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riversofmars · 3 years

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Interrupting my usual broadcast of DW fic to bring you another British gay mess: Please enjoy my first attempt at Caroline/Gillian! And as if I haven't got enough WIPs on, this is gonna be four parts, as it turns out! I don't know why I'm like this :D Anyway here we are due to popular demand!

Gillian takes Caroline up on her offer of moving in together and pooling their resources. A month has gone by and Caroline is surprised at how easy and comfortable life on the farm has become. The arrangement works for both of them: Gillian's financial struggles are a thing of the past and while it isn’t exactly the traditional family set-up Caroline would have wanted, Gillian turned out to be exactly what she needed in a partner to help raise her daughter. Adding romance to the otherwise perfect set-up is a pipe-dream on the headteacher's part, but the more time she spends with the sheep farmer, the more drawn she is to her. Rating: M (language & sexual themes)

Home Is Not A Place - Part 1: The Dinner

“For goodness sake,“ Caroline groaned, as she stepped out of her SUV and right into a puddle. Resigned to her changed situation, she decided from now on she would have to switch shoes after work, from her favourite heels, to a lesser loved pair. There was no two ways about it. But at least then there would be absolutely no danger of ruining a two-hundred pound pair of Jimmy Choos, upon her arrival at Greenwood farm. Of course she wouldn’t mention this to Gillian, God no, otherwise her Christmas present to her might end up a new pair of wellingtons.

In the open court yard of the farm, the wind was biting cold and encouraged the headteacher to hurry up the stairs to the relative safety and comfort of the house. Caroline cursed under her breath as the wind wreaked havoc with her hair, and the cold crept up her legs, underneath her woefully-inappropriate-for-farm-life pencil skirt. The British weather was really giving its all this year to live up to its reputation. Well in the grip of Winter already, it only took Caroline to stay late at work by an hour - like today - and night had already fallen. Preparations for this year’s Nativity were gathering steam and - being the hands-on headmistress she was - there was no way Caroline would allow the theatre department to shoulder the burden all on their own. Working late would usually have required a lot of planning for a single parent such as herself, but things had gotten a lot easier, recently.

“Hiya Caz,“ Gillian called from the lounge, when Caroline closed the front door of the farm house behind her and smiled at the chipper greeting.

“Hiya!“ She called back and pushed her soaked shoes into a corner. With any luck, Gillian wouldn’t spot them and she could deal with them later. The sheep farmer would only get suspicious if she lingered in the hallway for too long. “Evening,“ Caroline smiled as she stepped into the living room. Flora and Calamity were sitting on the sofa in front of the tv, dressed in pyjamas. She walked over to them, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head and then, for good measure, repeated the gesture on Calamity. The girls were the closest of friends and since Caroline and Flora had moved in at the farm, they had become closer still - almost like real siblings - and Caroline had found herself treating them as such with increasing frequency.

“Wet out, is it?“ Gillian smirked, observing Caroline’s dishevelled head of hair, drawing her attention. The sheep farmer was leaning against the kitchen counter, mug in hand, assessing her over the rim of it.

“What’s this?“ Caroline raised her eyebrows, as she spotted two - and only two! - places set at the kitchen table, complete with wine glasses.

“Girls have eaten. Just having a bit of telly before bed,“ Gillian explained, nodding towards the pre-schoolers that were engrossed in their cartoons. “Lasagne is in oven, thought you might be hungry, with your long day n’all.“

“You made lasagne?“ Caroline asked, though it sounded more bewildered than she had intended. It wasn’t uncommon that Gillian would cook for all of them. She was the one at home, her work was here, it made sense. Caroline was a woman of science, of hard facts, so she liked things to make sense. But for some reason, coming home to Gillian Greenwood - who had cooked for her and looked after her daughter - was still something of curiosity, despite empirical evidence to the contrary. Caroline was still not quite used to it, no matter how much sense it made.

Caroline had managed to convince Gillian of the sense behind them pooling their resources not long after she had floated the idea for the first time. Her and Flora moved in at the farm a month ago, and much to everyone’s surprise - and her mother’s dismay - it worked surprisingly well. This was not the first time she had come home to a cooked meal, it was becoming a regular occurrence, so Caroline was at a loss as to why this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was the absence of Raff and Ellie who - as Caroline now remembered - had been invited to Ellie’s mother’s to parade around the little one. Perhaps it was because there were only two places set at the table. Or perhaps it was the warmth of Gillian’s chuckled as she replied:

“Well, had to make something.“

“You really didn’t have to, I don’t… expect to come home to a home cooked meal every day,“ Caroline felt obliged to state, just for the record, though she knew that Gillian would do whatever the bloody hell she wanted anyway. It wasn’t like Caroline - or anyone else for that matter - had any bearing on what this infuriatingly independent and bull-headed woman did or didn’t do.

“Nice though, innit,“ the sheep farmer shot back with surprising enthusiasm. “Guess that was part of the deal. Least I can do, mind the kids and cook you some tea.“ She gave a shrug like it was nothing; when to Caroline, it was a huge deal. This wasn’t something she would have admitted to, of course; just as she wouldn’t have admitted that there was something very appealing about coming home to Gillian.

“I’m not expecting you to pretend to be my stay-at-home housewife or something, Gillian,“ Caroline tried to brush it off with a joke.

“You better not. Cause that’s not me,“ Gillian retorted with good-natured humour, and it struck Caroline that she was a far cry from the tense, short-fused woman she’d met seven years ago. It was moments such as these, that the headteacher realised how much she had changed. Healing would be too strong a word for it; Caroline couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly heal from what Gillian had been through, but she seemed to be doing, better. She seemed more comfortable in her own skin, and more comfortable with her life. Secretly, Caroline hoped she had contributed to her wellbeing in some small way; even if it was just by giving her the security that she wouldn’t have to give up the farm.

“Don’t I know it,“ Caroline chuckled. “Wine, too, is it?“ She picked up the bottle on the table and checked the label. It was one of her favourites and for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether Gillian had remembered, or if they’d still had that bottle lying round somewhere. “Is there a special occasion? One month since we moved in?“ It wasn’t like she had been counting…well, she had. But only to be able to lord it over her mother about how long they had managed to stay under the same roof, without tearing each other’s heads off…or each other’s clothes…she added as an after thought. But only for her own amusement, not for public consumption.

“I guess I just…wanted to say thank you…for agreeing to this,“ Gillian huffed, suddenly appearing self-conscious, as if she wondered whether she had made a mistake. Caroline felt guilty immediately. For someone with self-esteem as fragile as Gillian, doubts came quickly, and cut deep.

“It was my idea! It’s to both of our advantage. I couldn’t have carried on the way it was, particularly now that our parents aren’t…able…to help as much as before…“ Caroline was quick to assure her. It had made a lot of sense, and she was glad she had managed to persuade Gillian of the proposal’s merit. Even once their parents had volunteered the money to pay for the work on the roof, it didn’t change the fact that Gillian was barely breaking even financially. Certainly not with the sheep that had escaped a few months ago, and once Raff and Ellie moved out - which was only a matter of time - they wouldn’t be contributing anymore, either. Gillian needed someone with her, and Caroline was more than happy to be that person, for numerous reasons. Some of them she cared to discuss, like the practicalities of it, some she would keep to herself, thank you very much.

“Just wanted to say, I do appreciate it, Caz,“ Gillian interrupted and held her hands up, as if she just had to get that out there - and would shut up now that it was said. “And I hope you’re not gonna regret it.“

“Gillian, we’ve known each other seven years now,“ Caroline couldn’t help but point out, as she set the bottle of wine back down on the table. “Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs, but all things considered, I think we’re about as steady as our parents, don’t you think?“ She gave her a soft smile. They really had come an incredibly far way since they first laid eyes on each other. To this day, Caroline was still embarrassed about her behaviour on the day they’s met, and was beyond relieved that with time, Gillian had come to see the funny side of the whole thing.

“Suppose so. Just without the sex,“ Gillian snickered and took a sip of her tea, hiding her grin in her mug as she seemed to relax again.

“I don’t want to think about our parents having sex, thank you very much!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and quickly turned to check the girls hadn’t accidentally overheard. To her relief, she found them still very much engrossed in their tv show.

“God no. I don’t know if they still can, I mean, at their age…“ Gillian huffed, matter-of-factly. “And with his heart too, better mind his blood pressure hadn’t he… Mind you, probably wouldn’t be worst way t’go. Right in throes of…“

“Yes, right. That’s it, change of subject please!“ Caroline shook her head vehemently and Gillian laughed.

“Go and get changed, didn’t mean to ambush you, it’ll keep.“ She gestured to the oven. “I’ll get little ones in bed.“

“If you’re sure.“ Caroline glanced at the clock. She hadn’t realised how late it was. “How about bath time?“

“All this fun stuff you miss out on when you work late. It’s done and dusted. Go on. You don’t wanna be throwing lasagne down that fancy blouse o’ yours,“ Gillian observed, nodding towards her cream blouse.

“Right.“ Caroline gave a soft smile and watched the sheep farmer gulp down the rest of her tea, before sitting it down in the sink.

“You want me to make you a cuppa first?“ Gillian asked, seemingly confused as to why Caroline hadn’t taken her up on the offer yet, instead lingering in the kitchen.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll have wine if that’s going,“ Caroline answered quickly, snapping out of her moment of marvelling at how bloody perfect life was right about now to retrieve the corkscrew.

“Well, you know where everything is by now, don’t you. It’s your home too,“ Gillian observed, with an ease that astounded Caroline, that Gillian didn’t seem to think anything of. She just headed to the sofa where she put an arm around each of the girls from behind. “Right you two monsters, show’s over, off to bed wi’ you,“ she announced, leaving Caroline to forget all about the wine. She just watched the display of perfect family life in awe.

——

“Is it bad that I’m sort of looking forward to Raff and Ellie moving out?“ Caroline mused, watching Gillian’s reaction over the rim of her wine glass. “With the baby and everything, the walls aren’t exactly thick.“

“You knew that before moving in,“ Gillian pointed out. She wasn’t unkind about it, she was amused if nothing else.

“Yes, and I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think I’d be doing this still, at gone fifty, I mean…I’m just glad Flora is through the worst of it now.“ Even now, there were still times where Caroline wondered whether she was too old for all this. She had two grown up sons, starting again with Flora and doing it all on her own had been tough. Thankfully, finally, she wasn’t alone anymore. It wasn’t exactly the traditional family set-up she would have longed for, but she knew Gillian would be everything Flora needed in a second parent. She could also be everything Caroline needed in a partner, but that was just wishful thinking on the headteacher’s part. She would content herself with the way things were, as it was shaping up to be everything she wanted, just sadly minus the romance.

“Nowt saying William or Lawrence couldn’t have started early,“ Gillian retorted and Caroline laughed:

“William? Please!“ They were on their third glass of red and Caroline was feeling warm and relaxed. Her reactions had lost the restraint and reservedness she usually maintained with people, even the ones closest to her. “And Lawrence needs to seriously work out whatever he is doing with his life. And with Angus!“ She had often wondered about his relationship with his best friend. At this point, things could go either way.

“Fair. Not much of a chance of getting knocked up there,“ Gillian chuckled.

“Raff’s done alright though, hasn’t he. Becoming a dad so young and still seeing through his education and getting a good job at the end of it, it’s quite the accomplishment,“ Caroline smiled and delighted in the way Gillian’s face brightened with pride.

“He’s a good boy, our Raff,“ she commented, and Caroline was determined to push the matter over the finish line:

“That’s a credit to you. He couldn’t have done it without your support,“ she added kindly, as she put her cutlery down. Dinner had been a delight, but then by this point, Gillian could have probably fed her anything and she would have thanked her with a dreamy eyed smile. Caroline felt the warmth radiating from her cheeks; a combination of wine, the fire going in the adjoining room, and her own conflicted feelings towards her step sister. For the sake of her own sanity, she refused to refer to her as that whenever possible, particularly in her own head.

“More like in spite of me,“ Gillian huffed, her mood swinging like a pendulum. She had been much more steady in recent years, but that wasn’t to say she was free of the crippling self-doubt that always chose the most inopportune moments to rear its ugly head. “Never would’ve happened wi’ someone else. Not like your boys went and knocked up their girlfriend, is it.“

“Don’t be ridiculous,“ Caroline cut in quickly, but Gillian just downed the rest of her wine and carried on:

“You know it’s true, ‘as bad as his mother’ is what they were saying, and if they weren’t, they were thinking it.“ She gave a bitter laugh that stood in stark contrast to the carefree atmosphere they had enjoyed.

“You have many flaws, Gillian, it’s part of your charm, but being a bad mother? That’s certainly not one of them.“ Caroline was quick and decisive, in intervening. There had been times where she had been quite happy to shoot a snide comment her way herself, but not anymore.

“Hm.“ Gillian’s response was minimal, which indicated to Caroline that she hadn’t listened or taken in what she’d said.

“It’s not!“ She insisted firmly.

“Alright!“ Gillian exclaimed, exasperated.

“Do you think I’d have come here, to live with you, having you help look after my daughter, if I didn’t think you were a good mother and a good person?“ Caroline leaned forward onto her elbows, regarding the farmer with a stern look that she had perfected in many years of teaching.

“’suppose not.“ Gillian folded, just as one of Caroline’s six-formers would have done.

“Well then.“ The headteacher straightened herself up again and proceeded to divide the rest of the bottle in between their two glasses.

“Their faces. When you told them.“ Gillian suddenly burst out laughing and Caroline grinned, recalling the conversation in vivid detail. The pendulum that was Gillian’s emotional well-being, had swung back around.

“Of all the stupid, stupid videos Lawrence has done… that would have been the moment to capture,“ she shook her head to herself, remembering how comical and surreal the whole thing had been.

“It was your Mum more than me Dad, that face she pulled!“ Gillian couldn’t stop laughing; it was infectious and prompted Caroline to launch into a scarily accurate imitation of her mother:

“Caroline, you can’t really be considering moving to a farm, and HER farm of all places. Is that any way for Flora to grow up? What if she…catches something or…“ Caroline could hardly breathe for laughing. “Honestly Mum, what is she gonna catch? Fresh air?“

“Touch of the common farmer, more like,“ Gillian grimaced, but she didn’t seem to care, not really.

“Like she’s never stayed here herself.“ Caroline rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy.

“I think she was more concerned with me, than the farm,“ Gillian pointed out, taking a deep breath to calm herself down - but her face continued cracking up and gave her away.

“Well obviously.“ Caroline just waved it off. They were both used to her mother’s strong opinions, and readily chose to ignore them.

“What will you be doing with Gillian around all the time?“ Gillian tried herself at Celia’s accent which caused Caroline to launch into another laughing fit.

“I don’t know, Mum, maybe we will have a wild sapphic love affair,“ she reprised her witty response with tears of laughter in her eyes.

“You nearly gave her a heart attack an’all,“ Gillian snickered.

“Well, it’s none of her business.“ Caroline took a deep breath, regaining some small measure of self control. “And really, she only has herself to blame. If she hadn’t been on at your Dad about lending you that money, and then telling me they wouldn’t be picking up Flora anymore, none of this would have happened.“

“So really, we should be thanking her, shouldn’t we.“ Gillian grinned after brief contemplation. “To your mother.“ She raised her glass and Caroline toasted her:

“I’ll drink to that.“

The evening wore on, and just as they contemplated opening a third bottle, Raff and Ellie returned with the baby, who was sleeping soundly in his car seat. Thank God for small favours, Caroline thought. They had cleared up from dinner and were lounging on the sofa with the telly on.

“Mum. Caz. Alright?“ Raff greeted them.

“Had a good evening?“ Gillian asked, looking around.

“Yeah great thanks,“ Ellie smiled in response and made her way up the stairs with the little one.

“You watching University Challenge, Mum?“ Raff asked, bemused, as he noticed the program they were watching.

“Through no fault of my own!“ Gillian was quick to point out. She shot Caroline a look who was sitting to the other end of the sofa.

Caroline considered it a safe distance, but not as safe as the other sofa would have been. It was one small thing she allowed herself. It was innocent enough, and Gillian didn’t seem to think twice when their legs intertwined on the two-seater.

The sheep farmer carried on explaining their television agreement to her son: “We compromise, see, she gets to watch something she wants and then I get to watch something I want.“

“Trust her to chose the most obnoxious thing she can possibly find, just to wind me up,“ Caroline interjected but without averting her eyes from the screen. She mumbled the answer to yet another obscure question under her breath.

“Sounds about right,“ Raff chuckled and Gillian leaned over the back of the sofa to slap her son’s arm.

“Remember, it’s a school night,“ she pointed her finger at him.

“Bit rich coming from you.“ He eyed their empty wine glasses. “I feel like the alcohol consume in this house has sky rocketed in the past month.“

“Yeah, well, got to knock ourselves out somehow between the baby crying and you two going at it,“ Gillian quipped, and returned her attention to the television as well.

“You’re just jealous cause you haven’t go a fella right now,“ Raff teased.

“Yeah well, I’m over that for the time being,“ Gillian gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Think you’ve finally gone through all the eligible bachelors in West Yorkshire?“ Caroline saw an opportunity to jump in and tried her best to keep the smallest twang of jealousy from her voice.

“And some of the ineligible ones too,“ Raff added, with a smirk.

“OI!“ Gillian exclaimed, shooting him a glare and kicked Caroline’s leg for siding with him.

“I’d better see if Ellie needs some help…“ Raff was quick to make his escape.

“Yeah, you’d better,“ his mother shouted after him.

“I have to say, you have come a long way since we met. From having three blokes you’re shagging staying over in this place,“ Caroline couldn’t help but comment, recalling the fateful night their parents had gone missing and they had stayed at the farm with Gillian’s three merry men - Paul, John and Robbie - all crammed onto these sofas.

“Bet you wouldn’t have come to stay then, would’ya,“ Gillian hummed, her voice surprisingly neutral.

“Could have joined that exclusive club,“ Caroline smirked, the alcohol loosening her tongue enough to make a joke, one too close to the truth for comfort. She forced herself not to think about what else she could be doing with her tongue right about now.

“Caz!“ Gillian exclaimed, and the headteacher couldn’t quite tell whether she was offended, self-conscious or flattered.

“It really is easy to tease you,“ Caroline back-peddled to safer waters.

“Yeah well, you’re living with Yorkshire’s greatest slapper so jokes on you,“ Gillian huffed. “Watch your f-bloody University Challenge.“

“Hm, yes, what will people think,“ Caroline chuckled and did as she was told.

#last tango in halifax #gillian x caroline #gillian greenwood #caroline mckenzie dawson #domestic fluff #useless lesbians #nicola walker #sarah lancashire #femslash #friends to lovers

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magicman111 · 3 years

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A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren��t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

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the-headbop-wraith · 3 years

Text

2_26 Reoccurring Theme

“It’s a gorgeous day,” Vivi greeted, when Arthur returned. Plumes of thick white mist trailed from the Styrofoam cups carried in either of his hands, and between his fingers he clutched the plastic lids. Both were coffee, something she wasn’t fanatical for but sometimes the taste of it could knock her back on her feet.

Vivi sat on the vans back bumper, computer on her lap with its small universe of tabs and websites opened. She absentmindedly cycled through the windows, passing the time and watching the day reach momentum. Her night had been full of research and data, theories and sudden outbursts of intriguing facts to share with the others; Arthur was spent in the first fifteen minutes but Lewis had kept up with her until fatigue won at last. She was almost convinced she had exhausted what resources were available – legends and rumors ranged from the old like La Llorona, to the sketchy Slender man – the prospects for missing children always distressing, the dire truth of what they sought.

Arthur sat the cups down beside Vivi, then reached into one pocket and pulled out handfuls upon handfuls of sugar and honey packets, along with another package of gum. “How’d you sleep?” he began. He stretched out his fingers over the little pile of packets and took a breath. He could tell Vivi was watching, though she didn’t show it.

“Good. It got cold last night,” she said, with a yawn. “How were you?”

Nearly all of the honey packets went into one coffee cup. Arthur stirred it and handed it to Vivi. “Could’ve been better,” he admitted. “I don’t do well in this weather. Ugh!” He went to the sugar next, tearing the little packets apart and haphazardly dumping the white silt into his cup. “My eyeballs feel like swollen grapes.” For emphasis he rubbed at his eyes with the armband on his metal wrist.

“It‘s cause you‘re so skinny.” Vivi blew on her cup and tried to sip her beverage. She winced when the hot liquid hit her tongue. “You can afford to eat more.”

Arthur shrugged, with his good shoulder, and raised his cup. “I try?” Vivi looked at him. “I have a high metabolism?”

“Okay-okay.” She smiled. The hot cup in her hands felt good seeping through her palms, and the warm mist spilled over her knuckles. “All that running you do.” She swirled the dark liquid around.

“Don’t blame that. It’s the only way I can stay out of trouble.” Arthur carefully stirred his coffee and raised the cup to his lips -

A shriek sliced across the parking lot, followed by a barrage of barks. Dimitri’s voice hollered out in a panic, but whatever was said couldn’t seep through the thick walls around the doors of the van. Arthur snorted into his cup sending hot liquid splattering over his metal hand.

“Bloody hell, I should’a known better!” he stammered. He passed the cup to his good hand and shook his dripping hand. “It’s hard to clean this!”

Vivi set her cup and the laptop aside and snatched at Arthur’s hand. “You’ll get it in the seams.” She pulled the sleeve of her coat over her palm and soaked up the excess liquid. “Lemme have the cup. Hurry.”

A dark shape flew by, pursued by two smaller forms. Mystery was barking up a storm, racing after Dimitri and Lewis. “He’s gonna get you!” Lewis chimed out, skipping ahead. Dimitri was too busy ducking and dodging Mystery’s erratic charges to see the bright sparks kicked up around Lewis’ feet. “Careful Dimitri, look out!” And Mystery yapped and bounced around the boy.

“Help me Lews’s! Help!” The three charged by the van, Mystery’s hyper yips fading.

“I don’t think I can!” Lewis called back, still skipping, always a step ahead of the two, or at least Dimitri.

Vivi sprint around the vans side. “Lewis! What have I told you about teasing Mystery! I won’t tolerate it!”

“I didn’t start it this time, I swear!” yelled Lewis, as Dimitri ducked around his side. “Whoa, careful! Watch it!”

The three sprinted into the empty lot between the motel and an antique shop, the grounds coated in browning grass and snatches of green weeds struggling under the biting cold. A piece of cement hidden in the grass caught Dimitri’s leg and he went tumbling, on top of Mystery when the dog darted under his fall. The two rolled over and over, as Lewis trots to a halt.

