smile. A smile even more charming then Bradly’s.

“It was very nice to meet you Marcy, have a good night.” He says and pats my shoulder before turning around to go back to his table of friends. ----------- Shawn and his friends have been at every party since. While every party I only socialized with Bradly or Addy, Shawn always made an effort to say hi to me and make small talk. Even as he grew more popular in the years. You could say I developed a crush on him, but really what teenage girl didn’t at this point in time. ----------- Present Day

“I can’t find it!” I yelled.

“Find what?” Addy asked looking up from her phone. She was FaceTiming Bradly about his party tonight.

“Her Party Shirt” Bradly answered for me causing me to aggressively shut my dresser drawer and rip the phone from Addy’s hand.

“Where the hell is it.” I don’t ask, I demand.

“To be returned on the morning of July 5th.” Bradly flashes me his smile.

“Then I won’t go to your stupid party” I threatened. I know it could seem a bit dramatic, but with social situations comes stress. With the incredible stress that will come from a social situation there is nothing wrong with wanting to wear what makes you feel comfortable.

“Then you won’t get it back.” Bradly threatened causing me to groan giving the phone back to Addy and flop onto my bed in the midst of a fit. “It’s been six years Marcy’s, it’s time to get a new wardrobe!” Bradly announced through the phone and I put a pillow over my face not wanting to hear it.

“Maybe Brads right, maybe you could take this opportunity to dress a little bit sexy. Maybe meet a cute boy” Addy began to insist making her way from my desk chair to the bed next to me.

“You were in on this” I take the pillow from my face and look at her in the eyes.

“Yes” she says regretfully.

“What is so wrong with my party shirt” I moan throwing my hands in the air.

“Nothing. There just nothing right about it either.” Addy says gently trying not to hurt my feelings. “ I’ll help you find something, something super cute and of course comfortable I promise.” She reassures me.

“Plus Shawn’s gonna be there, you want to look cute for your crush don’t ya Marcy” Bradly teased.

“I don’t have a crush on Shawn” I defend

“That is not what your Instagram, YouTube and Tumblr history says” Bradly continues and I put the pillow over my face again. I never planned to tell anyone about my crush, but when your best friend has no means for privacy it’s kinda hard.

I of course knew nothing would come of it. I was just like all of the other girls who had a crush on him. I was just lucky enough to be able to see him once a year. I wouldn't say I was I fan, but I was definitely into his music and watching him grow as an artist.

“I think that’s enough. Bye Brad, see you in a bit, love you.” Addy quickly hung up before ripping the pillow from my face. “He’s an ass, yes, but he’s an ass with a point”

“What point?” I look at her in disbelief.

“We are trying to get you out of your shell Marcy. I mean come on you just finished your first year of college and what exactly did you do all year?” She challenges.

“I got straight A’s.”I gloat.

“Aside from that, how many friends did you make, parties did you go to, Boys did you flirt with, what good memories have you made aside from getting honor roll and watching an obscene amount of netflixs.

“None.” I say regretfully.

“Exactly, you need to open up. Start living life.” She said and I saw her point, I just don’t see how my shirt had anything to do with it.

“Fine” I give in, I really didn't have a choice if I wanted to get my shirt back.

“Great I have the perfect outfit for you.” Said leans over and starts pulling cloths from her book bag. I should’ve questioned why she had brought a book bag to my house in the middle of summer. ----- Over all the outfit wasn't horrible. I was expect an entirely to tight a revealing mess however Addy was quite thoughtful when it came to my style. A pair of ripped jeans and a cozy white tee that was slightly cropped.

“This isn't to bad” I say and she glides the last of the mascara over my eye lashes.

“Don’t speak to soon” she smirks before going to her bag to pull out one last thing.

“No” I say the minute pulls out a pitiful excuse for shoes.

“Come on. They are just heels. Plus you live right next door worse comes to worse I’ll come over and grab your sneakers. Just try for me Marcy” she pleas and I shake my head no and go to grab my sneakers. “You want your tee shirt back don’t you?” She states causing me to stop into tracks and shoot her a death glare. ------- “I’m tired already” I say trying my best not to sink into the grass as I walk across my yard to get to Bradley's.

“Stop complaining, Addy does this every day” Bradly says. Addy seconds. I roll my eyes.

This year Addy and I are going over early, im too sure as to why. The only reason i agrees to so I may find a comfort place to sit and sulk for the night. As I walk over I see there are already two cars I don’t recognize in the drive way meaning people are already there thus I will need to socialize and I groan.

“It’s 6, how are people already here” I complain.

“My darling Marcy have you never heard of a pre game.” Bradley pats my back almost causing me to stumble.

“And that is how you always seem to get so trashed” Addy adds in and I laugh.

“I liked it better when you guys didn’t always team up against me” Bradley complained opening his front and the sound of men screaming and grunting. I reluctantly follow behind the two.

Inside are the same boys I met three years ago at Bradlys kitchen table. All stumbling around, yelling, drinking, and laughing. There is also a group of very pretty, incredibly dressed girls hanging on them. Shawn however is not there. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I take a seat on the couch in the living room that’s pushed against the wall away from the commotion. Addy and Bradly go over, while I go on my phone pretending to do something important, however I’m only playing angry birds.

All of a sudden the front door opens and in walks Shawn Mendes and my stomach immediately is flooded by a stream of butterfly’s, but they are quickly massacred as three women who look like super models follow close behind.

“Look who made it to the pre-game” Drew, one of the boys I met at the kitchen table exclaims and high fives all of his friends.

Shawn makes his way to the rest of them indulging in the high fives. I notice he seems different then the past years. He’s taller, more masculine, darker.

He glances over and sees my eyes glued to him he smiles. But it’s not the same smile I had swooned over the past 3 years, it was a smirk. A smirk I haven’t seen before. Not from him, not from anyone.

I’m sure my cheeks go red when he catches me staring and my eyes go back to my phone. I try and stay calm even though I am still incredibly star struck, though this is my fourth time being in a social situation with him. Although I am never social.

As he goes around the room greeting everyone I notice his voice has changed. Not deeper, just harsher. He’s more demanding, asking the girls to get him a drink, and them all rushing to get it for him. Me still sitting glued to my phone hoping no one brings me into the conversation.

“It’s Macey right?” Shawn turns to me and leans back on the pool table about ten foot away. Everyone turns there head to me and my stomach drops. How could he get my name wrong? What do you mean Marcy. Of course he got your name wrong he hardly knows you. You should be happy he was even close. How do you even go about correcting him. Just smile and nod. Smile and nod.

“Her names Marcy.” Addy corrects him for me and again I’m conflicted. Am I thankful, am I mortified, I should of just corrected him myself.

“Yeah sorry” I say. Fuck why did I just apologize for my own name. I want to go home. The girl to the left of him let’s out a giggle. Not a nice one, a condescending one. My eyes go back to my phone and everyone thankfully goes back to there conversations.

That could’ve been worse is all I keep telling myself. They are all standing and laughing around the pool table. I don’t think they are playing the game really, more of less just using it as a prop.

“How about a little drinking game to get this party started” one of the suspected models that followed Shawn into the room raising her glass.

They all agree and circle around the pool table as if this had been rehearsed. Addy points to a spot next to her urging me to join then and I shake my head no.

“Marcy come on.” She demands and once again all eyes turn my way and I reluctantly walk to the spot not wanting to draw anymore attention to myself. The same girl that laughed before laughs again, this time joined by the others.

“You’re gonna need a drink dear.” Johnson laughs handing me a beer.

“I don’t drink. Thank you though.” I say hesitantly not wanting to come off rude. Luckily Johnson puts it back and hands a water with a smile.

"No no no!" Bradly, already seemingly less sober then he was 20 minutes ago, snatches the water from my hand and replacing it with the solo cup from which he was drinking from. I try to stop him but he cuts me off saying "I dont want to hear it, tonight, you drink. Don't worry, its not strong." I says as he starts to make himself another drink.

"Clearly." I saw not thinking,luckily my comment gained a few laughs from around the table and i feel grateful nobody saw the comment as bitchy. I look up to see Shawn looking at me with the same smirk he had when he first walk in. Im sure my cheeks turn red and i look down hoping he didnt see. I take i sniff from the red solo cup and the pungent smells throws me off and i pray I can get away with faking my drinks throughout the game.

"So what game are we playing" Addy asks. The room fills with a few suggestions and one of the girls mutter out the words "Truth or Dare" which seems to grab everyones attention and they all agree.

I think the idea is a little juvenile but im not complaining. No one ever calls my name anyway so i feel slightly safe in this..."Marcy!"

I look to see the Model who laughed at my social skills making eye contact with me looking incredibly devious. "Truth or Dare" She practically challenge and I feel my knees begin to shake and chest tighten. Stay calm I remind myself. Its just a game that everyone plays.

"Truth" I reply trying not to sound as frightened as I am. Obviously I go for the safest option.

"How many people have you slept with?" She asks trying to seem innocent. Im sure she already knows my humiliating answer is zero however i dont want to go through the mortifying defeat of saying that.

"I mean dare" I say somehow fooling myself into thinking this option would be better.

"Thats not fair, you can't..." She starts to ridicule me and I feel my body start to freak out even more before she is cut off by a deep voice that makes my heart stop.

"Finish your drink." I look to her left and see the smirk thats been haunting since hes gotten here. Shawn's.

His request may have seemed simple to some, but as someone who has never tasted alcohol it was a lot. I think he knew that too. However, the thought of having to answer the question put far worse fear into my body so I slowly and regretfully bring the red solo cup to my lips, and force my body to allow all of the awful contents to be consumed.

================

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earthlostgirl · 5 years

Text

This is the first fic that I write in English, so if you see any type of error, do not hesitate to say it so that I can correct myself. I hope you like it ! Thanks for reading me.

April, 1636. Port Tortuga .

"Captain, Captain!" shouted someone on the other side of the door knocking hard on the wood. "We should be sailing in a couple of hours."

"Damn it, Breda, here's a man trying to sleep," he grunted in a bad mood.

Twenty minutes later and with his characteristic calm he left his cabin, adjusting his belt from which all his weapons hung, behind him two beautiful girls who laughed and whispered to each other. Their colourful dresses stood out from the sobriety of the rest of the crew. Roy said goodbye to the girls when they got off the boat and turned with a huge smile on his face to look at his team. His right hand was carefully checking the boxes on deck. She wore her long blond hair tied up in a messy bun and when she moved her bracelets and beads tinkled, making a soft sound of tiny bells. Her white shirt drew her curves and she seemed to shine under the sun of the southern seas.

"Petty Officer Swallow, how's the cargo going?" "All right, sir," she muttered without looking up from the papers.

"Is anything missing?" he insisted, smiling trying to get her to look at him.

"Yes, sir, a lot of things," she snorted in a bad mood giving the documents to the red-haired sailor who had woken him up.

"All right gentlemen, we've got work to do, let's go everybody," he said in a loud voice, gesturing exaggeratedly with his arms. "If we manage to load the boat, we will spend the night in Tortuga."

Queen Elizabeth was rocking in the calm waters of the free port of Tortuga. It wasn't a very big ship. It was barely twelve meters long and was old; it had hundreds of repairs, but it was fast and was good for smuggling and pillaging, which in the end was the most important thing. A bunch of children, the street rats of the island were loading the illegal rum onto the ship. For a handful of coins, anyone was willing to work no matter how hard it was. Captain Mustang, hands on his waist, gazed proudly at his beloved ship.

"Isn't it a bit brazen of you to name your ship after a queen whom you plunder every chance you get?" said a voice full of arrogance behind Roy.

"I am the captain of the ship and give it whatever name I want," he replied irritably as he recognized that voice.

"Be thankful that you are in Tortuga, otherwise I would stop you right now for insulting the crown, Captain Mustang."

"You should be thankful that you are in Tortuga, otherwise I would put my sword through you right now, Commodore Fox."

"Has this stupid egos fight ended, Sir? We still have to finish loading the ship," Riza snorted as she stood beside him as she guided one of the children down the catwalk.

"Yes, petty officer" he turned to look at her, smiling, but she didn't smile back.

He snorted in annoyance and last looked at the stupid officer of the royal army who kept smiling arrogantly as he walked away from the port.

It was noon and Mustang, along with several members of his crew, was on his way to "Sweet Kattalin", one of the port's canteens. It was always crowded, since they have the best lamb stew on this side of the ocean. They sat at one of the tables, starving to death, shouting at the waitresses, acting as if they were in their own house.

"Get your dirty boots off my table, Mustang," the owner of the place grunted." Did you grow up in a pigsty?"

"Catalina, my love" interrupted Havok, taking her by the waist."I missed you tonight."

"You just miss something to put your hands on, you scoundrel, water rat," she snorted away from him. "Wipe that rogue smile off your face, pirate, I'm not going to fall for your cheap tricks."

"That's why I like you so much, Catalina, that mouth of yours..." he smiled brazenly and threw a kiss as he sat on the bench.

