#and the farm brings back nostalgia from his childhood even though so much of it was bad its something he subconciously longs for. some kind

[wraithsoutlaws]

been thinking about the neglected section of dagger's lore after he leaves the bakkers as a teen and winds up in a smuggler outfit and aaaa for so long i couldn't grasp details of it all but now its flooding in and its coming together :ratscream:

[williamaltman]

Life is Strange 2 thoughts/feelings/review

So, Life is Strange 2. I finished the game yesterday and watched the other endings today. Things are not as fresh in my mind as if I had just finished and I talked a bit about it in other places so this feels a bit hard, but I'll try to lay down all my thoughts...

First of all... All my homies love LIS2, fuck you if you don't like LIS2! Seriously though, for years I've seen people say that the game wasn't good, that the characters weren't as good as the ones from the first one, that the Sean/Daniel relationship wasn't that interesting... I kinda did suspect it was just nostalgia goggles or whatever, but now I know for sure. I don't think there's anything wrong with connecting more with LIS1 and having a deeper relationship with it, but in this case I think you shouldn't even be comparing them and expecting the game to live up to that to you in the first place.

Now, onto the actual game. God, this was so fucking heartbreaking. I think I cried in every single episode. The very core premise of the story is just so sad, so unfair, and despite the powers so rooted in reality that it left me legit feeling uncomfortable with how fucked up their whole situation was. There are good moments, sure, but honestly every single thing that happens from the moment their dad is shot is just... Not how their life should've had to be.

Sure, LIS1 and BTS had dark themes too. But here, it's like, they lose everything from the beginning. Sean doesn't get to go to his party, to hang out with Lyla, to continue his normal life in any way. Daniel loses a part of his childhood. They're both forced to grow up so much faster than they should. There's a line Sean says in episode 3, and it's just a little idle VO, but it fucking crushed me, "Stop overthinking. You're not a teenager anymore". Even though he's fucking 16... He's 16 and he has to essentially become a parent. I knew what the game was about and lowkey followed it a bit when it was releasing, knew a few spoilers, but that didn't make anything any less heartbreaking.

I thought it was beautiful how the game took the opportunity to showcase and celebrate alternate lifestyles. The "family", Away, their freedom and how they interacted with society brings so much into perspective. I'm still a bit conflicted about Karen tbh, but I'm glad that at least they did show something beautiful through her story.

My biggest problem overall is probably how they handled the Finn romance route... I knew back when the game was releasing that despite adding a male LI, they pushed the female one more onto you and gave her more content, while locking the option to kiss him with a "bad choice" (I didn't know what exactly it was). And yeah, that is still true. I still think it was a mistake to lock the kiss with accepting the heist, and while I kinda understand the writer's explanation for that, I still think it could've been handled in another way, or they could've just let him kiss you and "betray" you by doing the heist anyway, since he still does that when you're friends lol.

I see people complaining that because they moved from place to place each episode, there wasn't enough time to connect with the characters... Idk if I'd say I disagree, but it just wasn't really the case for me. I was very invested in all the relationships, in Finn, Cassidy, Jacob, Chris, Karen. Everyone at the farm was cool and everyone in Away too. Lyla. You get so many tidbits about the characters even when they're not there on screen. The only thing I have to say which is kinda related to that, is that I think the time jumps were maybe a bit too big, and that the way they handled Mushroom was... weird.

I got the Parting Ways ending, and I'm satisfied with it. I kinda planned to get it, but only in the sense that I was spoiled that you get with Finn there. I didn't know that the whole morality thing had anything to do with it, and I played the first two episodes without even knowing that there was a points system about that and about brotherhood. I just made all the choices that were high morality (besides killing the cougar and the heist) because it was what I would do, and tried to be a good brother for Daniel. I figured that choosing to cross the border would most likely give me that one, but I just couldn't accept Sean having to go to prison for 15 years for something he didn't even do. If we were able to choose between Parting Ways and Blood Brothers, then I would actually be conflicted about which I wanted.

With the way the game's system works though, where you need to have low morality to get Blood Brothers, I couldn't really do it. I can't imagine myself teaching Daniel to be selfish and not care about killing people. I actually think it's super cool to watch Daniel use his power offensively and fuck shit up, but it just wouldn't be my version of the story. It's funny because, if we just played as Daniel, I wouldn't mind going that route. But since we play as Sean, with it being our job to raise Daniel, I feel a different kind of responsability towards leading him to become a good person. I also think it's beautiful that he gets to have the rest of his childhood, teenagehood, and live a "normal" healthy life with his grandparents. He does it in the redemption one too, but as I said, that just screws up Sean too much.

So, I'm a little disappointed that they're separated (and maybe can't ever see each other again? I'm a bit confused about Daniel's situation and whether he could visit), and that it's a bit shorter than the others (at least than the redemption one), but it IS the ending my playthrough led to and in that I'm satisfied.

I think this story is just incredible. It touched me so much, and the fact that some people can't see it genuinely frustrates me. The people complaining it's too political in particular can just go fuck themselves. It might not be perfect, but like with all things I appreciate, I'm just so glad it exists.

[melzula]

hi ! i don’t know if this counts as a whole prompt, but could i request some iroh ii ? maybe their reunion when kya’s daughter went back with bumi to the fire nation and their whole reunion to wedding story ?

a/n: I just did the reunion part of this because it would be hard to cram the whole timeline into one piece aha but nonetheless enjoy!

*based off of these hc’s

The cool breeze of the ocean air does little to calm your nerves as you fidget with the beads that wrap themselves neatly around your wrist and stare out into the open water. The Fire Nation docks are fast approaching, and you foolishly wonder if everything will be the same as it was when you left it behind all those years ago. You wonder if he is still the same, fearing for a moment that perhaps he has forgotten you after being apart for so long, but you don’t have time to dwell on your anxieties when a firm clap on your shoulder breaks you from your thoughts.

“Why the long face, kiddo?” Your Uncle Bumi grins. “I thought you’d be happier to be back here.”

“I am,” you reassure him, “it’s just I’m a little nervous is all. I haven’t been here in so long...”

“Well I’m sure the royals will be happy to see you,” he says. “You were Lord Zuko’s star student after all, and General Iroh is always asking about you.”

“He is?” You gasp, doing your best to quell the excitement that bubbles up inside of you at the news. You always brushed off your infatuation with the General as a silly childhood crush, but if that were the case then the mere mention of him shouldn’t have made you as cheerful as it did.

“Of course! Why do you think I brought you out here with me? Some good old nostalgia would be perfect for you!”

“Uncle,” you say with a pointed look. Bumi grins sheepishly.

“You could use a friend, y/n. And so could Iroh.”

You don’t get the chance to argue or insist that you’re fine, that you’re perfectly okay with the fact that your best friend is your Gran Gran, as the ship pulls into the docks and Fire Nation guards arrive to escort you to the palace. None of them are familiar to you, most of the men you’d known as a child having retired by now, but they still greet you with the same kindness as always, a perk of being the Avatar’s granddaughter and the Commander’s niece.

“I have to prepare for the meeting,” your uncle says as you reach the front gates and are permitted entry to the palace, “but if you want to head off and look for some old friends or even just explore your old playing grounds go right ahead.”

“Good look with the meeting, Uncle Bumi,” you reply before gifting the man a kiss on the cheek and parting ways with him for now.

You find yourself wandering into the gardens, admiring the blooming fire lilies and enjoying the refreshing breeze that blows cooly against your face as you reminisce on the memories you hold in this very spot. If you look hard enough you can almost see yourself sitting underneath the shade of the tree with Zuko and his grandson studying fire bending scrolls and enjoying cups of tea. Life had been so quiet and simple then, so peaceful. Maybe Bumi was right about needing a friend; you’d never felt lonelier in your entire life than you did now looking upon old childhood memories.

“Y/n?” A voice calls almost hesitantly, void of the confidence he’d always held, and despite the fact that your heart catches in your throat at the sound of his voice you will yourself to turn around and face the man you never stopped thinking about.

You can’t help the way your mouth hangs agape at the sight of him; he’d always been a good looking boy, but over the years Iroh had grown into the handsomest man you’d ever seen. He was beautiful with his strong jaw and shimmering gold irises, and despite how much he’d changed over the years he still held that same boyish grin you’d taken comfort in many times before.

“Iroh,” you finally say, heat crawling up your neck as you smile shyly. He’s rushing towards you in an instant, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug and laughing with pure unadulterated joy.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he admits with a sheepish grin, hands resting on your shoulders as he pulls away and looks you in the eyes. You don’t know it, but he’s just as taken back by your beauty. He was used to seeing you running around in your pigtails with your wide smile and a few teeth missing; you were absolutely radiant, your features maturing with the time that had passed, but your eyes still held that same twinkle they always did.

“It’s so good to you, old friend,” you say, smiling fondly as you rest a hand upon his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“So have I,” he replies, and you don’t miss the way he seems to melt into your touch. “I have a meeting to attend to, but perhaps you’d like to accompany me to dinner tonight? I want to hear about all of your adventures.”

“Dinner sounds lovely.”

“Perfect,” Iroh grins, “I’ll see you then.”

He parts from you then with a kiss on the cheek, leaving you with a dazed smile alone in the gardens as you watch him walk into the palace.

“We’re having dinner,” you murmur quietly to yourself, an excited smile pulling at your lips as you rush towards your assigned quarters to prepare.

~~~

“A date with the General, huh?”

“It’s not a date, Uncle Bumi,” you remind him as you sit before the vanity and slip on your favorite pair of earrings, a pair your mother had bought for you once during your travels, “it’s just dinner.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” he teases with a knowing grin. “You know, I always had a feeling about you two.”

“You said the same thing about Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Lin,” you retort only for Bumi to grimace.

“I never said it was a good feeling.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrug nonchalantly. “We’re just two old friends who want to catch up with each other.”

Oh, but it actually is a very big deal for you. You can’t remember the last time anyone has taken you out to dinner or the last time you had actually dressed yourself up for someone else, and frankly you don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s Iroh, after all, your childhood friend, why should you be nervous?

“Oh, I’ll walk you out!” Your Uncle exclaims excitedly once you put the finishing touches on your ensamble, and before you can even get up from your chair Bumi is yanking you onto your feet and dragging you out of the room towards the front gates where Iroh is presumably waiting for you. “I only wish your mother were here to see this!”

“Uncle,” you groan in quiet embarrassment, “you seem more excited than I am.”

“What? That’s nonsense!” Bumi scoffs. “Can’t I just appreciate the romanticism that comes with seeing old friends?”

“I see you’re a poet much like your father,” a third voice intrudes, a smiling Iroh startling both you and your uncle. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, not at all!” Bumi says before you can so much as open your mouth to reply. “In fact I was just leaving. You kids have fun! Oh, and uh, bring her back home safe and sound and all that protective Uncle junk I’m supposed to say.”

“Of course, Commander,” he says with a slight laugh before turning to you. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” you smile, making sure to give your Uncle a chaste kiss to the cheek before taking Iroh’s outstretched and following him out the front gates. Your Uncle watches your retreating forms with a faint smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Phase one of my matchmaking plan is complete.”