“Help!” Dimitri yelped. “He’s got me, he won’t let me go!” Mystery put his paws across Dimitri’s chest and nipped at the boys hands as he tried to push him off. Finally, Dimitri jostles Mystery off his perch, but the dog refuses to move away and settles to roll over onto his back across Dimitri’s lap. “Save me?”

Arthur steps up beside Vivi and gestures to the group. “Ah, look at our children,” he said, imitating a sharp Irish accent. “Don’t they make ye proud.”

“Mystery! You better settle down! You don’t know your own strength.” Vivi smirked. “Not often he acts like a dog, hmm?” She watched as Arthur flexed his fingers, working out the stickiness that held to his joints. “I’m not wrong to think,” her voice trailed off, and Vivi shook her head. “I’m not sure… what we’re gonna find, but… this has been good for us. For Dimitri. Looking at him, you wouldn’t imagine what he’s hiding from.”

Arthur hummed a sound, and looked past his hand. “I can’t get it off my mind.”

“I know.”

“Going back now, I dunno. It’ll hurt him,” Arthur murmured. “He’s past mourning. That’s all it is.” He remembered leaving the mansion, Vivi’s sorrow. Not reliving, but experiencing it for the first time. In a way that was cruel.

Arthur listened to the happy shrieks. “This is a mistake,” he muttered. “You know that. Maybe it’s not too late, we could – ” Vivi called out, bulldozing through his words.

“Are you three ready?” Vivi called. “I know you’ve got some important business going on there, but the coffee’s getting cold.” Arthur sighed. Across the road, simultaneous groans wound out from the three.

Arthur takes stock of Vivi’s wistful stare on Lewis, as the tall figure hoists Dimitri out from under Mystery and dashes away. Mystery gives chase. “I’m taking a wild guess here, and say that Lewis didn’t realize how much he missed his sisters.”

Vivi stiffened and jerked to Arthur. She mouthed a ‘What?’ and gathered up handfuls of her blue hair. “The obituary didn’t mention… shit, did it mention that? Why wouldn‘t I see— ?” She exhales and drags her hands over her eyes. Arthur waits, grimacing, as Vivi wrestles control over her face. In the meantime, Dimitri is screaming as Mystery snaps at his feet. “He never talks about them.”

Arthur blinked and pulled his fists up in front of his chest. “No, I guess he wouldn’t.” He paused and thought it over, and murmured, mostly to himself, “Some small kindness.”

“I’ll feel better,” Vivi murmured, as she fixed her hairband back in place. “You too. Once we get settled and take a look around.” That was her hope. She did her best to smile as a calamity of barks and giggles crashed towards them. In the lead pranced Mystery, yapping and panting a wispy white trail as Lewis pursued.

“I think you’re safe now,” Lewis said. Dimitri was hanging from his left arm, well above Mystery’s head. “What’s up?” He lowered his arm when Dimitri let go.

“Watch out for the coffee,” Arthur choked, as he hurried to catch Mystery at the bumper. Dimitri stumbled after them wheezing in pace with the dog. “Think you can endure another hour of hurry up and waiting?”

“Meh,” Dimitri quipped. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

Lewis waited until Dimitri and Arthur climbed into the van, then turned to Vivi and slanted his brow behind the thick tint of the sunglasses. “Is everything okay?”

Vivi nods. “We were just talking. Mostly about where to stop along the way.” She points out Lewis’ arm, where the sleeve of his jacket was pulled back revealing a portion of his wrist. A small peep escaped Vivi, and she snapped a hand up to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look.”

Lewis recoiled slightly and put a hand to his frayed sleeve. “No-no, you’re fine. I’m— Did I upset you?”

Vivi shook her head behind her hand. “Never.” She squint her eyes, as if she wanted to close them. “How could you ask such a thing?”

There were two possible reactions Lewis had anticipated. One, Vivi would have been all over him with the questions and the ogling, probably the more favored outcome. Or, she would have been repulsed by his thin veil; the latter scenario Lewis doubted but, he didn’t like mirrors.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lewis twittered. But it did matter, it mattered to Vivi. She hadn’t moved. What was it? He tugged at the sleeve of his jacket and let his ethereal suggestion calm, recoil. “Did you…. wanna see?”

At first Vivi wouldn’t answer, she refused to look at Lewis. “Am I allowed? I mean, you don’t mind? Oh… wait - ”

“Relax. Look.” Lewis unbuttoned the jacket sleeve and pulled it back over his arm. He took Vivi’s other hand when she began to raise it to her chin. “I’m telling you,” he said, gently. “It’s okay.” He moved her hand to the underside of his wrist. “See. Just, y’know, me.”

Vivi pressed her lips together as she smiled. She lowered her other hand down and set it over Lewis’ arm. “I wasn’t worried. I know it’s you,” she said. It was funny in a laughable sort of way, that Lewis’ reluctance was based wholly on his assumption she could somehow not accept him. “I didn’t want you to do anything you weren’t ready for. How do I say this?” She gripped his arm and frowned. “I can get ‘a little’ excited when it comes to the paranormal stuff, but you’re not just a ghost. This is different. I don‘t want to force you into situations you‘re not comfortable with. You don’t always let me know when it bothers you, though sometimes I can tell, but still I forget….”

“You‘re perfect, Vi,” Lewis said. He clasped her hands in his and leaned down to kiss her knuckles. “You worry too much. Don’t do that, I—” He stopped and the frown returned to his brow. He studied her carefully. “You’re under a lot of stress, and staying up late hasn’t helped.”

“You figure?” Vivi chuckles. “Research has no end.” She traced the bleached segments over his fingers with her thumb. A low rumble emitted from Lewis.

“That feels nice,” he said. She was about to say something, but Lewis snapped his head up. Vivi spun around.

“Ooh, uh….” Arthur stuttered, head poking out just past the door. “Sorry, um…. You guys ready…?”

“Yes,” Vivi mumbled. “Yeah. He’s right, we should – we should get going.” She released Lewis’ hands and backed away. “We’ll continue… later?”

Lewis caught the direction of Arthur‘s gaze and quickly fixed the sleeve of his jacket. “Yes,” said the ghost. “I mean, later then….that is.” He let his voice sputter off. Vivi was already gone, inside the van. Thumps and bumping roved around, as the passengers organized themselves and their belongings. Lewis went to the driver side door. Voices muttered around; one was hissing, it sounded like Arthur. Then Dimitri’s groan:

“Were they kissing?”

Lewis’ hand slipped through the doors latch. Meanwhile, the brief chatter of excitement flared up within - Myster’s yips along with, ’what have you told him’ and ’I said nothing,’ among other variations of those two phrases and the confusion that ignited. It took a few attempts by Lewis before he was able to grip the handle and get the door open. He began to have doubts once he was situated behind the steering wheel. He waited until Arthur and Vivi’s ‘conversation’ had drawn to an awkward lull.

“Art.” Lewis tried to remove the hitch in his tone, but he lacked the will. “Could you drive for a bit?” He glanced into the back when the others went quiet.

“You mean for the rest of the way?” Arthur said. Lewis scooted over, and Arthur plopped down in the driver seat. He leaned over to set his Styrofoam cup in the holder and checked the other cup slot for the keys. They keys were already in the ignition.

“No,” Lewis said. He looked at his hands as Arthur turned the key. The van roared to life and Arthur toggled the gas pedal, before letting the brooding purr settle into its rhythm. “I don’t feel too… hmm, set. On the driving.” He paused. “Estamos bien?”

Arthur reversed the van, but before leaving the car lot he took the time to fiddle with the radio, cycling through the parched static and high-low of songs and commercial jingles. “What?”

“Look up?” Lewis hissed. Arthur sighed and craned his head up, enough to catch the edge of the ghost in his peripheral. “I’ll be right here. Are you cool with that?”

Arthur flopped back and stared at Lewis. “Y-yeah, I wouldn’t ask—” Arthur took a breath and tightened his fist on the steering wheel. “Whatever you want.” He made a point to lean far over in his seat to see the side mirror as he turned the van, and navigated them from the motels parking lot. By late noon, the amber transport was merged with traffic, traveling on a stretch of road beneath clouds darkening in the distance.

After Arthur, Vivi drove, then, it was Arthur again, the two of them alternating between each stop. If traffic wasn’t bad or they weren’t in the cities, Dimitri could sit up front and watch the scenery. There was a big fuss over finding where the seatbelt had gone for the middle seat, until Vivi managed to drag it out from between the seats. The miles flew by. A blink and it was five gone, a short nap and over a fifty more now in the past.

Open plains and fields of farmland thinned out, cattle, ravaged fields of dirt were soon gone. Trees became numerous and tall, and suddenly the road was surrounded by thick groves of oaks, here and between the large meadow filled with shrubs and creeping vines. It was familiar territory for Dimitri but unwelcomed. He remembered the same landscape when they had moved – tall trees, meadows at the edge of open paths through the woods, enticing the curious explorer; wild groves that adventures could explore for years and never find their way out from; wilderness that could never be tamed by man and his civilization. His father might disagree, but what did his father know?

As the clouds thickened the chill became unbearable, and Dimitri figured couldn’t be much worse in the back. Traffic was getting thick anyway and soon one of the two, Arthur or Lewis, would gently request he relocate himself. He didn’t mind, though he hadn’t let on how much he despised cops at this point. They hadn’t caught onto his hints, anyhow.

Vivi raised her head from Mystery when Dimitri lowered himself from the seat. A bit of gauze was wound around the dogs paw, but upon seeing their new company Mystery gave Vivi’s hair a lick and stepped over to Dimitri. Vivi had warned him the dog liked chicken, and a chicken sandwich was what Dimitri had been nibbling on for the past hour.

“You had your own,” Dimitri muttered. He held his sandwich out of Mystery’s reach as he moved to the vans back.

Mystery sat down and flattened his ears back. True, but it wasn’t yours. The dog raised his bandage paw for inspection.

Vivi sniggered, and returned to the work laid out atop a flattened grocery bag. Dimitri half expected some comment about, how finishing his sandwich would save him the trouble. But none of them ever said such things. Instead, Vivi focused on the shiny piece of rock or crystal she whittled at while she wasn’t driving.

Layers of notebooks and a few open texts lay open around the blue clothed girl, which she glanced at frequently under the pale glow of the camping lamp beside her. A small brown case near her knees was filled with various small tools, needles, knives, some Dimitri didn’t recognize. Vivi’s scarf was tightened around her lower face and she wore a pair of goggles. The plastic bag was filled with dust and chunks of glittery bits of the rock/crystal. Whenever the van hit a bump or rough spot the camping lamp flashed, threatening its impending annoyance. Vivi kept her hands steady throughout this, but nicks were impossible to avoid.

Dimitri watched her work for a bit as he munched his food. He didn’t look at the dog as he nudged Mystery away. “So, what’s it?” he asked, at last.

Vivi took a dirty buff cloth and rubbed away some of the excess powder from the stones surface. “Don’t get too close, the dust is really bad for you,” she warned. “It’s a kind of totem. For protection.” She took the smaller knife and carved along grooves in the surface. “Some people have animal guides, sometimes it’s a plant that offers prosperity. Or words, words can be very powerful.”

Dimitri nodded as he chewed on his sandwich. “A girl called me a rotten toad once,” he said, around a mouthful of chicken and bread. “Made me feel like trash.”

Vivi tries not to laugh. At least he couldn’t see her smirk under the sweater. “Not what I meant, but I think you get the point.” She took a stiff cloth and rubbed it over the stones grooves. “Would you hand over my bag?”

Dimitri took the indicated bag from beside the vans wall and shoved it over. “You really believe this hocus pocus, voodoo stuff?” He poked at one of the cuvees stuffed with wrapped bundles of sage, and rolled rice paper. They had so much stuff, some of it packed away in Tupperware, most of it he’d never seen.

“Unwavering belief isn’t a requirement, but it does help.” Vivi pulled out a container of water and used it to rinse the rock off. The carved sides darken and it glisten under the light of the lamp. She put the water container away, and produced a small wooden box. From the box she pulled forth a few strands of metal, chains. “This is for you.” She ran one of the chains through the small hole in the rocks pointed tip, and blew over its surface as the water dries.

“Um… thanks,” Dimitri murmured. He took the offered stone/crystal, he wasn’t sure. It was flat on one side, and the new carvings on the surfaces were sharp along the deepened grooves. “Are you sure? You spent a long time on this? I’m not supposed to accept stuff from strangers.” Dimitri shut his mouth and stared at Vivi, puzzled by his own words. Vivi had already taken off the goggles, and was collecting the bag of powder with its chunks of rock. She was laboriously careful not to let the contents go everywhere as she rolled up the bag. “You’ve done -”

“Shh,” Vivi hissed, and held up a finger. “This might be the most important thing you ever own.” She shuffled over and took the stone in his hands, and moved his finger to trace along the smoothed edges. “I’ve seen this rune in many books. It offers protection from those that wish to harm. Keep it safe, and it will help keep you safe.” She took the two ends of the chain and connected them behind his head.

Dimitri held the stone at chains length and turned it around. He had his doubts about a piece of rock, but he could appreciate the skill and uniqueness that created it. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered.

Mystery was inches from where his half eaten sandwich was held low beside Dimitri, and momentarily unguarded. The dog frowned and sat back. You’re not interested in finishing it. He tilts his head and flicked an ear when Vivi cursed under her breath.

The lamp kept honest to its threats and went out. “Stupid short,” Vivi groaned. She pat its side, and the light flashed a few times, but ultimately went out for good in the end. “Batteries.” Mystery had already retrieved the rumpled shopping bag and tiptoed over to Vivi. She paused to gather up the carving tools and stuffed the small brown case back into her bag. “Thank you,” Vivi said, and gave Mystery a scratch behind the ear. “But stop trying to take his food.” Mystery grinned.

“Heads up, we’re getting into the town now,” Lewis called. He spun around in his seat and draped his arm along the bench seats backside. Dimitri wilted a bit. “You want to… sit up front?”

It felt like years – could it have been years? Dimitri stared at what was visible of the cold gray sky through the tilted windshield, and felt ill inside. He pulled the folds of his coat tighter around his sides and lowered his head from Lewis’ gaze. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “It’s nothing new.” That day had been a dreary, gray sky too, rain pouring as he ran, like in some cliché movie.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Lewis hummed, gesturing with his palm. Not for the first time, Dimitri found himself unable to look away from the gloved hand. Something was off about it, but he couldn’t place what.

Vivi finished cleaning up, and shoved the little camping lamp aside. She had half a mind to kick it. “Where are we exactly?” she prompted, as she crept up on the bench seat.

“A main road,” Arthur mumbled, through his gum. He blew a small bubble and let it pop. “If I know roads, it cuts right through. Traffics heavy.” He eased on the brake when a car decided to streak across the lane in front of them. “Stupid ass— ”

“Language,” Lewis rattled.

High in the sky the clouds had turned dark, ashy. The hour wasn’t late but the winter months had come fast and the temperature was on a steady decline. The numerous roads that crisscrossed over the main highway were surrounded by brown patches of yards, and trees gone bare. The town was in the gulley of the valley with larger forests and meadows lurking in the distance, bleeding together in gray woodlands and snippets of small neighborhoods.

“Is the heater even on?” Vivi asked, voice misting.

Arthur leaned over and tugged at the air vents. “Yeah,” he said, doubt in his voice. “I think the weather report mentioned snow, or sleet. You think the backs cold, try sitting between these windows.” For emphasis he shuddered and raised his flesh hand to his face and blew on his knuckles.

Dimitri gave Mystery the rest of his sandwich and knelt near Vivi, far enough below the backseat that he couldn’t glance up to see out the windows. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“I’m wondering about that,” Vivi spoke, voice thoughtful. She adjusts her glasses, and looked down at Dimitri. “Do you want us to drop you off at your house? You can get a good nights rest in your own bed, check in with your parents?” It wasn’t idea to send Dimitri off on his own, and take a chance his parents renewing a frantic search for his ‘abductors,’ or people tying the van in with his reappearance. She missed the short glance Lewis sent her way.

Dimitri shook his head. Mystery curled up beside him, and the boy strokes the dog’s fluffy mane. “I’m not ready for that,” he whispered. “I don’t care if I have to sleep on a bench in some park, I -”

“It’s fine,” Vivi assured. “Let’s find a room for Dimitri tonight, and pick up a map of the town.” Dimitri nods slowly. “I have a motel in mind, but we should stop for directions. The laptop cra— bugged out before I could write up a map.”

The van needed gas anyway. While they were stopped Arthur fueled up and Vivi went into the store for directions, and came back with the map. Traffic began spilling off the main road at a steady rate, provoking Arthur to relocate the van to the other side of the quick marts parking lot, and out of sight.

“Another walk?” Vivi asked, as she flattened out the map over the dashboard. She pressed her chin down onto the puffy scarf as she scanned over the lines on the map, a pen in hand.

Arthur was returning with the empty ice box, struggling to fling out the last droplets of water as he moved by the vans open passenger door. “I’m not sure, he didn’t say anything,” called the mechanic. His voice resumed when the back doors creaked open, and Arthur slid in the cooler box. “You know how he does it. I blink and he’s gone. Why do we keep drinks in here? We could store them in the floor compartments.”

The leather jacket was resting on the passenger seat, beside Vivi. She glanced over at the coat, pen dangling from her lips as she mused. The martial of the elbows was getting cracked and stretched, the sleeves and coat edges had become frayed and crispy; the black pieces crumbled between her fingers as she touched it. She held the loose sleeve between the wrist and elbow, and let it drape over her fingers. As far as she knew, it was the only article of ‘clothing’ that Lewis owned.

“You know I like Dimitri,” Arthur said, as he stepped up behind Vivi. “He’s a good kid, and I really want to help, but we’re walking a precarious line.” He put his hands around the headrest and motioned the small map Vivi had pinned over the dashboard. “Now we’re in his hometown, someone is bound to recognize him.”

“I’ve thought it over,” Vivi said. “That’s why we’re leaving him at the motel while we search around. We need to talk to some people, get more information on the kids that’ve gone missing.” She chewed on the pens tip and pondered. There was the story Dimitri gave, and then there were the dangers of seeking answers of their own. Arthur wasn’t wrong in his concerns.

“Someone will see him,” Arthur insisted. “We should find out where he lives and leave him with his folks. It can’t be that hard, there has to be a poster somewhere.”

“We’re not doing that,” Vivi hissed. She glanced back at Arthur with the edge of her eye. “He doesn’t feel safe, and I don’t blame him.”

“I know, honest I do,” Arthur said, and sighed. He rubbed the back of his head, and winced at his own frigid fingers on his skin. “He’s practically lost his kid brother, and he survived by not relying a whole lot on people.” Vivi turned her head more to look at Arthur. “And FYI, he’s started to notice things.”

Vivi resumes scrutinizing the map and tries to focus on the crisscrossing roads, the center square, the names of streets and sub districts. “He hasn’t talked to you?”

“Who? Um,” Arthur paused, and leaned over to look out the open door. “I told him to. Lew took it the wrong way, as usual.” That last bit he muttered to himself. “It worries me he doesn’t, he keeps it to himself.” He watched Vivi as she absorbed herself in the map and gnawed on the pens end. “I can’t say anything, because what if it’s all in my head?” He flung his arms up and snapped them back onto the bench seat.

“Have a little faith, Artie,” she murmured, and circled a spot on the map. “Dimitri’s personal feelings seem stronger than his instincts.”

“That’s the whole point.” Arthur pressed his chin onto the headrest and dug his fingers into his scalp, one set colder than ice on his skin. “Ugh! I don’t care what he thinks, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to believe the stuff we do. But if he gets an idea—”

A sharp pop spat from the radio, followed by soft tunes and garbled static. The vans ceiling light flashed, and Vivi shivered visibly from the sudden chill that crept through her coat. Arthur let out a shrill yowl as he staggered backwards and tumbled around over the floorboard in the back.

“Take it easy,” Lewis chides, voice odd and distorted.

“Why do you do that?” Arthur yelped, breathless. “Always! Always, right next to me.” He cringed back when Lewis leaned towards him, voice rasping through his jaw.

“It’s not like I can do it out there, with people watching.”

Vivi spun around and folded her arms over the seat. “Art does have a point,” she hummed. Arthur’s face turned white, and he ducked down behind Lewis as if looking for something, maybe the ice chest.

“Is that the map?” Lewis’ voice crackled. Vivi pivoted and scooted over, as the ghost slid through the passenger side of the seat. He pulled up the jacket and sort of melted - pulled it on around himself. He paused while zipping up the front, and lay a tender hand over the locket. A moment later he noted Vivi watching him, and pulled his hands back to entwined his fingers together. He directed his index fingers, gun like, toward the map. “You’re making plans.”

Vivi nods. “Were you scouting?” She marked up a line of road over the map.

“I thought about it,” Lewis hummed, his voice coming back more. “But decided better. I’ll wait till tonight, when we know where we’re going.” Vivi smirked. Lewis was still skull faced, but he was moving on to fix that. He turned the rear view mirror towards him and gripped the thin slice of reflection. He glimpsed back at Arthur, once the other had ceased fumbling around. “And no. He won’t find out.” He pulled the sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and fiddled with the handles.

Arthur moved closer to Vivi and set his hands, carefully, over the headrest above her. “It’s not really a life choice, now is it?” The same moment that sentence left his lips, Arthur recoiled. Vivi glance over at Lewis and caught the vivid stark white of his skull through his face, still fresh from the illusion. Arthur withdrew his arms. “Sorry, I’m sorry….” he burbled.

Lewis set a hand over his face and looked aside. “It doesn’t bother me. Seriously, don’t worry about it.” His shape seemed to retract within the coat, or deflate. “Calm down Art, that’s not helping.” Arthur was silent. “It’s getting colder, isn’t it? Don’t you have a coat?” Arthur looked up when Lewis turned to him.

Vivi heaved a breath. These two. “He doesn’t like to wear long sleeves, ‘cause the lint gets into the joints,” she answers. Arthur made a silent motion to rebuke the comment, but Vivi beat him to it. “I dunno why you act like it’s some kind of big secrete! I get it, sleeves make your arm high maintenance.”

“It’s not like that,” Arthur blurted. He glanced at Lewis, who was staring at his artificial limb like it was the first time he’d seen it. “The friction and the static, it—” He snapped his mouth shut when Mystery scraped over the back bumper into the van, not far behind him was Dimitri. Arthur wrenched around at the sudden entrance of the two. “We were waiting for you!”