The owner of the place was a brunette with wild and curly hair, generous curves and ravishing smile, any man would fight in mourning for looking at her cleavage. She was cynical and foul-mouthed, and capable of putting up a good fight. He liked her, but above all she was a good friend of his petty officer. Catalina had a strange hobby; she collected "wanted" posters of all the villains, delinquents and other thugs who walked through Tortuga. Decorated the walls of the canteen and every time someone was on the wall for the first time, they had to pay for everyone's drinks.

"Why am I"Baby face Mustang"?" he asked looking at his poster whit a sulking sign. " It's stupid."

"Because you are incapable of growing a decent beard, sir," Breda joked, unbuttoning his pants, ready to have a great feast.

"Why is Havoc" Pretty face, Havoc?" Roy insisted, folding his arms across his chest.

"Because I have it, boss," he replied, scratching his blonde beard.

After the delicious food and paying for the part of the sailors who had stayed on the ship, they returned to port. There they spent the afternoon finalizing the preparations for departure, delaying until the next morning the time to go to sea. When night fell, and this time with all his crew, they left Queen Elizabeth to enjoy the crazy nights of Tortuga. Walking through its crowded streets where all kinds of crooks and bad people gathered.

"I have things to do," said Riza disappearing into one of the dark alleys without giving him time to say anything. A tall sailor, with black hair tied up in a ponytail and ears full of earrings, stood beside him and cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner.

"May I speak freely, Captain?" he asked mockingly.

"Hughes, please, put the formalities in your ass..."he said, circling his eyes, but without taking his sight away from the alley through which she vanished.

"What have you done now?"

"I haven't done anything," he turned his head to look at his friend.

"I don't think our beloved boatswain thinks so," Maes smiled and softly elbowed his ribs.

"She wants to go by the Arrow, but we are unready to go after Bradley," he explained shaking his head.

"You always say the same thing... What's your excuse now?"

"A small ship, inexperienced crew, she and I grew up on a pirate ship, but now half of the boys are inexperienced criminals or fishermen bored of working, dry feet, immature... They are unprepared for such a business..."

"Then you'll find another excuse. I know you do it by the map, Roy, I'm not an idiot, nor is she, she's not a lady in distress, she's a pirate. Besides Elisabeth Hawkeye is dead to everyone, nobody is looking for her."

"I will not risk her life for a stupid ship or a stupid treasure."

"Which are important to her, are her inheritance, her legacy and you are denying her the right to claim them."

"Whose side are you on, Maes?"

"On the side of justice, adventure and greed my dear say there are more than ten thousand gold coins in Hawkeye Treasure and precious stones the size of your head."

"They also say he had a daughter with a mermaid..."

"Who knows? Riza is the best swimmer in the crew."

"Shut up, Hughes, lets drink before those river rats end up with all the rum."

And they drank to the point of exhaustion.

He was drunk, very drunk, like the rest of his men crawling around the ship, he wasn't sure how he got there. Riza threw him on the bed. He extended his arms, trying to look as seductive as possible, without achieving it at all, Riza muttered something between her teeth and leaned on the bed to be able to remove his boots. Then she grabbed him by the flaps of his jacket to incorporate him.

"I like you to undress me," he whispered as she took off his jacket and threw it to the floor.

"Well, I hate it when you're this drunk," she said, pulling his belt from which hunged a musket, foil and a dagger.

"I love you so much," he whispered, running one hand around her waist so that she would sit next to him.

"I know..." she answered, unlacing the handkerchief on his head.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, holding her face in his hand.

"Yes," she answered in a whisper letting the heat of his hand warm her cheek.

"You know, this morning's girls were Cats, they fought with Mama and needed a place to spend the night... they were not... they... I actually slept on that couch over there " he reluctantly pointed to a leather armchair.

"I know, I was myself a Midnight Mama's girl once, I can recognize my own sisters," she smiled unbuttoning his shirt, taking her time to enjoy the touch of his skin.

"I just wanted to make you jealous."

"I know that too..." carefully caressed his scarred chest and smiled sweetly.

"It didn't work, did it?" He asked with a small drop of hope in his voice.

"No," she replied, nodding her head solemnly, causing a necklace to come out of her chest.

Roy smiled as he saw the little heart hanging from her neck and touched it with his fingers.

"Sleep with me," he begged, playing with the little piece of gold between his fingers.

"No, I'm still angry," she replied, moving away from him.

"Are you going to abandon your captain in this pitiful state?"

"Yes," she smiled, leaning over him and kissing his lips. " I don't sleep with drunken men."

"I know... Unless you're drunk too," he got up with agility, despite his terrible drunkenness and grabbed her by the butt, smiling like a fool. Riza also smiled, kissed him and quickly pulled away, leaving his beloved captain seated, eyes closed, waiting for another kiss.

"It's bedtime, Captain Mustang," she replied, pushing him onto the bed again, trying to look serious.

"I love you."

"You already told me that."

#fmab #royai fic #pirate au #riza hawkeye #fullmetal alchemist #fanfic #royai

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chmergess4ever · 6 years

Text

The Chmerkovskiy’s (Part 9)

Hi Everyone!! I received a request to include more of both couples with Shai in this story so I am going to try doing that little by little. To me, this chapter can serve as an ending but if you’d read more, I’d be happy to write because I do see it going places and have ideas for future chapters!! Let me know what you think! Thanks!!

“Sharna. Mae. Burgess. You are the love my life.” Val pressed gentle kisses into her neck with each consecutive word as he hovered over her.

She smiled and pulled him down so their lips touched. She drew circles in his back with her fingertips. “Say it again.” She whispered.

Val laughed and murmured against her lips, “The love of my life.”

She smiled and kissed him again before tapping his back indicating for him to move. He rolled off of her and then pulled the pillow in close to him so he could look at her. She got out of he bed and pulled the sheet with leaving him with just the comforter.

“Where are you going?” Val smiled as he looked at her.

“To take a shower, and then I’m going out for coffee with James. He’s in town.”

Val laughed before she cut him off, “What are you laughing at, Mister?”

“Just, communication with ex’s-”

Sharna laughed, “Hey! He is not my ex. People may have thought that but-”

“I know, babe. I know. It’s ok.”

Sharna moved around the room to get an outfit out of the drawer he had given her to keep her stuff in, “So, you going to talk to your sister in law today?”

“Sharna, I told you. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Val! You don’t know that! It’s been three days and you live in the same house. I think eventually you’re going to have to talk to her.”

“Eventually.” Val shrugged.

“Val!!”

“Ok. Ok. I’ll talk to her.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Sharna left about an hour later and headed to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, where he had agreed to meet James. She pulled her hair up and put on a black hat before she walked in so no one would recognize her. She saw him sitting at the table in the secluded corner, as they made eye contact, he smiled and stood up holding his arms out wide for a hug.

“Hi Muffin.” James whispered into her ear.

“Hi Babe.” They rocked back and forth as they hugged. When they broke, Sharna sighed loudly, “It is so so good to see you.”

“Don’t you mean, it’s Smoney?” James laughed as he said it and she threw her head back laughing, “Yes, Yes. It’s Smoney.”

They both sat down across the table from each other, “How are you Hinch? How’s Becky?”

“We’re good! We’re great! Still haven’t put a ring on it.” James laughed nervously.

Sharna grinned, “I bet she loves that.” She said sarcastically.

“Yea, but the face that she’s waiting means that she knows it’ll be worth it.” James sipped his coffee, “But enough about us, what about “Mrs. I’ll never date-Val”

Sharna sat back in her chair, “Oh my gosh, I completely forgot I said that.”

“Oh you said it! Loud and Clear.”

Sharna shrugged, “I guess I lied?”

“You guys seem happy.”

“We are. He’s great. We’re great.”

“We should go on a double date while I’m in town.” James laughed again.

“Oh my gosh, Yes. We should. Let’s pick a date.”

The rest of her time with James flew by, but for her time with him always did. He was like a brother to her, one of her greatest friends so to be able to confide in him everything was a nice relief. They talked about tour, about Paul, a little more about Val, Becky, Peta and Maks. Everything you could think of, they talked about. And it was natural. It always was with them.

Peta was in the kitchen preparing Shai’s lunch when Val got up the nerve to walk out of his room and talk to her. He walked into the kitchen without saying anything, got a bottle of water out of the fridge and then sat down at the island. He sighed, “Peta.”

She didn’t turn to him, just continued doing what she was doing, “Mhm hmmm.”

“Can we talk?”

“What is there to talk about?” “Peta. Please.”

She turned to him and put down what she was holding. “Sure.”

“I’m sorry-” They both said at the same time.

“What are you sorry for?” Peta asked him.

“For not talking to you sooner. And for being the man that you think would do that.”

“Val-”

“No, Peta-. In the past, I’ve been that guy. The one who would cheat on his girlfriend if a better opportunity came along. The one who would date anyone For anything physical, but I’m not that guy anymore Peta. And I know i’ve given you no reason to believe that, but I’m not going to hurt Sharna. I love her more than anything in this world.”

Peta was speechless by what he had said before he continued,

“I was in contact with Kelly because she was helping me keep tabs on Paul through a contact. I needed to make sure I knew where he is and what he was planning so that he could never hurt her again. Because if what happened every happens again, I swear I will lose it on someone. My life would not be the same without her. I wouldn’t be able to function if I hurt her.”

“You’ve never said that about anyone before.”

“That’s because, I’ve never felt it with anyone before. In all my past relationships there were two women that I thought I may have ended up with, but when push came to shove I couldn’t get serious enough about them to make that happen. This is different. I love Sharna Burgess, the way that Maks loves you, Peta. And I think deep down, I’ve loved her for a long time.”

“Wow.” Peta got filled up and a tear escaped from her eye, she wiped it away quickly. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I’m sorry too, Val. I judged you without knowing the whole story. That was wrong.”

“It’s ok, Peta. I get it, she’s your best friend.”

“That, she is.”

“Just talk to me about it alone, next time? Deal?”

“Deal.”

Val smiled as he tapped his fingers on the island, “Hug it out?”

Peta smiled as they stood up and both walked around the island, and embraced in a hug, “You’re a pretty awesome sister, Peta.”

“And you’re not too shabby of a brother, yourself.”

Sharna walked in the door as they were hugging. “Ohhh. I see we’re all good again.”

Val broke from Peta and walked over to Sharna, “Yup. Everything’s great.” He gave her a light kiss. “How was James?”

“Amazing. We were thinking maybe me and you can go on a double date with him and Becky.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Sharna smiled and then turned to Peta as Val nestled into her neck while wrapping his arms around her waist, “What’s up, P?”

“Nothing. Just about to feed Shai.”

“You look upset?” “No, No not upset. You just- you have a pretty amazing boyfriend.”

Sharna turned her neck so she could see part of him. “Yeah I do, don’t I?”

Val stood up straight and kissed her on the top of her head, “Peta, why don’t you let us feed, Shai?” Sharna turned to him with a confused expression of her face as Val continued, “We could use some time with the nephew.”

“You guys sure?”

Sharna went along without knowing what Val was thinking of, “Yup, Positive.”

Peta handed Sharna the bowl of food she had prepared for Shai to eat, “Thank you.”

The couple walked down to Shai’s nursery where they saw him playing in his playpen.

“Hi Shu Shu.” Sharna walked over and lifted him out. She sat down in the rocker and held him in her lap as Val situated himself on the floor. “He’s definitely supposed to be in a high chair, isn’t he?”

“Um, Maybe?”

Val shrugged as he took the spoon and held it to Shai’s mouth. The baby opened it and started eating. Sharna looked down at Val as he continued feeding the baby, “Why did you want to do this?”

“I just figured we could use some practice.”

“For what?” Sharna giggled.

“I don’t know. I mean, eventually we will-”

Sharna smiled, “Got it.”

After they finished feeding the baby, they took him and moved to the couch in the den. It was a separate room where there was a couch and a tv. They reclined the couch and sat down with the baby in between them. They put on one of Shai’s shows and watched the baby as he boppedup and down watching his favorite characters. Val leaned over the top of Shai’s head and kissed Sharna. “Love you.” He mouthed quietly before she did the same.

Within an hour the three of them had fallen asleep, Sharna’s head on Val’s shoulder and Shai’s head on Sharna’s. Peta and Maks had heard the tv on so they went to see what was going on but stopped in the doorway when they saw them, Peta wrapped her arm around Maks lower back, “They’re going to make good parents.”

Maks looked down at her, “You think they’re going to get married?”

Peta shook her head, “I know they are going to get married.”

Maks laughed, “And we’ll all be The Chmerkovskiy’s.”

Peta smiled, “Yes we will.”

#chmergess #Chmergessfanfic #chmergessfanfiction #valandsharna #chmergatroyd #chmergatroydfanfic

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markoftheasphodel · 6 years

Text

je me lance vers la gloire

A belated Nagamas gift for @sshining, a fill for the prompt The Deliverance trio/Celica squad (echoes). Can be Canon, modern AU, game of thrones-esque FE steeped in the reality of war and politics, comedy, romance, adventure, angst, crossovers.