~~~

The royal plaza is beautiful at night. Lanterns hang from the skies and bathe the streets in their golden hue. The restaurants and shops are bustling with customers as lovers, families, and friends all spend their evenings out on the town. No one seems to notice your presence— Iroh had insisted that no guards were needed to escort you both— and for that you are grateful.

“Hungry for anything in particular? I know you were especially fond of dumplings when we were children,” Iroh notes with a chuckle.

“I’d love anything spicy. As much as I enjoy sea prunes and seal jerky, nothing in the south really has that same kick to it that Fire Nation food has.”

“I know the perfect place,” Iroh says, and you have to fight against the way your stomach seems to summersault when he takes your hand in his own and weaves you through the streets.

You end up in a quiet little restaurant together where the food is fresh and the hostess is the sweetest little old lady you’ve ever met, though she brings you way more food than you ordered. You’re eager to scarf down the spicy noodles and steaming buns, so eager in fact that you don’t notice the love stricken way in which Iroh watches you practically inhale your food.

“How’s your family?” He asks behind his cup of tea.

“Good. Gran Gran has been training the new Avatar and my mother helps where she can. My Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Pema just had a new baby not too long ago, a son named Meelo.”

“That’s amazing,” Iroh smiles, “congratulations on your new cousin.”

“Thank you. Our family is certainly growing,” you say with a slight laugh. “And how are things with you and your family?”

“I have to admit, I haven’t really been home much to know,” Iroh chuckles. “This visit is also my first time back in a while. Mother is a gracious ruler and the people love her, my sister is still living her quiet life with her husband out on the farm, and my grandfather comes back and forth all the time. Everyone seems to be happy.”

“And are you happy?”

“I like to think so. I’m the youngest General in the United Forces which is a great accomplishment, and I’m having dinner with a friend I thought I’d never see again, so yes, I’m very happy,” he notes with a wink. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his slyness, a small huff blowing past your nose.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you tease.

“Really, y/n,” Iroh says, all features void of his previous humor as they morph into a more tender nature. He reaches across the table and rests a hand across your own, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve missed you, and I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” you admit with a tiny smile. “It’s been hard without you, friend.”

“Friend,” Iroh repeats with a small sigh, but his smile never falters. He pays for your meal and offers you his arm to guide you back to the palace; you talk about old memories and new ones, your adventures during your time apart, and your excitement to create new ones together. You’ve never been happier, and for the first time in a long time the loneliness that normally gnaws at your spirit is nowhere to be found.

“Can you find your room okay?” Iroh asks as you reach the front doors of the palace.

“I can,” you nod with a smile. “I’m actually staying in the room I had when I was a kid.”

“Go figure,” he laughs softly before gracing you with a sweet smile. “Thank you for accompanying me to dinner tonight. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You will.”

“Good. I look forward to it,” Iroh says. “Sleep well, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Iroh,” you utter with a small smile, making sure to gift him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing inside. Stunned, the General stands frozen in place with a dazed smile on his face. He hasn’t felt this way about anyone in such a long time, hadn’t felt such genuine excitement and joy, and he had to admit that it somewhat intimidated him. He’d always seen you as the girl he’d grown up with, the one he’d spent his time with stealing desserts from the kitchen and running through the hallways, but now...

“Spirits,” Iroh exclaims with a breathless laugh. “I think I’m in love.”

In the gardens sits the trio of adults who watch the scene unfold before them, knowing looks exchanged among them as they sip their tea and watch Iroh disappear into the palace.

“They make a handsome pair, don’t they?” Zuko notes offhandedly to his daughter. “I give them a month.”

“A month?” Bumi snorts. “No way! Three weeks maybe, but not a month.”

“I have more faith in my son than that,” Izumi says with the shake of her head. “One week.”

“One week?!” The Commander exclaims with a laugh. “Oh, you’re on!”

“Betting over the love life of my grandson and my former student was not how I pictured spending my retirement,” Zuko sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he considers his grandson courting the granddaughter of his best friend. Life has a funny way of working out sometimes.

And it was going to work out for you and Iroh.

| iroh/atla tags: @nataliahaslosthershit @zukh03s @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka |

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

I saw the Soft Sentence Starters prompts and “Wake up. Come on, there’s something I want to show you” just caught my eye. If you're up to it, I would love to see a Spirk short starting with that one! And if not, no worries, I hope you feel better!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I switched the dialog up a little for this one. Written to Somedays by Flance.

~

.*As Certain as the Stars*.

There were no fireflies on Vulcan—no gleaming embers of gold that faded into the dark, no veil of sparkles in tall grass rich with color. And there was no custom there, even in the meadows, to lie back against a stretching bed of green and simply let time unravel as it willed, as lazy as the drifting of firefly cinder.

Crickets chirped in chorus over a gentle breeze and Spock closed his eyes, breathing deep the scent of freshly cut Iowan lawn and allowing Earth to embrace him with all of its magic. It really was a beautiful planet, this home of Jim’s. Of course, it was where his mother had been born as well, and the place to which his father was assigned the coveted position of ambassador. Spock had visited countless times in his youth for both reasons, and despite the human blood coursing through his veins, had never felt so strong a connection—or any connection at all, really.

Until now.

The effects of loving someone were fascinating. It could turn the serious silly, the indifferent to romantic…could have a Vulcan sprawled out beside a Terran, watching the stars for no reason other than aesthetic pleasure and the comfort of counting his heartbeats.

Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five…

Jim’s breaths were calm and steady, the relaxed deep kind where the abdomen moved instead of the chest, and he’d gone for so long without speaking that everything had begun to resemble some beautiful, beautiful dream. The warmth of summer, the contentment of rest without consequence, the ability to forget duty and schedules and the routine, to just exist because one simply could…

“Hey.” Spock barely registered the gently-spoken word before it was repeated, and then his eyes opened.

“Oh no, did I wake you?” Concern was in Jim’s voice as he shifted the arm that had been holding Spock close to him and sat up slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It is of no—” The sentence never finished as Spock watched an ivory line sweep among the stars before it burned out. His lips remained parted, the reply abandoned.

“It’s starting,” Jim said softly with a large grin, hands flat against the earth and supporting his upper body while his face was lifted to the heavens.

Spock watched, mesmerized, as though he’d never seen a meteor shower before…watched nearly breathless while the phenomena painted trails of luster in the spotlight of lunar silver and careened against a backdrop of celestial brilliance. To his left, Jim flopped on his back again and pulled him close, both vigilant spectators to a show of truly cosmic proportions, for they too were but the dust of stars.

A hand reached to the sky suddenly, fingers spread until they curled into a light fist, as if it were possible to capture passing memories and hold them tangibly. “I used to watch the Perseids with my mom every summer.” There was a hinting of pleasant nostalgia in Jim’s voice, and though he didn’t say it aloud and there was no melancholy about him, his silence spoke after. I miss her.

Winona was unique; Spock knew that without ever having met her. She’d been a kind and fun mother, perhaps a little quirky, but from the many stories Jim recounted, it was clear that he and his brother had felt loved even during the years George spent in space. Winona was a woman of science and philosophy, spending her days in research and nights in thought, sometimes with the aid of a hand-rolled cigarette every now and then. The porch boards would creak with her wooden rocking chair as she smoked and let her mind take her places.

She’d been smart, amusing, quick on her toes—and encouraged Jim not to blindly follow in his father’s footsteps, but chase his own dreams. It just so happened that he wanted the same thing as George for as long as he could recall, and the twists and turns of that dream had led up to this very moment.

For that, and much more, Spock was grateful to Winona Kirk.

So he extended a hand up then, his own fingers blooming open to cover Jim’s in support and solidarity of love for her. Their digits laced together, entwining and remaining held toward the stars until Jim pulled them down to his heart.

“I’m glad I could see this again.” It was spoken over a half sigh. “And that you could be here with me.” Jim turned his face, his mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. “Thanks, Spock.”

The Enterprise was in dry dock now at the halfway point of her five-year mission, a quick tune-up and some repairs in order before she was ready to carry her crew through the rest of it. That, naturally, meant a brief shore leave for all, and when Jim had proposed his childhood home, Spock agreed readily. Of course, he would have gone anywhere simply to remain at his side, but here…this place, where Jim had grown up and the yard in which he’d played, the kitchen and living room where he’d spent countless hours, the bedroom window he’d looked through to stare into the night sky with wonder and want…

It was special and important, just like Jim, and thus his gratitude was unfounded.

“It is I who must thank you.”

“For bringing you to a boring farm in the middle of nowhere?” Jim laughed incredulously.

Spock closed his eyes and shook his head, amused. “For bringing me to your home.”

The smile never faded from Jim’s face, though it did become more thoughtful as his head tilted and he peered down for a moment. When their gazes met soon after, the space between his lashes was rife with affection and he leaned in to catch Spock’s lips in a kiss once, then twice, before Jim gently fell atop him while cradling the back of his head against the verdant lawn.

Under a show of stellar fireworks they kissed and intertwined hands, nuzzled and embraced, shared breaths and quietly dreamed a new dream of a life together as unending as the universe: of a captain and his first officer, a man and his husband, a Vulcan and his bondmate. Of parted and never parted, of forever touching and touched.

Would they? Could they?

Surely, someday, when the timing was right and the pieces fell into place—as sure as firefly sparkle in the tall grass and Perseid showers in the Terran summer.

Jim pulled back, far enough only to look lovingly at Spock’s face and run a caressing touch over his cheek. “You’re welcome then,” he finally whispered. “Come back with me again sometime?”

Spock’s chin fell in a nod, along with his eyes for a beat.

Certainly, someday—as certain as the stars.

[scoundrels-in-love]

hiraeth for the meme? JB?

Anon, you did what I thought was impossible, as in, made me write again. Thank you for picking one of my most beloved words of longing, ever.

Hiraeth: a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

Also on AO3. Just excuse to write emotional introspection & landscape porn.

---

Jaime hadn’t been shipwrecked and cast onto Tarth's shores, but he might as well have been, with the odd sense of wonder that fills him as he cranes his neck to peer at the cliff faces that give little way to a rocky beach, as if pebble by pebble Tarth has reclaimed land from sea's unending touch, with sheer determination, like its people create houses and turn them into homes upon the rock.

A castaway might feel fear and longing for their home once the marvel of feeling land beneath their feet wanes, but instead, Jaime feels as if he's been castaway his whole life and finally arrived at the gates of his home. The great, sharp gates that lead onto a steep and sometimes narrow path toward the clifftop that he has walked through a hundred times and still feels humbled and welcomed by.

He climbs slowly, because he has nowhere to be right now, other than this moment and this familiar journey upward. And yet, it is still opposite of the aimless days and months he has known before Tarth. Being here is being , in a way that aches as much as it soothes, from the early morning sun carving its way through the clouds as he works the land to golden, wind swirled evenings spent on docks or in Davos' inn or the longing that's on cusp of being fulfilled, but all the more aching for that, that fills him when he is here.

Finally, he reaches the top, hauls his gaze over the even page of clifftop, though its edges are greatly torn and moves toward one of the further ledges, leaning directly over the sea in a far reach. He would call it desperate, but what can a cliff be desperate for, when it holds its opposite in gentle grasp?

From up here, he sees the port and the town to the North with its beach line that he had followed to the base of these cliffs, deeper inland where the Evenfall Hall lays with the villages that have scattered around it, like crumbs of its marble walls sprouting seeds of homes. He knows the little paths connecting them, can spy his own house and plot of land that will bear his feeble farming attempts this year. It’s not the view he needs, right now.