Lewis fumbled to get his sunglasses on— dropped them, and ducked down to retrieve them off the floorboard. Vivi sighed through her fingers and just gazed up through the windshield, at the darkening sky. “No doubt about it. I place all my confidence in you both.”

A room was rented for Dimitri and he was dropped off with his all worldly possessions, and one Mystery, to keep company and watch. While he was safe and warm, the Mystery Skulls began scouring the small town for clues or guidance to the children’s disappearances. Vivi had one map with the areas marked where the children were seen last, but aside from that not much else. Thus far only Dimitri’s account of what children, some from his own school, had gone missing but not those from the general area of the town.

It was while they were streaking along one of the thoroughfares that Vivi came up with her next idea. “I want to find out if the kids had anything in common, that might’ve led to their abduction.”

“Geez, Vi,” Arthur grumbled. The lights from high streetlamps flash over the two in obnoxious patterns. “You sound like some kind of PI detective.” Vivi didn’t answer, she was focused on the map and the notebook opened up on her lap.

“We are detectives,” Lewis replied. “And professionals.” He was trying to organize the back of the van, a lost cause as far as he was concerned but it helped pass the time.

“Do you wanna drive?” Arthur slipped down in his seat more, anticipating another one of Lewis’ weird scratchy hisses.

A toneless, “No.” was the answer.

An hour later, the Hall of Records was only mere minutes away from closing. The janitor had already made her pass through the glistening halls of polished stone, pristine painted crème walls, and blazing fluorescent lights. The receptionist at the entrance was logging out of his desk computer and packing up his shoulder bag with books and folders. Outside, the sky was already pitch black and the few white and yellow lights barely glimmered through the wintery haze as flakes began to fall. Next pay check he would order one of those thermal coats, the one with the warming pad and the cup holder. All his colleagues had at least one.

The slow tapping of footfalls clicked through the quiet hall, and the receptionist, Dillan, was certain he was not alone. Odd, the front doors should have been latched by the janitor when she began.

“I have a delivery.” Dillan jumped at the voice, and the speaker tensed. “Sorry. Hey, can you sign for it?”

Dillan stared out of his glassed in office at the figure. The person was not very tall and their brown hat hid most the face, but for a goatee that had to be in violation of some sort of dress code. This seemed highly suspicious. “Yes?”

The Delivery man blew a bubble with the gum he chewed and popped it, the snap echoed across the empty corridor that the two alone shared. The Delivery man resumed chewing, and held out a clipboard with a small box perched atop, a crisp address label was stretched across the box. The Delivery man pulls his hat up a bit to look Dillan in the eye. “I’m kind of in a pinch, running late. Are you gonna sign, or not?” He wore white warming sleeves that clashed with his brown shirt and pants, and black gloves.

“Who’s it for?” Dillan inquired. He had already slid the little glass door of his office window open and accepted the clipboard with box through. He scanned over the page clipped down, everything seemed in order. He signed his name.

“Dunno. I don’t tamper with the mail. And initial.” The delivery man indicated a box on the paper with his finger. “Groovy. You have a safe evening, and bundle up.” The man tipped his hat and, with clipboard under arm, and walked right on out.

Dillan watched him leave, then looked at the little box. It had the Hall of Records address, and was labeled Archives. He gave the box a shake and listened to its contents thump inside. It might’ve been more labeling, but it didn’t feel like a box full of labels nor did it look like the boxes for labeling. It had to be something else.

A chill crept up his spine. It was getting late, and he was starving. He locked the office window, but made sure it was secure before he turned away. He took up the small parcel, swung his coat from his chair and slipped it over his shoulders, and stepped out of his office.

Archives were located in the basement levels, and could be reached under one of the large staircases that led to the upper floors. Through the town was too small to afford renovations for the lower, unused levels, the government had seen it fit to update the Archives with a serial database. The computer database was in its own alcove off to the side, guarded by a thick fence bolted into the low ceiling. The rows and shelves of hard copy information stretched beyond into the depths of the basements thick shadows, protected only by a sprinkler system, security cameras, and more tall thick fencing.

Even in mid-winter the corridors of the interior ‘cave’ were warmed by the tireless diligence of the computer network, but that creeping chill seemed to soak into Dillan’s bones no matter where he went. He sprint along the fence to the other side of the room, like a child racing from the hungry beast dwelling in the basement. It was so childish, but he was reminded keenly of his grandpas old home, and that creepy cellar where they had to do laundry in the summer. He’d have spent more time down there since it was the most tolerable place in the entire house temperature wise, but it was so creepy!

Dillan dashed the last yard to the desk with other mail order boxes of supplies, some still unopened and perhaps forgotten. He stuffed the small box among the others and high tailed it out of there. Lucky no one was there to see him scramble up the steps.

The light clicked out and the box remained among its companions, patient, lingering beneath the faint glimmer of the blinking lights of the surveillance cameras above. Throughout the room raised a steady hum from the computer, miniscule fans whirring to gush icy air through broiling circuit boards. The room itself had its own refrigeration unit, separate from the building above.

One by one surveillance cameras fail, beady lights hovering in the ceiling blimp out one by one. The room becomes impossibly dark, but for a softly burning flame drifting down from the ceiling. It alights on the cement floor near the desk of stacked boxes, and ignites into a vibrant burst of flames. The fire subsides as it drinks in the surrounding shadows, the inky shape solidifies into a fine suit, bleached ribs, and a skull topped by a buoyant pompadour.

Embers linger on his suit, and Lewis dusts them off as he leans forward and takes up the small box. He only need a bit of focus, a mild taint irritation to conjure a sharp claw to cut through the plastic tape. Inside the box is a camera and a walkie-talkie. “Come in Bluebird, this is Dapper Ghost, over.” He turns and walks along the corridor scanning through the visible serial codes labeled along the tall metal shelves. There are so many rows, stacked up to the low ceiling and only a few ladders that he can make out. He grimaces and raises the communicator up to his jaw. “Do you read me?”

“I thought we weren’t doing codenames.” A pause. “Over.”

“Humor me,” he said, and took stock of the imposing fence placed before him.

Passing through fences was a simple matter, but not when one forgets they are carrying two solid objects that must be carefully slipped through small openings in the fence. All the more frustrating when one is trying to become partially insubstantial and not drop these devices onto the cement floor.

Lewis gave up. He crouched down and just shoved the camera and walkie-talker through openings in the fence. The entire time Vivi was asking questions and began to get worried when he refused to answer. “Lewis? What’s going on? You okay?”

He was huffing flames before he managed to calm down. “That is the million dollar question.” The communicator gave a sharp screech in response. Calm. Calm-calm-calm. Internally, he was thankful Vivi had not been present to see that. She hadn’t stopped teasing him about that other matter.

Lewis went over the shelves present, some stuffed with files and papers of all sizes, some spaces in between stacked high with plain brown boxes crushed under the weight. “Any idea what I should be looking for? Over.” He ran a finger along the labels tacked down by tape. Numbers and a few letters.

“Some names,” Vivi answered. The van was parked across the road from the Hall of Record. She sat bundled up in the driver side, her notebook open with the list of children names that matched up with Dimitri’s information. Light flakes descended beneath the edges of the windshield wipers, reflecting yellows through the patterns of white. In the vans back Arthur fumbled around, redressing into his usual attire with the little camping lamp stationed nearby to help him not get lost in his shirt. “We’ll go in alphabetical order. Over.” She turns to Arthur when he slips down in the seat beside her, and hugged him. “You were great!”

“You know this is a federal offense,” Arthur grumbled, as he flopped his arms down. “Impersonating a mail carrier, trespassing on government property. These gloves and those sleeves!” He tore a black glove off and tossed it into the back.

“It was your idea,” Vivi said, smirking. She pulled the glove off his good hand when his attempts had failed.

“I didn’t think you nuts would take me seriously!” Arthur bundled his arms around his sides and sulked. “And it’s cold.”

“You should have left the sleeves on, then.” She raised the communicator to her scarf top and called back. “Dapper Ghost, you read? Over.” There came silence. “Dapper?” Arthur peered at her and edged forward on his seat.

“Read you,” the voice wasn’t a voice, it was garbled in some places, hard to comprehend. But Vivi and Arthur spent years decoding EVPs, and Lewis made the effort to project a voice through as clearly as he could manage without lungs. Some of the next sentence was choppy, but his voice ended with a, “—got idea.”

“Don’t do anything risky,” Arthur warns. “Like, blow up,” he mutters, and hoped Lewis couldn’t hear that. “At least he can’t leave fingerprints.”

“Art, please,” Vivi whispers. She returns her attention to the walkie-talkie. “What you got, Dapper?”

The computerized database was on, but that wasn’t the problem. It required a password to log in, and three wrong passwords would lock the entire system. “The King wouldn’t by any chance know some possible passwords for a government database?” Lewis sputtered. “Over.”

A long pause followed, then a, “Nope.” Arthur’s voice prattled on. “Maybe forget about that, and go to work the old fashion way?”

“Well,” Lewis said. He set the camera and the walkie-talkie aside on the polished wood of the desk, then placed his hands on the flat screen. The screen sputtered on bright, glittering over his suit and bones with the logo for the Archives Database. Lewis jerked his hands back when the screen skipped, static pulsed through with a brief image before the normal display reappeared. He plucked up the communicator and replied, “I’m gonna try something, Bluebird. If you lose contact with me, don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

Vivi’s voice screeched through. “Lewis, wait! What’re you saying—”

“Trust me,” he said back. He wasn’t sure if Vivi heard or not while she was trying to get through. Rather leave the communicator to chatter on, he took the computer mouse from the desk and wrapped the cord tightly about the speaker toggle, and set aside the two items. He steadied his ethereal projection and pressed his hands onto the screen. It sputtered and flashed as before, but this time he had anticipated it.

Flashlights were simple, on - off. Yes or no. Lamps were the same, lightbulbs, like… blinking. He could make a mirror show what he wanted others to see, and he could project his image into the rhythmic strobe flashes of a camera if he focused the right way. But it took energy to project.

Wires, circuits, electrical current. Lewis let it absorb him, download his spectral manifestation. The computer highway was a jumble of light and noise, stimuli trying to inform him all at once what business the machine had; code, images, stabbing bits of failed syntax clambering through and over without ebbing against his invading presence. All of it stalled for a moment, grinding in the most literal sense over itself until the programs loosened and resumed the hectic flight. What passed for Lewis amalgamated consciousness withered within a vague sense of placement. Static ripped through him and a rising sensation of heat enveloped his ethereal self, but it wasn’t his fire. How do you drive this thing? Was his last coherent thought before white tore out of him, and a deafening shriek filled his being.

#msa #msa fanfic #mystery skulls #mystery skulls fanfic #msa animated #fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfiction.#mystery skulls ghost

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scrambledgegs · 4 years

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Moving with Purpose, Making a Difference

Segment 2 of: “Moving with Purpose” amidst COVID-19 Series

To keep our sanity, it is important to see the beauty in the mundane, as now on our 6th month of lockdown in the Philippines, one can say that COVID-19 has permeated every aspect of our waking and subconscious lives. This pandemic is as gnarly as it gets, and it is tremendously easy to fall prey to despair and anger. One quick tune-in on the news or any social media platform is enough to do the trick. We yearn for normalcy or any semblance of it, especially when we Metro-Manila dwellers take a peek and compare what’s happening in other countries who have flattened the curve and have returned to normal living.

Yes, truly, there are countless things to feel glum and anxious about, but if this pandemic has taught us anything – it is to keep fighting, and to make the most of what we can with the cards we are dealt with. We must not forget that extraordinary times require extraordinary mindsets – which must spillover into action.

This too shall pass. However, at the same time, we all really have to do our part. The truth is, we cannot just hide away and passively wait things out. We have to keep hustling, keep adapting and keep evolving.

Everyday People of Diverse Industries

Something that I’ve said since the beginning of ECQ in March 2020, is that we need not look far to witness heroism. They come in many forms, “the Hero with a thousand faces” (Joseph Campbell). Perhaps we can’t all be at the frontlines during this crisis, but it does not mean that we can’t create an impact within our own spheres of influence. Whatever we do, we must do purposefully, so that our seemingly small acts can create ripple effects, and so on, and so forth.

Thus, in light of National Heroes’ Day, four days ago, it made me think about some admirable and genuine people of various backgrounds who have been making a difference in ways they know how and beyond – whether in their respective industries, chosen career or vocational paths, and/or at home with the family. Here are some highlights of their stories and excerpts of their lives which I believe, deserves introspection and celebration.

At the forefront of the fight: Dr. Jose Maria (“JM”) Villamor, M.D., Pediatric Anesthesiologist, Philippine General Hospital

We always talk about the heroism in the face of surmountable struggles that our doctors and healthcare workers endure collectively as a whole, but it is also important to capture and document their individual stories, for there is much to say that is left unsaid.

Among these medical frontliners is Dr. JM Villamor, an anesthesiologist at Philippine General Hospital (PGH). His main task is to provide anesthesia to all patients who must undergo surgeries or any medical procedure that involve pain or discomfort. For those who know JM personally, he is often described as kind and funny, but he is also a very intelligent, brave and collected person who unconsciously downplays his skills through humor. Nonetheless, this works well for him in his particular field in medicine because it enables him to focus on critical tasks at hand in the hospital, and when needed, able to diffuse tense situations.

JM indeed faces a series of battles everyday. From his own experiences as an anesthesiologist in PGH, he saw how the hospital has gotten extremely busy and packed, as the number of people getting infected with COVID-19 piled up day after day. In fact, in the words of PGH’s Director, Dr. Gerardo Legaspi, M.D. in an open letter, he writes, “communities and hospitals around us are being inundated with patients. The resulting panic and confusion was palpable and paralyzing.” Such that, PGH made the informed decision to step forward and offer their facilities and resources, making PGH one of the three COVID-19 Referral Centers in the country.

Let us also not forget that PGH is a state-run hospital, and it primarily caters to indigent patients – those who cannot afford private hospitals. Thus, one can only imagine the multitudes of people who have flocked to PGH in desperation. We can deduce that JM, like the other doctors at PGH, have been exposed to the whole gamut of patients, of all kinds of diseases and infections, coming in and out of the hospital. Clearly, it is a job not for the faint of heart.

At one point, JM himself contracted COVID-19, but fortunately, he was not severely hit. A man of strong resolve, he recovered quickly within a few weeks of self-imposed quarantine and isolation. After testing negative for the virus three consecutive times, he was back at the hospital doing his usual rounds, donned in his usual full PPE gear.

Where he draws his inspiration

For JM, it is all in a day’s work. When he looks back at his early stages pursuing the medical field, he can’t recall anything or anyone specific that inspired him to choose this vocational path. All he knows is that since he was young, he simply wanted to be of help to other people, and thus, chose to be a doctor.

In JM’s words, “Seeing everyone at work is very inspiring for me. These people go to work even with the constant fear of getting infected by COVID-19, but still go forward, in order to provide hospital care to all patients that come to the hospital. Most of them do not get to go home to see their families for weeks at a time.”

JM himself had to make many sacrifices too. He was not able to see his wife and 1-year-old daughter for two and a half months during the start of the pandemic, as he too feared bringing the virus home and possibly infecting the family. To cap off his ongoing story, JM’s cautionary words are the same things that everyone has been harping: “Always wear your mask. Wash your hands. Stay home as much as possible.”

We heard it right here. This is definitely not a drill.

Role Model in Local Government: Jhana Corona-Villamor, Batangas Board Member

Leadership through example, concrete action and sacrifice does not fall far in JM’s family, as his own wife, Board Member of the 3rd District of Batangas, (former Mayor of Tanauan, Batangas), Jhana Corona-Villamor espouses these very virtues as well. We all know what continues to be said about our government’s response to this pandemic, or lack thereof. However, we must remember not to jumble everyone together in one lot, as there remains, and there will always be, people who will prove us wrong otherwise. One of which is Jhana, a role model in local government.

Like her medical frontliner husband, Jhana too is a frontliner herself. Lest we forget, LGUs and Provincial Governments play a very significant role in the fight against COVID-19. They must ensure that their constituents are abiding by, at the very least, the minimum health standards prescribed by the World Health Organization (WHO) and the national government. Such that, most cities and municipalities have utilized their calamity funds and realigned their development funds to counter the impact of the pandemic in their localities. Of course, implementation is easier said than done, but throwing in the towel has never been an option for Jhana.

Jhana’s daily work regimen is likewise a hectic one. As a Provincial Board Member, she forms part of the province’s legislative body, tasked with enacting ordinances, approving resolutions and appropriating funds for the general welfare of the province. She is the chairperson of the Committee on Budget and Appropriation where its main task is to review the annual and supplemental budgets proposed by the Governor. Much of her time has been devoted to conducting public and committee hearings to make sure that each and every centavo is well-spent to address the needs of her constituents. Jhana’s committee is also responsible for the review of the appropriation ordinances of all 34 municipalities and cities in the province. Her work as a Board Member also involves coordination with city, municipal and barangay officials and visiting constituents for consultation.

Whom She Looks Up to When asked whom inspired her to follow this career path, Jhana speaks of how her father was her main source of inspiration to enter public service. Growing up, she saw how he was able to help others, and she in turn, decided to choose this path because she also wanted to make a difference and be given the same opportunity to effect change in their community.

Resilience in 2020, beginning with Taal Volcano’s Eruption To say the least, 2020 has been a terrible year for most of us. For the Philippines, the year began quite literally with bang, when Taal Volcano began erupting in January 2020. For those who had businesses and social plans that involved Batangas, Tagaytay and nearby areas, the eruption caused much disruptions and stress. However, for those who lived within the volcano’s immediate radius, it meant far worse – death, sickness, relocations, evacuations and a prolonged loss of livelihood. The economic impact was and continues to be great. In the spirit of resilience, affected business owners tried to shrug off these worries in hopes of making up for losses in the preceding months to come, and then COVID-19 happened. These back-to-back unforeseen and debilitating events has made recovery seem close to impossible.

Indeed, for Jhana, 2020 has been a baptism of fire. Beginning in January, right off the bat after her happy Christmas holidays with the family, she was forced to immediately snap back to reality, as her world revolved around the survival, livelihood and welfare of her constituents in Batangas.

In Jhana’s words, “the past few months have been very challenging for most Batangueños. It started when Taal volcano erupted in January 2020, destroying livelihood and properties, leading to the forced evacuation of thousands and the declaration of a lockdown in 12 municipalities and cities in Batangas. These cities and municipalities still haven’t fully recovered from the eruption, and then to make matters worse, COVID-19 hit. Hundreds of families are still staying at evacuation facilities. These events highlighted the resilience of the Batangueños. Despite the repercussions of the Taal eruption and COVID-19, there are a lot of inspiring stories that make me feel hopeful and optimistic.”

If there is anything that Jhana clings onto during these trying times, it is her faith, her empowered attitude and the support of her family that uplifts her, day in and day out. She remains strong, so that the many Batangueños who look up to her can also remain strong. She continues to hold out for everyone counting on her, including her beautiful baby daughter, Bella who takes after her mother.

Where Technology and Education Converge: Michelle Pastelero, Education Manager, IT Software/Cloud Services

Something close to my heart as well, is the pandemic’s effect on the education sector, especially for young children. For instance, I have seen how my now, three-year-old daughter has grown in leaps in bounds when we enrolled her in a progressive ‘big preschool” called Bankstreet Summit School when she had just turned two last year. One year later, I can genuinely say that she learned so much in various aspects through schooling alongside other children, and I am all the more a believer of early childhood education. I have nothing but admiration and gratitude towards the very patient, caring and hardworking educators and staff. I can say without a doubt, that members of the education sector everywhere are truly heroes.

It was painful to accept that physical and face-to-face- classes would not be possible when COVID-19 set in, but like other parents, I settled for the next most feasible and safest option for now, which is online classes or what is called distance learning via platforms like Zoom and Google Meet. Of course, I am not alone when I say that this is not the most optimal way to learn, especially for young children. The social benefits of traditional classroom-learning are immeasurable; however, this is what needs to be done, in order not to compromise health and safety.

Just like adult Work From Home (WFH) situations however, children also experience the usual technical glitches and obstacles with these learning platforms. That said, it also makes me thankful for he people behind the scenes who do their best to assure smooth implementation of the current distance learning platforms.

This is where people like Michelle come in; she represents innovation that bridges such gaps between distance learning and the reality of our country’s sub-par infrastructures. At a first glance, one would think that she stepped out of a high fashion magazine, with her modelesque beauty and physique. Yet, there is more that meet the eye when it comes to Michelle. A veteran in the IT industry and an advocate of education, she is currently an Education Manager for IT Software/Cloud Services for a leading global tech company. Her scope of tasks includes having to ensure that distance learning platforms here in the Philippines are running smoothly. This means making sure that their cloud services are running well, and that all students and teacher-users have access.

Information Technology (IT) is among the industries which has certainly taken off, its growth catalyzed by the pandemic. As previously mentioned, Michelle talks about how schools far and wide, private and public alike, across all levels, have been forced to temporarily suspend physical classes; others, sadly, have permanently shut down. The words synchronous and asynchronous are terminologies often used to describe school curriculum these days.

On the flip side, a bright spot that has come out of this is that, in Michelle’s words, “it has really pushed projects to happen sooner. For example, because education must continue online, internet connectivity in remote areas has become the main priority for continued education this year. In the last two to three months, digital transformation has finally begun, where it originally was pegged to happen in over a 10-year time frame. Philippine education seems to have changed overnight, virtually. It has been a busy time, migrating printed curriculum e-books, training teachers how to be able to teach virtually, all of this to create a hybrid online learning platform where students nationwide can access education. Education ultimately, must be accessible, physically and financially for everyone.“

The Road Towards Industry 4.0

When asked what drew Michelle to the IT business, she talks about how she was working in IT since 2009 and witnessed firsthand how the industry drastically improved various businesses in a short period of time. She realized that IT was a good industry to be in, if one wanted to truly see change happen.

Education, Economy and Global Competitiveness

Michelle also talks about a former mentor who saw how she possessed a genuine passion for change, so he introduced her to many government agencies whom they could help through IT solutions that would concretely capacitate transparency and efficiency for its citizens services.