How about RBG Trio with cameos from Genny & Mae+Boey, 1970s band AU, intimations of Forsyth/Python/Lukas and a splash of background Lukas/That Girlfriend?

Summer. New York City. 1975

Forsyth skirted around Python’s dead weight on the air mattress as he crept around the apartment collecting their mail and trash. Once he’d shredded all the mail into tiny scraps and wadded it up with all the other refuse in one nondescript plastic bag, he concealed the trash in one end of his duffle bag. Forsyth walked down the six flights of stairs with the sort of purpose that usually prevented anyone from asking him what he was doing there at such an hour.

Fake it ’til you make it, Python called it, but it worked. It really did.

Forsyth opened the rear stair to the alley and got a blast of sticky summer heat along with the general sense of foulness he’d gotten used to since coming to the city. One of the local strays, the black dog with white feet and one white pointed ear, was hanging out by the dumpster, and Forsyth took a moment to scratch the dog on its white ear before he slipped the refuse out of his duffle bag, tucked it into the corner of a dumpster, and just kept walking towards the Y. The only time he made eye contact with anyone was to look at the newsstand guy, who was sitting there melting next to the stack of screaming headlines.

“President to New York: DROP DEAD!”

That hurt. Forsyth had kind of liked the President, had defended him to Python as a decent guy who was in over his head, maybe. He could only imagine what Python was going to say when he finally got around to reading the news.

-x-

Lukas contemplated the headline for a long moment, appreciating the bold blackness, the heft of every letter. He picked up his X-Acto knife and began to cut them apart, the better to admire each one.

-x-

Forsyth could hear the sound of drums echoing all the way down the stairwell as he came back to the walk-up after his workout. Not that it worried him; the racket they made wasn't much worse than the guy with the tool-and-die setup on the first floor. Rehearsing wasn't the illegal part of their situation, it was living there in the industrial space to begin with. They'd get evicted if anyone found out about their mail or their hot plate, but not for Python banging drums at eight in the morning.

Banging wasn't the right word. Too atavistic, Forsyth thought as he huffed up the stairs. What Python was doing was more nimble, more clinical maybe. The opposite of primal.

Forsyth had a smile on when he flung open the door to their walkup to behold Python at the drums, his shirt coming apart at the seams but his hair catching the morning light just so, as though it'd been arranged one lock at a time for that scene, that moment of entry.

-x-

Lukas showed up when Python was putting on his eyeliner and Forsyth was making a beer run.

“Hey, stud,” Python greeted the Lukas in the mirror. If Andrea had been tagging along he wouldn't have said it because Andrea didn't always think Python was funny, but there was obviously no Andrea of the black clothes and black moods in the mirror and Lukas only smiled in response.

They carried on a three-way conversation, Python addressing the reflection before his eyes as the real Lukas spoke to his back, while they waited for Forsyth to show up with the beer. Lukas was dressed today like he belonged on a tennis court instead of an industrial loft with exposed pipes and he was holding a satchel filled with notebooks behind his back. He and Andrea came from a place where they didn't have to take showers at the Y or hide trash from the landlord and it showed. If Andrea'd been there, Python would have tried to get some cigarettes off her; she could afford them.

Forsyth clattered in with the beer and some tale about the sad dogs in the alleyway. Python cut him off with the ting of a cymbal and they fell into rehearsal, Forsyth adding his plaintive guitar on top of the drums while Lukas read weird poems he'd assembled from newspaper headlines pasted onto index cards. It wasn't rock or jazz or anything with a name to it, just the sound of three odd souls reverberating off the pipes and the mirror while the city fried around them.

They were never gonna get famous like this and it was all right with Python.

Winter. 1976.

This was the life. Grabbing dinner from the old lady at the knish bakery a few doors down from The Last Mile, chowing down on rough mouthfuls of kasha that tasted like the best thing he’d eaten all week as he marched through pools of filthy slush on his way back to the club. They'd started sound check without him, and the spare and angular sound of Forsyth's guitar skittered over the bass line with a nervous tension that wasn't like anyone else in the city.

Python set the paper bag bulging with knishes down on a ledge as he watched Forsyth bounce sounds off Lukas. In every band Python'd ever played in from the time they were kids, everybody wanted to be the guitar hero— except Python himself, who’d always wanted to rule over a drum kit. Everybody wanted to sing, whether they could carry a tune in a bucket or not. Everyone wanted to be a rock star.

Forsyth wanted all those things and so Lukas slid on over to playing the bass without a peep of protest. Maybe he actually liked it; Python noticed a look of wonder about him at times as Lukas explored what the fat sound of his new instrument could actually do. When Lukas drew something out of the bass that evoked the sense of black snakes writhing in the muck of a swamp, Python sometimes felt something turn in his gut, like this moment might somehow matter down the line.

Then he remembered they were still three weirdoes from different walks of life improbably playing in a black hole of a dive together, because things like that happened in New York City, as inevitable as murder.

-x-

Boey and Mae told her not go out on her own because nobody'd caught the serial killer yet, but Genny had gotten adept at sneaking around when they were in school and getting into The Last Mile was easy now. She just walked in like she was supposed to be there with her notebook and pen, and if anyone asked Genny gave them the names of magazines that didn't exist. Sometimes she pretended to be from Canada.

That evening when the wind blew cold down the littered streets, the band Genny was hoping to see at The Last Mile wasn't there. They'd moved on to a better club, outside the Bowery. Some new trio was in their place.

Genny wasn't sure at first if they were all boys or not. The drummer had a strange kind of grace, a little feline and a little androgynous (how Genny loved the sound of those words) and his arms somehow were slender with the most wonderful muscles, like the saints’ statues that fascinated her in the priory. The bass player was tiny-- taller than Genny, but everyone was, and very small compared to the gangling singer who fired off strange sounds from his guitar. They held their guitars like weapons, Genny thought, but not like the careless boys who used guitars as stand-ins for guns and other things that shot. These were sacred weapons.

Genny had stars in her eyes and visions of ancient samurai swords in her brain and when the bass player looked at the singer or the singer glanced back at the drummer, she could almost see strands of light connecting them as they played their odd music.

Genny wrote it all down in her notebook. She was very good at writing in the dark.

-x-

Andrea went back to Rhode Island or wherever it was she was from and Lukas used his family money to get them all a place where they weren't in danger of being evicted by the cops. Now all their crap was intermingled the same way their bodies fell into a strangely chaste tangle most nights— Python's wood shop pieces that were never going to make him famous either mixed up with Forsyth's guitars interspersed with Lukas's books and all the strange things that spilled out of his satchel, index cards and notebooks and clippings from magazines.

Lukas carried multiple copies of that weird and glowing anonymous review they'd somehow earned at The Last Mile. Forsyth taped one copy to the fridge and he looked at it every day like something in it sustained his soul. Python thought it was nice but it didn't mean anything. They had a fan, that's all. A nameless fan at that.

He was more concerned about the other things that Lukas carried in his satchel, like the vaguely creepy lyric sheets made of letters cut out of newspapers, almost like Lukas writing a ransom note to himself.

“I’m sadder than you’ll ever know," Python read from one of these sheets, and he wondered if this was some breakup song for Andrea. "What’s that from?"

"Just a song I've been constructing," said Lukas, because he "constructed" things instead of just writing them.

"Okay. What's it about?" asked Python.

“A serial killer," Lukas said through a delicate smile.

“Okay, so it’s topical,” said Python, thinking of the Son of Sam. Topical was probably bad, the way all the great “anthems” of the sixties were laughably dated now, but then again he wasn’t the lyricist so that wasn’t his problem.

-x-

Forsyth saw the literal word on the streets, the proclamation that punk was coming. It meant nothing; he'd read Jack London and Burroughs both and he knew the layers of meaning in the word and didn't care. Some day he'd go home and his father was going to know that the money spent sending Forsyth to college hadn't actually been wasted, but punk wasn't going to get him there any more than the dopey mumbling rockers that he and Python escaped would've.

Maybe the word didn't exist yet.

Forsyth moved through the city that took him in in as it took comers from every corner of the globe, straining to hear some note that'd never been played before, hoping any moment he'd be in the thick of the revolution they'd been promised. He looked past the dead dogs in the gutter and the sordid headlines, because something was coming.

Winter. 1977.

They moved up from The Last Mile to a slightly better species of dive bar and that's where destiny found them. Python noticed him first; he had a radar for squares and this guy was it, baby. He had to be close to thirty, wearing a bowl cut that was about a decade out of date. Nice jacket, though-- real leather instead of pale-blue plastic. Expensive.

“He’s a phony,” said Python, the jacket notwithstanding. “What’s he even doing here?”

He was scouting for talent on behalf of an actual label. Python would've respected him more if this guy, Clive, had been scouting for tail. The second time he brought his girlfriend, though, tall and blonde and exquisitely put-together, looking like money and yet hanging out in a dive with no complaints. The girlfriend, Mathilda, was the one who echoed what that weird anonymous article had already told everyone. They sounded fresh, maybe in a foreign kind of way like fake-Japanese or something with pentatonic scales, and Lukas “looked cute” with his big bass in his hands. That carried some weight with somebody. They got signed.

-x-

"Allow me to do the negotiating," Lukas said to Forsyth, and Forsyth let him. They ended up with a contract that guaranteed things that Forsyth never even thought about, like tying the royalties for songs to the rate of inflation. Lukas was a genius. Lukas was going to make them a fortune.

-x-

When someone broke into their apartment and made off with three guitars, Python couldn't help but notice that Clive bought Lukas not one but two replacements while Forsyth had to go down to the pawn shop and fend for himself. So that was how it was going to be from now on.

Again, if he thought Clive had a thing for Lukas, he would’ve been kind of okay with the disparate treatment, but he knew it was because Clive thought Lukas was the brains, the leader, the essential person who kept a steady stream of words coming through Forsyth’s lips. Clive couldn’t conceive that they were a trinity, each of them as important as the other.

Squares, thought Python. He almost wouldn't mind if the city really did burn this year. Almost.

-x-

The label put them on a package tour with another trio, a group whose guitarist was a girl with two tails of pink hair and whose drummer wasn't white. This was fresh and exciting, and Lukas was pleased to share the bus with them. As they were three and three, he shared a seat with their keyboard player, a tiny girl with a cloud of apricot-colored hair. She was their writer, and like Lukas carried a stack of notebooks, though in her case he saw doodles and what appeared to be short stories in place of his own word collages.

He noticed some other things in her notebook.

"Do you speak French?" he asked on the third day of the tour.

"We learned French and Latin both in school," said Genny in her sweet and small voice.

"What would be the best way to express the phrase 'I hurl myself towards glory'?" Lukas put on the subtle smile that tended to get him what he wanted, and Genny helped him craft the thorny yet crucial middle section of the song that was going to make them.

“I’m glad we’re touring with you,” Genny said on the third day, as the silver moon shone over the sea that glimmered out the window. “I was afraid they’d have us with punks, but then I saw you and I knew everything was going to be fine.”

Lukas heard the shudder in her voice at the idea of spike-haired cretins spitting gobbets of phlegm all over the bus and pissing out the window. Of their group, only Python with his well-tended hair and strategically torn clothes looked even vaguely punk, and Python had too much pride to spit up in public for amusement. He heard the caress in her voice aimed at them, or at him, just as clearly. It pleased and unsettled him in one moment that this tiny girl thought they were safe. But then Genny asked him, in the voice of a someone setting up the trap of a hypothetical question, what he thought of the term New Wave for the sort of music they were doing.

“Some would say there are no new waves at all, only the ocean,” said Lukas, and he looked past her cloud of curls out the window, counting the cars along the turnpike until Genny fell asleep on his shoulder.

To be continued, maybe.

(Yes, it’s the RBG Trio as the not!Talking Heads. My mind made connection between Lukas and David Byrne while I was playing the game last year. Hopefully this fit the bill in some fashion)

#nagamas #fire emblem ficcing #valentia love #long post #text post

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yutikyis · 6 years

Text

Life and the Elements.

The cliffside near Limsa was one of Yuti’s favorite spots in all of Eorzea. It was hard to explain why to most people beyond ‘the view was beautiful.’ It was not merely that it was a lovely location. it was that it was alive. It was a land rich in the elements of life. The unyielding stone meeting the churning sea. It reminded her of her favorite spot back home. Yet it was larger in every way. The sea rougher. The cliff taller. The view was not to a single lonely island in the distance but a city churning with life and hope and danger. This was truly her Eorzea. She sat cross-legged on the edge of the cliff. It was hard to believe this was the same place she’d first arrived in Eorzea so long ago and yet such a short time. She couldn’t believe what had happened in the time since then. The changes to the world. The changes to herself. She had met terrible and amazing people. Had gained friends and lost them. She had changed and yet not changed at all. The past year had been the longest and shortest of her life. Yuti closed her eyes and reached out. She felt the air around her. She drew her conjury and began to twist and turn it around her. A gentle swirling breeze that ruffled her hair. Faster and faster until it was like a tornado around her. It felt good. Light. She felt like she could lift herself off the ground and fly into the sky with just a little more effort.