He looks ahead, instead. To the vanishing line of the horizon where the gray of the sky and sea reach to mingle together, though the grey veil fails to imitate the shifting waves below, try as it might. And it does try , shedding streaks of grays from misty white to muted storm almost-black that take up the rest of the sky, gradually toward the meeting point.

The wind tears at his clothes, bites through the unbuttoned shirt collar like a jealous lover -- no, it does not deserve the comparison. And though the thought is fleeting, he already feels his sense of peace wobbling to the side, like a pile of pebbles built to make wishes with he's seen children build on the beaches.

It's odd, how being almost happy can ache. At least Jaime thinks he is almost that. Happiness is a ghost he has only heard of, sees its blurry outline when he recalls how laughter gilded faces of his mother and sister. It's a grief, maybe, that echoes hurt, for time taking the feeling of happiness with careless hand and even more so for all the laughter that died with his mother that could've spun toward the sky, the way he imagines he could've loved Casterly Rock then, the way he might've belonged.

Being here, makes him all the more aware of it, like a gap between something trembling and warm (he thinks about how a week ago, he had ended up helping Old Jenny when her cow had twins and the sticky, slightly bloody warmth that had imprinted into his hands) in him and the emptiness so large it almost feels like a thing has been drawn all the more sharply, marking the width newborn, wobbly thing must cross before it could even brush up against the void in him, risking being snuffed out. But maybe just that it exists before it dies, is enough.

He knows death like every other soldier does, but here on Tarth he's been learning of birth, too, (of calves and gardens, and dreams) and it scares him, some, with the inevitability it brings into the world. Jaime's never been good with constants - maybe because they've never been that, not to him. Not his mother, not even his twin's love and the sense of belonging she had weaved for him like a home of golden spider web (still clinging to his clothes in places he can't reach to brush them off), not honor or justice.

Only the search has remained.

Because it's never been wanderlust that chased him from city to port and across the sea and back again, though there had been a thrill in seeing new places and exploring every nook and cranny he could. Thrill and eventual disappointment, resignation even - no, not here either. Though he has hardly ever known what he's been searching for. Is, still. Because even now, here, where every step feels familiar and soothing like the sea's back and forth that he has always sought out since childhood, something is missing.

Jaime is content, though, more than ever and he is thinking of what he hasn't in over a decade: stopping. Staying. The thought had shot through his mind before a few times across the world, like a bird speeding across the imprint of sun in the sky, but it had never circled back, never sat down and never made a friend of him. Now, it's grown as familiar as his own worn-in work boots.

He has things here that he couldn't even imagine before, like the sense of marvel at how much the great oak tree has grown (since the last time, since the last time that never was) when he wandered up to Evenfall hall for the first time or the cutting clarity of things he cannot find words for when he's up in the cliffs, and things he never thought he even wanted, like people who smile and greet him, a cat that mills evenings into nights, and even a house that's one something short of home. (Just one, when it's never been anything less than an eternal list of indefinable.)

It used to make him angry, the way he knows homesickness as well as his own heartbeat, without ever knowing what it’s like to be at home, at peace. What kind of wretched thing runs in his blood that doesn’t know rest? What kind of love or hate chases him onward without direction, only with a want that he shouldn’t know, if he doesn’t know what the shape of what he’s missing? But the fall storms and quiet months of winter on Tarth have subdued the anger, drawn outlines in the sand that are almost an answer.

The sun breaks through the clouds then, pouring like rain in rare, bright streams onto the sea and he inhales deeply, as if he could take the light in him to dispel the smothering at the edges of his emptiness. And that's when he hears steps behind him. He half turns to see who it is, expecting one of the children though they're told not to play up here, but instead he falls - no, is pierced by, no, falls - into eyes impossibly familiar, when he knows he's never seen a blue like this, not even in his dreams that often spin blue and gold and gray across his heart.

But he knows them still, somehow, and if colors had sounds then this would have the soft bell of the final piece falling in place, of first notes of welcome home hymn, of relief's sigh - oh. Oh , it's you. You're here. (I've been waiting for you.)

Jaime draws a shuddering breath, tries to ground himself in taking in the rest of the person that makes him want to run away and toward them all at once.

It's a woman, taller than him he gauges even with the distance between them, and broader, too, with features arranged just shy of wrong, but not shy enough for most to not call her ugly, he guesses. (But he can't, because factuality doesn't stand a chance against the gale so high up.)

There's scowl on her face, maybe from the sun or the wind though he feels it's not, and wind has untangled pale strands from her braid to whip into her face and tug along in its rush. Freckles dot her face and for a moment, he believes he could find well-loved patterns in those and the rest, hidden by her dark blue coat and the slightly wrinkled shirt seen beneath the blue and gold brocade vest.

Jaime swallows and looks into her eyes again, trying to remember what is the image of the puzzle that feels complete now, but it's been locked away already. He finds that he doesn't care, he's just happy, because not seeing it doesn't change the truth of it. Just yesterday, he had planted apple trees in his garden and the promise of the pale pink blooms against bowed branches that always seem to remember the weight of all the fruit they will ever bear, alone had been enough to make his step light all the way to this moment.

So he smiles at her.

"Lady Brienne Tarth, I presume."

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 21 - Fishing Trip

"So what do you wanna do this weekend?" Hiro asked Varian.

The other boy only shrugged his shoulders as he had no idea.

It was Friday and they were both walking home from school while trying to make plans for the weekend. All of their other friends were either away or busy due to Father's Day coming up. Fred was going to accompany his dad on a mission. Gogo was driving down to her father's for a few days. Wasabi had bought plane tickets to fly back to his hometown of Seattle. Karmi went back upstate for the weekend with her parents, and Megan was still grounded, but had a full day planned to butter up her dad. Even Honey Lemon was going home to spend time with her abuelo.

This left Varian feeling a little awkward. In Corona they had a Guardians Day, which was meant for both parents or caretakers in general, but for Varian it was always a day for just him and his dad to spend time together. One of the few times in the year when his father wouldn't work in the field, or go to market, or have business at court.

Varian knew precisely what a day like Father's Day meant and how special time spent with the man who raised you could be. He envied his friends, but mostly, knowing this would be the second year without his dad pained him.

In a way, he was thankful that Hiro shared his delima. Though he certainly wouldn't have wished his predicament upon anyone, it was still somewhat comforting to know that he wasn't alone.

They were a less than a block away from the Lucky Cat, still discussing things to do, when a sleek car pulled to a stop beside them. The window rolled down to reveal a man with blonde hair, a large nose, and a wide smile. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a tan floppy hat.

"Hey Hiro! Go grab your overnight bag and some sunscreen!" He joyously ordered. "Your new brother, cousin, thingy too. We're going fishing!"

Varian could only look on confused, he didn't know this man nor why he wanted to him and Hiro to go on a fishing trip with him. However, Hiro apparently did know him and was also apparently not onboard with this idea at all. He stood with his mouth a gape with a look of horror in his eyes.

After processing this terrible news, Hiro could only sputter out, "But.. but why?"

The man in the vehicle began to offhandedly list his reasons. "Because fishing by oneself isn't any fun unless there's someone else around to show off to. Because I had an awful childhood, whose own father would never take fishing, and now I'm living vicariously through you. Also, you're still my intern and for the rest of the year, I still own you."

The man flashed another wide grin and Varian began to put the pieces together. This must be Krei. Owner of Krei Tech, the man in charge of the portals that brought him here, and also Hiro's boss. Though, this new revelation did nothing to stem the confusion in his mind. He couldn't for life of him see why he was being invited along on the trip nor did he understand Hiro's objections.

"But...but...b, but…" Hiro suttered desperately trying to think of way out of going.

"No buts! I've already talk with your aunt and got her permission, reserved the campsite, and I even bought you both fishing poles!" Still grinning, he reached down beside him and lifted the new poles up for Hiro and Varian to see.

Hiro let out a wordless half groan, half whine in defeat, before turning around and slumping towards the cafe. Varian blinked and looked back and forth between the two of them unsure what to do. Krei waved to him cheerfully, clearly excited for the upcoming trip, and Varian numbly waved back before deciding to follow Hiro and pack his own bag.

                                               ----------------------------

Varian found himself enjoying the fishing trip more than he had expected. The first day was spent mainly getting there and setting up the campsite. The second day was spent fishing, exploring, and just taking in the scenery.

Varian had been allowed to bring Ruddiger along, as Hiro had also brought Baymax. His pet was overjoyed to be back in his natural environment and Varian had to admit that he felt more at home here in the great outdoors than in the crowded streets of San Fansokyo. The big city was fascinating but he'd always be a simple farm boy at heart.

Krei felt much the same way. The businessman hadn't been raised in the countryside the way Varian had, but he had a great love of camping, fishing, and being out in nature. His passion stemmed from childhood summers spent on vacation at something called 'summer camp'.

Varian found he got along with older man well. They spent the ride up chatting about science and it's more practical applications, spent the trip sharing wilderness tips, and fishing out in Krei's boat. Fishing had never been Varian's favorite activity, but he now found a new sense of nostalgia for it and the praise Krei would send his way whenever he caught one helped to fuel his enjoyment of the sport even more. Plus he got a chance to show off his cooking skills after they had cleaned their catch. Not the most pleasant task ever, but Varian could stomach it much better than butchering other kinds of meat.

Hiro however did not enjoy fishing, or camping, or anything to do with the outdoors really. The other teen mostly sulked the whole trip. When he wasn't busy gagging at the worms used for bait or getting scared by the unfamiliar sounds of the local wildlife that is. Mainly he stuck close to Baymax and the tent, bored out his mind and annoyed he had been forced to come long. Varian's enthusiasm only aggravated him further and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little jealous by how easy things came to the other boy. He'd spent half a year trying to get on Krei's good side and impress him, while Varian had managed it in mere minutes of meeting the CEO.

The only time Hiro came out of his grumpy shell was at night, when they built a campfire and roasted marshmallows. Varian had never had smores before, but they were tasty, if also sticky and a little too sweet. Ruddiger however went nuts over the fluffy sweets and had to be kept from stealing the whole bag of them. Hiro didn't really care one way or the other about the traditional treat, but was more than eager to share ghost stories with the rest of the group. Gleefully recalling with gory detail about the spirit of an ax murderer who apparently stalked the woods. Perhaps it was a little vindictive of him, to try his best and scare the other teen, but Hiro couldn't help filling a little thrill whenever Varian gave a little jump or clutched his pet raccoon even tighter in comfort.

Keri was only amused by the story. He'd heard similar ones growing up at camp. He laughed at the end of Hiro's tale.

"Ha! Kids are still telling that one? Let me tell you a real horror story."

It was about tax audits.

Both boys could only shrug at each other.

"I do not understand the purpose of a 'ghost story'." Baymax observed.

"It's suppose to be for fun." Hiro informed him.

"I see; an adrenaline rush within a safe and controlled environment can be considered a pleasant feeling for some people. However I do not understand how taxes figure into that."

"Uuuuh, neither do we." Hiro admitted, "but I guess fear is subjective. Do you have any stories to share, Varian?"