However, it was only when Michelle was working in education when she was able to see which service area of IT she was most drawn to, to truly make an impact. The urgent need to improve the country’s education spoke out to her. For example, she saw how the Philippines fared against the whole world based on results of a global, standardized achievement test called Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA). To give a short background, PISA is an international study launched by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OCED) in 1997, but the Philippines had only joined PISA for the first time in 2018, as part of their reform plans on improving quality basic education. PISA’s methodology and objective, respectively, is to survey its 79 member and partner countries every 3 years for comparative data on 15-year-olds’ performance in reading, math and science. It measures and benchmarks their ability to apply such skills and knowledge of subject areas, to meet real-world challenges.

The results were extremely alarming. The Philippines ranked one of the lowest in the world across all three subjects. Michelle explains that what these results mean for us, is that the average Filipino is not well-equipped for the ever-evolving job market; they may not have the best odds of securing quality jobs, other than perhaps, sadly, low-income or minimum wage jobs that will not be sufficient to get them by. This poses as a vicious cycle, detrimental to the economy.

The lack of access and means to quality education, and how it translates to job security has always been a lingering problem in the country, but it has become all the more vividly real today because unemployment has hit at an all-time low, due to COVID-19. Furthermore, most jobs that have been let go are those from within the service industry which make up more than half of the country’s GDP.

Equip Yourself

Michelle firmly espouses that “if we can improve education for children, we can equip them with future, with ready skills that they would need for future,” and this is exactly what she has set out to do.

I cannot agree more with her closing words that: “It is true when they say education is the best investment you can make for yourself, so never stop learning. Especially in a time like this, seek out more ways to learn, like taking free online courses. For instance, K-12 education in the Philippines is free, so I highly encourage continuing schooling. That’s really the only weapon we have when faced with the problems of the future.”

Staying Able to Enable Oneself: Nick Daez, Co-founder & Director of Seabiscuit Films and Kundalini Yoga & Meditation Teacher, Sound Healer

For some, when they hear the term Wellness, they have the impression that one has to be “unwell” in order to explore this industry. However, this is not necessarily the case; the wellness industry caters to everyone in all spectrums of health and wellness. Although I do understand how practices under this umbrella can especially have a huge and profound impact on those going through dark times.

Rude Awakening

Nick Daez for instance, is no stranger to dark times, to grief and loss. Among his many life experiences to choose from, one that drastically molded him into the person he is today, was when his marriage came to an abrupt end in 2014. He was only 28 years old. Numb, lost as he was dazed, his search for answers brought him all over the world. This is what pushed him back then, to explore the wellness industry, and which had subsequently made him a credible and compelling voice on its healing capabilities. In contrast, during that rough time, his other world, in Film making and Production was flourishing. Seabiscuit Films, Inc., the company he organically created with the collaboration of high school friends back in 2012, had grown into a successful video production company.

To take a quick stroll down memory lane, according to Nicky, he fell in love with Film making back in Ateneo when he was taking up a Production Design elective under the late national artist, Salvador Bernal. His class had just finished watching foreign and art films the whole semester, and for their final project, they had to make a short film. For Nicky, he just absolutely loved the process and obsessed over every part of it. From then on, he started helping out in shoots and apprenticing under directors which eventually led him to create Sea Biscuit Films, Inc. However today in 2020, Nicky is not active in its day-to-day operations anymore, but remains involved in making the big decisions, in checking on the company’s finances and having a bird’s eye view of the on-going projects.

Fast forward to present day; His new passion is now Yoga and Meditation since getting into it six years ago when his marriage had just ended. In Nicky’s words, that time, “he was desperate for anything to help him find inner peace.” Through referrals from a trusted cousin, Nicky joined a Hindu meditation gathering which eventually led him to Kundalini Yoga. Nicky can still recall his very first Kundalini Yoga class, as it was, “such an intense and visceral experience.”

Nicky was hooked instantly. He became obsessed with it the next four years and decided that he wanted to deepen his practice by joining a teacher training course in New Mexico, USA two years ago. At first, he had no intention of becoming a teacher, as his pursuits began for purely self-healing. However, when he got back to Manila, much to his surprise, he suddenly became awash with a strong urge and calling to teach. He has been teaching full-time ever since.

The Synergy of Two Industries

As it turns out, there is a burgeoning market for Yoga and Meditation in the Phillpines, even more so now due to the pandemic, as people search for ways to cope and find inner peace. Thus, as his classes began gaining traction, Nicky’s scope of work expanded into also being responsible for the scheduling, PR, marketing, and accounting of his yoga and meditation classes. For him, it is reminiscent of his younger days when he was still starting up Seabiscuit Films. It seems that Nicky will always have a hand at business and production, but this time, it has evolved to include his yoga practice as the main point of engagement.

In fact, Nicky highlights how video production and teaching yoga have a lot of similarities in terms of trusting the process and being patient with oneself and other people.

For example, he talks about how, “as a director and as a teacher, you have to lead by example and learn the intricacies of holding space for other people. There are a lot of highs and lows during this pandemic and I just try to view every moment as lesson and an opportunity to grow and help other people. I think selfless service is one of the big themes of this pandemic for me.”

Indeed, Nicky is one of those creatives who found a way to seamlessly mesh production and wellness through his online classes. Additionally, he, together with longtime friend, Snap Lopa, also created a Podcast aptly entitled, Paliwanag where the duo strikes casual conversations with various people of different industries. The aim of the podcast is to create an inspirational medium for the exchange of ideas and the discussion on spirituality and alternative living in relation to the current times.

Acceptance and Adapting: What’s Next for Production and Wellness?

Many questions remain as to the future of these two industries, but right now especially, during a time when mental health should not be taken for granted, more emphasis is now being placed on nurturing our well-being. It is not taboo anymore. In his closing statements, Nicky relays his thoughts:

“The video production industry was hit pretty badly, especially during the first three months of the lockdown. A lot of people were out of work. Fortunately, the recent last two months have been busier, but the safety protocols have forced everyone to adjust and shorten work hours. I think is a big improvement, since most shoots would go passed sixteen hours on a regular basis. I think the people in the industry all worked together to come up with fair and safe protocols for the new normal. I’d like to believe that by humanizing the industry even more, it’ll make the environment a lot healthier and beneficial for the people working as well.”

“On the other hand, the wellness industry has been thriving since the pandemic started. I think it just goes to show how important it is to focus on your health and well-being. Although we all had to adjust to teaching online, in my experience, everyone just helped one another more by creating more workshops and gatherings to work together. I think it’s always been like that since I entered the wellness industry, but it just got highlighted even more during this challenging time. For me, I think we just need to continue to collaborate and create that sense of community strong for things to keep going and thriving.”

Lastly, as the Sound Healer that he is, Nicky says:

“Life is short so we need to just embrace every moment as if it were last. We should always be kind to people and move through life slowly and with intention. “

A Test of Faith: Father Edwin L. Soliva sdb, Catholic Priest belonging to the Salesians of Don Bosco

Part and parcel to nourishing our well-being, I’d like to think, is being in touch with our spirituality and faith, regardless of whichever religious sect we belong to. This pandemic has truly been a test for everyone, and for sure, we have all by now come across times when we question the meaning and sense of everything, including God’s hand in all of this. I don’t consider myself a religious person, but I’ve experienced and seen what good can come out of real introspection and reflection, especially when guided by someone you can trust.

I think I speak for most schoolmates of my generation when I say that Father Edwin Soliva is the best person for this kind of spiritual guidance. He has been a Catholic priest for the close to 30 years, belonging to the Salesians of Don Bosco, and presently, he has been assigned in Don Bosco Batulao, as the Rector and youth in-charge. His apostolate is to facilitate retreats and provide good accommodations for retreat groups, and I am certain that he conducts them with much heart and enthusiasm, for among all the many apostolates for Salesian priests, he finds himself most comfortable in giving homilies, recollections and retreats. There are times of course that he feels physically exhausted after giving retreats to young people, but it nonetheless, does not outweigh the spiritual and emotional fulfillment that also accompanies it.

As the Rector of Don Bosco Batulao, his role is to keep the life of the Salesians in his community healthy. He is looked upon like the Father-figure of his flock, and thus, also makes that everyone regularly prays together and does their apostolate well. He oversees that the retreat house functions well, and that they are overall providing a good experience for the retreatants.

As my close friend and confidante for more than 15 years, I can personally attest to the effectivity of his homilies, retreats and personal advice. For me, his words can move mountains. They can truly move one to dig down deep and trigger that need and want for change. I can truly say that Fr. Edwin is a great example of what Catholic priests ought to be. He is not preachy or self-righteous; he is down-to-earth, kalog and in touch with reality and the changing world. He’s like that cool kabarkada who never gives up on you. Above all, he is real Man of God with a heart of gold.

Getting By During Hard Times

However, even those with a direct line to God see hard times. Having had zero mass gatherings, any sort of group, face-to-face gatherings and retreats since March 2020, the retreat house has really been struggling financially due to the pandemic. Moreover, their main source of income is handling retreat groups from schools whom all have cancelled or indefinitely postponed accommodations as well. Let us also not forget that the retreat house also experienced disruptions caused by Taal’s eruption.

To mitigate losses and adapt to these times, the retreat house, spearheaded by Fr. Edwin, invested in faster internet connectivity, webcams and a sound system for their online masses, recollections and retreats. Fr. Edwin describes how this shift has not been easy, since they of course, have been accustomed to handling retreats with the physical presence of the retreatants. Yet, they continue to simply do their best to persevere and survive during this struggle. Like other industries who are barely making it, Fr. Edwin remains steadfast in making the best of the situation, as this is also the field of work that they have prepared for.

Disseminating God’s Message online

As we are all human, Fr. Edwin too has some apprehensions about the future. He ponders about how effective online recollections and retreats will continue to be. Prior to the pandemic, his usual retreats were typically 3-days long, filled with lots of activities, talks, film showings and the like. Now, it has been reduced to a few hours online. He too, really started to question himself.

His continued inspiration comes from this thought and conviction, that “Edwin, if ever the young find your retreat effective or meaningful, it is due to a small part on your efforts and preparations, but remember that the real inspiration and power behind is God. You just scattered the seeds, but the seeds come from God and it will bear fruits beyond your efforts. Now, it is the same God who will work His power and wisdom when you give the young the online retreat. It is the same God who will give you the wisdom and the words to speak and inspire. Don’t worry. Let God give his ‘retreat.’”

The Serenity Prayer; let go; let God

When asked for a few words that he can impart, Fr. Edwin says genuinely:

“What is happening now with this pandemic is something that caught the world really by surprise. We were not prepared at all for this, and it changed everything in our life. There is a lot of fears and anxiety about how life will be. But life will go on and with resiliency, creativity, and flexibility. We will find a way to cope with all these.”

“For years we have been living a normal life and everything has always been in our control; that’s why God has been pushed aside because we feel we don’t need Him. Now we don’t know what to do. Now we are not sure anymore, and things seem to be out of control. This is the best time now to put God back into our life. Now is the time to get down on our knees and recognize again our creator. The God who created the world, can create life and make us live a meaningful life in spite of this pandemic. Let us find comfort in what Jesus said “remember, I will always be with you until the end”.”

The Home and the Online Marketplace

Definitely, another trend these days is the renewed understanding in the importance of home life. As the home has now become the center point of life as we now know it, what has emerged is the online buying and selling of artifacts that are made to make the home a better and more conducive place for living and working. In addition to medical and sanitation supplies, the common things we see sprouting online are the likes of plants and gardening materials, wifi boosters, laptops, homecooked or homebaked food, homemade crafts, big-item children’s play things and even sports and exercise equipment. This is not entirely surprising. As all sorts of livelihoods and jobs have been disrupted or lost, many have turned to alternative or added sources of income, or have revamped their old ways of doing business. The key platform of engagement and marketing across all these shifts is of course the digital world, whether through social media or community messenger apps and what not. The good side about this shift is that it has allowed people to hone their more creative side, coupled with business acumen.

I would go as far to say that the overall theme of today’s online marketplace points towards going back to the simpler life, or taking a pause to be more attuned with the beauty of everyday. As much as this can pose a threat to industries who offer an experiential type of product, this does not mean they cannot thrive as well.

Going back and Giving Back: Rosa Farms, Zambales

Take Rosa Farms for instance who is in the business and advocacy of Agri-Tourism. Rosa Farms, named after the clan’s matriarch, Lola Rosa, is a family-run, 12.5-hectare mango-orchard in the breath-taking coastal province of Zambales. The farm is home to the “Philippine Carabao Mango” and is “open to walk-in guests who want to experience the ambiance of a real functional farm.” At the same time, the sprawling farm provides countless jobs to workers in the area.

Rosa Farms is also open to exclusive events, usually booked in advance by both local and foreign farm-goer tourists which include, sightseeing, family gatherings, reunions or corporate events which are complete with buffet-style meals and unlimited mangoes. According to their website as well, “Rosa Farms is certified by the Department of Agriculture as a GAP (Good Agricultural Practices) compliant farm, belonging to an exclusive roster in the country. They advocate the principles of GAP in their trainings and workshops to fellow stakeholders in agriculture, highlighting the value of these principles in operating an agritourism (farm tourism) site.”

Farm activities also include the annual Farm Fiesta and Mango Pick & Pay. In fact, since the farm’s opening in 2011, “the Pick-&-Pay program has been one of the most sought-after activities of the patrons of Rosa Farms.”

Modern-day Agri-Tourism: Chamz Cayabyab-Zulueta, Sales and Marketing Head for Rosa Farms/Clearvision (Quezon City) and General Manager of Make IT Work, Makati City

Rosa Farms, including its café called Rosa Café, located inside the farm, have become household names in the Zambales vicinity However, like most industries, Rosa Farms was not spared from the repercussions of the pandemic and its subsequent lockdowns. They too were forced to get more creative, push the envelope and come up with alternative strategies.

Meet Chamz Cayabyab-Zulueta who is a pivotal figure in Rosa Farm’s marketing strategies. She wears many hats – she is the Sales and Marketing Head for Rosa Farms/Clearvision (Quezon City), General Manager of Make IT Work, Makati City, a wife and a hands-on mother to a very active toddler. Yet, no matter how busy she can get, she makes sure to attend to all her responsibilities. In fact, her expertise and knowledge in various industries is what helps her do her job well for all positions. Her professional career began with spending more than 10 years in Broadcast Television and Advertising, but she has always dreamed of managing her own business. Thus, she took her MBA back in her mid-20′s to shed light on what she would like to pursue into fruition.

Fruition indeed, as this has led her to Rosa Farms. Chamz tells us how Rosa Cafe operates usually from January until June every year, and the concept of the Cafe is "dine under the Mango Trees." This resonates especially well with the Café’s senior citizen customers because they love the ambiance and tell stories of childhood past, on living the simple life in the province. Yet of course, it has been a challenging time for Rosa Farms this year. Chamz tells us how peak season is usually around April and May, but due to the lockdown, they were forced to suspend operations. Furthermore, their annual Farm Fiesta with the Mango Picking event was scheduled around April, but it likewise also did not push through.

Bringing back the joys of childhood

To keep things going and to make up for months of forced closure, Chamz and Rosa Farm’s Management thought of launching Rosa Café’s menu online, but they also had to revised the menu in order to cater to a now broader market – to include the Metro Manila market as well. They found that this proved a little daunting at first, having to compete with an already saturated market, compared to formerly serving only the Zambales market. Moreover, it was also a struggle to bring in Rosa Café’s Head Chef into Manila; lots of permits had to be processed. Finally, she was eventually able to go back to Manila in mid-May, and through perseverance and determination, Rosa Café continues to operate from Chamz’s home. To remain top of mind, they are constantly innovating with new dishes to add to the menu.

Chamz also spearheads Rosa Cafe's product development, as well as coming up with marketing campaigns for its online platforms. To augment Rosa Café’s persona as a brand that “brings back the joys of childhood”, Chamz launched new products beyond food, that would promote this theme, such as customized potted plants. It was a hit; many customers, also known as Plantitas, rushed to buy these beauties.

From here, the idea to launch a by-product came to mind, inspired by her adventurous three-year-old son. As her son loves to look for new things to do, she thought, “why not teach these urban kids early on about going back to basics, such as planting?” Thus, the creation of the Kiddie Plant Grow Kit, or simply, “KP” which is intentionally named after her son's nickname. The concept of the KP Grow Kit is that customers can purchase a beginner’s planting kit, complete with soil, seeds and a canvass-like blank pot that can be designed through simple art materials. Not surprisingly, it was another hit.

A Meaningful Advocacy

For Chamz, inspiration can literally be found in every little thing. She simply has to take a look around for her to draw inspiration for new product launches. She says that, “We bank on the things that keep people sane these days – food and new hobbies like planting. After all, Rosa Farms' advocacy is to bring people back to their simple lives and happy childhood memories. She adds, “It is a good thing too that my husband supports all these crazy ideas that I have in my head to keep the business going.”

When it comes to innovation and taking risks, Chamz says,

“There will be a lot of times when things don't go your way, don't be afraid to innovate and try new things because you can only manage the things you can control”

On Grit, Passion and Family: Carmela S. Juban, former banker, Mother of 3, Entrepreneur

Last but not the least, let us also not forget the importance of nurturing relationships with the people in our homes, as we continue to spend most of our time within its confines. Harmony and peace are key. Often times, this becomes the responsibility left to the mothers of the household, sometimes the unsung heroes of our generation.

Carmela for instance, is a selfless mother personified. A successful, former banker for 7 years at the Treasury Department of one of the country’s upper tier commercial banks, Carmela eventually left the financial market in 2017 to focus on raising her three sons, Matias, Amancio and Augustus; 4 years, 2 years and 7 months old respectively. Her husband’s work required him to be away in regional areas often times, so Carmela knew that one of them had stay home and man the house. Carmela recalls how she was on bed rest during the pregnancy of their first baby. She remembers how the first trigger in her early contractions was caused by walking back to the office after visiting a client. For her, it was a tell-tale sign.

It was a sacrifice on Carmela’s part, as she truly loved her job, but at the same time, she knew she was giving so much of herself at work, that she decided it best to recalibrate her energies to being a wife and a mother. She has no regrets, as she knows that the time will come when her kids are older, that she herself will have a “rebirth,” so to speak, and have the opportunity to reinvent herself, as she muses that, “life, growth, motherhood, business is not a straight line.”

It Takes Two to Tango; It takes a Village to Raise a Family

Something that Carmela says a lot is that she appreciates her husband’s support, whether in business or when it comes to the responsibilities at home. For instance, upon resigning, she set up a side business to manage with her husband. It would help marry two situations - Carmela would have the convenience of working from home where she could watch over her kids, at the same time, augment their finances and put her knowledge of banking & finance into good use. In the beginning, it was something new for her, after being a corporate employee for so long, but she has since trained herself to think like an entrepreneur. She likes that she and her husband get to work together. They brainstorm for new ideas, and this also hones her ability to trust her gut and make things happen.

As her confidence in this side hustle grew, Carmela also began an entrepreneurial stint running a food kiosk in a nearby mall. Her business was thriving until COVID-19 hit. Like all mothers, she had many worries about possibly bringing the virus home; thus, she decided to cut her losses and close it down. For now, she and her husband are focused on venturing into other opportunities, not just in food, but possibly in clothing as well, and likewise, utilizing social media to effect change.

In Carmela’s words, “at this time when a lot of entrepreneurs are on survival mode, we just really need to keep trying; keep pushing. We can never think that a market is too saturated because there is always opportunity somewhere. Although, sometimes there is doubt, just taking the plunge without over-analyzing is the first step...I also think about having three young boys to take care of. The fact that we are all safe and healthy, is already a win for us.”

Indeed, her family is always her shining source of inspiration and motivation, “to act based on the scope we can control, and hopefully, in our next emerging steps, we can do our part in shaping a better generation.” The next question she throws out, which I agree posits reflection and action is, “is this the country we want to leave our children?”

Personal Learnings When asked if she has some insights to share. Carmela says, “This time has shown more the importance of family, how we are connected to each other, and the success to get through this pandemic highly depends on our relationship with one another. Be kind. Be extra patient. Everyone has a cross to carry even if they do not talk about it.”

“You can sulk, but pray and have faith. Who knows? It might lead you to what you are really meant to be doing.”

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traditional-with-a-twist · 4 years

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xx. Beauty and Her Beast

@claudeng80 @bubblesthemonsterartist declaration of war, yesss! love that! (funny what an ambiguous symbol the ANS universe has for marriage proposals xP) and sooo true, Izana is not his best self right now! but I love to hear that his plan doesn't make sense. I’ll take that as encouragement that I'm getting his character right XD because his plans always seem crazy at first, don't they?

<<Previous || first arc || AO3 || Next>>

Shirayuki had lost her home once because a prince demanded of her more than she was willing to give.

She had never expected it to happen here.

She stumbles from the room. A strong sense pervades that her soul has left her body and hovers over it like an anxious bird.

Time runs backwards.

She is once again staring down two dark and equally impassable roads: to walk away from everything, or to stay and lose it all just the same.

...

Obi is waiting for her in the passageway.

...

He first began to think something was wrong when she hadn’t returned to her office for the midday break.

That old man Haruka was stern, but he was also punctual. However brief a respite he allowed Shirayuki, it wasn’t like him to cancel it entirely.

Memories of the interview with Kiki lingering in his mind, Obi began his search from the relative obscurity of the treetops.

Midway through his second circuit, he spotted her from a window.

The cant of her shoulders and the expression in her eyes raised his worst fears.

...

She didn’t jump when he appeared beside her, didn’t wonder at finding him indoors and practically on Izana’s doorstep. She only put out her hand in a mute appeal for his strength and support.

Obi falls into step beside her, stuffing down his apprehension for her sake. He accepted her extended fingers as if welcoming a wounded bird, cradling them in his palm.

“Hey, Shirayuki,” he greeted her, forcing lightness into his tone, “your face is pale.”

Her eyelids flickered at the sound of her name.

...

When she had first asked Obi to address her by name, it had seemed only natural to do away with the past formalities between them. She hadn’t thought much of it.

Every time he spoke it, the sound took on a new resonance.

Now it touched her deep, deep in her core to hear this expression of trust and intimacy from a man she had been ordered to betray.

...

They are halfway down the hall when she staggers.

Shirayuki’s knees buckle, and he is there, one arm at her waist, sweeping her out of gravity’s grip and into his embrace.

His heart seizes with remembrance when their eyes meet.

...

It wasn’t so long ago that he had caught her mid-fall in the snowy courtyard of Fort Laxdo.

Then her burden was boxes and crates, and it was easy to bear her up, hardly a flex to support her feather-light frame and stabilize her load.

Now something of another nature casts her down.

He doesn’t know what good his muscles and knives will be against it; he doesn’t know where to begin.