Wind. It was life. It was everywhere. It explored. The wind could blow down the mightiest tree. Yet it also carried with it life. The comforting breeze on a warm day. The sheer sense of freedom. The wind could not be truly contained. It followed its path through the world and saw everything, and through it people went to new lands, met new people, and found new life.

She thought of Aasifa. The man for whom the wind was everything. Like it he was chance and whim. Going this way and that. Appearing in the most unlikely of places. As capricious as the breeze yet as strong as a tornado. Freedom given form. He could be a blade against his foes or a gentle touch to those in need. He was as the wind.

She extended a hand outwards and felt the familiar tingle of thaumaturgy. A necessary study for conjury, though in recent months the guild had taken to downplaying that to her understanding. It changed nothing for her. She felt the sparks on her fingertips. It was so easy to send them dancing off her fingers in a destructive burst. Yet she didn’t. She let the electricity gather in a dancing ball of light and potential. Seeing the branching sparks dancing off it, held in place only by her will. She watched it for a moment and then sent it up into the sky where it sparked and exploded with a sudden crack, like a firework.

Lightning. It was life. It was a crash of thunder. A sudden flash of light. it could destroy. A single brilliant moment of noise and power and the strongest wall could be broken. Yet that same destructive power was also a brilliant blinding radiance during the darkest of storms.

She thought of Lloire. He could be a dangerous man. Perhaps the most dangerous she ever met and that ways saying something. Yet that same raw destructive potential could also be a source of strength. When uncontrolled it was like a wildfire. When controlled it split through even the strongest obstacle and illuminated everything around it. Light in the darkness. Fire and hope. A bolt of lightning through a dark night. She pressed her hand to the cliffside beneath her and felt the earth. Felt it spread out beneath her further than her senses could reach. The mother planet itself. She felt the simple stone beneath her and reached out with her conjury again. Felt her aether spread through the simple rock and then she lifted it. Drawing up pebbles and small stones. She smiled to herself as she sent them whirling around her head. For the briefest of moments she had a tiara of eddying and twisting stone. An odd crown for a princess.

Earth. It was life. A living breathing entity of its very own. It grew and changed. It could crush and it could shield. The earth was unstoppable. It could be chipped and shattered but it would always remain. Uncompromising and undaunted.

She thought of Tyr. the woman she loved. She was perhaps one of the most normal people she knew and yet somehow that made her one of the most exceptional. She was solid and dependable and unyielding. A strength to lean again. A strength that would support the heaviest weights. She only had to think of the children who Tyr mentored. The sadness in her past and how she turned it into strength. She protected and sheltered and stood firm all at once. She was the earth itself. She took a deep breath and felt the warmth that was inside of her. The gentle heat of her aether. She raised her hands, cupping them lighting together, and drew forth flame. Not a raging wildfire and not a deadly explosive fireball. Just a simple little ball of warmth, hovering between her palms. A single spark that could become a campfire or a cooking flame as easily as a combat spell. It was pure potential. She let it hang there and simply enjoyed it was warmth.

Fire. It was life. It could burn and rage and destroy. It could also warm and comfort and create Fire was the rawness of creation. It was the essence of the world. Through fire life changed. Through fire life was tempered and grew stronger. Through fire life was protected and preserved. .

She thought of Nate. Of course he was fire. The flame incarnate. Capricious and wild. Yet also warm and inviting. The same flame that could scorch the land of enemies could also provide comfort to those in need. She thought of the students he was teaching. Of the Order members who’d found comfort in their times of need. Of the implacable foes who learned to fear his scorching might. Nate was fire.

Yuti reached her hand out again and sought the familiar sensation of the water. She drew it up in a glittering globe, a swirling twisting mass of seawater. She couldn’t help but giggle slightly as she saw, within it, a single lazy fish who seemed to not even noticed his home had suddenly lifted yalms into the air. She watched it for a long moment before she gently lowered it back to the sea, returning the creature to his home.

Water. It was life. Water was smooth and flowing. A ceaseless unyielding source of life. It permeated the world. With enough time water could wear away the toughest of stone and drown the strongest of men. Yet without it life would not grow and flourish. She thought of Leera. He was a dangerous man. Perhaps the most dangerous she knew. He wielded the element of life like a club at times. Could destroy and drown and ravage. Yet there was a kindness to him that could not be denied. That same force of will could be a comforting hand. A form of creation. A protective barrier again danger. He was the ocean. His depths contained dangers but also wonders. Leera was a swirling mass of so many things both good and bad. Truly he was water

She hesitated for a moment at the last. She extended her hand lightly. The hesitation lasted longer and longer. The moments passed by as she fought inside her own mind. There was only one element left to complete her little ritual. Ice. Ice was... What was ice? It was cold and chill and the absence of life. It could, perhaps, take some of the edge from a warm day... but so could water and wind. It could shelter and protect but so could earth. It could be a distant beauty but so could lightning. Ice was cold and distant. It was the element of Halone and of Menphina. It was the fury and it was love.

Ice was life. For it could do all those things. It could destroy and shelter. It could comfort and inspire. It could be a jagged glacier or a simple cheerful snowman. It could do all those things. For the cold is a part of life too. What defines life is how one chooses to face that cold and what they make of it.

She thought of it. Thought of Aasifa and Lloire and Nate and Leera. She thought of the simple joy of Oni and Aimee. Of the constant struggles of Anata and Soren. Of the innocent strength of L’ania and Elli. Of the steel-hard resolve and yet powerful kindness of Hana and Frost. Of the fragile strength of C’lest and Kona. She thought of the comforting harshness of Durga’s lessons. She thought of a chance conversation with a samurai named Kaz and a cheerful fashionable girl named K’risa. Of Miette clad in dark armor and of a fragile Miqo’e named Mae. Of Destiney trapped in a mansion and of Helene in the depths of a castrum. Of a painful visit to a cruel man called Father and a viscous wolf named Aiden. She thought of Ikara and of Kin and of Rhisi and of Dusk facing unknown dangers. She thought most of all of Tyr. Her smile that seemed to illuminate the world and the strength hidden behind it. She reached and felt for the water again. This time though she drew it from the air itself. She felt the familiar tingle. This was the easiest for her. So effortless she barely had to think on it. The water gathered and chilled and within moments there was a small snowfall, fluttering down upon her head. Even in the Starlight chill it didn’t last long out here, melting almost as soon as it touched the ground. Yet it was a comforting little pile of fluff for the moment it lasted. Ice was what you made of it. It could be a glacier or a sculpture. It could break a fever or freeze a country. It could be carved or it could melt. It just depended on who shaped it. She had been shaped by so many and would be shaped by more. Yet that was life. For life was wind and water. It was lightning and earth. It was fire and ice. It was all of these things and more.

She stood up and brushed herself off, taking one more look out at her new favorite view. She had things to do. That was life after all.

#yutikyis #yearinreviewsortof #balmung #rp

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agirlunderarock · 4 years

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Writing through the Decade: 14 years old (2012)

So this was some sorta original fiction, I think it was supposed to turn into an Avengers fanfic or something. I don’t even know if this is finished. I haven’t read through it in forever, So I’m going to apologize for whatever cluster of word barf this turns out to be. I was fourteen when I wrote this, I’m pretty sure....

I think there was some influence from the Maximum Ride series and Percy Jackson and the Hunger Games and a lot of things

Running from myself

Clutching my arms close to my body, I tried to keep hold on whatever warmth I had left. The ground below was littered with my small camp from last night, and the tree I slept in creaked with every move I made. The late morning sun shined brightly through the leaves above me. The sun light felt good so I spread open my feathery charcoal wings on my back and let the sun warm them. I jumped gracefully from my branch and landed lightly on the ground near where I hung my food supply. Its been close to a year since I ran away from my old life. My family, friends, the idiots with the media who just wanted their stupid story, all of them out of my life. Then unfortunately, the gruesome images come crawling back to me. The insane monster of a man holding a knife to my back, the countless syringes he plunged into my arm, the fiery explosion that finally ended him and his heinous experiments. It’s because of him that I have wings, and my body morphs into different people. I finished eating my breakfast, and began to clean up my small camp. I didn’t have much to pack up really; one frying pan, a small pot, three small water bottles, matches, my small food supply, a compass, and two sets of clothes, all of which fit into my back pack. Before long, it looked just like the world around it. Normal, something I wished I could be again. I just finished changing when the bush next to me started to rustle violently. I jumped back just as a large German Sheppard leaped forward, teeth bared, and ready to attack. His cold bloodthirsty eyes eyed me viciously as I took out my frying pan. “How is this possible?” I said eyeing the dog cautiously. “I’m miles away from any city! I’m in the middle of freaken nowhere!” I thought panic rising in my chest. I held up the pan as another dog bounded out from the brush behind me. “Mae, Mae, Mae.” A cold voice cackled from somewhere behind the trees. “Did you really think you could escape me that easily?” “I thought you were dead,” I said flatly. “And in what way is making a laboratory explode easy? But then again I guess you monsters would know all about that kind of thing.” I added to hide the fear boiling up. “Monster? Is that really what you think of me, Mae?” the insane mad man said pretending to be taken back as he stepped into my view. Allister’s mouth twisted into a cruel sneer, and his blacker than his soul eyes laughed at my frying pan weapon. “So since you’re not dead after all, what do you want with me?” I demanded eyeing the snarling dogs. The way his sneer blurred into a vicious smile, made my stomach churn. “Isn’t it obvious? My only surviving test subject got away from me.” He reached for something on his belt as he crept closer. The dogs snapped at my heels as I tried to step back. “And I intend to get it back!” Allister shouted as he flung a weighted net at me. In that same instant, my wings burst open and propelled me up and over the dogs as they jumped at my feet. The net came crashing down on the beast as they tried attack again. Allister’s cruel smile melted into an icy glare as I smirked at the failed capture. “You’ve lost your touch Allister.” I mocked as I landed again. “But it seems that’s not the only thing you’ve lost.” I said noticing his most of his blood red hair was either missing or burned. I heard more rustling to my right. On instinct, I swung my pan just as a Doberman Pincher hurled its self at me. It yelped in pain and fell to the ground with a sickening thud. “You little brat!” Allister shouted in rage as he drew his gun. In one fluid movement, I grabbed my pack, and used the monster’s chest as a spring bored to take off into the afternoon sky. “So long Monster. You won’t be missed!” I taunted as Allister stumbled to his feet. The wind felt so amazing as it flowed through my feathers, and the day seemed as bright as I felt. BANG! Pain shot through my leg. “You son of a biscuit!” I shouted as I glared down at the monster. With that, I took off into the clouds faster.

~~~~~~~

When I felt I was at least out sight I dared to glance down at my still stinging leg. To my surprise, it wasn’t completely gushing blood. It only cut the skin and what little it had bled already stopped. “Huh I guess it just grazed me,” I thought as I continued soaring over the countryside. The trees became smaller and smaller as I flew west. I really didn’t have a set destination, I went wherever I wanted, whenever I pleased. Soon the small forest gave way to smaller and dryer trees and then eventually farmlands. Considering I was somewhere in southwestern Tennessee and now I was seeing more of what looked like northeastern Texas, I had to say I was making pretty good time getting nowhere. I checked my water supply and decided I needed a refill. I swooped down closer to look for a river or any source of water really. I landed heavily along the bank of a large rushing river. I knelt down by the edge and unpacked my water bottles as I crouched over the side. I jumped back startled that the reflection I saw wasn’t mine. Staring at me with startled crystal blue eyes, and messy midnight black hair, was a teenage boy. I looked behind me, but of course no one was there. I looked back at water and the boys face relaxed along with mine. He or I guess I should I let out a sigh of relief. Sad blue eyes stared back at me as I filled my water bottles. Unlike when I usually shift, I knew the boy I looked like, and it broke my heart to see his face again. Skyler, was the best friend a girl could ask for. He was always there when I needed him and kept me out of trouble. Little did I know he turned out to be something like an agent in training. I still don’t fully understand what he did. Anyways, the Monster wanted to kill Skyler along with the other agents like him, and anyone related to them in anyway. That’s how I got dragged into this mess. Allister came after us one day when we went to an amusement park. He posed as a park security officer and accused Skyler and me of vandalizing the park in order to get us out of the public eye. As soon as we were out of sight he pulled out his gun, shot Skyler in the back, and kidnapped me in chaos that unleashed through the gunfire. For a month, I was held captive, tested on and relived Skyler’s final moments. Allister said the experiments were to unlock mankind’s true potential, when in reality he wanted to watch me suffer. Not long after I was changed into the body-morphing freak I am today, some kind of tremor rocked the entire laboratory. Allister cursed at his monitoring system just as the doors to the room were blown open. There stood Skyler gun in hand, ready to shoot the Monster. The next thing I knew I was running for my life as the building went into emergency lockdown and slowly counted down the seconds I had left. I made it out in time, while the explosion threw Skyler violently from the exit. It was there as he laid dying in my arms that I finally believed him when he said he loved me. I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts, as I continued refilling my water. I closed my eyes and concentrated on trying to look like my self again. Slowly but surely I felt my long hair grow back and my body turn smaller. I looked back in the river and saw a worn out, puffy brown eyed, beaten down, long black haired teen-aged girl. “Back normal,” I thought with relief. I looked up at the sky as the last fingers of sunlight stretched across the horizon. I debated staying there near the river, but it still felt too close to where Allister found me this morning. So it was a race against time to get nowhere fast. Again I took off soaring into the sun set, I could feel the wind pick up and it brought the smell of rain with it. I started to panic slightly. I had never flown in the rain and with night falling I really didn’t want to get caught in it. The clouds began to darken as I kept flying, yet some how I had the bright idea to keep going the same direction. Lightning flashed across the purple orange sky, and my wings caught the now raging wind. “That’s it I need to find shelter,” I thought finally. I looked down and saw nothing that looked like it could protect me from the storm. A small strip of grey caught my eye as it snaked its way through the countryside. I dove down to get a better look at the highway, and that’s when I saw it. I deep red Chevy truck flying down the road. I don’t know why but that particular truck called out to me. It had two covers on the tailgate, so the gap was just big enough for me to climb into, and that’s exactly what I did. No sooner had I crawled under the protection of the tailgate covers did the rain start coming down. “Thank God I found this just in time,” I thought very relieved. Slowly I let the steady rumble of the trucks engine put me to sleep.