Varian had to rack his brain on that one. His own life was more of a horror story then most ghost tales he knew, but he didn't want to devel into that. Instead he told a folk legend that his dad had once told him. It had been an old story from his home country; a parable about a rich man who was so greedy that he hoarded a well from the poor townspeople during a drought. Forcing them to pay him tribute lest they die of thirst, but he made the mistake of refusing water to a witch and so was cursed to become a vampire. To spend an eternity in thirst himself and to be forever alone, because he could no longer get close to other people without risking harm to them.

"And so a leader must care for his people, son," he remembered his father instructing him at the end of the tale, "He must share and give back to the community. He who sacrifices love for his fellow man in exchanged for selfish possessions, forfeits his right to live among mankind and to even be called a 'man' himself."

If only his father's words had been true. If real life had been as simple as stories, then Corona would have sided with him and not the evil king who kept the wondrous healing flower hidden away and who turned his back upon people need. But Varian conveniently left out this more personal anecdote.

"Wow." Hiro said flatly. "That's deep."

He wasn't used to horror stories having explicit morals attached to them and didn't know how else to respond. The tale hadn't been scary so much as eerie with an unnerving ending. Unlike his serial killer story, it wasn't anything you could be afraid of happening to you, yet questioning your place in the world was somehow more off putting than simple dismemberment.

The mood was broken however, by Ruddiger stealing Hiro's marshmallow off his roasting stick. It turned out to be last one as Krei had spent the majority of Varian's story battling the gluttonous raccoon over their food stores.

"I know racoons aren't 'mankind', but does this mean he's doomed to be a marshmallow vampire now?" Hiro joked as Varian got onto his pet.

"I don't know. Your robot looks like a walking marshmallow though." Varian shot back good naturedly.

Now out of food, save for leftover fish, they all decided to tuck in for the night.

                                              ----------------------------

Hiro hated the woods. He hated how unfamiliar everything was, how inconvenient it was, and most of all he hated how gross it was. He woke up irritated and sore from sleeping on the thin sleeping bag inside the tent. He couldn't find anything decent to eat for breakfast. He never stopped grumbling while he was forced to use the bathroom outside. To make an awful morning even worst, he couldn't shake the feeling of being stalked as strange animals hooted and howled. One bush in particular shook right when he pasted it. He nearly jumped out of skin when Ruddiger pop out of it holding the last of the fish in its mouth.

He groaned as he watched the raccoon scurry away and climb up a tree a little ways off from the campsite. He didn't much care for the creature, or for wild animals in general, but he knew how important the pet was to Varian and so had tried to be polite about having it around. Still Hiro's patience was wearing thin. The walking bottomless pit had eaten practically everything in the camp.

Hiro reluctantly followed after, debating if it was worth trying to get the fish back. Probably not, he didn't even like the taste of fish all that much to begin with. He stopped in surprise when an apple core fell from tree and nearly hit him. He looked up and found Varian sitting in one of the top branches, raccoon by his side, and reaching up to pick another apple off the tree.

The other teen paused when he saw Hiro. "Hey! Morning! You wanna an apple for breakfast?"

Hiro's stomach growled in response but all he actually said was, "How did you get up there?"

Varian laughed, "Climbed up here. How else you do think? Fly?"

Hiro looked up at him blankly. It was an obvious answer, of course, and he felt silly for having asked it.  

"Come on up!" Varian encouraged. "There's plenty of apples to go around."

"I..I can't." Hiro admitted sheepishly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to climb a tree." He mumbled.

Varian looked surprised by this revelation and before Hiro could do anything else, the other boy quickly climbed back down to join him.

“You never climb a tree before?”

‘Well, I did once, with Baymax’s help.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.  

“It’s not like there’s a whole lot of trees in San Fransokyo to climb.”

“Oh, well, it’s easy. Here, I’ll show you. Just put your foot there, in that knot, and place your hand here on this bump in the bark.” Varian instructed, helping Hiro find the footholds. “Now you see that groove up here, place your other foot there, and as you hoist yourself up grab that lowest branch with your other hand, like climbing a really uneven ladder.”

Hiro did so, though not without some struggling, but eventually he pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.      

“Great!” Varian cheered and followed after with practiced ease. “The hardest parts done. Now all you gotta do is swing up the rest of the branches, like so.”

Varian took off, showing Hiro the best way to navigate the tree top. Hiro followed him, mimicking the other boys actions. With great effort he hauled himself up onto the final branch and heaved a ‘wooooph’ in relief of having made it up.

His sigh quickly turned to awe though when he caught sight of the view. The early morning sun sparkled on the lake. Further out a misty fog was beginning to disperse and you could see the opposite shoreline reflected in the water like glass. Beyond that giant redwoods poked out of the canopy of trees and way, way off in the distance you just about make out the tips of blue mountains.

“Woah.” He breathed. Hiro had to admit, you didn’t get scenery like this in the city.

‘Here.” Varian handed him an apple. It was smaller than the ones you’d buy in the store, with pink and yellow skin. Hiro tentatively took a bite. It was crunchy and very tart, but edible. Not to mention it was practically the only food they had left in the camp, so Hiro wound up eating it all and started in on a second one.

“So, where did you learn to climb?” Hiro asked taking another large bite of the wild fruit.

“Oh, I’ve been climbing trees since I could walk.” Varian laughed. “We owned an apple orchard along with the farm. Also the forest is right next to my village.”

Ruddiger joined them, procuring his own apple and sitting right on Varian’s lap to enjoy his meal. Varian scratched his pet’s ear.

“Does he ever get full?” Hiro asked.

“Nope.” Varian replied, and then they both broke into giggles.

Once the laughter had subsided Hiro commented, “I guess that’s why you’re so good at this outdoors stuff. This is the first time I ever been fishing, and with any luck, it’ll be my last.”

“My dad taught me.” Varian quitely confessed. “He’d take me on trips like this sometimes. Try to teach me how to hunt and fish. The fishing is a lot better than the hunting, let me tell you. I never could fire an arrow right and I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He cringed as if recalling a gruesome memory. “But, I guess he was just looking out for me. He taught me the skills he had to live on to survive. Apparently there were no farms where he grew up, the land was always baren. I guess that’s why he prefered gardening to being a knight.”

“Wait, your dad was an actual for real knight?”

Varian nodded, “Yeah, I found his armor after...after the accident. Along with a bunch of other important stuff he never told me about.” He added bitterly.

Hiro didn’t know how to respond to that. So he stayed quiet and let Varian dictate the conversation.

“Anyways, it worked. The fishing did come in handy. I had to do a lot of that, when.. when I was on my own.” He worked his jaw as he mulled over that last confession, his eyes gazing out to into the distance, clearly not seeing the breathtaking view before them.

Hiro’s heart dropped. He had a vague idea of what happened to Varian, but this was the first time it really hit home just how messed up the other’s teen’s life had been before now. He could empathize with losing a loved one, but he had always had his aunt and his friends to depend upon. If nothing else to be there and take of him as he sank into depression. But Varian had to do everything for himself, even while battling that same depression. The idea of having to catch or scavenge for your own food on top caring for you ill father was a nightmare that Hiro could barely comprehend. A nightmare that only somehow got worse.

“Fortunately, there’s a river that runs through my village, and I could set up lines overnight and just go check them in the morning, and we had food stored up for winter. Like oats, bacon, dried peas, that sort of thing. That is, until spring rolled around and the king's guards run me out of my house.” He said irritably.”Then I just had to forage or steal to survive.”

“Be...because you stole medicine?” Hiro asked disquietly. He couldn’t imagine a world so cruel and yet to his surprise the story got even worse.

“Oh no, this was before I stole the flower.” Varian said matter of factly and Hiro just stared at him in horror. Varian heaved a heavy sigh and went on to explain. “My father was the only other person who knew about the sundrop. The king kept it hidden from everyone. I guess when he found out that my dad, was, was ‘gone’, he decided to try and remove me from the picture, so as to keep his secret safe. He made a bunch of false charges about me ‘attacking the princess’ so that no one would believe me when I asked for help or told them the truth about the flower. Then he sent his elite guard to arrest me and I had to run.”

Varian gave a little shrug and added, “I guess after that, ‘treason’ didn’t seem like that big of deal. I mean they were going to throw me in jail either way, and not many people leave those dungeons alive.”

Hiro could barely process what was being told to him. He didn’t know what to say. His stomach churned and his breath shallowed. Varian’s past was far scarier than any ghost story.

Then suddenly he felt guilty. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and his own struggles with readjusting, that he hadn’t actually stopped to think about things from Varian’s perspective. He had thus far grinned and bared the discomfort of having his life turned upside down, because, well because that's what he thought he needed to do in order to be a mature decent person. And while that was true in part, it never occurred to him that this move was yet another upset in Varian’s life, in a long, long string of seemingly never ending upsets.  

Hiro found himself so easily annoyed by the other teen, yet he really had no right to be. Varian was readjusting to whole new culture and way of life in addition to struggling with his grief and trauma. So what if he cooked weird food sometimes, didn’t always know the appropriate conduct to certain situations, or was so super confident in nearly everything he did that it made Hiro self conscious and a little jealous at times. Deep down, Varian was suffering through something that no one in Hiro’s little corner of the globe could fully understand, and the least that Hiro could do was try to be a little more patient and a little more open about letting Varian into his life.

“You know,” Hiro slowly said, trying to ease the conversation and offer a little understanding, “I never really knew my dad. I was just four when he and my mom died. It was always Tadashi who taught me things, like how to ride a bike or how to hotwire a robot. Though he never taught me to climb to tree, so I guess that’s one I owe you.”

He smiled encouragingly at Varian, who nervously returned it. Once again Varian wasn’t used to praise or acknowledgement that he anything ‘right’.

“Maybe, you could teach me more outdoorsy stuff.” Hiro offered. “And I can teach you more about more modern stuff, like how to play Mind Smith II Turbo .”

“That..that’s that video game you like, isn’t it?” Varian asked as he tried to remember what Hiro even talking about.

“Yeah!” and with that Hiro eagerly launched into a detailed description of the game.

Soon the boys were interrupted by Krei emerging from the tent. He stretched sore back and tried to reheat the leftover instant coffee he’d brought. He then promptly spit it back out in disgust. The boys tried their best to suppress their snickers. Keri spotted them anyways.

“How ‘bout we pack it up and go get tacos instead?” He asked them.

“Yeeesss!” Yelled Hiro, who was more than ready to go.

“Sounds great!” Agreed Varian. “We’ll be right down!”

Keri went back in the tent to start packing and Ruddigger scurried down after him, hoping to maybe steal another treat from the camp.

Varian stood up and started to also make his way down when Hiro’s voice stopped him.

“Ummm...Sooo how do you get down exactly?”

                                              ----------------------------

The day ended with a trip to Yaki Taco and a huge feast of fast food nachos and deep fried burritos. Rudiger was once again confined to his carrying cage, but was allowed a cup of some cheese sauce to snack on. Baymax was let out of his charger case to kept an eye on the mischievous raccoon. All agreed it was actually the best part of the camping trip.

“Say, ‘cheese’.” The robot said, as he took a photograph with his internal camera.  

The three guys sing songed the the word even as actual cheese dripped off the burritos they held in their hands, plastering on dopey grins for the camera. Then a few more pictures with silly faces to complete the set.