Nonetheless, he swears himself to her in that moment, for the thousandth time, with every intention to do so a thousand times again.

Blood, breath, bone - they are hers to command.

...

Alone in the hallway, they are exposed and defenseless. At any moment, the guards patrolling the first prince’s wing might turn the corner and surprise them.

Shirayuki stirs as if to right herself, but she is trembling. Her legs won’t hold her.

Obi thinks no further.

...

Once upon a time, he had set the miss back on her feet and watched her walk away.

This time, he gathers her close.

Bundling the intended princess against his chest, Obi crosses the hall in two strides. Another breath, and they balance on the windowsill.

In the instant before they leap, Shirayuki throws her arms around his neck.

Then they are airborne.

...

The stones fall away; wind whistles; blue sky stretches overhead--blanketed abruptly by green.

They land safely among the branches.

Obi looses a sigh he hadn’t known he was holding. He has never felt comfortable in that place - every day less so, as Zen’s presence fades from it.

...

He settled his back against the bark - rough, solid, familiar - and makes a nest of his lap for Shirayuki to perch.

She has taken their sudden exit with composure, adjusting to their new surroundings without a murmur of protest.

After a moment of twisting and tugging to arrange her dress, she relaxes into the cradle of his knees.

Her head droops to his shoulder.

...

“Did someone hurt you,” he asks quietly.

She tenses. “N-no…”

Imagine going to a dear friend to whom you have promised your whole self. Imagine raising even the idea of reneging on that promise.

Where can she begin? How can she possibly explain?

...

As he felt her hesitation, Obi plunged into their usual dance of question and halting reply.

He lacked Zen’s grace and intuition. Even with her wrapped in his arms, nestled as close as skin, there was a part of her he struggled to reach.

It was like catching a dust mote born on the breeze with his bare hands.

He could see the answer winking at him, but it hovered just out of reach. The harder he tried to grasp it, the more tenaciously it evaded him.

If he succeeded, it was usually by a chance change in the wind that blew the object of his efforts into his outstretched fingers.

...

The story emerges in bits and false starts. When he hears what has happened, Obi’s face darkens.

In Shirayuki’s presence, he has been enamored, uncertain, teasing, concerned. Something entirely separate entered his expression now:

It was the shadowed, narrow-eyed look of a ruthless man on the hunt.

...

For Shirayuki, Izana’s intervention had taken on the qualities of a cataclysmic event: reversing time, upending the solid ground beneath her feet.

She clung to whatever stability she could find, like a victim in a disaster zone, staring around her in bewilderment as she tried to make sense of the calamity.

One step beyond the shock was the awful necessity of wondering what she could salvage from the wreckage.

...

Obi read the situation differently: For him, Izana’s pronouncement meant nothing less than a calculated attack.

He felt the blow on multiple levels.

In his disinterested care for Shirayuki as a person, he revolted against the insult to her choices and threat to her happiness.

As a friend, he felt the offense as a further betrayal: not only of Shirayuki herself, but of the very person whose memory should hold the strongest claims for the first prince. Obi was no visionary, but it didn’t require genius to recognize that this was the opposite of what Zen would have wanted for her.

Finally, in his longing for Shirayuki, he felt the assault as anyone might when challenged by an unexpected rival - with raw, guttural anger.

...

For a long time, Obi had harbored no jealousy on Shirayuki’s behalf.

Any inclinations he might have had in that direction were dissipated by the basic knowledge that he had no claim on her - nor any prospect of one.

Now it was different.

Now that they had pledged themselves to each other.

Now he had a claim to defend.

...

Any man who dared interpose himself might as well have voiced a desire to extract Obi’s heart from his chest. Either demand would have met with equal violence.

As the story and its implications became clear, caution fled. An iron will replaced it.

He would see an end to the first prince’s suit, no matter what it cost him.

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #obiyuki #PurePassion #Beauty and Her Beast #hey hey hey #obi and shirayuki together in the same chapter #WHAT #finally some TLC to mix up with all the polticking and machinating #welcome to the aftermath #Kiki tried to warn them #she tried #amazing reviews for the last chapter #makes me as happy as reading new fanfic #xoxoxo for all the support!#in other news #still working on my forfeit for March Madness #super excited for it!#but it's gonna be a while

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snowdxve · 4 years

Text

What if

Part 3: A Force To Be Reckoned With

Wilford Warfstache x Reader

Warning: Mature Language, Injury, Assualt, Attenpted Murder

< Part 2

A/N: This was fun to write, I have more ideas for the next few parts. I hope you enjoy.

Tags: @calamity-on-cassette

___

Your eyes widen at the man that hovered over you. You twisted your body and grab the other edge of the bed in an attempt to pull yourself away from the man, you hear a loud pop from your ankle as the man’s grip tightens around it. Pain ripples through your body, causing you to let out a yelp of pain. He gave out an irritated growl as he covers your mouth with his large rough hand. “No screaming.” He whispers into your ear as he wrenches your hands-free from the microfibre mattress. The man, who was much taller than you dragged you back into a side room, pushing you onto the ground with a heavy sigh. “Wilford isn’t the brightest man of the bunch. He put you right in my old room,” he chuckles as he walks into the room and closes the door. This room was no bigger than a bathroom or a kid’s bedroom; its walls were sunshine yellow with a few pictures on each wall. Some were pictures of a woman with three men, another was three men, and then there was one of a man who looked almost identical to Wilford. You narrow your eyes as you crawl across the ground to the painting. “So, my dear, this is what is going to happen. You’re going to stay here and you’re going to listen to me and to me only. Wilford took everything from me, so now I'm going to take something that’s precious to him.” The man lifts her chin as he pulls a chair from the corner of the room.

“Who is he? Why does he look so much like Wilford?” You turn to the man as she push yourself up from the ground, “oh? That man? Sweetie, that not Wilford. That’s a deadman who lost everything because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” The man’s voice got angrier as he nears the end of his sentence. At the end of his sentence, the man stands and throws the chair, causing it to shatter against the wall. You flinch, putting your hands over your head. You look up at the man. He was staring right at the painting with hatred fuming in his gaze, “William J. Barnum. Aka Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache. This is who Wilford used to be; that bastard should be dead.” The man snarls. You stand slowly, “that’s Wilford?” You mutter in surprise. “He looks so formal.” You mumble before spinning around and jabbing your finger into the man’s chest, “Oh yeah! Who the hell are you?” You snap as you place your hands on your hips.

The man bows with one hand behind his back and the other over his stomach. “Just call me, Mark.” He says with a small wink. You cringe a bit before hugging yourself. “I don’t think I can do anything bad to Wilford, Mark.” You slide your hands into the pockets as your e/c eyes glance at the door multiple times, making sure you could make a swift exit if need be. “Oh, you won’t be doing anything bad. I promise. Dear.” Mark assures as he caresses your cheek and pulls you towards him. “He’ll come looking for you and when he does, we will play a little prank on him, okay?” Mark assures with a sweet smile. You slowly nod as you watch Mark’s movements carefully. “Uhm, sure. I don’t see why not.” You didn’t have a good feeling about Mark; you try putting weight on your ankle but there was no way you were going to be able to stand the pain. Actor had purposely twisted your ankle and it hurt like hell to walk. There was no way you were going to be able to run if you needed to. “What are we going to do? What do I do?” You ask as Mark draws you in and pulls out a knife; a large grin on his face. “Just play along,” Mark whispers into your ear. You were not going to play along before Mark could put another hand on you; you ran out of the room. You stumble as pain shoots through your ankle and throughout your body. “WILFORD!” You scream as you scramble into the hall, nearly running into the wall. You put your hands up on the wall in an attempt to pull yourself on your feet. “Wilford!” You call out desperately.

Mark wasn’t far behind you as soon as you fell he reaches down and grabs your h/l h/s h/c hair, yanking you up to your feet as he places the cold sharp blade to your exposed neck. “Say one more thing and you’ll be gasping for air.” Mark snarls into your ear as Wilford runs out of the room; he was frozen in place. His cocoa brown eyes focused on the crimson robed man. “Actor, let her go! Y/N has nothing to do with our feud!” Wilford says as calmly as he could; he couldn’t seem to process the situation that was unfolding before him. “What do you want?” Wilford puts his hand out as you whimper, grabbing at Actor’s hand. “Please, please. Don’t kill me.” You beg as you close your eyes tightly. Wilford looks at you then at Actor. “Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Wilford says with a soft smile. “It’s going to be alright. Just focus on me.”

You open your eyes as you sniffle, hot tears race down your cheeks. “Wilford, I don’t want to die.” You whimper out to the rose pink-haired man. Wilford shakes his head and chuckles, “you’re not going to die, Darling. Trust me.” He chuckles as he takes his magnum out of his waistband and sets it on the ornamental carpet. Wilford lifts his hands in surrender, “You got me, Actor.” Wilford says simply before a small smirk forms on his lips. “What’s so funny?!” Actor snaps before he hears the scrapping of metal against metal. The knife rolls up on itself causing Actor to let go You. You stumble to Wilford, wrapping your arms around the bright man tightly. Your body shakes gently in his hold as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. Wilford rubs your back in circles as he soothes you. “Everything is okay.” He whispers. He watches Actor stare at the entity whose coal-black eyes were just as full of hatred as Actor’s. “What do you think you are doing in my home?” The mixtures of blue and red illuminated the room as the entity took a step towards Actor.

Actor looks up at the entity, “is it wrong to come and say hi to an old friend?” Actor chuckles out. He earns a growl from the entity, “You have ten seconds to get out of my sight before I decide to kill you.” The entity snarls, but Actor didn’t need 10 seconds. He was already gone. You broke from Wilford, sniffling and rubbing your eyes as he pats your head with a light-hearted smile turning up his cheeks. The entity walks towards you placing his ash gray hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright, m’lady?” The distorted voice of the entity questions in a friendly manner. You jump a bit, taking a large step away and running right into Wilford’s chest. “Ah, oh, yes. I’m fine! No worries!” You assure the entity. Wilford smiles as he rubs your shoulders gently, “Y/n, This is Darkiplier. We all refer to him as Dark. He, kinda, runs this place.” Wilford chuckles nervously. You examine Dark; He was nicely dressed in a suit and tight, ash gray skin, coal-black eye and an outline like a 3D effect. “It is nice to meet you, sir.” You say with a small nod, earning nothing more than a curt nod.

Wilford gives you a big smile and two thumbs up, “I think he likes you!” Wilford says brightly as you frown a bit and yawn. “Will, I didn’t even get to nap and after all that I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep alone.” You mumble as you bite your nails nervously. “If you wanted to sleep with me you could’ve just asked!” Wilford chuckles, “No! Will gross!” You cringe with a shake of your hands as if you had just touched something slimy. “Whaat? Get your mind out of the gutter! I didn’t mean it like that.” Wilford retorts as he smirks a little. “Are you going to admit that you’re scared?” He asks as he leans towards you. You push his face away only to full-on, lick your palm. “NO! Wilford, you nasty bastard!” You lunge at him to wipe the saliva back on him, but Wilford jumps out of the way. He runs down the corridor into your room with you following closely at his heels. Once you caught up the pink man you wipe whatever saliva, that hadn’t dried out, onto the man’s face.

“Okay, okay. I guess I deserve that.” Wilford chuckles as he flops onto the bed next to You, glancing at you with a soft smile on his face. His eyes didn’t leave you, making you a bit uncomfortable. “You know, it’s not nice to stare.” You crawl further into the bed and pull the satin sheet over your shoulder. Wilford chuckles as he crawls up next to you, pulling the blanket over himself. You stop a moment and turn to face the man next to you. “Will, what exactly is he? It sounds like he is more than one person, but he’s just,,, different. It’s unreal.” You prop yourself up on your elbow as Wilford turns to face you. “Dark is an entity, not a person. If I’m completely honest I can’t tell if he’s the owner of hot topic or if he’s serious about his attire.” Wilford chuckles as he runs his fingers through his fluffy rose pink hair. You laugh at the insult, you could imagine the gray entity sitting at a desk with a beanie on and ripped jeans. The thought made you laugh a bit harder, falling onto your back as you wipe your eyes.

“Well, that’s an image I won’t be able to get out of my head.” You giggle as you turn to Wilford who was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling with a soft smile on his face which slowly fades as he turns to face you. “What did he want from you?” Wilford stares at you, something was different. Instead of the big goofy grin the man wore, a serious expression plastered his face. This wasn’t the goofy man speaking to you previously. You sigh a moment as the atmosphere grows heavy around you, “he acted as if I were a child, telling me we were going to play a prank on you. I’m not naive but he kept saying he was going to take something away from you because you took something away from him.” You were reminded of the picture in the spare bedroom. Wilford put his finger to his chin as he puckers his lips dramatically. “Hmm, well-” “Hold on!” You swing out of the bed, forgetting about your injured ankle, and place both feet heavily on the ground. You quickly retreat back into the bed, pulling your leg to your chest as you clench your teeth in pain. “Son of a bitch.” You hiss out. “Are you-” “I’m fine, Wilford.” You put her hand up as you slowly stand from the bed, being careful not to put weight on your weak ankle.

You limp through the room into the spare room where you find the picture of William Barnum hanging on the wall. You pull the image from the wall, running your thumbs over the dusty cracked glass. You limp out of the room with a small smile on your face, Wilford looked quite charming in the picture; you couldn’t have guessed the man was ever formal with his present behavior.

You sit on your side of the bed and hand the picture to Wilford. Wilford stares at the image for a long while a small genuine smile turns up his lips a moment. The subtle look on Wilford’s face made you peek over his shoulder at the picture. “William J. Barnum, who was he? Where did that man go?” Wilford breaks from his thoughts and turns to you with a nervous chuckle. “We don’t talk about that man, It’s best to let the dead stay dead.” Wilford sets the picture on the mahogany nightstand. You back away and rest your back against the bed frame. “Wilford, Actor told me who that man was.” You whisper. “Don’t listen to that dreadful man. There is a reason Dark hates that man, and frankly, I can’t believe that man has the nerve to talk to Dark. Dark is truly a force to be reckoned with.” Wilford mutters, “He can control things unlike any other. He can command a whole room with a simple wave of his hand.” Wilford laughs a bit, “I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to kill me yet.” He laughs as he looks towards the curtains that had been drawn over the windows.

“Wilford, what did you take from Actor? Who did you take from Actor?” You press curiously. “I thought you were tired, Madam. That man is bonkers. Don’t worry, It’s not right to go digging into other’s business you might just get yourself into trouble.” Wilford mutter as he lays down, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. You look at Wilford before sliding down under the covers. You pull the satin blankets over your chest and stare up at the ceiling. Your mind would not stop going back to the unanswered questions. What was Wilford avoiding? What did he steal? A precious jewel? It had to of been something of importance for Actor to consider murder. Why did Wilford change his name and his appearance? Was he running from someone? Who was he running from if he was?

When you finally manage to push the questions from your mind; you drift into a deep sleep. Everything goes black around you a faint blue and red illumination coming from a corner of the area. You squint in an attempt to get a better look at who it could’ve been. “I am sorry to disturb your sleep, Miss.” The all too familiar layered voice asks. You watch as the entity steps into view; he stood with his back straight and his hands place formally behind his back. “I must apologize for Actor’s behavior; you should not have been put in such danger but it is your fault for not leaving. You should not be here.” Dark says coldly. You stare at Dark in disbelief, “my fault?!” You point to yourself with a look of shock. “How in the bloody hell is it my fault?! Whoever pissed that man off it sure as hell wasn’t me! Do you care to explain what the hell you are?! Or who the hell Wilford even is?!” You snap at the entity. Dark’s body glitches a moment causing an angry scream to echo throughout the void. “Do not raise your tone with me! It is not your place, and you have no right. You are a guest, a guest that a babbling idiot has brought here.” You flinch a bit as you stare up at the entity. “What I am, and who I am is none of your concern. You will leave and you will not return, am I understood?” “Where do I go? Wilford said I could stay here until everything settled down! I’m not leaving!” You protest. You were wearing Dark’s patience thin and there wasn’t a lot of that patience in the entity to begin with.

The entity seemed to grow, towering over your small body. He grabs the collar of your sweatshirt and lifts you into the air. “Do not argue with me, you will leave as soon as you awake! No goodbyes! We are not a hideout for criminals! If you are in trouble that is not our problem! Find your own goddamn safe spot.” The entity snarls before dropping you and straightening out his tux. You scramble to your feet, staring up at the entity in fear. “You leave without a trace; no notes. No apologies, no goodbyes, You never existed here.” The blue and red light fades away as does the entity. You stood in the void for only a moment before you were thrown rudely out of the void.

You set up quickly, taking a deep breath and looking around. The room was much darker than it had been previously. It was dark outside with the moon casting a ray of light through the crack in the curtains. How long had you been asleep? You could hear Wilford snoring quietly next to you; You wanted to shake him awake but that was against Dark’s orders. You slowly creep to the end of the bed, glancing at Wilford several times in case he wakes up. Luckily, the man stays put with little to no movement. You step onto the wooden floors quietly stopping abruptly when the floorboard creeks loudly under your foot. You glance back at Wilford. No movement. You let out a heavy sigh that you didn’t know you had been holding in as you limp across the room to the door but a stop a moment. Dark said not to leave a trace that you were here, so what’s wrong with stealing a little souvenir to remember your stay? You limp back to Wilford’s side of the bed where the picture of William Barnum was face down. Your e/c eyes flick back forth between the picture and Wilford as you open the back of the picture frame.

You freeze up as you feel a hand wrapping firmly around your wrist. “What are you doing up?” Wilford asks firmly as he tightens his grip on your wrist.

#wilford warfstache #ahwm wilford #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #wkm wilford #wilford x reader #markiplier warfstache #reader #markiplier wilford #ahwm #wkm actor mark #actor mark #ahwm darkiplier #daddy dark #darkiplier #my writing #errxrfics

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chaniters · 4 years

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HALLOWEEN -Part I

The next part of @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac Series I’m writing. About to close this one! Never thought it’d get this long!!!!

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Awan and Elyise reach a truce, as the disastrous events leading up to what would be later be known as Phoenix Halloween Massacre begin to unfold.

________________________________ Not a word comes out of your lips even as Ortega’s glare digs into your skull. Your skulls, Elyise is right beside you.

Eventually, he looses at his own blinking contest, rolling his eyes.

“You two… I don’t know what happened between you two at Reaper’s manor, but you’ve been at each others’ throats since. Could knock it off already? He’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it right now with this whole mess going on”

“Nothing happened,” you say, arms crossed, defiant look… yeah, he’s not going to believe that in a million years.

“Like he says” Elyise answers, equally annoyed.

“You’re my girlfriend, and you’re my best friend, and I’d really like it if you two could get along again? Just talk to each other?” The two of you do actually share a brief look before Elyise jerks her head around to look in the opposite direction. You turn your gaze towards Ortega with a half-assed ‘I tried’ expression.

“No. I’m not having this,” he says, snapping now “Everything’s a mess, we’re on high alert and we’ve only returned to active duty last week. I need the team at the top of their game. It’s up to me if you can tag along, and If you don’t fix your issue and they end up calling for us, you two are not coming, understood?! So, fix this right now because I might need you for real” he says pointing at each of you before walking back to the briefing room quickly, to make sure none of you reply before he’s away so he can have the last word.

You absently look at the TV screens in the lounge as he leaves.

They are still showing reports of the riots in Phoenix. It’s been going on all morning and now deep into the afternoon. The images are surreal, with protesters on gas masks and costumes indistinguishable from mere partygoers and the riot police and independent heroes fighting all.

Right now you can see a biker gang, tearing up shops apart, the background colored by the ashen cloud of malevolent smog that’s engulfed the whole city. If you know anything about these things, It will get a lot worse before it gets better.

One hell of a Halloween.

“What’s your game Awan?” she finally asks

“My game? Since when is this ‘my game’?”

“Just … say what’s on your mind already! Or do you need Reaper to chain us up again so you can speak up?”

“Fine. You are dating my friend and you helped kill his fucking mentor. You were a villain and now you’re pretending to be a hero.” It sounds so hollow when you say out loud. You’re pretending to be his best friend and you’re not even human. She wants to know your game, it seems it wasn’t a game, just unbridled hypocrisy. “And I haven’t told him a word about it. That’s what on my mind. There, I said it, happy now?”

“Why? Why on earth didn’t you tell him? Are you expecting me to do it? Because I won’t!”

“I know you won’t I’m not stupid”

“Then what the hell is this Awan?”

What is it indeed? You’ve played the scenario in your mind. Telling him. He would not believe it at first. And once he did, he would want to know how you found out. And If you told him that, he would ask why did you suspect her all along, and not Reaper, when all your evidence pointed to him.

And then he would know why you wanted it to be her.

He would know that all those sweaty weekly training sessions weren’t just training for you. He would know why you resented her. He would know that you can’t stop thinking about him and that you’d have happily ruined her because of it.

You still could. You are not the saint Anathema likes to pretend you are. You would just throw her under the bus if…

… If it didn’t make you feel like garbage.

What if the roles were reversed? What if she knew what you are?

You saw the video, you know if she had told Hollow Ground no, then she would have been the next one to get shot. You saw his hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to do it, even while she looked sickened… You’ve been there. Only it was Nathaniel’s hands then, reassuring you. Telling you it was ok to kill. Telling you they were criminals anyways…

“I’m not going to tell him,” you say finally making up your mind.

“Be serious… ”

“I’m not. Going. To tell him.” you repeat slowly.

“That’s just rich. You expect me to believe that?”

“I mean it”

She gives you a long stare, and you can feel her mind trying to probe your emotions. You close your shields tighter, making her attempts break against them.

She narrows her gaze.

“I’m not sure how you do it, but you’re psychically cheating me somehow.”

“I could cheat… If I set up my mind to it” you say with an unintended pun that she doesn’t find funny. “By the way, your scanning is really sloppy,” you say adding a barb.

“My scanning is just fine,” she says irritated. Little does she know… literally. “In my experience, men who act nice always want something in return. I’ll ask you again. What’s your game?”

“If he finds out later, he’ll be dead set on hunting down Hollow Ground, won’t he?” you say trying to rationalize it.

“I’d say he’s already set on that”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have any proof or leads. If I tell on you, he’ll be convinced to follow this through and…”

“…and Hollow Ground killed the last Marshall” she finishes your sentence. “So you want to protect him, that’s it?” she says appraising you once more.