~~~~~

“Hey! Hey, kid wake up! Darn it kid wake up, people are gonna think I kidnapped you or something!” A strong girl’s voice yelled at me as she pulled my legs over the edge of the tailgate. “Ouch!” I yelped in pain when she hit my wounded calf. I flinched back when my eyes flew open to a harsh glaring afternoon sun. “Good you’re up. Now get out of my truck.” The girl said sharply. She looked a little older than me, at least nineteen maybe twenty. Her brown hair fell in light layers to her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed to be analyzing everything at once. She looked frustrated but there was a hint of sympathy in her stern face. “Where am I?” I asked rubbing the sleep from eyes. “At a gas station in Roswell, New Mexico kid.” She said flatly and unsurprised. “How the heck did you get in the back of my truck?” She asked part of her southern accent showing through. “Well one, stop calling me kid. I’m sixteen and you’re what nineteen? Twenty? You’re still pretty much a kid still if you’re calling me kid. Second it doesn’t matter, I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the lift.” I said jumping down from the truck. The girl looked at me with serious eyes, trying to figure me out. “What’s your name kid?” I didn’t answer “When’s the last time you ate some thing?” “Yesterday morning.” “Geez what’ve you been eating? Your as thin as a tooth pick!” She said looking me over her eyes softening the tiniest bit. I shrugged I wasn’t going to argue I figured I looked pretty bad and sick. “Okay kid here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to buy you some food and then get you to a phone or police station so you can call your parents. Okay?” she said leaving no room for debate. “Come on I think you might like a hot dog from here or something.” “Mae” I said quietly hopping out of the truck and trying unsuccessfully to hid my wings. “What did you–?” She stuttered when she saw my wings. “My names Mae. Not kid.” I said stubbornly ignoring the stares as we walked to the gas station convenient store. “What’s yours?” I asked not looking at her. “Andrea Wayne. What’s your last name I need it for when I drop you off.” I stayed quiet for a long time. “Kyle.” I finally said. I needed the food but I didn’t want Andrea to take me back. Sure she thought she was doing something good, but as soon as we paid I planed on running away. But when we walked out I some how couldn’t find the strength to do it. Andrea was the first person in a year to show me any kind of kindness and if I’m being honest I really didn’t want her to go. We climbed in her truck, then ate lunch in silence. There was something calming about eating lunch with a total stranger. Once Andrea finished she started the truck and started down the road. I couldn’t help it, tears started rolling down my face. I couldn’t believe what was happening. All year I didn’t cry, and now I felt like I was about to have a mental break down in front of a complete stranger. Andrea noticed but didn’t say anything at first. “Happy to go home Mae?” She questioned. She seemed to know already but I guess she felt she still needed to ask. “No. Not really. I don’t want to go back.” I said tears streaming down my face, yet some how my voice was even. For some reason I just started unleashing everything on Andrea. Everything I had kept bottled up over the last year. “I know it probably sounds weird, but I don’t want to go. Everyone back home looks at me like I’m a monster. I don’t know if you noticed but I have huge bird wings on my back!” I started almost yelling now. Andrea didn’t flinch, her steady eyes stayed on the road, while she absorbed everything I’ve told her. “I cant go back. He’ll find me. He’ll hurt my family, friends, heck he might even kill you now just for helping me!” “Hey, its okay Mae. Its okay.” Andrea said in a soft voice. She turned to look at me, her eyes growing wide with shock, then she quickly recovered. “Did I forget to mention that I’m a shape shifting freak?” I smiled through my tears. “What do I look like?” I asked taking a glance at the side mirror. It didn’t surprise me when the face I saw was Andrea’s. I looked just like her only I seemed more fragile, and broken. I concentrated on my own looks and gradually I began to look like my self again. “Mae, I wont take you back if that’s really what you want. But I wont have you flying all over the country like some wild child. I also don’t think I could live with myself if I let you do that and who ever is after you gets a hold of you. You can stay with me, but you have to tell me everything that’s happened. I mean everything.” Andrea said staring at the open road. “Okay,” I sighed. “But get ready for long story.” I told her everything. She said she wanted the whole story and that’s what she got. Everything from meeting Skyler, to finding out he was an agent, when I got kidnapped, the experiments, to Skyler dying in my arms. I told her about how when I got home my family kind of pushed me to the side, how alone I felt, how everyday reporters would swarm my house interrogating me about my life and the kidnapping. I told her how I couldn’t take it any more, how trapped I felt. I told her about what happened the morning before I met her how I wound up in the back of her truck. If something freaked her out, she didn’t show it. She seemed totally calm as I explained everything her only comment was, “When we stop for the night I need to bandage your leg, other wise it’ll get infected.” It was only six o’clock, but we still stopped when we made it to Albuquerque. Andrea pulled into some dinky little hotel and told me to wait in the truck. Five minutes later, she came back with a triumphant smile and keys to room in her hand. I grabbed my pack and followed Andrea to the room. “Hey how did do you feel about pizza for dinner?” she asked looking at small plastic menu. “They have room service here?” I said in disbelief. “I know right! So I’ll take that as a yes.” She said laughing. It seemed like Andrea was really starting to open up to me. “Dude when’s the last time you’ve had a shower?” She said as she walked passed me to get the phone. “Uhhh.” I stuttered. The only thing I was able to do was swim in rivers and I wasn’t about to do that without clothes. “Like a shower, shower, or like a dump freezing river water on my self shower.” I laughed. “You nasty go take a shower!” Andrea laughed throwing a towel at me. I caught the towel and got my stuff together. “What about my leg?” I asked a little bit worried. “Oh yeah let me take a look.” She said grabbing a small black pouch. “Okay looks like that bullet just barely scraped you. Lucky too, if it would’ve gone through it may have punctured your main vein that runs through there. What kind of gun was it?” she said as she cleaned it up. “I’m not sure. Just looked like a hand gun.” I said wincing. “Mhmm. Well this is interesting….” She mumbled as she took a better look at the small gash. “Are you studying to become a doctor?” I asked curious. She laughed lightly as if the thought of her being a doctor was amusing. “No. I’m actually a mercenary.” She looked up at me with careful eyes, studying my reaction. “But I won’t work for someone who wants their enemies dead. I might be good with a gun but that doesn’t mean like using it. I have almost all of my guns rigged with tranquilizers. No real bullets. You can call me a crook, a thief, a bandit, what ever other names they have for robbers, but I wont ever be called a murderer. I’ll steal and rob, but I’m not going to take someone’s life. That’s not my choice.” She said still looking at my wound. Her calm face turned confused then concerned, then calm again. Something was up. “What’s wrong?” I asked panic started to rise in chest. “Nothing. You should be okay now. Just make sure you clean it good when you take your shower.” She said not meeting my eyes. “Okay if you say so.” I said panicking slightly and went to the bathroom. By the time I got out I heard Andrea’s muffled steady voice coming from the main room. It sounded like she was talking on the phone. I assumed she was ordering the pizza but then as I listened closer she sounded pissed. “How did you get this number...........Like I’m gonna believe that trash. No, why should I? I don’t care…..how much? I don’t know…..I’ll think about it. But I swear if you ever call this number again, you’ll be sorry.” Andrea said sternly. As I stepped out of the bathroom she hung up the phone. Before I could ask who it was she took out the battery, crushed the SD card, opened the door and threw the phone out side. “What did you do that for?” I asked cautiously. “That freak scientist guy freaken called me. He some how knew you were with me and got my number. He could use it to track us.” Andrea said quickly. She scanned the room abruptly then her head snapped to my injured leg. “Mae let me see your leg!” she demanded. “What’s wrong?” I asked panic flooding through me. “Darn it! I knew the cut looked off!” Andrea said inspecting my leg. She looked me dead in the eyes when she spoke again. “Mae the reason that graze hurt so much was because the bullet didn’t just scrape the skin. You were actually hit, but not with a bullet. It was a tracking devise! Mae we have to go now!” Andrea said urgently. She was already getting up and packing her things. “Why should I trust you? You’re a mercenary right? You steal to get paid. How do I know that you’re not just going to hand me over to Allister. Give me one good reason why I should trust you!” I demanded angrily. Andrea looked defeated, as if she knew that was coming. The sad look on her face confirmed my suspicions until she said, “Because I’m your only chance Mae. I know what you’re going through. Of course you probably already figured I’m running too.” She looked me straight in the eyes daring me to question her. “I was raised by crazed uncle who wanted to see the world crumble. He trained me to kill. He trained me to be his personal weapon. I was too blind to see that and now I’m stuck in this mess. I’ve tried to come clean countless times, and every time I just fell into the same routine. Heck, when you flew into the back of my truck I was just running my former boss, who was also my boy friend. When I found you in the tailgate, I was just going to let you go on your way. But when I looked at you I saw something. I saw someone scared, and worried, yet a fighter. I saw my self. I saw a girl not only running for her life but also running from herself. And I knew I had to help you.” She finished hanging her head “I’m sorry.” I said packing up my gear. “Its okay. I figured sooner or later we’d have that discussion.” She smiled weakly then added, “The pizza should be here any sec—“ A knock at the door cut her off. “Who is it?” Andrea said eyeing the door. “Pizza guy.” A deep muffled voice said from the other side of the door. Andrea slowly opened the door. A lean guy stood in the door way his baseball cap covering his eyes. He looked at Andrea then at me. His cold dark eyes seemed to stare right through me. A flash of recognition flickered across face. I didn’t think when I kicked him out the door. His hat fell off revealing singed red hair. “Allister!” I growled. “Mae my dear, nice to see you too.” He said coldly as he stumbled into the parking lot. I stepped out side ready make a run for it. Andrea stayed near the door gun in hand ready to fire. Allister saw this and smiled evilly. “Andrea, have you had a chance to think over my offer?” he said pulling out a stack of cash. “Yes I did, and decided only a sicko would work for a monster like you.” She spat angrily. “Oh such a shame.” He pulled out a small remote and the room exploded throwing Andrea through the air. She landed hard on the ground and didn’t move. Knots formed in my stomach. “Another person is dead because of me,” I thought in despair. I stared at Andrea’s limp body as she laid motionless. “Andrea get up!” I yelled desperately as I felt a tug in my arm. “Now Mae, how many more people must die before you realize you belong to me?” Allister cackled. I turned to look at him and I spat in his face. “Let go of me you sick monster!” I yelled as I tried to get out of his grip. “You little brat! Its useless to try to escape me! Even with the powers I gave you, you’re still to pathetic to even fight back! You cannot fathom the plans I have for you. Though I don’t know why I would still use you after all the trouble you��ve caused me. Then again I could always erase your memory and then you would comply.” He said angrily. I was running low on options and time. Mind reeling I bit down hard on the Monster’s hand. A salty taste contaminated my mouth when Allister released me. He glared at me with hate-filled eyes and pulled out his gun. “I don’t need you!” he spat. “I can use others! With or without you I will –“ “BANG!” There stood Andrea gun drawn and breathing heavily. She looked pissed and relieved at the same time. I ran up to her before she fell over. “Man that guy just wouldn’t shut up.” She sighed with relief. “Welcome to my world.” I said sarcastically. “Was that a real bullet?” I asked cautiously. Andrea just nodded. My eyes grew wide, “Are you okay? I mean you just killed someone!” I said shocked. “I’m fine. I didn’t shoot a person. I shot a monster,” she said quietly. “Well then, now what do we do? The police have been looking for this guy for ever, and now he’s gone. So where does that put us?” Andrea stayed quiet for a long time. “Well I’m pretty sure we’re still going to have to live on the run, but it also means we have to buy another pizza.”