“Fantastic!” Krei said. “I want copies for the office.”

“Why?” Hiro asked.

“So if any clients come in I show off ‘my family’ to them instead just the photo of my mother. I love the woman but she doesn’t necessarily impress the image of ‘family friendly company’.”

“I knew there was a catch.” Hiro scoffed.

Keri looked wounded. “Hey, I told you, my employees are my family.”

Hiro rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help giving a little smile at that. He knew Krei well enough by now to know that, underneath his seemingly conviving self-serving self, he had a heart, and he wouldn’t have invited Hiro and Varian along if he didn’t care.

“Aunt Cass put you up to this, didn’t she?” He prodded.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Krei insisted and they gave Hiro a knowing wink. Then more seriously he said, “I know what it’s like not having your dad around on Father’s Day. So, I figured, why not a fishing trip? It’s better than being stuck at home while your father’s away on a business trip to Tahiti that weekend.”

Hiro raised in eyebrow. Keri had a tendency of oversharing at times.  

“Buuut, enough about me. Who wants dessert!?”

[schrodingers-redfish]

The Last Gift (10,439 words)

I’m coping by writing

I think it’s prose. I’m not sure

The Last Gift

Night seeps into us through accidents we have inflicted on eachother

Next time we commit love, we ought to choose in advance what to kill.

Margaret Atwood, "Their Attitudes Differ"

The world of humans was becoming shorter and darker and colder. The constellations that they had known reoriented a thousand times. The asterisms that they had once named had lost too many pieces to be recognized for what they once were. Each streak of their stars' descent was brief, yet seared into the minds of those who remained.

The humans would point up at the dimming sky and tell their stories to their little ones about what had once been. But the little ones could not fully understand - the children's world was small and dark - they could envision no other way.

The oceans were much quieter than they used to be. The waves that tiredly reached the shore pleaded for the humans to remember the days of old. The waves insisted there was once a time that they were clear. They whispered that they were once tall and loud and strong. That they once housed more than salt and sludge and waste. That the humans used to swim. That there was a time humans could have averted their fate.

For enough time had passed that humans had little recollection of clean water.

Few trees were left that were old enough to remember. Most of them did not survive the droughts or fires or floods of muck from the rivers. Forest carpets were more fungus than moss. Little else could expect to survive the cold and dark and damp and rot.

Human's own engineering to save themselves was never enough. Any measure to save themselves and not their world first was never going to be enough. The wind had blown the humans' ash and dust back to them. No shelter could stand its accumulation. The rain always smelled of the rust that it had so meticulously worn down. When there were clouds, they were seldom white.

As the world grew a little colder and a little darker, the humans dwindled in numbers. They were naive to think that they could exist forever. They were gullible to believe they were destroying the world. The world would eventually recover in their absence. Humans had not imagined that they were only ever destroying themselves.

Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual.

Laura Giplin, "The Two-Headed Calf"

Nonetheless, humans did their best to make reparations to the flowers and jungles and grass. The humans prayed to the Gods they still believed in to spare their fruit trees and rivers and little ones. They prayed that their children would know the sweetness of fruit and the smell of yeast and the green after winter and the nostalgia of growing.

Their Gods heard, but the domains their Gods occupied were fading too. Few domains remained whose occupants could do as the humans prayed - for soft rain and warm sun and fertile seeds.

The inhabitants of the human-created domains reached from the depths of human despair to try to assure them that they were not alone.

The domains fought to tell the humans that they were heard and they were seen and their struggle was recognized. The domains returned their power to the humans that had created the space in which they had settled. But the humans had no way of knowing that their domains were sacrificed to answer their prayers. What the domains had to offer was never enough. The humans had no way of knowing what happened to their belief in themselves - the belief that gave domains their power.

The domains were feeble and fading because that was how humans believed them to be. Domains that humans pleaded with were no more powerful than the humans that had envisioned them. Yet, the humans would gather and pray for relief from watching their world grow dim and cold. They prayed for any hope of a future in which their little ones would be spared.

The last of the humans gathered beneath the mango tree that had flowered to pray for fruit. The domain that laid among the roots occupied the domain of love.

Love's domain had figured that the mango tree was to be their final place of rest. They had prepared to sacrifice all that was left to coax the tree to flower. They had expected to disappear before the tree ever bore fruit. Perhaps the humans' love for their tree had sustained their domain.

Still, the humans pleaded for more. Possibly more than the domain of love could give. Yet, love's domain felt the joy of the parents who had children on their shoulders.

The little ones reached toward the small green orbs in awe. The adults admired the long pink stems and the tiny yellow flowers. The humans circled their beloved tree and the domain of love absorbed their gratitude and their hope.

The occupant of the domain of love had not been certain that they had the ability to make the tree bloom. That ability had not been part of their domain before.

The humans' love and hope poured from them in earnest. Their little ones were reaching. Love's domain reached too.

I am blue veins, a scar, a patch of lavender cells, used thighs and shoulders; my calves are as scant as my cheeks, my hips won't plump small, shimmering pillows:

but this body is my home, my childhood is buried here, my sleep rises and sets inside, desire created and wore itself thin between these bones - I live here

Lisel Mueller (for Margaret Gaul), "A Nude By Edward Hopper"

The harvest of the mangoes woke the domain of love again. They were less tired than last time.

The humans seemed less tired too. What ails could their world hold when their hands were coated in fragrance and their lips in sweetness?

Diligently, ceremoniously, the mangoes were pulled from drooping branches and sliced. Every fruit was shared. All the sweetness that remained in their world could not balance the bitterness of having to eat one alone.

They ate together, and with all those who had eaten together before them. It was an ancient human ritual - one that almost predated love's domain. Those rituals were the most important aspects of the humans' lives.

Only the things worth sharing were worth having. The lives they lived were only as important as those around them.

The humans practicing the rites they had learned from their ancestors was reminiscent of something that the domain of Life had once conveyed.

This domain was gifted to me. It was never mine.

The domain of love had accepted that as a statement on the nature of inhabiting a domain. All of the occupants understood that they would not exist forever. Humans had to have the space for them. But never had love's domain considered their domain a gift. A domain had to be before it could be inhabited.

Love's domain had not understood when Life had continued: The one who inhabited this domain before me asked that I give the humans the gift of metal.

The domain of love mused that Life was the only domain to express as the humans did - with determination, purpose, and intent.

Perhaps the domain of love should try to find Life.

The domain of life had to still exist. Possibly weak, possibly fading. Yet, Life was the first because humans were first. The humans lived, so Life must remain.

Had Life sacrificed their domain to keep the humans alive?

The domain of love could not perceive how many domains remained. Their numbers were once immeasurable - they were not always hard to find.

Still, the humans prayed. Prayed for shells to adorn each other and fruit to eat together and flowers to enjoy together and clay to create together. They prayed for every happiness worth experiencing together before the sun warmed their bones but not their skin.

Love's domain resolved to provide. The humans never prayed to love, but they prayed for all the things that only love could bring. They prayed for the joys that made life worthwhile.

Though Life could not be found, their domain clearly endured.

I: But won't you remember what happened the last time?

F: Yes, but mostly I will remember my mouth filling with want. A wire or berries - a new life or a memory - it makes no difference. I will want a taste of it.

I: What are you remembering, that makes you hesitate at the edge of the field? Which of your lives is this?

Tierney Cline-Plaisted, "A Conversation With the Snared Fox at the Edge of the Field"

Where had Life gone?

I am here, Life stated.

The humans have suffered. They pleaded and wanted. They despaired.

It is their design.

They had been dying.

And still they live. This is not their first time.

Can the humans be saved?

They will save eachother. They always have, that is how it has always been. Their time shall continue of they believe that they deserve it. But my time is ending.

If they decide to live, will you stay. The domain of love cannot exist alone.

I cannot. It is not Life that provides for them. They believe that it is love that will sustain them. The domain I was given is no longer mine.

Who gave it to you?

The domain of Life before me. The domain of love before you. At the end of the world, at the start of all things, humans return to the belief that love is Life. You are all that matters to them.

I?

Yes, you are no longer abstract. You are. You have to be if they want to continue.

How many times have I been?

It does not matter. When love and Life are separate, it is bound to happen again. I'm sorry to have lost you.

What will happen to you?

It no longer matters. When I had this conversation, I was asked to give the humans a gift on behalf of the Life that was before me. That gift was to be the last. The last gift to help humans rebuild and remember. It was not enough. Perhaps it never will be. But I know the gift I would like you to give to them when you take my place.

What can I give them?

Give the humans a way to learn from those who came before. A way to learn without ever having met the teacher. When the humans scream that they are here and their world feels vast and empty without the assurance that they will be remembered - when they long for their experiences to carry on after them - when they crave the comfort of a way to tell their story, give it to them.

That is all they want. What is the last gift?

I call it writing.

[softyoongiionly]

🍬Sour Skittles: Part Two 🍬

Sour Skittles

WELCOME TO GLASSCLAW! The only city where you can get a homecooked meal and a hitman all on the same street! You moved to GlassClaw for a fresh start after a group of raiders invaded your previous compound. Unbeknownst to you, the city has its own collection of riff raff and, at the head of it all is your neighbor Min Yoongi. The mischevious merchant with one hell of a sailor mouth is known for swindling the rich and, serving the poor. The world has become convoluted and chaotic since the apocalypse but, two things were certain: You were so much more than pretty face and, Yoongi was so much more than just a thief.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I got really inspired to do a little update for this after watching a ton of videos about the French Revolution lmao. I hope you guys like it!

Genre: Dystopian Au, RobinHood! Yoongi, smut, fluff, minor angst, post apocalyptic au

The heat is unbearable. 

It sticks to you like a thick and intrusive warm cloak.

You’re spread eagle on your mattress, completely naked except for a pair of underwear and, a loose fitting t shirt. The idea of fabric clinging to you is revolting enough to make you wretch and, you’re now seriously considering taking another cold shower.

This would be your third one today.

Fuck AstroLex honestly.

The hegemonic superpower that runs Glassclaw shut off everyone’s AC as punishment for the recent raid of one of their many storage places.

The Underground is clearly responsible but, AstroLex lacks the evidence to bindict anyone. This was usually the case, the raiders who worked for The Underground are too good and, they usually commit their robberies without a trace.

This isn’t the first time AstroLex has implemented a city-wide punishment, last winter they turned off the heating for 6 days which led to a dozen people nearly dying of hypothermia.   

They didn’t care though. Their message had been received, their debts had been collected and, they could continue in their world.

Unapologetically unbothered.

AstroLex made an announcement earlier this morning that the AC would be turned off until further notice and, you assumed this meant until the raiders were turned in.

You audibly groan as you feel more sweat forming on the back of your neck, the feeling nearly vomit-inducing. The only way you knew to alleviate your suffering would be to live in your freezer and, given that it’s much too small, you concede that your only option is a slow and painful death.

A knock at your door interrupts you both in it’s volume and it’s intensity. Another pained groan passes your lips as you drag yourself off of your bed. The knocking gets more persistent as you make your way to the door.

“I’m coming!” You call, annoyed at the intrusion.

Swinging the door open, you are met with the one person who could make your day more difficult: Min Yoongi.