You can feel your shields flinch for a moment at the pressure of a surprise-scan from her. Shit, she was much faster this time, you underestimated her like an idiot… she’s been watching you and learning, while you haven’t practiced with other telepaths in years.

“You’re not fooling me. This isn’t that simple, you’re not that much of a good friend, are you?. You want something else…“

“Ok, you’ve got me. I want you to… break up with Ortega. Today,” you croak, the words coming out too fast, too blunt. Why are you so out of your game? You never had a discussion like this before…

“Break up…? Really? What is it to you?”

“Look If he still finds out on his own, I don’t want to be the one who knew all along and said nothing, ok?” you lie. The chances of him finding out if you don’t tell him are next to nothing, but it doesn’t matter. She’s lived in fear of that truth for a very long time, her imagination will work against her. “And I honestly don’t want you lying to his face every single day, I don’t think he deserves that” you add. It’s ok if you lie, not if she does.

Got to keep those double standards, Awan.

She frowns, and you start a new blinking contest, she knows there’s more to it, and her scan is there, trying to go past your shields again, but you’re ready this time. You keep your shields together for the longest time, resisting and trying to put on a strained expression as she bounces off them again and again and again. She’s got good endurance but none of the training. Pretending that your shields are at breaking point, you let her pick up the truth you’ve placed for her to find on the deceptively brittle surface.

Her lips smirk gently, looking at you in a new light. This isn’t what she expected but she seems satisfied with her findings.

“I guess you are a softie after all… Really? You don’t want me to go to jail?”

“And what if I don’t?” you ask looking away. “It’s not like you had a choice in all of this. You don’t need to be punished again”

The gesture startles you. Her hand on your shoulder.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to pretend to be tough all the time, you know?. I’ll take that deal, Awan. It was a mistake to get so close to him… I should’ve known better.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then,” you say looking at the ground, trying not to get her to see your face. Let her think you’re thankful this is resolved…

It won’t be easy letting your friend go” she ponders. “He doesn’t quit on people”

“Man can’t stop flirting with everything that moves. You’re a good actress. Just add a bit of jealousy and then blame it on him. I’ve seen it done before, many times” you say.

“… you’re a little puppet master in there huh?”

“Whatever. It’s just advice, take it or leave it”

“I hear you. Loud and clear. I’ve got some advice for you too if you want it.”

“For me?” you ask surprised.

“Yes. You’re really good at that … barrier thing you put around yourself all the time”

“Shields,” you say, too impulsively. Why did you have to tell her? That’s dead-on farm terminology. Shit, what are you even doing?.

“Uhu. Well, that thing… I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but it gets in between you and the people around you. You should try to learn and live outside of it some time.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you say quickly wanting to end the conversation. If you had lived outside your shields you’d be dead by now. Or caught, you’re not sure what’s worst.

“As you said… take it or leave it,”

“I think I’ll just…”

“Hey, guys? You’ve got to come to the meeting room in a moment. We’ve got the call from Phoenix”

“Already? What happened now?” you say looking back at the TV.

Oh.

You can see footage from one of the news helicopters, and there he is, Psycopathor, now leading the riot and blowing up police cars with grenades as the crowd cheers.

You turn up the volume…

“… there is a very unstable situation on the ground, that is unfolding very quickly” the reporter explains. “Psycopathor has wrested control over the riot and marches towards the GeniTech’s HQ. The Executives said their Arcology project and main research facility, the so-called “Bastion for Humanity” can endure any and all attacks and calamities and will not evacuate their employees, saying that it has been built to endure all eventualities, including the toxic spill, the rioters, Psycopathor or anyone else thanks to its advanced technology. They say the events tonight will demonstrate the safety of their design. They are not even canceling the planned Halloween celebration. Not everyone wants to stay or trust their message, but many celebrities are stranded inside, as the spills and then the riots have cut them off from the exterior world”

The view zooms in towards Psycopathor

“Let us hear what the self-proclaimed monster has to say about it”

Psycopathor’s voice sounds strong, under the helicopter’s rotors.

“…because It is time for us to march! To fight! To take down these capitalist fuckers, staining our skies! We are going to have to act right now if we want to live in a different world!!” he says raising a spiked fist, with his Vulcan cannon in hand. The crowd roars and resumes marching against the police cordon, aided by a minor hero team, the Revengers. You can see the fear behind their masks as Psycopathor approaches, taller than life surrounded by villains and a huge angry mob.

That’s not going to end well. What is he up to now? Does he really care about pollution? Or does he just want to use this as an excuse to rob the tech the company’s said to have inside that place?

You turn it off and hurry to follow Elyise and Annie trough the corridor.

Steel and Sentinel are already sitting around the long table, along with is Ashfall and the newest member, Sunstroke… or was it Sunstream? Shit, you can’t remember…

Ortega’s standing, waiting for the three of you to enter.

You take your usual place, the seat by the door.

“Ok people, our newest status update is that we’ve got an epic clusterfuck on our hands. Brace yourselves.” Ortega says starts his debriefing, classy as always. “Let me show you the situation on the map and…” he fiddles with the control, and it fails miserably, the 3d map on the center of the table spinning out of control. Ortega and tech never got along.

“Allow me,” Steel says, quickly taking over the controller, the map almost instantly focusing on a scaled image of Phoenix.

“Right. Thanks.” Ortega goes on with a frown. “As you know, there has been a series of toxic spills trough the several industrial complexes surrounding Phoenix.” several red dots appear surrounding the city “The spills caused red alert levels of smog and airt toxicity, which, in turn, started the riots. The authorities are trying to distribute mask filters to the people, but there are simply not enough and the situation on the ground is a mess.”

You nod trough it. You’ve been following up on it on the news.

“Psycopathor reappeared and is now leading the main riot. People are marching towards the GeniTech Arcology Project. The people are furious, and since most of those toxic spills belong to GeniTech subsidiaries, they want them to pay. Psycopathor is banking on that to cause mayhem, but we still don’t know his goal. Oh, and It’s Halloween, so half the protest is wearing gas masks and the other half is on their Halloween costumes. The mayor prohibited the masks or face paint, and it only got worse, everyone’s covering up their face and torching shops ”

“That… is one bad mess Marshal,” Sunstroke says with a frown.

“Worse” Steel interjects.

“What about the Phoenix Rangers?” you ask.

“That’s the worst part yet…” Ortega says turning to you. “They were investigating the spills, and they managed to catch the culprit behind it all.

“Who was it?” Elyise asks.

“Not what. It. Catastrofiend was there.” Ortega adds, causing your jaw to drop. “There was a fight… then an explosion. Aurora and Dr. Simov have been hospitalized and should recover, The Question managed to predict how to save them, and he’s the one calling the shots and directing every independent hero right now. They are overwhelmed, and so he is asking for our aid. He’s now the acting Marshal of Phoenix…”

“You don’t mean…” Anathema starts.

“Yes. Atalanta and Captain Glory… the… they didn’t make it” he finishes grimly.

___________________________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fanfiction #Awan Cormac #Rangers #spoilers

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years

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Very Slow Thoughts on TRH Book 1 Chapter 8

• This chapter is meh. It's basically a full chapter of the writers taking the Walker ranch portion of the story, and stretching it like chewing gum at this point. I was pretty much sleepwalking through this one tbh.

• The only interesting bit in this was the Drake childhood scene, but because the initial scenes will always be slight buildup to the actual meat of the backstory - rather than the story itself - its placement in a chapter as dull as this one doesn't exactly do it any favours.

• To avoid seeing these posts on your dash, you can block the following tags: #trh quick thoughts, #trh qts, #trh qt reblogs, #long post

• Screenshot Credits:

Drake: @thefirstcourtesan and the HIMEME YouTube channel

Hana: The Abhirio YouTube channel

I'm sorry I don't have any Maxwell screenshots this time around, since I couldn't find it on YouTube, and I wasn't able to ask permission for screenshots on time. As soon as a video of his route is up on YouTube, I'll try adding the collages with his screenshots up. But I do have a tiny gist of what happens in certain portions of his playthrough, thanks to Tumblr, so I'll put those up as quotes.

• Title: Ride Like The Wind

Alternate Title: There Are Other Things My MC Could Be Riding...But Okay

• We begin with the sisters (yeah Leona and Bianca are back to being sisters now), worrying over how they'll get their cattle to the upcoming auction on time since every ranch hand they'd reached out for help pretty much declined.

• Not only is stubbornness a family trait, but so is the tendency to judge people at face value (I'm looking at you, Leona).

• There are a bunch of parallels between the Walker Ranch situation and the Beaumont house one in Book 1: both for the Regatta and the Beaumont Bash. Only difference is, the writers won't bother to expand much on Beaumont History but throw around every minute detail they can imagine for Drake's family (IIRC, even the mystery in Beaumont House in Book 1 was mostly Savannah related).

• Even in moments of dire need, Leona HAS to slip in snide remarks about people she barely knows.

Slight variation on the third option, if you're married to Drake. The other two highlight either the fact that the MC spent most of her life as a commoner and could think on her feet, and the second establishes that she has at least some riding experience. Leona pokes fun at you for both, but has the sense to not deliver much of her unwanted opinion for the third (besides stating they don't have much of a choice).

• The MC also highlights the benefit of bringing the others along: Hana and Liam have a lot of riding experience, Drake is 'capable' and 'outdoorsy' and for some reason Maxwell is known only for his enthusiasm (even though Beaumont House HAS horses and a stable and the Brothers Beaumont would have had SOME experience at the very least 🤷🏽‍♀ [Didn't the Beaumont Bash involve letting in a couple horses into the house? I doubt those horses would even be there if those two didn't know how to ride and manage them]).

Hands down my favourite line in this chapter (Liam's king voice one comes a close second). I really love this because in stories like TRR/D&D, there's always that divide between nobility vs commoner, aesthetics vs utility...and in dialogues like these you can really see that difference. It reminds me a little of one of my favourite scenes from D&D Book 1, where Briar looks at the MC's embroidery and wonders aloud how a pretty piece like this would be of any use to anyone.

• The suede is fine but there's too much going on with the rest of the outfit for me to really admire it. Our LIs obviously don't agree with me:

Drake and Liam have the same dialogue, Hana and Maxwell have different ones. (in Maxwell's he tells her he is ready to "serenade my amazingly dressed, darlin' wife").

• Everyone gets their horses (Bianca gives King Liam a gentler horse so she doesn't end up indirectly harming a king, and Leona gives Bertrand a rough horse on purpose. Because Bertrand has to be on his best behaviour he agrees despite his initial fears).

• Hmm. Chuck finds out about the lack of help via a rumour. Hmmmm. Bertrand gets as skittish as his horse until the MC and Bianca remind him that they might as well take all the help they need.

• So the task is to ensure that the group reaches the big fair on time (or before) so that the sisters have enough time to prepare for their auction. Since they're short of staff and have a lot of cattle, every minute counts.

• There are roughly 3 tests that can ensure we get there on time if we pass:

- help move a group of stubborn cows from the six dozen we're taking to the auction (you can either say giddyup or scream out silly idioms that they won't understand). If you don't say giddyup, Drake will say it for you.

- Move the herd of cows away from a mud patch on the way. Drake suggests a move he and Savannah used to do as kids called The Cyclone, where 1-2 people get in the way of the herd and the riders come from another side to steer them away. This ensures that they get the cows away from the mud patch. This one is the most time-sensitive of the three, because if we fail this one a lot of time gets spent in getting the cows that fell into the mud patch out of the muck and onto the path again.

- Get a cow wandering through the stream out of it safely using a lasso. The problem arises when the cow starts fidgeting while you're taking them back. Here is where your suede outfit has an advantage, because if you choose "grip the pommel with your hands" and almost fall off the horse, the sturdy outfit will ensure you're safe.

All of this results either in you getting the cattle to the auction way before time with an hour to spare, or so late that they reach after the auction itself has begun. In the second option, Leona is nervous about their chances but Bianca insists that they did better than they could have done alone.

• Some stuff that you learn/that happens on the way:

- Chuck calls Leona Miss Walker, so is Walker really Bianca's surname rather than Jackson's? Jackson is also referred to as Jackson Walker. So whose nickname was it initially?

- Wild West Nicknames:

* Maxwell can either be Mad Maxwell or Maxwell 'Calamity' Beaumont. Both nicknames from the MC speak of his tendency to veer towards chaos, or his boundless energy.

* Liam is simply called King Liam because PB is fucking lazy.

* Drake is called The Lone Ranger by Hana, and Hana is called Lucky Lee by Drake.

* The MC can choose her nickname - Cow Boss, Jewel of the Prairie and Wild [Surname]. The second is a nice callback to both one of Valtoria's House mottos (Jewel of the Earth) and a name that Maxwell gives to a caviar dish for the Beaumont Bash (Jewels of the Sea). Personally I think the second one is a better parallel since the Beaumont House situation was already a precursor to what is going on with the Walker Ranch.

Well yes Liam, on people.

That aside...Jesus Christ is this man adorable.

- Alright, so much as I can't stand Leona? At least she has a legitimate ax to grind with Cordonian monarchy. Why the hell is CHUCK being like her and acting all condescending?? The closest thing to a 'noble' he's been around was Savannah and they barely even had anything together if we go by what Savannah says. What is he, the shit stirrer of Walker Ranch?

I have two points to make about this:

1. Constantine...is a fucking asshole. Most of us knew that. I think TRH just seems to be expanding more on that.

2. Sooo...exactly what was Constantine like before the Nevrakis ppl did what they did coz at this point he sounds like an utter failure in every way imaginable. His wife seems to have serious issues with him at this point, he's too busy fighting to spend any time with his kids (well. at least the one the writers remember), has neglected his friend Hakim, doesn't have good political relations with anyone, screws over the King Guard who he gave a Guardian of the Realm honour to earlier, for saving his life...after the man has died.

3. Leona pretty much doesn't seem to care about anything else besides the money Bianca could have been bringing in. It's the main thing she mentions when we first meet her, and it's the front and center of what she's telling us now. What Bianca was going through, the fact that her kids were left behind in an environment that was seemingly not a good one for them - she hasn't mentioned this so far in any of her more obvious complaints towards the nobility. I mean, is that the first thing you think about when your sister returns to her maternal home after such a devastating tragedy? Really??

4. The other funny thing is...she complains about not getting compensation from the royalty yet forgets that for a whole year or more when Bianca and Leona were not there for her (not their fault obviously, since she likely never told them)...it was a noble family's money that supported Savannah and Bartie. The money of the same Bertrand Leona is now enjoying lording over. I guess she would only know this if she were actually giving her sister's children the time of day, and I have hardly seen her do so, so far.

• Once we reach the fair and the sisters have moved forward to where the auction is happening, we are allowed to check out the rest of the fair. Cue diamond scene!

• I kinda think of this as a Group-LI kind of diamond scene - one where you spend time with the characters, but not separately. In a usual group scene they interact and do stuff together before you get time alone with them, but here, the group interactions are minimal and you get time with each LI in different situations. If you are married to said LI, the dialogues are obviously more romantic.

Drake: Opts for bull riding. He's shocked at the number of waivers he has to sign before participating, has a tough time atop the bull BUT manages to stay on longer than the rest. The rest of the group cheers him on as he comes out victorious, and the MC can either be baffled at his daring, or try it out herself.

The MC who is Drake's wife can opt to kiss him just before he participates and tell him to be safe.

Maxwell: Asks us to join in a tandem pie eating competition with him. The MC and Maxwell can either easily win, or be disqualified for starting a pie fight. Either way, the experience is a blast.

As Maxwell's wife, you get to kiss him after you've won/gotten disqualified, and tell him how his ability to make you laugh and have fun is exactly why your marriage is so amazing. (as Maxwell puts it: "never a dull day and more pie eating contests than you'd expect").

Hana: Has found a dressage-trained horse, and is happily getting the horse to do a perfect figure-eight. What follows is a heartfelt conversation about what home means to her, all the possibilities she can now freely explore, and the changes she has experienced. You can either tell her about her tendency to be competitive (something she apparently did not know herself...uh, yeah, sure), or her love and loyalty towards her friends.

As Hana's wife, you can kiss her, tell her you're falling more and more in love with her each day, and Hana gets to tell you that for her, home is where you are.

Liam: Has learned how to make a lasso from a local at the fair. He speaks of how places like these make him feel like he perhaps may understand his own people better, even if these activities are not what the court would expect or approve of from a king. He can show a few rope tricks to the MC, like catching a chair with a lasso, or be 'captured' by the MC.

As Liam's wife, there's the opportunity to flirt either by using the lasso on Liam, or asking him to tie you up.

• Savannah gives an update from Bertrand on how the cattle drive has gone, and Drake brings along some Texas barbeque. The group love it, but the MC finds it a little too much on the spicier side (bold of you, team TRH, to think I can't handle the seasoning in Texas when I have numbed my tongue on bird's-eye chilis!).

• Gah. The paps again. But this time, we're prepared and able to put a positive spin on our trip to Texas (this is either a romantic getaway to ensure we conceive a child, supporting a local business, attending the wedding of a noble) and the paparazzo runs with it. Chuck comes to our 'rescue' a minute later and Savannah is very appreciative.

• Tensions continue brewing beneath the surface between Bertrand and Chuck. Chuck tries to bond with Bartie, who is naturally a friendly child, and Bertrand isn't able to hide how he feels about this. You get to either deflect the situation by telling Bertrand to show Bartie how a "Beaumont high-five" works, or by telling Chuck not to cut into Bartie's animal petting time.

• Savannah complains. Only improvement is that at least this time she mentions that she's spoken to Bertrand and even then he feels he has something to prove (gee, Savannah, I wonder why. It's not like your AUNT has anything to do with that, for sure!)

• "Whatever's going on with Bertrand, I hope he figures it out before our wedding". 'Because I sure as hell don't care', Savannah forgot to add. Like...the root of his current insecurities is right in front of her. Right in her family. Leona has been rubbing it in that he is a 'useless noble' ever since he's been here (even giving him a skittish horse on purpose) and not once has Savannah ever said a thing - either in front of Bertrand, or secretly to us in all the times she's been complaining about him. That's a...surprisingly cavalier attitude for someone getting married to this guy in a couple days.

• Seeing Bertrand, Savannah and Bartie as a family leads the MC and LI to talk about their own search for a family. Nowadays I generally tap over a scene like this because I personally find the MC having the option to be upset and sorry for herself about not being pregnant, a little annoying. I wouldn't under normal circumstances, considering what this book is about (in fact I would be quite happy) - but I think I'm allowed to feel sore over the fact that the MC unfairly gets the space to feel about this the way others can't. So yeah, for me scenes like these are not worth talking about.

• We're back at the ranch, where the group laughs and reminisces over the last trip some of them (Liam, Drake, Savannah) took to the ranch, and the strongest memory we here about is of Jackson, Drake's father who was once Constantine and Eleanor's security detail.

• In our second childhood diamond scene, we are taken back to their last visit to the ranch, where a rather unwell Eleanor is protected by Jackson, and where the children witness a fight between the king and queen. Drake and Jackson have a conversation in the stables later, where the father evades questions about Constantine and Eleanor from a very worried son, and instead chooses to ask him questions about his future. Here are the things I could glean from the scenes:

- Bianca doesn't get a younger sprite here even though she is present in the scene, and there's a chance that they're maybe saving that for a flashback scene for her (?)

- Eleanor's meant to appear unwell, tired and very unlike herself in this sequence - and even if we've just met her it's quite clear that something is off with her. She is shown looking weary a couple of times, and Jackson says "easy does it" at one point. She shows a lot more frustration towards Constantine than in the last scene, calling him out for his paranoia and asking him if his questions (about her wanting an alliance with Auvernal) are an order from the king rather than a request from her husband. Even Constantine points out that she is not herself.

- Other than Auvernal being her maternal home, what else do we know about her connections there? (besides that telling quote by Bradshaw about Eleanor always graciously welcoming them - which interestingly seems to leave out Constantine). I feel like the upcoming trip there next chapter is going to give us an insight into that.

- There is a heavy emphasis on Liam and Drake's friendship, and Drake's feeling of 'responsibility' towards Liam...which I think is kind of a pointer to the whole question of him returning to court after the assassination and staying with Liam when they're older. Even his conversation with Jackson has the latter mentioning that he would be of the most help if he keeps Liam and his parents happy during their time in the ranch.

- The ending itself shows a significant shift from Drake's attitude towards Liam in the first half (playful, friendly, wants Liam to be safe around his mother's home) to the last (protective, determined to cheer Liam up and more reflective). This scene is clearly a Drake scene through and through and the approach is very different from the first set of childhood scenes. This might be how childhood solo scenes will be dealt with from now on.

- Jackson also mentions not being able to speak openly about the problems between Constantine and Eleanor, and Liam tells us later on that he was kind of a confidant to both of them. Jackson also mentions in the stable scenes that he is responsible for keeping them alive but not for their personal problems. The perfect King Guard. Constantine is an ass for denying his family compensation (but also I wonder if there is more to that story the way they frame it. I hope they don't try to force another of those "it was for the good of Cordoniaaaaa" excuses the writers always keep ready for Constantine.

- If Olivia was so suspicious, why were they leaving her behind?

- There are significant differences between the Drake playthrough and other playthroughs in terms of certain scenes. One lies in the options little Drake can make with regards to his future. The third options in both playthroughs show indicators of his future. If present-day Drake is single in your playthrough, it will focus on his desire for a simpler life. If he is married now, then the flashback will include this:

The other two options are Drake speaking about wanting to be a King Guard like his dad, and wanting to stay Liam's best friend. The King Guard thing obviously doesn't happen, the second one happens because Liam almost died. The third one is more clearly a pointer to Drake's future.

- Another significant variation if you are married to Drake is that you have a conversation with him after the scene is over, about his thoughts on his child becoming an heir to the throne:

Reminds me of the conversation we had at the American bar. On the one hand, I like this because as an outsider in the court and someone close to the security detail at the time, he would think of Liam's life very differently. Kids are impressionable, and ostentatious shows of wealth in front of a kid who cannot afford that much can definitely sting.

- Hmm. Hmm. So Liam's sacrifices only become important to Drake when his own kid might face the same challenges? Until then he will yap about how much luckier Liam is and how everything revolves around Liam? How girls were after Liam and not him (yet the one girl who did like him, he eventually treated like trash)? How he thought of Liam as "leading the MC on" by spending time with her when they first met/during the social season? (that's an actual dialogue he says, in Book 3 Chapter 16). Added to this is the fact that Drake stayed in the palace for free, as Liam's friend, and hardly had to do much (he freely roams around the cities Liam has to visit for diplomatic reasons, he can opt out of court events when he wants, he doesn't even have to dress the way others do - even the MC that doesn't buy outfits has to wear a gown that represents her sponsors/duchy for official events). Now when it's convenient for Drake he chooses to think about the flip side? When that flip side should have been the most obvious to him, the Prince/King's best friend??