#Sierra speaks #Sierra writes #My writing #REALLY OLD WRITING #Writing through the decade #Baby me had a lot strange ways to end stories

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lisacongo2-blog · 5 years

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‘Shrill’ Shreds Hollywood Stereotypes About How Women of Size Eat

The first time you see Annie, the protagonist of the new Hulu show Shrill, eating, her meal doesn’t look particularly pleasant. Played by SNL cast member Aidy Bryant, Annie grabs a plastic container from the fridge, opening it to reveal three white disks — supposedly pancakes — from a Tupperware labeled “Thin Menu.” While standing in her kitchen, she tries to break off a slab, puts it in her mouth, and wrinkles her nose in disgust. Her roommate, Fran (played by Lolly Adefope), walks by to witness the three doughy pucks, and says, “Good God.”

It’s not the only time Annie eats in her kitchen. Later in the series, Bryant opens a sealed container of leftover spaghetti, standing alone over an island near the sink. She twirls noodles around her fork, grinning in anticipation. She looks confident, blissed out, holding her hand under her chin as a noodle inches toward her lips. She scrunches her eyebrows and crinkles her nose, the perfect opposite of her look of disgust eating the Thin Meal pancakes. She nods and smiles while chewing, enjoying the moment.

The annals of TV are full of stories where women change themselves, from Mad Men’s Peggy Olsen to Eleanor Shellstrop in The Good Place. But Shrill, the six-episode adaptation of writer Lindy West’s memoir of the same name, is a different kind of “transformation” story, starring a woman of size. The show tells the story of Annie, a Portland-based calendar editor for an alt-weekly newspaper, trying to jump start her career, earn the love of Ryan, a painfully oblivious loser, and become a more honest, self-assured person. What Shrill is not is a story of body transformation, of a fat woman getting thin. Although it shows Annie eating diet meals and exercising with her mother, her real goal goes beyond the universal challenge of self-acceptance — she wants to feel powerful, as a woman of size and simply as a woman. She wants to demand respect from the people around her.

Those people often fat-shame Annie, whether it’s her obsessive online troll, her perpetually sneering editor, or an invasive personal trainer who eventually devolves into calling her a “fat bitch.” Still, Annie’s relationship with her body is more nuanced. Her insecurities are more often portrayed in physical details or unspoken interpersonal choices she makes because she feels that, in her words, “there’s a certain way that your body’s supposed to be and I’m not that.”

In media where a woman’s relationship with her body plays its own role, the eating scenes are telling. There are countless movies in which women devour ice cream during break-ups or lonely moments. And for years, when a person of size ate on screen, it was portrayed as comic relief, from Melissa McCarthy consuming a napkin in Spy to a cross-dressing Chris Farley on Saturday Night Live inhaling his friend’s french fries while asking, “Can I have some?”

Even in shows and movies celebrated for their representations of non-normative bodies, eating is reserved for emotional distress. In HBO’s Girls, Hannah Horvath (played by Lena Dunham) is often caught eating during low moments, like when she eats cake with her hands after her purse is stolen on the train. In Real Women Have Curves, it takes a conflict with her mother to get the protagonist, Ana (America Ferrera), to eat a bite of flan in a moment of overall positive defiance. Rarely do women of size get the opportunity to eat happily on screen without some tumult, some churning emotional hang-ups or interpersonal conflict. The exception, of course, is when people of size are shot eating healthy foods, like when the contestants on The Biggest Loser marvel over turkey burgers. But if a not-thin character is caught eating a cupcake, the audience is meant to laugh or cry at their expense.

When Annie eats so-called “indulgent” foods in Shrill, she’s not considered a failure, and it’s not used as a comic device. Instead, it’s often tied to a moment of personal or thematic triumph completely unrelated to her weight. By simply showing Annie eating the foods countless people love in a way that’s empowering, Shrill reinforces the idea that people, regardless of size, have the right to enjoy food in its entirety — not just salads and apples and other pious things, but rather the foods that are seen as permissibly comforting and luxurious for people of a smaller size. Like last year’s hit culinary travel show Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, Hulu’s new series rewrites the rules for who gets to enjoy food on television.

Annie isn’t the only big millennial woman eating spaghetti on TV. In a scene on Girls, Hannah grabs handfuls of noodles from a takeout box, dangling them into her open mouth. There is an element of watching this scene that feels relatable, especially for anyone who lives alone, but nothing about that moment is sexy or empowering. At its best, it’s a moment of comic relief born out of universality; at its worst, it’s Dunham’s self-ridiculing humor shaming herself — and other women — for eating without control while not thin.

This is far from the only moment when a woman eating sugary, greasy, and otherwise “bad” foods on television works as a boiler-plate scene representing rock bottom. In her essay “Why is it sad and lonely women who turn to chocolate?” Telegraph culture writer Rebecca Hawkes recalls similar moments in romantic comedies, like when Renee Zellweger devours chocolates under a blanket in Bridget Jones’s Diary, or when Sandra Bullock turns to ice cream in Miss Congeniality. “When you look at the trope in more detail, the implication is that eating chocolate is something ‘naughty,’” she writes. “It’s something that (calorie-counting, figure-obsessed) women shouldn’t be doing, but can’t help resorting to in moments of extreme trauma — or simply due to a comedic lack of discipline.” In her essay, Hawkes also brings up another classic plus-sized person comically shamed and punished for their gluttony: Augustus Gloop, the rotund little boy in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, presumably killed for wanting to eat some of the chocolate in a literal river of chocolate — as if anyone wouldn’t.

Ryan (Luka Jones) and Annie (Aidy Bryant)

Photo: Allyson Riggs/Shrill

But still, beyond little boys, beyond thin ladies, it’s plus-size women whose eating is most often used as a thematic example of a psychological and/or personal failure, whether it’s comical or supposedly tragic. “With any overweight, unruly woman, there’s always a tendency to pathologize their relationship with food,” says Kathleen Rowe Karlyn, author of The Unruly Woman: Gender and the Genres of Laughter. “[For] women who dive in to the quart of ice cream or the box of chocolate, food is a source of comfort because life is not giving them other types of comfort.”

If women get fat as a plot device, they’re often shown eating something like pizza, ice cream, chocolate, or other sweets — take, for example, Goldie Hawn gorging herself on frosting post-breakup in Death Becomes Her. If a character appears to get them out of a slump, a chicken wing might be yanked out of their hands. And they won’t reach personal fulfillment until they’re skinny again. Meanwhile, women who are thin and confident — whether it’s Drew Barrymore in Charlie’s Angels, or the titular Gilmore Girls — are free to eat as much as they please, to the delight of all who watch them.

Annie didn’t originally eat the spaghetti. It was made by Fran’s brother, Lamar (Akemnji Ndifornyen), who spends the third episode, “Pencil,” visiting his sister and her roommate. For most of the first few episodes, Annie is busy obsessing over a man (Luka Jones) who is so embarrassed by her that he sends her out the back door of his apartment so his roommates can’t see her. On their first date, she eats a salad. When she arrives home after Ryan has stood her up, Lamar and Fran offer her the spaghetti. She turns it down.

Lamar, a chef, spends the episode quietly fawning over Annie. When he arrives, he gives her a box of chocolate turtles, an elaborate reference to a memory from their past. He lights up when she enters the room. And later, when she comes back after choosing not to see Ryan, he admits that he likes her, and that he always did. After they have sex, Annie tiptoes downstairs to the kitchen, where she finds the pasta he made. The scene is romantic and almost sexy, in a totally subtle, maybe even unintentional way. He didn’t make the pasta for her, specifically, but it was made by him.

But beyond the romantic arc of Annie and Lamar, the scene’s impact comes directly from what it means for her, in her path to self-respect: she’s giving herself what she wants and deserves, on her own terms. And the bewildered delight in her face as she eats is so contagiously joyful that the context of her weight becomes irrelevant.

Annie (Aidy Bryant) and Lamar (Akemnji Ndifornyen).

Photo by: Allyson Riggs/Shrill

Beyond the men in her life, one of Annie’s most fraught relationships is with her mother, Vera (played by Julia Sweeney), who’s responsible for the Thin Menu meals. During a pivotal rant, when Annie describes the ways the people around her have made her size seem like a moral failing, she says, “At this point, I could be a licensed fucking nutritionist because I’ve literally been training for it since the fourth grade, which is the first time that my mom said that I should just eat a bowl of Special K and not the dinner that she made for everyone else so I might be a little bit smaller.” One of Annie’s most significant plot developments with her mother, when she pushes back against her health policing, starts with a meal of meatball subs with her father. And when the season ends, we leave Vera lying on the ground with a bag of chips, suggesting that Annie’s number one advice giver also needs respite from controlling everything.

“Whether they’re very curvy like Mae West or they’re slender, I think what we haven’t seen in a long time is the ability of women just to be seen enjoying food,” Karlyn says. “Food is enjoyable (to women), not because they’re neurotic, not because they’re crazy, not because they’re sex-obsessed, just because food is a natural pleasure of life.” That’s how Shrill treats food, but also most of life’s joys: dancing at a party, swimming in a pool, having sex, being honest. Counter to the ways television and movies have previously presented plus-size women, as victims of their own lack of self-control, Shrill shows how restrictive life as a plus-size woman can be, and how often that’s a direct result of their self control. Shrill seems to be advocating for more self-designated freedom for women of size — the freedom to live with abandon. As Annie says, lying in bed and taking charge, “I’ve got big titties and a fat ass — I make the rules.”

Brooke Jackson-Glidden is the editor of Eater Portland. Edited by: Greg Morabito

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Source: https://www.eater.com/2019/3/28/18284128/shrill-hulu-aidy-bryant-food-eating

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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ssadropout · 7 years

Text

Yes, His Name is Maes

Royai Week Day 4- Promise- Yes, His Name is Maes

In a more perfect FMA world, there would be a Royai marriage and at least one Royai baby. Amirite?

It was up to him to quiet the wails. Riza was busy in the kitchen and had been with the baby all day.

“Hello, my little man. Why are you singing the sad song of your people? It's not as cool as my Flame Alchemist rap. Shhh.” Roy leaned over the crib and gently drew his son into his arms, swaying a bit. The cries gradually faded, replaced by the tap of claws on the floor.

“Oh, look. Here comes your big brother. Be glad that he came first, or you might have been named Black Hayate. How was your day, son?”

“Gleeb roorsh.”

“That's good to hear, buddy. That's because you have such a great mother. I'll bet she played with you and rocked you and sang to you and tickled you. Hee hee. I know your mother's special tickle places, but those and flame alchemy will be things I never share with you. My day at work was boring, but I'll even do paperwork to make the world better for you. Yes! Mommy and I promised ourselves that kids like you will never have to do horrible things like we were forced to do. Maybe you won't even have to do paperwork!”

Roy sighed. “Your mother and I did some horrible things.” He kissed the baby's head and placed him onto the changing table.

The baby squeaked.

“I hope that you can try to forgive us when you understand. We have spent the rest of our lives making up for it. Not that we ever can make up for it.”

“Da Da Da Da Da.”

The sweet bright sound brought Roy back to his good mood. “That's right, my little man. It's me- your daddy. Mommy is downstairs cooking dinner, so I'm on pee and poop patrol. How's that diaper of yours?”

“Da Da Da. Blurf. Zzzhh.”

“I was afraid of that. I love you infinity, but you'd be so much more fun if you weren't so high maintenance.” Roy arranged his supplies as if he were performing alchemy. He wished! He had imagined various poop and pee transmutations, but nothing seemed right. There were ways to transmute moisture and dirt out of cloth, but they were for different kinds of dirt and moisture. Besides Riza had given him that look when he mentioned that he was thinking about it. One of the reasons that he loved her was that he was afraid of her.

Roy put the dirty diaper aside, cleaned his son up, and put on a new diaper. “Ta da! That's much better. Right? I'm glad that you didn't take this opportunity to demonstrate that you have your mother's aim.”

He placed the baby back in the crib and rinsed the dirty diaper out in the toilet. After washing his hands, he returned and studied his son. “Until you came along, the most important things to us were our vows to work to make Amestris and the world better. You, my little man, are the one thing more important to us than that.” He leaned over, slid the baby's shirt up and blew a gentle raspberry on the baby's tummy.

“Mmpf. Ma Ma Ma Ma.”

“Mmm. Dinner does smell good, my little man, but I'm afraid that it's not for you. Mommy said that you already ate and drank.”