“Took you long enough…” He smirks, leaning against your door frame. His minty green hair is dripping wet and, he’s dressed in only a gray pair of torn jeans, black boxers peeking over the band of them.

“Don’t you own a shirt?”

He snickers, “It’s a thousand degrees outside, do you want me to die of heat exhaustion?”

“Definitely not, I’d loose out on my reward, they raised it again today…$40,000…” You cross your arms, fighting the smile that’s trying to take over your lips.

Turns out, your suspicions regarding your neighbor had been correct. Yoongi was forced to out himself as an Underground worker when the AstroLex police had launched a full on investigation in your environ. In a desperate attempt to maintain his freedom, Yoongi came banging on your door at 3am, begging you not to turn him into the authorities. Yoongi belonged to a particularly stealthy and ruthless group of raiders known appropriately as “Robin Hoods.” So far, the Robin Hoods had been responsible for nearly 60% of all successful raids done on AstroLex’s resources and, given that their operations were so seamless, the police hadn’t been able to bring a single member in for questioning. However, AstroLex did announce a citywide call for intel which promised a hefty reward to anyone who had information regarding the group.

“I’m certainly worth more than $40,000, those bastards…” His eyes scan over you briefly, glinting with mischief, “You look like a drowned rat…”

You scoff, pushing against his bare chest, “Fuck you…”

He snickers again, nimble fingers clutching at your wrists, holding them against his chest, “I’m kidding, c’mon, I missed you…”

He’s so full of shit…

You roll your eyes at him, playfully tugging your hands away, “You missed me so much you came pounding on my door only to call me a drowned rat?”

“I’ve undergone a lot of childhood trauma, sweetheart, forgive me, I have hard time expressing my emotions…” He explains with a dramatic flair to his voice, slowly starting to lean in towards your lips.

“You’re shameless. “ You open your door wider, silently inviting him inside, “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Yoongi purses his lips through his smirk before shuffling into your apartment, “Are you referring to the stupid salt that I nearly died for? Yes, I brought what you asked for…”

He reaches into his canvas bag, pulling out a plastic box containing your requested item: Rock salt.

Eagerly, you take the box from his hands, already excited to utilize the stolen good which left Yoongi feeling very confused.

“The fuck do you need rock salt for anyway? Can’t you just use the stuff in a bottle?” He shuffles his bag back over his bare shoulder and, you shamelessly allow your eyes to ogle at the movements of Yoongi’s sinewy chest muscles.

“I use that salt for cooking but,” You move around him to make you’re way over to your fridge before pulling out a bottle of fresh cream, you’d bought from the a local dairy farm not far from your apartment.  “I’m using this one for homemade ice cream…the store bought stuff just isn’t the same.”

Yoongi wants to scoff at your response because; quite frankly he finds it a little ridiculous but, he doesn’t scoff, instead, he feels rather enamored. The modern world leaves very little room for a luxury like nostalgia but, for whatever reason, he feels a lot of it when he’s around you, you remind of him his past life….before everything went to shit.

“Are you making enough to share?” He smirks, hopping on your counter, his dirty combat boots scuffing against the wood.

“I’m not sharing anything with you if you don’t get off my counter…” You grumble, pushing against his jean clad leg, causing Yoongi to snicker as he obliges, choosing to lean back against the granite. “But yeah, I’ll make enough to share—you have to take some to Namjoon too though.”

“He’s lactose intolerant…”

You stop what you’re doing to throw a deadpan Yoongi’s way which only causes his mouth to twitch, a smirk threatening to break through, “I literally saw him shoving cheese pizza down his throat the other night. Share with him or you get nothing…”

Yoongi chuckles again, holding his hands up to concede with you, “Fine, I’ll share but, don’t expect it to be an even split. Namjoon’s job isn’t nearly as demanding as mine, I need my strength…”

With a roll of your eyes, you assemble some of the ice cubes into a large ceramic bowl, eyeing the dish rack for a spoon, “Do you even a day job or, are you a full time renegade?”

With a nod of his head he responds, his hand musing through his hair again, “I work at Electric Eel’s on the weekends…”

The fact that Yoongi works at a strip club shouldn’t affect you but, an odd sensation rolls through your stomach as you think of all of the beautiful women he must work with.

“The strip club right? How’s that going for you?”

Yoongi smirks again because, apparently, that’s the only facial expression he’s capable of, “It goes ok. I literally only wear a leather vest and leather pants so, the tips are pretty fucking good. Plus…I get to work with a bunch of hot people so, it’s a good gig.”

You swallow around a dry throat, trying very hard not to picture bartender Yoongi in an all leather outfit but, obviously you fail.

“Sounds like it…” You affirm casually, dumping a sizeable portion of ice cubes into a metal cylinder. “Do you know Jungkook?”

Yoongi tilts his head for a moment before nodding, “Yeah yeah, young kid right? He’s a dancer there…wait how do you know him?”

It’s your turn to smirk now, memories of Jungkook currently running an assault on your brain, “Uh…he’s an old friend of mine. Last I heard he got a job there so, I figured you would know him…”

Yoongi’s stomach tightens now, the smirk on your face telling him everything he didn’t want to know, “Just a friend?”

A flurry of butterflies courses through your gut as you think of all the fun you and Jungkook used to have, “Just friends yeah…”

There’s a bit of silence that moves between the two of you as Yoongi admires the way you lie to him.

He kind of wants to be a secret of yours too…

“Don’t worry…I hooked up with him too. He’s a hell of a lay…” Yoongi chuckles, his eyes alit with mischief and memories of his own.

The feel in your stomach drops lower now, towards the place between your legs. The bit of information Yoongi just shared certainly isn’t what you’re expecting but, you’d be lying if you said that thoughts of Yoongi and Jungkook together didn’t do a number on your resolve.

“He sure is…stamina for days…” You giggle, trying to center your thinking towards more appropriate topics, “Do you think they’ll turn the air on this week?”

Yoongi notices your hasty subject change but, he decides not to pester you, at least not for the moment, “Probably not. There was an uprising in Ricketts yesterday --I think Astro is worried we’re going to do the same. Gotta keep the leash tight…”

The news surprises you, there hadn’t been an uprising in your area of the world in quite some time. The last one, occurred four years ago in the nearby compound of Amex and, ended in a bloody battle that took the lives of nearly 2,000 people; the compound’s government executed the resistance leaders during a public broadcast.

Rebellion seemed less appealing after that but clearly, the fear of retaliation is quickly wearing off…

“Really? I had no idea…I didn’t hear anything about it, were they successful?”

An honest smile actually presents itself across Yoongi’s lips as he nods, knowing full well what Rickett’s victory could mean, “They overthrew their council. AstroLex sent in reinforcement but, their resistance held em off, they retreated this morning…”

This causes your eyes to widen, “Are you serious? That’s unbelievable, how did you hear about this? There’s no way they would have put this in the broadcast…”

Yoongi leans in, his eyes darting around your kitchen, lowering his voice significantly, “Don’t you find it strange that AstroLex is offering 40,000 for a bunch of petty thieves?”

He has a point.

AstroLex is worth millions.

But if he’s not just a thief…then what is he?

“Do you know something the public doesn’t?” You offer, trying to conceal your intense curiosity.

Yoongi grins, his brown eyes glimmering with something you haven’t seen in over a decade: hope, “Let’s just say…the Ricketts rebellion is the first of many. Sooner or later, AstroLex will meet the same fate…”

His words fuel your bleeding heart but, you have to be careful. You can’t get wrapped up in promises, you’ve made that mistake before.

“Resistance...” You breathe and, Yoongi doesn’t allow his grin to fade, “Do you really think it’s possible?”

“Would you join if it was?”

Looking up at your neighbor, you muster all of the sincerity and passion you can manage, holding the depth of his gaze as you respond,

“I’d join regardless…”

[zappycat]

heres some gay shit take it you have no choice

 sometimes you just gotta post snippets of a fanfic you’re writting for an obscure webcomic. these are not my characters anyway the comic is called super zero i really like it, anyway the last thing i wrote as original and this time i wanted to write a fanfiction

 There was nothing but open farm land for miles, it was vast, and the rolling hills looked like waves in the darkness of night, Max’s truck was parked in between a group of big trees, it was an old farm that had been empty for years but something about being hidden made him feel better, especially since he had no idea where he was, the whole time he’d been following Logan’s directions.

“So. This is it, an abandoned farm?” Max said with a somewhat mocking tone, which was meant as a joke but probably didn’t sound like it. Still he reached into the back seat to grab the 6 pack of beer they’d picked up on the way. Beer wasn’t his first choice, but it was the cheapest and anything else felt like pushing it with a fake ID, even though Max had done arguably much worse things throughout this life. Logan ignored him and hopped out of the passenger seat.

“You said you wanted to see stars; this is probably the only place that wasn’t 6 hours away. Besides we could like explore and see what kind of weird shit got left behind” Max laughed to himself and joined his friend in the truck bed.

“How’d you know about this place anyway?”

“My class took a field trip here when I was in elementary school, I think it went bankrupt or something a few years ago.” Logan said, shrugging as he lit the end of a joint, the orange glow from his lighter illuminated his face briefly. “I’ve been back a few times since then, but it’s been a few years” he continued after a long exhale.

“And here I thought breaking and entering was my thing” Max said, taking a sip of the beer, it was gross, he would have rather been drinking anything else but alcohol was alcohol.

“Hey, it’s not illegal if nobody owns the property” Logan smirked as he snatched the bottle out of Max’s hands and took a swig. Even thought it was dark, but Max could see the sour face he was making.

“That’s really bad”

“Well…it’s alcohol” Max said, taking back his drink, taking another sip. He sighed and leaned back directing his gaze to the sky. It was full of glittering stars all close together bright and beautiful. Suddenly Max felt a tap on his side.

“Told you we’d see a lot of stars out here.” Logan said, scooting closer their arms where almost touching.

“Yeah, it’s nice I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many…You know I never really thought of you as the outdoorsy type” Max felt warmth rising in his cheeks, he was half tempted to look over but instead he began picking at a scab on his wrist to distract himself.

“I’m not, it’s just nice to get out of the city sometimes”

“Yeah, I get that” There was a pause, crickets and tree frogs were the only sound for a while, the breeze gently rustled through the grass and trees. “So, do you know what you’re doing after you finish school?” Logan asked, almost hesitantly.

“…No, I’ve been trying not to think about that” Max said, holding the beer bottle up to his lips.

“Same, it’s kind of weird to think about being an adult”

“That’s not really it for me, I’ve always kind of had to be an adult I guess I’m just…never mind” Max stopped himself abruptly.

“What?” Logan asked tilting his head slightly

“…promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah of course.”

“I mean it if you tell anyone, you’re dead.”  Max glared at him then sighed, thinking about how to phrase his next sentence carefully “I don’t know…I never really got the chance to be a normal kid, like my childhood fucking sucked and that’s putting it lightly being a super hasn’t helped that, and I guess I’m just kind of…jealous or something I don’t know…that’s not really the right word I’m too fucking tried to English” it felt weird to say it out loud but  of course that wasn’t all of it, or even half of it but he wasn’t about to spill his whole life story to some guy he’d known for less than year.

They were both quite for a long time after that, Max sighed again, bringing his knees to his chest and taking another sip of his gross watery beer which at that point was warm.