• The setup for the next chapter comes in the form of a letter from Auvernal, asking the MC to meet them. Well. It's not Texas, so I'll take it.

General Thoughts:

- I don't have a lot to say about this chapter. There's not much really. It's boring and bland and even the nice Drake childhood scene at the end can't save it.

- Bianca's little line about not wanting to harm a King on her ranch...I feel like part of it may be concern because Liam was after all her son's best friend, and part of it may be wariness because of Constantine? But a lot of this is definitely me reading too much into this one little line 😅

- It does have some decent callbacks though:

* Team TRH FINALLY remembers that Hana has done dressage, which was shown to us as far back as TRR Book 1 Chapter 13. Brava!

* The whole premise of a family struggling with money problems and us offering help and getting the job done, is very reminiscent of the pre-Beaumont Bash sequences where we were scrambling together appetizers, helping with cleaning and setting up the ballroom for the big event. It's kind of ironic because the Beaumonts were in this position once, and now at least 3 books later they are involved in helping the sisters get the cattle drive going.

* The pie fight in Maxwell's section of the diamond scene has some similarities to the food fight in the fondue party scene in Book 2.

* Hana's response to eating barbeque strongly resembles how she approaches eating sloppy joes in Book 1, at the beach party. Back there, she is nervous about sampling the food because it is messy, and here she initially asks about utensils to eat it with, to which Maxwell says "you have ten of them!" referring to her fingers.

* The Jewel nickname for the MC, which we've seen versions of before in Book 1 and Book 3.

* A lighter version of the MC-Drake conversation in the Drake x MC playthrough can be found in the American bar scene in Book 1, where he speaks about how his parents always tried to get him things for his birthday but Liam's parents always went many steps ahead simply because they could afford it.

* Drake being called the Lone Wolf by Hana, which was something the MC could opt to dub herself in her interview at the Derby in Book 1? (a bit of a stretch I know but I'm having fun with this okay 😂)

- Could a kind anon (or not-anon) tell me if there is a reference behind 'Lucky Lee'? In fact behind all the names except maybe the Lone Wolf one for Drake. I couldn't find any hehehe.

- Now that we're going to Auvernal, I think we'll find (paywalled) clues there that might tell us more about Eleanor. Those clues about her changed behaviour and physical condition must have been placed exactly here for a reason.

- Usually Chapters 9 or 10 have been chapters that dealt with some aspect of Constantine and his family (his abdication + news of his impending death in Book 1, discovery of his involvement in the conspiracy in Book 2, and his death in Book 3). So now would be the perfect time to discover the truth about Eleanor and her relationship with Constantine, and what was troubling her.

- One theory I have is that Eleanor's being slow-poisoned, and these may be symptoms of what she is having. @thefirstcourtesan mentioned that pregnancy could be a reason too, and it would be another connecting factor with the MC. One thing that I do feel a little certain about is that this trip to Texas may have been a little while before she died.

- How is it that the narrative has absolutely no memory of the fact that Leo was once heir to the throne? I can imagine him not being very close to Liam-Drake-Maxwell or being a teenager who didn't want to be around his father (esp if that father is acting the way Constantine does in these scenes)...but not even a reference? A mention? You have the time to draw an entire sprite of little Savannah who pretty much has very little to do with this part of the story (or any part of the overall story) but Leo isn't even mentioned? Sounds a little fishy to me.

- I possibly wouldn't have minded Savannah's complaining and lack of proactiveness with the Bertrand situation, if their entire storyline didn't revolve around her being this "perfect angel" Bertrand has to be worthy of, and Bertrand's mistakes repeatedly being pulled up while Savannah doesn't have to answer much for the occasions where she is irrational or hasn't made good decisions. What we're seeing now is just an extension of this particular storyline.

- You can tell that the original epilogue series was meant to revolve around the Walker Ranch coz whatever we're seeing here is probably way way more than we have seen of Cordonia so far. There are frantic attempts to tie this to the overall plotline, but within the larger picture it makes very little sense.

Like I hate the paparazzi in the series and even then I found myself agreeing when he pointed out that it was weird that half the Royal Council was roaming around Texas.

- Speaking of the Council I wonder what the other court ladies were doing while we were at the fair. Sleeping off those hangovers?

- There could be other childhood/flashback scenes coming up. We will need an adult perspective, so Bianca might get one. Olivia needs to be seen as important and relevant to the plot (plus Constantine was shitty to her too), so she will get one.

- I wonder why Bastien had such a loyalty and attachment to Queen Eleanor (as stated in Book 2 by Regina) if he actually wasn't that close to the royal couple then (Jackson seems to fulfill that role here). I'm pretty sure they're probably going to ignore/forget that little detail.

- Will Hana and Maxwell get flashback scenes? They should, and there are ways you could incorporate that even if they weren't involved as much. Maxwell's could (FINALLY) focus on what happened to his family fortunes and you could slip in a little something about the palace there. Hana's could focus on her family and also have Lorelai catch up on Cordonian news/talk to her Cordonian relatives. Liam needs a solo scene of his own too, because after this I'm pretty sure his life takes a turn for the worse. If Hana and Maxwell (but esp Hana) don't get one...that's going to be extremely disheartening because they deserve way more attention than what they're getting now. I'm sincerely hoping we see more of their childhood memories too.

- You know what I'm REALLY looking forward to? Writing TRR 1's Chapter 8 QT. I'm very fond of that chapter and have a whole bunch of points to make about it 😀

- Until the next chapter, everyone!

#long post #trh quick thoughts #trh qts #the royal heir #king liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #drake walker #bertrand beaumont #savannah walker

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starculler · 5 years

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Whumptober 2019, no. 23 - Bleeding Out

Link screamed as an arrow pierced his thigh. He crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, muddied dirt and grass in his mouth. Everything ached and his breath came in hard, quick, and ragged gasps, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t give them an inch. He fumbled to his hands and knees, crawling and clawing his way forward as he failed to get his legs under him. His gloves tore on a sharp, rocky outcrop. The pain of it bled into the background, drowned out by the deep, throbbing ache in his leg and the warm blood soaking into his torn pants.

Tears burned his eyes as his pursuers’ footsteps drew nearer. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself forcefully up onto his feet only to fall moments after. He smothered another scream as pain lanced through him, every cut, scrape, and gash lit aflame as he hit the ground. He gasped, dazed and writhing, knowing he need to get up. Move. Run. But unable to comply. He scrabbled feebly at the ground, mud and grass torn up under his fingers but managed little more than aggravating the jagged slice across his palm.

His chest constricted first with fear. The knowledge he would die, his duties unfulfilled. His memories unrecovered. The princess left to grapple with the Calamity unaided. His fingers curled as if to grasp the hilt of his sword, but no matter how much he yearned for its protection The Master Sword’s energy had been spent and it had dissolved in his hands with no other on hand to replace it. It would not come to him even now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to, anyway.

The muddled drum and splash of feet slowed, the stopped altogether as they reached him. It was a group of five, their numbers cut by Link’s hand, barefoot and brightly colored. He purposefully kept his gaze trained on his hands. The grass. Anywhere but their faces. He felt nauseous and slow. Worn and just a touch distant, as if he were watching himself from faraway. A sharp kick to his ribs brought him back to reality.

“Answer,” one of them snarled.

All he could do was shift, stifling a groan, his voice clogged in his throat as firmly as if he were being choked. Another kick pried a cry free from his lips, and he pressed his face into the grass and mud as his stomach rolled. Maybe it would save him the pain and he’d suffocate. He’d rather that than this nightmare. A clawed hand fisted into the back of his shirt dashed that morbid hope as he was dragged up, the gash in his side like fire on his skin at the sudden, jarring movement. He bit his lip to keep from screaming and felt the brief sharp point of pain that meant he’d bit through it.

He was manhandled to his feet and then dropped, left to fall to his hands and knees as soon as his arrow-pierced leg failed to hold his weight. He shook, swallowing down the acid that crawled up his throat. His breathing turned shallow, rasping and a little wet. The tip of a lightscale trident touched his chin before jerking his face up to look at the group. Their eyes bored into him, fierce and feral in their anger. The sight of them made him want to run. To hide. To cry.

His vision grayed at the edges and swam, leaving him dizzy and disoriented even as he tried to focus. A cold numbness crept through him and he couldn’t be sure whether it was from the earlier rainstorm or his own loss of blood. Or perhaps it was the way they looked at him, cold and cutting and so frighteningly different from the friendly warmth he’d seen in them just the night before. He wondered, in some faraway corner of his mind, what he’d done between then and now to deserve this. To be hunted and hurt, his weapons and supplies stripped from him.

Only his instincts had prevented his death back in Zora’s Domain, calling the Master Sword to his hand in time to parry a blow that would have pierced through his chest. His words then had stuck in his throat as the Zora guard had advanced, giving him no time to so much as sign a question to them. He’d dodged most of their attacks, spears and claws and teeth, and wondered if he might have gotten away if only Sidon hadn’t intervened. Sidon who’s arrival had drawn Link up short, breathless and relieved at first. Chilling horror had quickly replaced the feeling when Sidon had drawn himself up, lips pulled back in a snarl, and lunged, grabbing and tossing Link to the floor before biting down on his shoulder after a brief struggle.

Link had escaped worse for wear from the Domain only after striking out with the Master Sword, called back to his hand after it had skittered away when Sidon’s bulk had knocked him back. The sight of the cleaving cut, deep and clean, on Sidon’s shoulder dragged at Link, the crushing weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. He might have cut through entirely if not for the way he’d been pinned and the panic muddling his thoughts. He tasted acid and bile and the remnants of his last meal as he thought of Sidon, staggering and armless.

He dragged himself back to the present, the constant, drumming roar in his ears near deafening. He knew, objectively, that the Zora were speaking. To him. To each other. He couldn’t make out so much as a single syllable and their lips were hard to read from his place below them, still on his knees. But he could read their fury in the tense lines of their bodies. In the way their hands clutched at the weapons or their stances shifted. In the way Sidon curled and flexed his clawed fingers, inching closer as if he wanted to wrap them around Link’s throat.

He struggled not to think of them touching his cheek, claws skimming harmlessly over his skin.

A hand grabbed a rough handful of his hair, dragging his head back. Exposing his throat. Sidon spoke, muted words distant and unintelligible, but Link had seen that dangerous glint in the Zora Prince’s eyes before. Link had seen him a few times, stolen glimpses of Sidon among the other Zora warriors, the lot of them fierce as they felled any monsters creeping too close to their home. They were eyes that Link never imagined he’d see directed at him, spelling out his fate as clearly as the words he’d been unable to hear.

Death.

The Zora sword handed to Sidon seemed a little funny. Too small in the Zora Prince’s hands. Perhaps Link had lost too much blood to properly manage his expression, or perhaps it was the horrifying absurdity of the situation. He couldn’t help the way his lips curled up in a small smile. He would have laughed, maybe, if the sword hadn’t swiped across his throat at that moment.

Link felt the way his skin tugged. The heat of the slice. The hot, wet flow of blood down the exposed skin of his neck and the painful burbling gurgle inside. He was only dimly aware of the lack of pressure on his scalp as his hair was released or the way his body pitched suddenly forward. It seemed as if he’d blinked and the small crowd of Zora had disappeared. Their sentence dealt and Link left to bleed and die alone in the mud.

It was an eternity and too soon. His lungs burned, choked with mud and blood. The tears he’d held back slipped as he gaped and gasped, face pressed into dirt and mud and rock. He flailed to bring his arms in close, to press his hands to his neck and staunch the blood flow. A useless but automatic gesture. He blinked again and his limbs felt heavy, as if they’d been made of lead. The cold he’d felt earlier seemed to tripe, gripping tight to him until he shivered almost nonstop. Darkness clung to his tear-blurred vision, as if tempting him into sleep.

His struggling, gurgling noises died slowly. His eyelids shuttered, slipping closed as he lost the battle to stay awake. To stay alive. Green, glowing light pierced the gray just as he let his eyes closed. He exhaled as a warm hand touched the side of his face and spread. His body went lax as Link slipped into darkness, Mipha’s voice trailing after him. Drawing him slowly back.

Soo I’ve been sitting this BOTW AU idea for a bit now and figured I’d bite the bullet and try writing some of it out. It’s basically Link, about to go out and finally fight Calamity Ganon, finds himself in a version of his life where he’s pretty much public enemy no. 1. But he doesn’t know it until he arrives at Zora’s Domain (possibly insert Sidlink sentiments here ‘cause i’m weak for the shark man and honestly that’s some good angst). I don’t have many details or specifics, but yeah. Hope you enjoyed my attempt

#whumptober2019 #no.23 #bleeding out #botw #link #breath of the wild #my fanfic #tw blood #tw death

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snowbellewells · 5 years

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“Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)”

Well, folks, here we are at last - the final installment of my CSSNS MC. I can’t believe it’s really over (or that it has carried all the way into the new year.) But I have had a lot of fun exploring the world of this werewolf AU, and I am so thankful for everyone who read and encouraged me along the way as I wrote. I am sorry I kept you waiting for the loose ends to be tied up and the happy ending achieved, but I hope you will enjoy this last segment. I may check back in with these versions of the characters and this verse with a shorter look into the future if there is a second CSSNS. (After all, I did leave a small hint or two for things that might yet be brewing in the plot!) But for now, here we are at the finish line complete.

***Thank you once again to @wingedlioness for the gorgeous story banner she made for this piece that I have been using throughout. Enjoy the final story pic she made for this as well. It’s just a fun little fluffy glimpse at a part of their happily-ever-after! :)

epilogue ~ moments in the moonlight

A few days after Emma and Killian’s successful deal with the Dark One, a hesitant sort of waiting peace had fallen over Storybrooke as life seemed to return to its version of normal. Gold had made no noticeable moves to break his word, and though none of those who had fought for a sense of safety against he, Cora, and Regina were going to quit watching him closely, the intensely charged atmosphere of the previous weeks and the sense of constantly awaiting the next calamity or attack, had begun to subside. Henry and Snow, both as student and teacher, had returned to their regular school routine. Emma and Graham had gone back to regular shifts at the station handling once-more mundane complaints of dwarf squabbles, Mr. and Mrs. Sprat’s domestic disturbances in the grocery aisles, and Widow Shue’s numerous kids making too much noise in the backyard and bothering the neighbors. Killian seemed to be settling into town as well, planning to make it a more long-term home. When not with Emma and Henry, or out and about with David and Graham, both of whom were becoming the closest friends he’d had since the loss of his brother, the pirate puttered around on his ship, either cleaning or seeing that it was airtight and warm enough to remain habitable in the fast-approaching winter months.

Tucked away in her cozy office in the very back corner of the library however, one evening just a few days before Thanksgiving, Belle French fought to keep recent events and the distressing tangle of emotion knotting her gut from overrunning her mind. It was easier, admittedly, now that she wasn’t alone. Graham had stopped in after he was done at the sheriff’s station for the day, Granny’s takeout in hand for their dinner, and they had just finished eating in warm companionship, both of them more than anything grateful to no longer be eating alone, to have the other’s presence beside them to dispel the regrets and doubts whispering in their minds.

When at last she looked up to gaze full in his focused, understanding face, already looking back at her and seeming to read behind her attempt at a casual smile and false normalcy, Belle found herself catching her breath at the zing of warmth and electricity that went skittering through her. Tossing the napkin she had already crumpled into the paper bag on the table between them, she reached for the sheriff’s large, calloused hand, already held out open and waiting for her on the wooden tabletop. She couldn’t have imagined before this just how much comfort there was in simply being known - truly known, accepted, and understood intrinsically by someone else. She had come to feel nearly invisible with Rumple quite quickly upon regaining her sense of self (and more memories of the Enchanted Forest). There had been good moment long ago, but in truth she had been more of a shadow of the brave adventuress she’d always hoped. Yes, Rumple had needed her, but as an extension of himself, to keep him behaving as the good person he should have already been. Graham needed her too, but in the way any person would need someone they cared for; moreover, it was the same way that she needed him as well.

There was no judgement or impatience on Graham’s face, only concern and a desire to help as his thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of her hand. “What is it, Belle?” he asked, voice low and calming in the dim light of her single desk lamp in the silent echoes of the library closed for the day. “Something is clearly bothering you… Maybe it would help to share it?”

Belle squeezed the hand that held her own reassuringly, before wrapping her free hand around their interwoven fingers, wanting to hold onto him that much more for his compassion and his intuition, traits she knew had made her initial gratitude and attraction to him swell into all that she felt for him now. It wasn’t that she couldn’t share her worry with him, she thought as she shook her head in agitation, it was that she didn’t quite know how to try. Finally, she bit her lip and then, with a released whoosh of breath, she plowed ahead impulsively, “It’s just that...well...I don’t really feel relieved. You know? I mean, I assumed that if we were able to stop Rumple - and Emma and Killian forcing his hand into that deal seems to have worked, at least for the time being - then I would feel more at ease, like I could safely move on. But I don’t feel any better about it… more sort of hollow...and anxious too, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Graham scooted his chair closer, obviously trying to offer a shoulder if she needed it; despite her having noticed that in most situations he didn’t tend to get overly close in proximity to other people unless absolutely necessary. “If you’re worried that we’ve dropped our guard, we haven’t. Everyone knows Gold is quite possibly only safe until he finds a way out of the deal he struck-”

But she interrupted him, shaking her head and turning away from his searching, deep eyes that she felt could look right into and read her very soul if she let him. “No, it’s not that. Well, there is the worry that he’ll find a loophole and attack us the first chance he gets, but it’s more that I can’t believe I was ever foolish enough to think he would change, that he could be different. So much wasted time, so much of my own life lost for a cause that was always hopeless.”

Graham’s fingers were tender, barely brushing over her skin as he ever-so-softly touched her chin to move her face back to his. “Please don’t say that,” he husked, his voice raspy with strangled emotion as he continued. “Your faith in others, your hope, your belief that we can overcome and change, that we do control our own fates… I… I love that about you.”

Her breath caught at his admission, long lashes blinking rapidly as she met his eyes now, transfixed and unable to look away.

“Don’t let him take that from you,” Graham finished breathlessly, his chest heaving as if he had just run for miles, and a surprising red flush climbing up his neck before his eyes dropped to the wood of the desk between them and then finishing with a murmured, “I couldn’t bear it.”

It took Belle a minute to get her wits about her, her thoughts pinging and racing in every direction at once and her heart beating as though it might pump right out of her chest, but she felt the sheriff beside her tensed to move, as if embarrassed to have said too much and preparing himself to withdraw. Quickly, she gripped his hand a little tighter, until he looked back into her face.

“You...you love me?” she whispered, not at all certain she could believe her ears.

Graham wordlessly nodded at that without saying anything more aloud. She could read his expression just then, as much as she had ever felt that he could read hers. She had been beating herself up for her own mistakes, both in the past and the present, fearing that her failures would always be laid out before her, but she could see in that weighted moment that her werewolf boyfriend carried all the same self-doubt and fear. He wasn’t sure that what had happened to him, what he had been made into and forced to do, would ever be fully behind him, or if anyone could look at him without seeing the damage, and yet despite it all, he was reaching out to her.

Belle didn’t know if it was right or if it was wrong, too much or too fast, but in that moment, with the flood of emotion he’d brought forth in her, she couldn’t hold back. Leaning forward over their joined hands, she pressed her mouth to his, savoring the soft feel of his lips in a first kiss full of the hope he had just reignited within her, and everything else she felt for him besides.