“Bbbbbbbb.”

“Hey! Bring that up with your mother, not me. That's her area.”

“Ma Ma Ma Ma.”

“You got it, son!”

“Raaaaag.”

“I know. So, listen. It's time for you to go to sleep. That's right. No snap. No spark. Time to sleep in the diggy diggy dark. I love you, my little man.” He kissed his son's forehead.

When Roy went to turn off the light, he noticed Riza in the doorway. “How long have you been there?”

“Just since the raspberry.”

“I'm a pretty good father, huh?”

She put her arm around him and said, “Other than blaming me for his diet, yes, Roy, you're a wonderful father. However, do realize that when you call your son my little man, you're calling him the same thing that you call your penis?”

#royaiweek17 #royaiweek #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai baby

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silverliningsandfallingstars · 7 years

Note

NOTEEEE

just a bit in the future!OG:

Drew,

Sit down in that big chair I got for you, the one over by the window. That’s right - the one over looking the skyline where you can watch the sun hit the tips of the skyscrapers. Wait until sunset, though. Thy sky is always prettiest then. Get a glass of that fancy red wine you love (don’t make me write it out; you know which one I’m talking about) and read this with an acoustic set playing, something melodic, nothing too harsh. Not now.

The fact that you have this letter means shit things for me; I don’t know what sort of shit things, but it doesn’t have to mean shit things for you. You are so strong, Drew Reed. You are the man who let my wild heart remain untied while we grew together. You were the first man to appreciate my spirit without trying to chain me down and tie me up (and not in the fun way, mind you). You have so much life ahead of you.

Mourn me, please. Don’t forget me. But live your life despite loosing me. Laugh. Live. I need to you be happy, even without me near you. I will always be in your heart (listen to the cheesy shit coming from me with just the thought of my being dead).

I am writing this as a very alive human being; imagining being dead enough for you to find this is unsettling. I just kissed you; I just told you I loved you; I just ran my finger tips over your chest before I got up from bed. But you are reading this weeks, months, possibly years in the future.

I have so much I want to say to you, to try and ease the pain I am sure you feel, but I was never one for sappy moments. If you take away one thing from this, though, take away that I love you with all my heart. Never forget that I loved you with every fiber of my being and then some. You are my world, Drew Reed. Live your life to fulfill that.

future!OG+Casey

Drew Reed,

First things first, wipe those damn tears off your face. Second, kiss our daughter and hold her while you read this, in the rocking chair in her room. That was a damn expensive rocking chair and now that I’m gone, you’re responsible for making sure she gets rocked to sleep every night. Go tit?

Now, now we can settle in.

This isn’t going to be pages of me writing my heart out. Mostly because you know how I feel Drew. You know that I love you and you know that I love Casey. I want you to remember all of the things we laughed and cried over during our time together - the stupid little things and the big, life changing moments. We were full of so much life. Remember those moments. Don’t remember the stupid things that lead up to whatever took me down. Remember the good despite all the bad.

Hold Casey close and tell her about how stubborn I was, about how I never kept my mouth shut when I should; tell her how I cussed your mother out in the hospital room after she was born when I refused to let her hold Casey; tell her about how my dad nearly kicked your ass on her second birthday when I forgot to tell you to get the cake; tell her all of the stories that made us a family. I won’t be there to do her make up for prom or to calm you down when she brings home her first serious boyfriend during college. I won’t be there to guide the two of you through the things I should be there for. But here: bring Kayleigh out for Prom, and my mom. When that boy shows up, shake his hand and tell him you and her grandfather will kick his ass if anything happens to her. And for everything else, I want you to try your hardest to rely on the fact that you know what should be done. You are so strong and so much more than you give yourself credit for.

Please trust yourself even in my absence.

I love you, Drew Reed. And I will always be here for you both even if you cannot see me right away.

#answered #andrewsreed #ask meme #goodbye note #this hurt me

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btp-yami · 5 years

Text

Incarnate Jaaaazzzzz

READ THE PREVIOUS BIT BEFORE THIS IF YOU HAVENT YET otherwise u may not understand what tf is goin on (I tag these under “incarnate jazz” so u should be good)

i still adore Atticus btw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let me get this straight: I’m not old enough to go with you and Uncle after Aku-Anei, not old enough to fly on my own to visit Mae - but I’m old enough to babysit.”

Atem shrugged with a faint smirk. “Pretty much sums it up.”

Atticus wrinkled his nose with a small glare. “That’s shitty as all hell, that’s what.”

Atem arched a brow, frowning. “Language, Atticus...?”

“That’s shitty as all heck.”

Atem rolled his eyes with a sigh, but then shrugged his jacket on as he looked back at Atticus. “It’s just for a couple hours, Atticus...I’m running over to the Shop to meet Noah for a bit, and that’s all. He’ll come back with me, and he can take over while you talk to Mae.”

Atticus pouted with a small bit of color filling his cheeks, but then his brows rose. “Promise?”

Atem smirked. “I promise. It should still be before she’ll need to head to class.”

“Fine, fine...” Atticus huffed, but turned and went down the hall to the nursery.

It had been a couple weeks since Oswald Roy Mutou had been born, and about a week since he’d been brought home. The whole family - including Catherine - was told by Noah about his discovery, and everyone officially became on high-alert. No one stayed by themselves for long, and someone always stayed with Oswald.

Atem still smirked after Atticus as he went down the hall, and then headed for the garage.

He stopped short, the room suddenly growing cold despite it being the middle of September. Atem sensed the energy in the air stir, and swerved around to the front door.

There stood Madji Qadir, head tilted to the side. A twisted grin stretched across his face, almost distorted with how pale and thin he looked.

Atem gave him a glare, snarling. “Set...!”

“Mighty Pharaoh first to fall, with no help to call~...” Madji drawled, bringing his head back up. “Where is Set’s brother, Pharaoh?”

“None of your business.” Atem moved away from the garage door, voice still a low snarl, and stalked closer. “And he is an infant. He is not your “brother.” And even if he is, you’re not laying a hand on my son.”

His eyes narrowed; the iris shifted to gold, the pupils thinning to slits. “Now get out of my house.”

In simultaneous movement, Madji lunged with shadowy tendrils while Atem drew out his claws to parry the tendrils away. Madji snarled back and kept lunging for him, almost giggling to himself.

“Ma’at’s barriers are weakening and Set no longer cares for the pharaoh...!” Madji laughed, tendrils grabbing a nearby wooden side table to throw it at Atem. “Make this easy for Set and DIE~.”

Atem used his claws to slice through the table, taking up the nearby speaker for the television to throw it at Madji in return; his tendrils caught it, tearing it apart, a small flash of electricity causing burns on the floor when he tossed them aside.

“You say Noah’s barriers have weakened,” Atem countered, all while parrying and swiping at tendrils, “But I’ve yet to see you go anywhere near him. You’re afraid of him.”

“Set fears NOTHING!” Madji snarled, edging closer with his tendrils.

“You fear Ma’at’s power!” Atem ducked around a few tendrils to get Madji away from the hallway. “You know just how powerful Noanour is and you know you’ll lose! That’s why you avoid him!”

“Set fears N O T H I N G!” Madji halfway screamed, all tendrils lunging directly for Atem again.

A couple caught onto his neck and arms, in spite of him claws through a few with his claws. Madji threw him against the floor first, shoved him against the wall nearby, and then whipped him around to the large bay window and threw him at it. Thankfully, it was thick enough not to shatter, but it did crack.

Atem had yelled out from impact, but then tumbled to the floor. He didn’t move for a moment, before he edged himself up to his arms, glaring at Madji.

Madji glared back, readying a few more tendrils. “Set no longer cares for you. Set no longer needs you. So now, you must die...!”

Just when he was about to thrust them down at Atem, a baby’s cry was heard from down the hall. Madji froze for a moment, and a soft gasp left Atem as he looked to the hall with wide eyes.

Madji grinned again. “Horus...!”

Tendrils acting as spidery legs, he sped over, down the hall.

“No!” Atem forced himself to his feet - grunting from a pain to his shoulder, grasping it - and hurried over. “No, stop! Leave him alone!”

He fired a bold of lightning at Madji’s tendrils, and he did falter and fall to the ground, but more tendrils carried him into the nursery. The pale yellow and white was untouched, still fresh from being painted, and a rocking chair sat in the corner next to the crib.

Madji grinned, chuckling madly. “Horus took the weakest form, now he’ll wish he was never reborn...!”

He hovered over the crib - only to falter and frown in confusion.

The crib was empty.

Atem swung himself into the room, breathing heavily and surprised himself when he saw the crib was empty.

Madjir snarled. “Where...!? Where is Horus!?” He shoved the crib aside, before turning about to Atem with a snarl.

Atem flinched, but glared back and stood his ground in the threshold of the door, staring him down.

Madji tilted his head back, a sneer on his face. “...Ma’at interferes once again...!”

Atem grew rigid, pressing his lips into a tight frown.

Madji heaved an empty chuckle, eyes growing even blacker (if possible). “This will be the last time Ma’at interferes with Set’s plans...! He is weak, and Set is growing stronger...! Set will deliver him back to Osiris and Isis, and he will wish he never meddled in Set’s affairs...!”

With swift movement, Madji shoved a set of shelves at the door - and consequently Atem, knocking him down - and then burst through the window, disappearing from sight.

Atem heaved the shelves off, looking out the window where Madji vanished with wide eyes for a moment. Then he flinched, scrambling to his feet and hurrying to the crib, brow furrowing when he saw it was indeed empty.

Another cry from an infant was heard, a bit more muffled, and Atem looked across from the nursery to his and Alice’s room. Jumping the shelves from earlier, he went in, glancing around to see the closet door was shut. A hand shaking, he wrenched it open.

Atticus flinched with a yell, one hand raised to project an icy blast, but then sighed loudly with relief at seeing Atem. “Dad...!”

Oswald was nestled against Atticus’ chest, the latter keeping an arm tight around him. Oswald fussed before starting to cry again.

Then Atem sighed with relief, kneeling down to hug Atticus and Oswald at once, planting a brief kiss to both heads before knocking his head gently against Atticus’. “Brilliant...!” He leaned back and grinned at him. “You are brilliant...!”

Atticus gave a small smile in returned, before frowning. “A-Are you okay?”

Atem huffed, brushing off the sleeve of his jacket. “Just rammed my shoulder, that’s all, I’m fine...”

“Where did Madji go?”

Atem flinched, his eyes wide, before his brow furrowed. “...He went after Noah. Oh God, he went after Noah--”

He bolted to his feet, Atticus following suit with Oswald in-hold as they hurried out to the garage.

“But Noanour’s stronger than Madji, right--?” Atticus questioned, hugging Oswald when the baby fussed again.

“If Noah’s really weakened right now after having been extending his power for so long, no, they’d be on an equal field.” Atem explained in a rush as he fumbled for his keys to the car.

“Uh, Dad--?”

Atticus made him pause in opening the driver door, turning his attention to the front - only to see Madji had stabbed through the body of the car, having torn out the engine and pedals.

Atem huffed and let his forehead hit the window of the door. “Damn it...!” He straightened and stowed the keys, before removing his jacket. “I’ll need to go on foot, then...!”

“I’m going with you,” Atticus summoned his wings out.

“No,” Atem took him by the shoulders, and Atticus drew his wings in. “You need to get to Catherine and your mother.”

“But--!”

“Atticus, please, don’t argue with me.” Atem frowned, voice stern. “You’re the only one who can keep Oswald safe right now...! You need to get him safely to Catherine, and keep him away from Qadir. This is a big responsibility, but I know you can do it - keep your brother safe. Okay?”

Atticus’ wings diffused in the midst of Atem’s words. He frowned, but brought his shoulders up, and gave a nod. “Okay...”

Atem gave him a quick hug, before moving away; he checked out the open garage door, before drawing back into the garage for a moment.

Within seconds of just thinking about it, his form changed, the seven-foot wolf form standing at full height in the garage with a deep howl. The fur was a bit coarser from agitation, a bit more humanoid in stance, but the eyes looked very similar to Atem’s, bright gold with slits as the pupils.

He turned to Atticus, who had a more-secure hold of Oswald in his arms.

“Get to Catherine, and stay out of sight,” Atem’s voice had deepened, ears pressing against his head. “And be careful.”

Atticus nodded back, frowning. “Y-You too--Kick Qadir’s ass.”

Atem passed him a quick smirk, before bounding out onto the street, leaping up to a rooftop, hefting himself higher and higher to get to the Game Shop.