“We’re going to Disneyland!” he stood up in the bed of the truck for empathizes

“What!” Max coughed, choking on his drink, he couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“I’m taking you to Disneyland.” Logan said sitting back down, Max laughed but quickly saw the he was serious.

“Ok, but why though?”

“I mean why not, It’s only like what, 3 hours out of town. Besides, what’s the point of having a truck if you don’t take road trips with your favorite person” Logan leaned into him, resting his head on Max’s shoulder.  He scoffed and pushed him away.

“First of all, don’t flatter yourself too much. And second of all the point of having a truck is to carry a lot of heavy things, this isn’t even technically mine, so if anything happens to it, I’m as good as dead”

“Ok but consider this we would heavy suitcases, and you’re…an ok driver so your truck should be fine...It’ll fun”

“Well when you put it like that…but seriously, I don’t really know if I want to, you know how I feel about big crowds, besides they probably wouldn’t even let me in.” Max said, leaning against side of the truck bed, empty bottle still in hand. It was just nice to have something to hold onto.

“I mean it’s the off season right now so-”

“Dude, why you so set on this?!” Max said, maybe a bit to forcefully. There was a brief pause.

“You said you never got to really be a kid, and this might be fun and like I don’t know give you a chance to make some better memories to replace all the bad ones that’s how that works right.…probably dumb, we just haven’t been spending as much time together and I kind of miss you.” It wasn’t dumb and Max couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Yeah, that’s pretty dumb, but I’ll go not like I have anything better to do. How are you planning on getting tickets?”

“What?” His face fell slightly.

“Tickets, genius, we need tickets to get into the parks, neither one of us have that kind of money. I mean obviously I’m not against breaking in, not like they need the money anyway.”

“…That’s a problem for future Max and Logan” He said eventually, lying down. he used his arms to prop up his head as he gazed up at the stars. Max did the same. The air was cold for a summer night, but the sky was clear, the smog and pollution from the city could still be seen in the distance like a thick cloud, Max could faintly hear traffic in the distance thanks to his heighted sense of hearing, but he did his best to ignore it.

“Do you know any constellations?” Logan asked after another toke of his joint.

“No, not really… you?”

“Yeah, a few my dad taught me when he was still around,” The usual joyful tone in Logan’s voice was briefly replaced by a sad nostalgia. “Here, give me your hand” he said, the typical warmth in his voice returning. Max stared at him then down at his own hand, hesitant.

“Why?” he asked to distract himself from thinking about their interlaced fingers, he felt a gentle tug at his arm as it was lifted towards the sky. He looked up.

“My dad taught me some of the constellations by tracing them, like this.” Max felt warmth rising in his cheeks, he quickly tried to think of something cold, or sarcastic to say but nothing came to mind, it was impossible to think about anything other than how warm Logan’s hands were, how gentle he was, the way he traced each shape in the sky meticulously. “When I was a kid, I thought it was the coolest shit ever. I don’t know I guess use to imagine I was astronaut or something discovering all these stars for the first time.” He said the same sad nostalgia returning to his voice.  Max continued looking up, he didn’t know how to respond, he didn’t understand that feeling, he didn’t even know of to begin to understand it.

“Nerd” Max sat up and threw his empty bottle at a tree. It shattered satisfyingly and he reached for another with his tail.  

“…Why did you-”

“I just felt like it, I don’t really need a reason” He opened the bottle and flicked the cap at Logan’s head.

“Ow.” He winced and threw it back he laughed but Max could tell he was a little bit annoyed.

“Come on, you said there would be weird shit left behind here.” Max hopped out of the truck bed and stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.  

[fen--harel]

50 Interesting OC Asks

TW: Kal & Victor are just terrible so things they say might be disturbing

1. What is a rumor people tell about them? 

For Asiel and Alaina it’s definitely how many people they slept with or who they slept with. For Erasmus it’s that he’s a virgin. They’re wrong but they’re also not wrong. I think Stephane would have weird rumors ?? Where people assume scary things about him like he has a sex slave dungeon or something or that he’s so immune to all types of drugs that nothing can get him high anymore and that’s why he’s a fucking savage. But in reality Stephane sits in his room and eats ice cream. 

2. How long would they last in the zombie apocalypse? 

If there was no one watching Alaina - not long. I think she would be able to sneak by but that could only last for so long. Erasmus would be fucking dead in an instant if there was no one. Asiel, Stephane, Eskandar, and Ruben are def the top contenders. Kal too !! VICTOR WOULD WANT TO FUCK THE ZOMBIES AND I AM UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT THOUGHT. 

 3. If they’re about to get in a fight, what song plays in their head as their ‘hype song’? 

Alaina: 7/11 - Beyonce (I love to think this is both hers and Asiel’s hype song and when this comes on they dance like a bunch of dumbasses)

Stephane: Don’t Stop - Innerpartysystem

Asiel: Everybody - Don Broco OR War Child - Hollywood Undead

Ruben: Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand 

Kal: Backmask - Mindless Self Indulgence (GOD THIS SONG IS JUST HIM)

Cesaire: I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor - Arctic Monkeys

4. How important is family to them? 

To Alaina it’s important but it’s more like...the whole idea of family ? Since she doesn’t have her own ? Like she considers the Demonios her family so they are important to her. For Stephane he didn’t give a single FUCK about family until he and Alaina had theirs, but before he despised the whole idea of family and thought it was fake. The same thing for Asiel. For Cesaire I feel like family would be a difficult and uncomfortable topic. He hated his dad and was basically forced to hate his twin brother but he got the better end of it ? I think he would be confused on what like...constitutes a good family. 

5. If they had a theme song, what would it be? 

Letha: Stripper by Sohodolls & Future Nostalgia - Dua Lipa

Ophelia: Portrait of a Female by Cruel Youth & Violence by Grimes 

Kal: House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance

Victor: The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid (THIS IS MY ABSOLUTE FAV)

6. What’s a movie they can quote from start to finish? 

Asiel can quote dumb humor movies like Idiocracy or something and Letha can also...quote those.

Asiel: Please speak your name!

Letha: Well, i’m not sure that-

Asiel: You have entered the name, NOT SURE. Is NOT SURE correct ?

Letha: No it’s not correct-

Asiel: Thank you! NOT is correct ! Is SURE correct?

Letha: No, it’s not-

Asiel: We already confirmed your first name is NOT 

8. If they were given 1000 acres of land with no strings attached, what would they do with it? 

ALAINA WOULD HAVE A FARM !!! SHE WOULD HAVE A FARM AND SHE WOULD BE SOOOO HAPPY !! And Stephane would join her and he would’t really do anything except cheer his wife on and Alaina accepts that 

13. How did they find out Santa isn’t real?

Erasmus: Well, I was around eight or so. I thought the idea of Santa, this magical person who appeared from our chimneys who ate our cookies and delivered our gifts was absolutely absurd. There is about 7.5 billion people in the world and you expect me to believe this single man could visit all the children in a single night and do all of that? No. Impossible. I confronted my parents and they finally told me it was them.

Alaina, Asiel, Stephane, Eskandar, Kal, Letha, LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE WHO DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A CHILDHOOD @ ERASMUS: .....

14. What’s a personality trait they wish they had? 

Alaina wishes she was smarter.

Asiel wishes he was able to feel empathy. 

Erasmus (secretly and in denial) wishes he was funny. 

16. If they were arrested with no explanation, what would their friends and family think they had done? 

Alaina: Asiel got arrested ?! I told him he wasn’t allowed in that donut shop anymore !!! :’(

Asiel: Lanes is in jail ??? GOOD FOR HER !! Finally someone punched her ‘jail card’. So what was it for? Public intoxication or indecency?

Erasmus: I told Letha nudes weren’t allowed on twitter !!!!

Ophelia: Kal ?? In jail ?? You’re fucking with me. Kal never gets caught. You’re just trying to trick me into leaving so he’d be able to go “SURPRISE!” and break my other leg.

17. In 40 years, what will they be the most nostalgic about? 

Victor: Do you remember the night we all went to the strip club together? And I saw that beautiful girl, with the smoothest skin. Candi, I believe her name was, with an ‘i’. Her body was almost perfectly preserved without the help of my chemicals for almost a week! A week with that smooth skin underneath my fingertips. I wanted to cut them off after, afraid that if I didn’t nothing was ever going to feel as good underneath my skin like that ever again. She looked just like she was before I killed her. It was the best sex I've ever had, what I would give to relive that week.

Ophelia:  😟

Kal: *Zzzzzzz* 

18. How would they describe their family? 

Kal would describe his family as “boring” which would be the reason why he killed them 

I’d like to imagine that Victor’s famiy died in a v traumatic way ? Where he had to see their corpses or something which was why he turned out the way he is - so fascinated with the dead but i’ll get back to that later 

I’m kind of torn on how Asiel would react to questions about his family, since he resents them so much I don’t think he would outwardly express that because that’s Asiel’s thing, you can’t find out WHY he hates the world but I feel like he’d be too upset to lie about it so he would dodge the question but in a v sneaky way so you wouldn’t see he was bothered by the question 

20. Do they have any pets? If so, what are they? 

ALAINA HAS TWO (2) PETS !! A German Shepherd named Orpheus and a Green Anaconda named No Feet or Nofie for short

23. What’s the most important object they own? 

I’d like to think that somewhere Stephane has a picture of his family (with Ciro’s face cut out) and he even couldn’t bring himself to cut Cesaire out and he occasionally looks over it fondly when he’s feeling a certain type of way \

I feel like Asiel would have something from Natalie, his sister (I should ?? Change her name LOL) that reminds him of her, lately I have been thinking of killing her off LOL to increase Asiel’s angst and bitterness towards the world so an item that would remind him of her would be so so important to him 

24. What event in their life would make a good movie? 

EVERYONE’S LIFE IS A FUCKING MOVIE THEY’RE ALL IN THE MAFIA 

27. What makes a person beautiful to them? 

Alaina thinks everyone is beautiful in their own way and they have certain specific things about them that makes them beautiful 

Stephane would find genuine kindness beautiful, just being kind not for any other reason than you genuine want to help and you genuinely care (tbh just Alaina in generally, if you’re anything like her you’re all set) 

Erasmus is the same way with genuine kindness, but I feel like he’s moreso people being happy ? Because he’s kind of sad and grumpy and seeing people being happy and enjoying their life he finds very attractive (NOT ASIEL ENJOYING HIS LIFE THOUGH) 

Victor thinks people going into rigor mortis is beautiful so...there’s...that 

Asiel would also be attractive to genuineness but not kindness specifically, just people actually being themselves and not afraid of being themselves - but also Asiel finds everyone hot ?? so 

I think Kal is incapable of finding people beautiful or attractive because he’s so fucking egotistical but I think what would peak his interest is people who are interesting - like if you can make him think you’re worth keeping alive he might fuck you or smthing or at least not kill you so that’s a plus 

28. If they turned into their crush/significant other for a day, what would they do? 

ALAINA WOULD BE SO EXCITED TO BE STEPHANE FOR SOME REASON like I feel like she’d take it as an opportunity to understand him better and she would just be excited to view the world from his “tall perspective” 

Stephane would flip the fuck out for the first solid five minutes but then use the opportunity to take more pictures of Alaina in outfits or underwear he’d always want her to wear (with her permission ofc) god and I feel like he would love the opportunity to be mean to people while in her body just to see people’s faces of Alaina cussing them out but then he knew she’d cry so he would refrain from doing that 

36. Do they believe things happen for a reason? 

CESAIRE BELIEVES IN FATE SO FUCKING MUCH like he believes in zodiac signs and things that are written in the stars, if something is meant to happen then it would have happened is definitely his motto but he would definitely work hard to make things happen as well 

42. Do they drink/smoke/do drugs? 

Alaina is an alcoholic in Arc 1 because she believes that since her life is better now she shouldn’t be feeling sad and thinking that she has problems because her life could be so much worse so she drinks to “cope” with her problems and eventually Etienne gets her into drugs as well but after she breaks up with Etienne, Asiel helps her become sober 

Asiel used to drink and do drugs like in an excessive amount but when he ODed and scared Natalie by almost dying he quit that 

Stephane, Kal, Ruben, and Eskandar smoke but it’s all casual 

46. What is something silly they’ve been tricked into believing? 

Alaina would believe anything you tell her from fucking anyone she’s so fucking dumb and I love her so fucking much for it she’s so cute 

50. What topic could they give a 20 minute presentation on with no preparation?

Asiel: Anyways, and that’s why the Ninja Turtles are better than the Avengers, any questions ? 