When Graham opened for her, drinking her in with a low hum of pleasure and kissing back, it was so enthusiastic that before she knew it, he was pulling her toward him over the table until she was curled, giggling in his lap, sheltered by his warm embrace as he peppered more kisses to her hair, cheeks, and forehead. They might both still be broken, but together they were going to mend the jagged edges.

~~~~~~***~~~~~~***~~~~~~~

High on the hill overlooking Storybrooke, later that same night, Emma and Killian sat on the hood of her VW Bug, alternately stargazing and making out like the two carefree teenagers neither of them had ever really gotten the chance to be. Emma was just pondering the fact, when the idea of her deputy father on duty tonight catching them up here, flashing lights and stern expression and all the trappings he would have certainly pulled out if he’d actually been able to parent her when she was sixteen, seventeen, lost and living on the wild side. A chuckle escaped her at the both preposterous and yet utterly plausible mental image, causing Killian to pull back with an affronted look as she buried her head in his shoulder, her own shaking with silent mirth.

“And just what is so funny?” he questioned. “A man could begin to doubt himself when his lady love begins to laugh instead of melt at his romantic overtures.”

“Easy there, Wolf Man,” she soothed, trailing her hand along his open collar and into the exposed hair of his chest with idly stroking fingers, both their heart rates picking up at the gesture. “No need to get your hackles up. You’re doing just fine, trust me.”

A teasing grin quirked her delectable lips as she stared up at him, offering a seductive wink for good measure, even as she decided for herself that though she would definitely tell him later what had made her laugh and let him gain a chuckle from it as well, it wasn’t the time just then, nor did she want the heavy chemistry rippling between them broken with humor.

Killian, for his part, saw her green eyes darken from sparkling jade to forest deepness with want and was more than happy to let the matter drop for the present. All sensible thought fled him at that moment anyway, as Emma’s hand crawled up his neck to scratch behind his ear, making it all he could do not to whine in the back of his throat like a mere pup begging a treat from its owner. Emma did own him, body and soul, in all the ways that mattered. Killian saw no purpose or sense in denying it.

However, once he managed to gather a few threads of coherent thought, he leaned forward to growl warningly against her skin, not quite willing to let her win the upper hand so easily. “You’re playing with fire, Emma...as you well know. Toying with me that way wakes the beast within…”

She shivered at the husky intonation of his words, his meaning all too clear. In truth, she couldn’t help thinking that might be just what she was after; she was only too eager to let him devour her with tooth, tongue, and claw. Still, there had been a reason they’d chosen this particular spot for the evening, and the time was fast approaching. The full moon above was nearly at its peak.

Seeming to recall himself just as Emma did, Killian pulled back from her slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. Finally, with a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, he slid off the hood of the car and stood, looking back at her with hope and uncertainty warring in his eyes. “Swan, in all seriousness, are you sure about wanting to wait for me? It could get quite chilly up here tonight.

Emma could only nod her head at him at first, wondering how he still didn’t quite see his own worth in her eyes, how intensely she wanted to be with him every moment she could. “Yes, Jones, I’m sure,” she said at last, with some exasperation, not failing to notice the affection and joy that flooded his face with her confirmation. “It’s only a few hours, right? Go - have your run. Maybe it’s the loosed beast I’m anxious to see when you get back.”

Killian visibly swallowed hard at her last words, but then a devilish gleam entered those mesmerizing eyes of his, and she could see his tongue poke into the corner of his mouth as he replied with a promise that set the blood in her veins on fire. “Have it your way, Love. I can say with some certainty that he’ll be salivating to see you too by the time I return.”

With that, he divested himself of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and baring his scarred and heavily furred chest as well as the ripple of stomach muscles that accompanied the action. Emma’s mouth went dry at the sight, even as she reached out her hand dumbly to take the shirt from him, along with the pants, socks, and boxers that followed. Looking up at her once more with a smirk, knowing that she was staring at his nude form as she clutched the discarded clothing to her chest, Killian then jogged into the treeline and was gone.

A few minutes later, Emma heard the singular, haunting and powerful howl of a wolf from well within the forest and knew that his transformation was complete. It had taken Killian a huge amount of trust to bring her here and let her into as much of the process as he dared, still not completely willing to shift into lupine form right in front of her; knowing that for a brief amount of time, just when the change was complete, he was purely a wild animal. Though he could swiftly regain control of his mind, he refused to risk even the slightest chance that he might hurt or frighten her in that minute lapse of time.

He had told her that he could actually hold the transformation off completely, but she sensed within his statement that it wasn’t a pleasant option, and when pressed, Killian had admitted that it was distressing - like an itch under the skin that couldn’t be scratched - if not downright painful, when one continued to fight nature. He didn’t know if it could do permanent damage, but Emma hadn’t wanted him to test the theory anyway. Yes, Henry was with her father tonight - out on a camping trip with him, Graham, his friend Nicholas, and Nick’s father, but she could wait a few hours. Plus, if she were honest, she was more than a bit curious, and not in the least turned off. So there she was, waiting for her love’s return.

It really was almost more than a cynic like her could believe, all that had happened in the last few months. At Thanksgiving this year, she had more to be grateful for than she could have fathomed possible not so long ago. She had the son she had lost - that she’d broken her own heart to give up for his best chance - back in her life, she had parents who loved her and had always wanted her, she had found love with a man she knew was devoted and true, she had genuine friends in Graham, Ruby, Belle, and many more of the quirky inhabitants of their little hamlet, and she had a job she enjoyed, that she was respected for doing well. Most of all, the lost girl who had still been hiding beneath her armour, had finally found her home.

Musing on all of that, Emma also had to concede that of course life still wasn’t perfect. There might yet be dark magic and curses that could come their way, along with everyday human heartache and trial, and of course she wasn’t going to turn her back on Mr. Gold, deal or not, but things were as near perfection as she had ever known. She felt stronger in belonging to a place and to these people than she had ever been before all alone.

A rustling of dried leaves and underbrush alerted her to turn back to the forest just in time to see a familiar dark black wolf emerge from the trees, its startling blue eyes intense and knowing, even in the face of a different being. The majestic animal lifted its snout slightly, as if catching her scent on the wind and savoring it before gazing back at her and taking another step forward. Speechless, Emma could have sworn the animal licked its chops before pacing toward her. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he seemed to stretch and rearrange before her very eyes. She blinked disbelievingly, even though she had known it was him and what he was capable of, and when she looked again, it was Killian stalking toward her purposefully, nearly knocking her off her feet as he reached her and swept her up in a breathless, hungry kiss.

Tagging a few who may enjoy... @cssns @kmomof4 @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @aloha-4-ever @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @linda8084 @branlovestowrite @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @quicksilvermad @capswantrue @kiwistreetswan @bubblegum1425 @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @bmbbcs4ever @thislassishooked

#cssns #cs ff #cs au mc #ouat werewolves au #run to me (in the dead of night)#epilogue #the final chapter #for now...

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toasttz · 5 years

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From the Tabletop #8

When last we left our questionably-competent D&D gang, we decided to venture out, due to Kaz receiving a vision/message from Granzeen the Gale, a patron spirit of the chicken tendies, asking Kaz if he wanted revenge for his father's murder. This resulted in: Kaz: Yeah, I guess? Granzeen: I will show you that which you most desire! Needless to say, Kaz has some commitment issues. At the same time, Laguna also had a vision, whereupon he was told he had become a Hero of Yzzmitt, which leads to its own thing a little later on. Imagine a thin girl who loves arts and crafts, her hair tied back in a bandana, clad in apron, and work clothes. Her arms end in useless bulbs rather than hands, but her hair is amassed with dozens of hands that extend from the locks. So, the next day, following the directions issued in the vision, we came across a small, pink, fluffy ball of a creature, about the size of a volleyball with a tuft tail. Kaz: I'MMA KILL IT! Needless to say, Kaz has some mental issues. So, as anyone with a GM as mischevious as ours already predicted, this little fluff ball was one tough piece of fluff, and shaved off 3/4 of Laga's HP in one terrifying firebreath, causing her to flee down the road. Turns out a setting named "DinosaurLand DragonWorld" might actually have dragon-type creatures in it. To say nothing of the fact that Kaz just attacked the thing without doing any prep work or seeing if it was naturally hostile or not. So, tails figuratively between our legs, we venture onward and arrive at a cave, all the while stalked by some weird shadow creatures we couldn't quite make out. Inside, we attempt to switch to stealth mode. Laga and Laguna actually have low-light vision, and take point. Kaz is an idiot and asks if he can fly in the 7' high cave. Laga is then terrified by a small bundle of rubber spiders, dropped on her from a trap, causing this Amazon of a woman, mace, shield, armor, the whole 9 yards, to shriek like a small girl. As the GM said, this set the tone for the entire trip. Around the first corner, a dart trap sprung, hitting Laguna, who to his credit was trying to sneak by. He was laid out on his back, drooling and spacing out as a technocolor whirlwind became the sum of his audio/visual experience. Laga attempted to call out whoever was responsible, proudly declaring her name (and failing her charisma roll), whereupon two chittering figures declared their love of G-pop and fleeing into the dark, much to Laga's consternation. Around here we also found some phat loots, including an old-style oil lamp, an ancient coin, and a wand. Laga and Laguna conclude that it'd be best to wait until we had better conditions to assess them and they pocketed them. Eventually, we get a lay of the first corridor, which sectioned off into several other paths. We decide to head north, as we felt a wind coming from that direction. Then all Hell broke loose. In the next room, we got to Indiana Jones our way to a maiden, strung up to a structure in the middle of the room. The floor tiles had draconic symbols on them, and the only one among us who could read them was the still-groggy Laguna, he got to play the hop-scotch to the death for us. Surprisingly, he made it rather well, and ultimately got to the maiden in question, whereupon slats in the walls opened and snipers started taking potshots at us, and the door behind us sealing shut. Left no option but forward, we had to run for it. We actually managed it with just scrapes and bruises, mostly because chicken nuggers just half-flew across the room and Laga just bolted. In the next room we ran into a much more considerable problem. Approximately 3 dozens kobolds and a powerful woman in the middle of the room, emitting cold air, as she was doing a workout routine. Deciding it best to tackle this via the diplomatic angle, Laga spoke first. It didn't take long for us to piece together that this woman was, in fact, a very powerful dragon. A very powerful dragon who was down an eyeball courtesy of one barbecue buffalo wing and his father. She was ready to just ice us and be done with it, and Kaz even briefly flirted with the idea of challenging her to a duel. I then had to point out that that was suicide. So Laga, flexing the "Us grrrls, amirite?" angle, talked down the dragon, whose name turned out to be Alba. "Her parents weren't terribly creative," ~GM. After coaxing it out of her, Laga learned that Alba secretly wished to visit Belly Button, but wanted a regal, splendid dress to do so. Laga agreed to retrieve it for her, but was given a three-day deadline to pull it off. Kaz then decided to open his beak for some stupid reason, and offered to just knit her a dress. Laga immediately declined that plan, on account she liked living. So they returned to town to try to figure out the dress situation. Laguna and Kaz were absolutely no help in this regard, as Laga was left to her own devices in figuring out who she could petition to create the piece. After being turned down by the best artisans in town and even being offered a Rumpelstiltskin deal, Laga eventually asked Laguna to assess the artifacts we had found previously. Upon invoking the coin's power, we ended up summoning a Fallen, a class of angel, who happened to maintain the purview of clothing. Lucky us! So, Laga gave the specifications because there is no way in hell she was going to trust the others to do so. Dress in hand, we returned to the cave once more, in largely uneventful fashion since Kaz didn't randomly punch any wildlife this time. Ecstatic at her new duds, Alba and some of her draconic friends joined us in a return flight as they began to explore the town with glee - mostly because Laga begged their assistance with the now-impending disaster timer. They also heckled Laguna who, despite having some draconic heiritage had no kobolds to call his own. That, as they said, was so sad. Around this point, we concluded this session and I had to come to terms with one problem I had: Laga was kind of boring. So I consulted with the GM and he liked my new idea, so I created Blackbe, a Paladin of the Warcur people, who was planescaped to this world by powers ill-understood, alongside his sister and nephew. So, at the next session's start, the party was introduced to him, because apparently Kaz started crashing at Laguna's house? Kind of news to me, but Laguna flagged Blackbe down out of the otherwise-empty street because it was the day of the calamity and any sale would be better than none. After an... interesting roll, Laguna offered Blackbe the "GODPIECE", a diamond-studded codpiece worth of armor, which Blackbe politely declined, after his sister speculated this pawn shop was a dealer in questionable goods. Blackbe, having only just become aware of the disasters and the timer, petitioned Laguna and Kaz to accompany him, mostly because any help he could get would still be better than none at all. So they quickly got Cherri and Duran (aforementioned sister and nephew) to safety as Blackbe lead the charge, quickly joining ranks with other teams of soldiers awaiting the fight ahead. Blackbe, being noble among Warcur families, gave a rousing speech about the disaster ahead forging ties between races - that all men who stood together in this dark hour were brothers, regardless of race or standing. This got the troops pretty excited and got the attention of a Warcur lady, Jiraca, a druid who threw in with the team as the first disaster struck: A colossal beast, Thorophaganax, preluded by dozens of small insect-like drones who we met at the base of a hill as their number attempted to plow into it. Blackbe, the first to charge into the fray, declared that s/he who got the smallest number of kills would buy drinks for the party, as Jiraca joined the game with a few kills all her own. Then Laguna unleashed the fuckin' thunder and just rained fire on them, wiping out over half of them in as little as two turns. Being a sorcerer does that. Blackbe: Friend Laguna, I feel I might need to get you more than a drink when this is over... The small fry dealt with, we then had to deal with a lightning-spitting giant. Ever see "Nausica of the Valley of the Wind"? Like that. But more lightning. Kaz then proceeded to completely derail the flow of the game but essentially taking five turns in one go. We actually had to stop the boss fight and call up rules for how monks are supposed to operate in 5e. Turns out, he was basically trying to bend/break all the rule and use all his attacks in one go and not even so much the tribute of a ki point to be seen. We then had to explain that extra attacks and bonus actions were taken as a one-and-done affair and could not be multiplied in the same turn. And he got really petty and douchey about it, especially after he declared he lodged his spear all the way into the Thoroph, which I'm calling it for short, and couldn't actually get it back due to not understanding how suction works. And barbed things. Funny enough, despite Kaz's stupid dex-based pinwheel of death, Blackbe, with two attacks per turn as a Paladin, was able to empower and strike for way, way more damage than Kaz. See, Blackbe uses a greatsword, which has a higher damage floor than most, I have several ways of empowering my strikes, and due to a specialty I get as a Paladin, I can reroll damage results that have 1s and 2s in them. This was also after the fact that I am a moron and wasn't calculating my strength mod into my damage results, and yet I was still belting out more damage. Which says something. With some concerted effort, we struck down the disaster, which ultimately reset the timer for 3 additional days. Not a great deal of time, but a reprieve nonetheless. At this point, we learned Laga had fully embraced the G-pop star life and had taken to pursuing her new career with some level of success. At this point, Alba, who had joined in the battle per her promise, demanded that Blackbe and company take responsibility for the promise that Laga made, concerning some inter-dragon politics. Namely a gold dragon who, quote, "Makes fun of [her] all the time". Agreeing, the party made preparations for departure the following day. Blackbe explained that, upon his sudden arrival in this world, he made fast friends with 7 warrior comrades, who battled alongside him against a goblin incursion they suddenly ran across. And he explained that, since they were headed north towards the Twin Peaks, hoped to meet at least one of them again soon. More on them next time. The next morning, a series of strange injury/illness fell over the townsfolk, as Blackbe rushed to treat as many as he could. It was almost as if they were being violently struck by an unseen fist, so Blackbe began to investigate. Along his way he met with a well-armored man, named Garman. He, too, was investigating the crisis and after exchanging notes, became another fast friend of Blackbe's. Garman was Lucius's player's new character, who also decided to release the A-Men character for a new idea: a dual-classed Ranger/Rogue, with an intense racial hatred against Kobolds. Think "Goblin Slayer, but kobolds", and you're on the right track. And with that high note, I break here. Come back in the future for my D&D adventures such as: Kaz gets his ass royally handed to him by a gel cube, Garman mathematics (always equals KOBOLD), Blackbe is declared the team's face and the hero the world both needs and deserves, and Laguna is tricked by literally the most obvious lie in the world. See you there!

#Tabletop RPG #Dungeons & Dragons #That Guy Story #Gaming

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an-ale-of-a-tale · 6 years

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A Yarn of a Tale (Part 2)

Characters: Jenis Filcobrant, Soreas Lennart Series: Final Fantasy XIV Words: 3,963 / 14,346 Genre: Crack Description: While trying to help a guildmate with a rash of laundry thefts, Jenis and Soreas fall into a magical adventure filled with talking aldgoats, militaristic marmots, and vegetarian chigoes. Will they ever be able to save the guild’s laundry from a magical girl spriggan, or will love and laundry prevail? Disclaimer: This was written during 1.0 (and pre-Calamity), which means that you’ll see things that no longer make any sense, such as crystals being turned into shards (that was a thing!) and spells such as Shock Spikes.

[ Part 1 ]

Two idiots get lost in a frozen wasteland, news at 11.

The first thing that Jenis noticed is that he was cold. Feeling cold was a bit of a novelty for him; a native of Ul’dah, he was accustomed to the blisteringly hot days and the cool nights that were characteristic of a desert clime. Feeling downright cold, however, wasn’t something he’d ever felt before, and he could say with certainty that it wasn’t pleasant.

The Lalafell Alchemist opened his mouth to say something, and he felt something cold against his face. He looked up, and some white, cold fluffy stuff fell off his face. That’s when he realized that he was both covered in and surrounded by the stuff.

“What in Thaliak’s name...?” Jenis spat the cold stuff out of his mouth and looked around. He was in what seemed like a forest, except the trees were bare of any foliage that they might have once had. The same fluffy white stuff was falling around them. The air was deathly quiet, and though it wasn’t windy, there was a definite air current about that only seemed to be making the situation even worse.

Soreas was lying not too far away from Jenis, and before he could come near him, the silver-haired Lalafell moaned, and he stirred a little before bolting upright. “What the hell?!” He blinked in confusion at his surroundings, and he took a handful of the white stuff and stared at it before closing his hand over it. “Why are we in the middle of a snowfield?”

“Is that what this is?” Jenis tried not to shiver as he made his way towards Soreas. He was suddenly extremely grateful that he was wearing one of his thicker outfits – a dark brown canvas robe with buffalo leather shoulder guards. He glanced at his hip, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw he had his wand; the greenery that seemed to grow out of the branch stood out in the middle of all the white surrounding them.

“Y-yeah, but... shit, this is cold!” Soreas stood up, and he did his best to brush off the snow from his clothing. He was wearing what he usually wore; a white, loosely-laced cotton shirt, along with his signature red bandana. He was wearing some thicker sheepskin culottes and boots, but they seemed to be doing little to protect him from the biting cold.

“Funny, it’s not as cold as I expected...” Jenis shrugged as he took off his glasses and wiped the water from the lenses with the hem of his robe before putting them back on again. “A bit wetter, but I’ll endure, I suppose.”

“T-that’s great for you, mister I-wear-clothes-as-thick-as-my-ego.” Soreas glared at Jenis as he tried in vain to warm his hands by tucking them in his underarms. “At least I’ve seen this crap before and I’m not staring at it in starry-eyed wonder like you are. I’m not exactly dressed for traipsing around in this white shite, you know...” He sighed in irritation as he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. “Damn, it’s cold!”

“Well, I would say that’s your problem, not mine,” Jenis said with a smirk. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Well, I’m stuck with you, so I must be in hell... no, wait, too cold.” Soreas glared at Jenis before looking thoughtfully at the scenery around them. “Based on my extensive travelling, I’d say we’re… in a forest in a very snowy area.” Soreas returned Jenis’ smirk, and he drew his two-handed axe and, after cleaning it off and drying it with one of his half-gloves, checked it over before returning it to its holder on his back.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Jenis glared at Soreas witheringly, and he looked around. “Last I checked, there’s nowhere in Eorzea that has a snowy climate...”

“No, there isn’t. It just doesn’t... I don’t know... smell right? Then again, my nose might be frozen...”

Jenis sighed in irritation. None of this made any sense. How did they go from chasing a spriggan in the laundry room to being stuck in the middle of nowhere?

“Hello?” A female voice carried on the wind, and Jenis and Soreas heard a pair of footsteps come towards them. “I say, is someone out there?”

Soreas reached for his axe again, but Jenis held up his hand and quietly shook his head. Before Jenis could respond, the two saw an aldgoat – a Nanny, from what they could tell – slowly coming towards them.

“Psh, it’s just a goat.” Jenis said with a sigh. “And I thought someone was here...”

“‘Just a goat’? I say, that’s not a nice thing to say.” The aldgoat said as she glared at Jenis disapprovingly. “You should be ashamed of yourself, young... er... whatever you might be!”

Both Jenis and Soreas gaped at the aldgoat. Soreas recovered more quickly than Jenis, who seemed more shocked that he got scolded by a goat than anything else, and he gently cleared his throat and bowed lightly. “I apologize; we’re not accustomed to your kind having the predisposition for speech, madam...?”

“Ah, well, at least you’re polite!” The aldgoat beamed – how could a goat smile? – at Soreas. “My name is Nanny... what manner of creature might you be?”

“What manner...?” Jenis recovered from his shock only to be assaulted by another one. “You’ve never seen a Lalafell before?”

“A Lalafell?” Nanny laughed lightly, and it sounded more like a snort than anything. “What a silly name! No, child, I’m afraid I’ve never heard or seen a Lalafell before. Is that what the two of you are?” She cocked her head as she looked between the two. “You seem different, yet alike. Might you be of different species?”

“Uh, I guess you can say that, madam Nanny...” Soreas gave a quick glance at Jenis before continuing. “Do you have any idea where we are? I’m afraid we’ve lost our way, and...?”

“Oh, dear children!” Nanny looked at the two in shock. “Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know where you are?”

Jenis glared at the goat angrily, and he was about to retort when Soreas quickly cut him off. “No, I’m afraid not, but if you can give us directions to the closest town, I’m sure we can manage on our own after that.”

“How very curious!” The aldgoat repeated, seemingly to herself. “Imagine that, children in the middle of nowhere, and they don’t know where they are! Truly, this is akin to a faerie tale, more than anything...”

“Um... madam...?” Soreas smiled a smile of patient tolerance at the goat, but the restraint he was showing was evident in his voice.

“Well, no matter!” Nanny beamed at the two – again, how does a goat smile? – and nodded. “Come, I will bring you someplace warm! Your winter coat clearly hasn’t grown in, and that thin undercoat of yours will do naught against the winter’s chill!” The goat started walking back in the direction she came from, leaving two very confused-looking Lalafell staring at her.

“Should we...?” Soreas looked at Jenis uncertainly, who sighed and shrugged helplessly.

“Do we have a choice? Neither of us know where we are, and she does...” He paused and looked at Soreas. “I’m... not dreaming about the fact that she can talk, right?”

“If you’re dreaming, then so am I...” Soreas shook his head. “Let’s get going before we lose her...”

The two easily caught up to the Nanny, and they followed a little ways behind her. The landscape was much the same as it was where they awoke – deciduous trees that were bereft of their leaves, and not much else. The three walked in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the snow being packed down by their footsteps. The two refrained from talking behind the goat’s back, mostly because they didn’t know how good her hearing was. After a while, though, Jenis turned to the Nanny.

“So... er, I’m just curious... did you happen to see a little black ball of fur, about this big, running around here?” Jenis held his hands apart to demonstrate, “It would’ve had a sock or something in its mouth.”

The aldgoat nanny suddenly stopped, and she turned to Jenis and Soreas with a frown. “Are you asking me if I’ve seen a spriggan with a sock?”

“Yes, exactly that,” Jenis replied with a nod.

“Now why would you children want to know such a thing as that?” The aldgoat said with a note of disapproval in her voice.

“Well, we have a friend who’s been troubled with the theft of her socks,” Soreas specified, “And our pursuit led us here... wherever ‘here’ is.”

“Pursuit?!” The Nanny seemed appalled at that. “Oh dear... oh dear, that won’t do... that won’t do at all. Oh, the poor dear... pursued by two children...” The Nanny continued talking to herself as she walked, seeming not to pay attention to Jenis or Soreas; the two looked at each other uncertainly as they continued walking behind her.

“What did I say?” Jenis said quietly. “It was a valid question, was it not?”

“Yeah, for once you didn’t put your foot in your mouth all the way up to your knee...” Soreas sighed and shook his head. “Let’s just lay low for a while until we get to this shelter of hers...”

Jenis opened his mouth to protest, but he clammed up and settled for glaring at Soreas as he followed.

It didn’t take too much longer after that to reach the shelter; the trees thinned as they continued on their way, and soon they were at a rocky cliff face with a cave dug into it. The aldgoat nanny walked inside without even a glance at the two Lalafell, and after glancing at each other in agreement, they followed her inside.

#(( I'm cringing at 2007 me ))#(( so many 'said' ))#;;⚔ The writing on the wall (Drabbles)#;;⚔ Arrogant Arsehole (Jenis)#;;⚔ Guided by the Wanderer (Soreas)

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