#TO BE CONTINUED~~#incarnate jazz #key to light #btpyami #bee thoughts #bee writes #pg 13 for language and violence #long post #yugioh #ygo #ygo ad

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gokinjeespot · 5 years

Text

off the rack #1241

Monday, December 17, 2018

I got sucked into the vortex that happens this time of year for social events that I couldn't avoid. We went out to dinner on Friday at Grow Your Roots Café in Kanata with our vegetarian friends to celebrate my and Brian's birthdays, which are two weeks apart in December. I actually enjoyed my beyond meat burger platter. Way better than A&W's, although to be fair I haven't had the fast food version yet, but Brian has. And their fries were excellent too. Saturday was date night with dinner at the Yangtze Restaurant on Somerset Street and then crossing Arthur Street to Bar Robo to see the Tony D Trio. I've always wanted to see Tony D play live and this was a great chance to do that. It was intimate and we got a great table. We stayed for both sets and got home just before midnight. Not bad for an old fogey. The rocking music helped me stay awake. Sunday morning found us at the Carleton Tavern having breakfast at 9 AM. We try to see Sam the chef before Christmas and wish him and his family all the best for the holidays. Sam spoils us. You can tell he piles a lot more food on our plates than for other diners. You get that when you've patronized a place for 40 years. And finally, I venture out tonight to go see the Aquaman movie with my Jee-Riz partner Chris. I hear Amber Heard is in it.

X-23 #7 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Diego Olortegui (pencils) Walden Wong (inks) Chris O'Halloran (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). X-Assassin part 1. You can safely jump onto this book right here with this new story. Laura and Gabby help out the NYPD with a serial murder case and the killer is something brand new. I like the connection between the assassin, X-23 and Honey Badger and the new art team did a great job so I'm going to keep reading.

Doctor Strange: The Best Defense #1 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Greg Smallwood (art) VC's Cory Petit (letters). By the Vishanti was this ever good. These Defender one-shots are thoroughly worth reading if you're a big Marvel Fan. Greg did a wonderful tribute to Steve Ditko in a two page spread and I loved his Clea. The stabby guy in the bed sheet is still killing aliens too.

The Silver Surfer: The Best Defense #1 - Jason Latour (writer & art) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). My hopes for all of the Defenders one-shots to be stellar were dashed with this one. Norrin Radd doesn't even appear until way later in the story. It starts off incomprehensibly with a bunch of aliens and ends with a lot of new age gobbledy goop that the Surfer spouts while floating in space. The crazy knife wielding Halloween ghost only shows up in two panels so that was disappointing as well. The only thing I liked was when the Surfer's board takes off eh.

Magic Order #5 - Mark Millar (writer) Olivier Coipel (art) Dave Stewart (colours) Peter Doherty (letters). This is the penultimate issue with many shocking revelations. It sets up next issue's conclusion beautifully. I can hardly wait to find out what happens.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man #1/LGY #241 - Saladin Ahmed (writer) Javier Garron (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Yay! This did not suck. I was so afraid that the new Miles book would not stand up to the high standard that I put on it when Brian Michael Bendis was writing his adventures. Saladin Ahmed did an excellent job here and it helped that Javier Garron's art rocked the whole issue. You get all you need to know to enjoy this Spider-Man even if you didn't read the 240 issues leading up to this. I admit I did a little eye roll when the super villain showed up but then there's a twist that made me give a cheer. I can't wait for the next issue, and that's the magic that Brian used to make that kept me reading.

The Batman Who Laughs #1 - Scott Snyder (writer) Jock (art) David Baron (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). I was going to give this 6-issue mini a pass because I didn't like the whole Dark Nights Metal storyline but I thought I'd give Scott Snyder another chance. He presents a very different kind of dark knight that I still do not like so I won't finish reading this story either, but that's just me. If you want to see what happens when Batman gets turned into the Joker (WTF?) then you'll want to read this.

Goddess Mode #1 - Zoe Quinn (writer) Robbi Rodriguez (art) Rico Renzi (colours) Simon Bowland (letters). This new Vertigo book takes place in a very colourful future where folks live in a virtual reality because the real world sucks. Cassandra Price is a coder who works for the corporation that controls the VR. A glitch sends her into another reality and there she meets three other women and I think they go fight evil forces. This book is very bright and very tech and text heavy. I felt like I didn't get to know Cassandra very well before she gets transformed into a goddess and her situation is very confusing. This book is not to my taste unfortunately.

The Unstoppable Wasp #3/LGY #11 - Jeremy Whitley (writer) Gurihiru (art) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). A.I.M. has broken into Pym Labs to steal tech and Nadia must save her friends and keep the bad guys from getting away. These foes are quite formidable and even with the help of the original Wasp and Mockingbird, the bad guys win. I like the new A.I.M. villains and want to learn more about them.

Avengers #11/LGY #701 - Jason Aaron (writer) Ed McGuinness & Cory Smith (pencils) Mark Morales, Scott Hanna & Karl Kesel (inks/finishers) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). It's the calm before the next storm. According to the cover Jason's other story in Thor, "The War of the Realms", will cross over into this book in 4 months. Meanwhile, T'Challa meets with some international super heroes to try and form an alliance to keep the world safe. Thor and She-Hulk go on a date and Phil Coulson explains why there's a Squadron Supreme of America. See, it's not always massive alien invasions and war with Namor.

Fantastic Four Wedding Special #1 - This lead in one-shot to Fantastic Four #650 has 3 stories.

"(Invisible) Girls Gone Wild" by Gail Simone (writer) Laura Braga (art) Jesus Aburtov (colours) & VC's Joe Caramagna (letters) is a silly bachelorette party at a strip joint with Alicia's friends and some of Sue's super powered buddies. I expected better from Gail.

"Father Figure" by Dan Slott (writer) Mark Buckingham (pencils) Mark Farmer (inks) Matt Yackey (colours) & VC's Joe Caramagna (letters) reminded me of who Alicia's step-father is. I was touched as I remembered asking Mr. Fowler for Penny's hand in marriage. I loved the job the two Marks did. I would have sworn Jack Kirby drew this.

"The Puppet Master's Lament" by Fred Hembeck (writer & art) & Megan Wilson (colours) was a monologue recap of Ben and Alicia's relationship. It was typical Fred Hembeck humour.

You really don't have to read this since there's nothing here that impacts the wedding much but it's a nice accompaniment to the big day.

Sasquatch Detective #1 - Brandee Stilwell (creator & writer). This $7.99 US 64-page special continues the beloved tradition of silly funny animal comic books that used to rule the racks. Too bad it doesn't cost 25 cents like back in the fifties. You get the origin story by Ron Randall (art) Ross Campbell (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters). This will tell you how Tonya Mae Lightfoot from the Appalachian Mountains leaves her Sasquatch family to go to Los Angeles and join the LAPD. What follows are five short stories where Tonya solves crimes. I would not have wanted to read this big book normally, but the art throughout is really good. Thanks to Gustavo Vazques (art) & Chris Sotomayor (colours) in "Sasquatch Anniversary"; Gustavo Vazques (art) & Ross Campbell (colours) in "Unsolved Mysteries", "Neighbourhood Watch", "Arrest and Relaxation" & "Smoke and Mirrors". There are even some cameos by some DC heroes as a bonus.

Batman Annual #3 - Tom Taylor (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) A Larger World's Troy Peteri (letters). If Tom King ever leaves Batman I hope that Tom Taylor takes over the writing chores. I love when Alfred is featured but only if it's very well written and this story is very well written indeed. The relationship between Alfred and Batman/Bruce is special and this story proves just how special. If you're a Batman fan but don't normally get the annual, you have to get this one.

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jacksoncenter · 7 years

Text

Gardening

A Recollection of Miss Willie Mae Patterson, 1926-2017

I received the news that Miss Willie Mae Patterson had passed while on a train home from New York. Oh noooo, I said loudly enough to disturb the passenger to my left. Too soon. She has left us too soon. I remembered so vividly our birthday visit to Miss Willie Mae’s home just a few weeks earlier. The entire MCJC staff filled the living room where family were gathering to celebrate. We sang the “old songs” Willie Mae requested—“old” as in: “Blessed Assurance” AND “My Girl.” We were a bit giddy with the helium-balloon pleasure of it all. Miss Willie Mae held us captivated by her glowing delight. She was clearly in pain. She had trouble saying what she meant. But, for a few long moments, those troubles fell away to the power of singing and humming along and just clapping joyfully to lift us all, together, again and again.

I jolted back to the rumble of the train on the rails only to spin off into remembering another afternoon there at Miss Willie Mae’s. This time the MCJC staff had joined with Orange Habitat volunteers to paint and repair the white walls of Willie Mae’s house and to clear out her front garden. As usual, I found myself in an obsessive wrangle with weeds. At the end of the day, I had to be pulled away as hard as I was pulling on the weedy suckers that wound down around and into the foundation: they just wouldn’t surrender. One more minute, I kept protesting, when called for a drink of water or to close up shop. Finally, wearing my welts with pride, I settled into a seat on the porch with Miss Willie Mae while she shook her head in awe at the sight before her: the bird bath and pathway and rock wall that lined the front of her property freed from years of overgrowth, the spring day rising with all its promise from the freshly turned ground and the pink faces of the impatiens a volunteer just had to go get and plant. We sat on opposite sides of the door frame. I tried to see what she saw (which seemed to include many previous spring days and many yet to come) but was distracted by seeing her: I was entranced.

Over the years, she had grown thin. The skin drew tight around her high cheek bones, making her beloved smile that much more prominent. She was still working as a crossing guard over at Carrboro Elementary and had returned from her duties late in our afternoon's efforts. She took her seat with the relief of years sitting in the same spot, watching out over the garden, the cars and children passing by, the neighborhood at work. From our perch we could now see the full length of Northside’s famous rock wall. Cleared of creeping ivy, the wall was as new and as old as it had been when it was first built. Miss Willie Mae revelled in telling me about how her mother had directed her and her siblings to gather up rocks left-over from a construction project across the way. While she spoke, I flashed onto Miss Fannie standing on that same front porch instructing a gaggle of kids to haul over the rocks and then, using the same skills generations of Northsiders had brought to the walls surrounding UNC, laying one on top of another in a puzzle of compact perfection. The wall soon became the resting spot for everyone working their way up McDade on their way to school or on their way home from work (the hill has since been levelled). You could just sit and figure out a problem. Or you could plot and gossip—and, in late February 1960, plan the first sit-ins in Chapel Hill. But if any one group tried to monopolize the prized gathering place, Miss Fannie would have none of it: "this wall is for EVERYBODY!" she’d famously shout out, breaking up the cliques and reasserting a code of neighborly inclusion as solid and sure as the wall itself.

In the midst of my reverie, the train had come to a halt. Outside, seven/eight police officers surrounded a man standing rigid, his back pressed up against the train’s shell. More police arrived, each one stepping nattily across the chain that barred pedestrian access. One pawed through each item in the man’s bag. Another paced, a phone pressed close to his ear. One suddenly appeared in the aisle, clutching a computer cord, asking the woman across from me what had happened. She explains that she’d seen “some big words” come up on the man’s computer screen and then he typed something really fast and then slammed the computer shut. That seems sufficient; the officer leaves. I look out the once pastoral window again. Of course, I realize: the man is dark-hued. Olive-skinned. Mediterranean or Middle-Eastern. What does it matter: whatever the woman found suspicious had now made him a suspect, subject to all of those rites we reserve for people found guilty before proven innocent.

I got up. Went to the café car, hoping to find some breathing room or at least a little bit of disbelief to keep me company. Instead, I ran into rounds of well-worn phrases--“well, I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry” and “you just never know”--passed back and forth among the passengers and train staff like a bag of candy. I kept trying to say “it could have been any of us” but the words seemed to dissolve into sun dust before they could become sound. Was I even speaking? The air was thick; the easy arrogance was thicker. I returned to my seat, wondering what part I had or hadn’t played in this drama of quick isolation and exile.

A train pulls into the station, heading in the opposite direction. The man is escorted on. The conductor tells us that as soon as it pulls out of the station, we will be free to go. With a bump and roll, our train continues southbound and the din of complaints about the hour’s delay fall away to the thrum of “normal” banter. I turn back to Miss Willie Mae. I hear again the few words she spoke when we rested there, on her mama's porch. I luxuriate in memory of the quiet we shared, while she admired her garden and I admired her. And for a moment I hear more clearly than the conductor’s booming voice announcing the next stop, Miss Fannie insisting "this wall is for EVERYBODY"-- and the tears of gratitude for Miss Willie Mae's life and the ancestry she carried finally flow. We need you now more than ever, Miss Willie Mae. We need the bedrock of your history. We need the vision you held dear. We need your fierce service. We need to rise to the example of pride and joy you set. We need to be the garden of your memories, nurturing constant inclusion, weeding out the poisonous distrust, suspicion, and taking-care-of-MYself that seem to have overgrown just plain good sense, much less care and wonder. We need to share the wall. Move OVER somebody. Make room. Miss Willie Mae and Miss Fannie are watching out.

For a glimpse of Miss Willie Mae’s expansive spirit, check out this video made in collaboration with the Community Empowerment Fund for the “Penny for Affordable Housing” campaign; listen up just before minute 7: https://vimeo.com/95736718.

Della Pollock June 27, 2016

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