Erasmus: THIS IS A PROFESSIONAL MEETING !!!!!!

[maddie-grove]

The Top Twenty Books I Read in 2019

My main takeaways from the past year’s reading:

Sometimes you think something is happening because of magic, but then it turns out to have a non-magical explanation so weird that you find yourself saying, “You know what? I wish faeries or God were responsible for this. I’d honestly feel less disturbed.”

Stop bathing and changing your clothes and shaving for three years, three months, and three days. You’ll find out who your real friends are. I promise you that.

I want more books about bisexual ladies!!! Give them to me!!!

Anyway...

20. The Prodigal Duke by Theresa Romain (2017)

Childhood sweethearts Poppy Hayworth and Leo Billingsley were separated when his older brother, a duke, sent him away to make his fortune. Years later, the duke is dead, a financially successful Leo has come back to England to take his place, and Poppy has become a rope dancer at Vauxhall Gardens after a life-shattering event. New sparks are flying between them, but is love possible when so much else has changed? Leo and Poppy are believable and charming as old friends, Romain makes great use of obscure historical details from the oft-depicted Regency period, and I loved Leo’s difficult but caring elderly uncle.

19. Simple Jess by Pamela Morsi (1996)

Althea Winsloe, a young widow in 1900s Arkansas, has no interest in remarrying, but almost everyone in her small Ozarks community is pressuring her to remarry, and she still needs someone to help farm her land. Enter Jesse Best, a strong young man with cognitive disabilities who’s happy to take on the work. As he makes improvements to her farm and bonds with her three-year-old son, Althea gets to know him better and starts to see him in a new light. This earthy romance could’ve been a disaster, but instead it illustrates how people with disabilities are often...uh...simplified and de-sexualized in a way that denies them autonomy. Morsi has a similarly nuanced take on Althea and Jesse’s community, which is claustrophobic and supportive all at once.

18. Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli (2018)

Outspoken and insecure, bisexual high school senior Leah Burke is having a tough year. Her friend group is in turmoil, her single mom is seriously dating someone, and she’s caught between a sweet boy she’s not sure about and a pretty, perfect straight girl who couldn’t possibly be into her...right??? The sequel to the very cute Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, Leah on the Offbeat pulls a The Godfather: Part II with its messy protagonist, sweetly surprising romance, and masterful comic set piece involving the Atlanta American Girl Doll restaurant.

17. Copper Sun by Sharon M. Draper (2006)

Kidnapped from her home in eighteenth-century Ghana, fifteen-year-old Amari is sold into slavery and winds up on a South Carolina plantation, where she faces terrible cruelty but finds friends in an enslaved cook, her little son, and eventually a sulky white indentured servant around her age. When their master escalates his already-atrocious behavior, the three young people flee south to the Spanish Fort Mose in search of freedom. Draper’s complicated characters, vivid descriptions, and deft handling of heavy subjects makes for top-notch historical YA fiction.

16. A Prince on Paper by Alyssa Cole (2019)

After her controlling politician father was jailed for poisoning a bunch of people in their small, prosperous African country, Nya Jerami gained unprecedented freedom but also became the subject of vicious gossip. Johan von Braustein, the hard-partying stepson of a European monarch, wants to help her, partly because he sympathizes and partly because he has a crush, but she thinks he’s too frivolous and horny (if wildly attractive). After an embarrassing misunderstanding compels them to enter a fake engagement, though, she begins to wonder if there’s more to him. I’m not a huge fan of contemporary romance, but this novel has the perfect combination of heartfelt emotion, delicious melodrama, and adorable fluff. 

15. One Perfect Rose by Mary Jo Putney (1997)

Stephen, the Duke of Ashburton, has always done the proper and responsible thing, but that all changes when he learns that he’s terminally ill. Wandering the countryside in the guise of an ordinary gentleman, he ends up joining an acting troupe and falling in love with Rosalind, the sensible adopted daughter of the two lead actors. Like another Regency romance on this list, this novel celebrates love in many forms: there’s the love story between Stephen and Rosalind, yes, but there’s also Rosalind’s loving relationship with her adopted family, the new bonds she forms with her long-lost blood relatives, the way her two families embrace the increasingly frightened Stephen, and the healing rifts between Stephen and his well-meaning but distant siblings. Stephen’s reconciliation with his mortality is also moving.

14. My One and Only Duke by Grace Burrowes (2018)

Facing a death sentence in Newgate, footman-turned-prosperous banker Quinton Wentworth decides to do one last good thing: marry Jane McGowan, a poor pregnant widow, so she and the baby will be financially set. Then he receives a pardon and a dukedom at the literal last minute, meaning that he and Jane have a more permanent arrangement than either intended. I fell in love with the kind-but-difficult protagonists almost at once, and with Burrowes’s gorgeous prose even faster. 

13. Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell (2013)

It’s 1986, and comics-loving, post-punk-listening, half-Korean Park and bright, weird, constantly bullied Eleanor are just trying to get through high school in their rough Omaha neighborhood. He’s only grudgingly willing to let her share his bus seat at first, but this barely civil acquaintance slowly thaws into friendship and blossoms into love. Far from being the whimsical eighties-nostalgia-fest I expected, this is a bittersweet love story about two isolated young people who find love, belonging, and a chance for self-expression with each other in an often-hostile environment (a small miracle pre-Internet).

12. Shrill by Lindy West (2016)

In this memoir, Lindy West talks about the difficulties of being a fat woman, the thankless task of being vocally less-than-enthused about rape jokes, the joys of moving past self-doubt, and the very real possibility that Little John from Disney’s Robin Hood was played by “bear actor” Baloo, among other subjects. I was having a hard time during my last semester of law school this past spring, and this book’s giddy humor and inspiring messages really helped me in my hour of need.

11. Seduction: Sex, Lies, and Stardom in Howard Hughes's Hollywood by Karina Longworth (2018)

In 1925, very young businessman Howard Hughes breezed into Hollywood with nothing but tons of family wealth, a soon-to-be-divorced wife, and a simple dream: make movies about fast planes and big bosoms. He got increasingly weird and reactionary over the next thirty years, then retired from public life. More a history of 1920s-1950s Hollywood than a biography, this book has the same sharp writing and in-depth film analysis that makes me love Longworth’s podcast You Must Remember This.

10. The Beguiled by Thomas Cullinan (1966)

In Civil-War-era Virginia, iron-willed Martha Farnsworth and her nervous younger sister try to run their nearly empty girls’ boarding school within earshot of a battlefield. When one girl finds Union soldier John McBurney injured in the woods, she brings him back to the house, where he exploits every conflict and secret among the eight girls and women (five students, two sisters, and one enslaved cook). Charming and manipulative, he nevertheless finds himself in over his head. Cullinan makes great use of the eight POVs and the deliciously claustrophobic setting; it’s fascinating to watch the power dynamics and allegiances shift from scene to scene.

9. A Gentleman Never Keeps Score by Cat Sebastian (2018)

Reserved tavern keeper Sam Fox wants to help out his brother’s sweetheart by finding and destroying a nude portrait she once sat for; disgraced gentleman Hartley Sedgwick isn’t sure what he wants after having his life ruined twice over, but he happened to inherit his house from the man who commissioned the painting...plus he’s not exactly reluctant to assist kind, handsome Sam in his quest. I wrote about this heart-melting romance two times last year; suffice it to say that it’s not only one of the best Regencies I’ve ever read, but also possibly the best romance I’ve ever read about the creation of a found family.

8. Frog Music by Emma Donoghue (2014)

Blanche Beunon, a French-born burlesque dancer in 1876 San Francisco, has a lot going on: her mooching boyfriend has turned on her, her sick baby is missing, and her cross-dressing, frog-hunting friend Jenny Bonnet was just shot dead right next to her. In the middle of a heat wave, a smallpox epidemic, and a little bit of mob violence, she must locate her son and solve Jenny’s murder. This is a glorious work of historical fiction; you can see, hear, smell, and feel the chaotic world of 1870s San Francisco, plus Blanche’s character arc is amazing.

7. The Patrick Melrose novels (Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, Mother’s Milk, and At Last) by Edward St. Aubyn (1992, 1992, 1994, 2005, and 2012, respectively)

Born to an embittered English aristocrat and an idealistic American heiress, Patrick Melrose lives through his father’s sadistic abuse and his mother’s willful blindness (Never Mind),  does a truly staggering amount of drugs in early adulthood (Bad News), and makes a good-faith effort at leading a normal life (Some Hope). Years later, the life he’s built with his wife and two sons is threatened by his alcoholism and reemerging resentment of his mother (Mother’s Milk), but there may be a chance to salvage something (At Last). Despite the suffering and cruelty on display, these novels were the farthest thing from a dismaying experience, thanks to the sharp characterization, grim humor, and great sense of setting. Also, I love little Robert Melrose, an anxious eldest child after my own heart. 

6. The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope (1974)

In 1550s England, no-nonsense Kate Sutton is exiled to the Perilous Gard, a remote castle occupied by suspicious characters, including the lord’s guilt-ridden younger brother Christopher. Troubled by the holes she sees in the story of the tragedy that haunts him, she does some problem-solving and ends up in a world of weird shit. Cleverly plotted, deliciously spooky, and featuring an all-time-great heroine, this book was an absolute treat. The beautiful Richard Cuffari illustrations in my edition didn’t hurt, either.

5. An Unconditional Freedom by Alyssa Cole (2019)

Daniel Cumberland, a free black man from New England traumatized from being sold into slavery, and Janeta Sanchez, a mixed-race Cuban-Floridian lady from a white Confederate family, have been sent on a mission to the Deep South by the Loyal League, a pro-Union spy organization. Initially hostile to everyone (but particularly to somewhat naive Janeta), Daniel warms to his colleague, but will her secrets, his shattered faith in justice, and the various dangers they face prevent them from falling in love? Nah. Alyssa Cole’s historical romances deliver both on the history and the romance, and this is one of her strongest entries.

4. The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite (2019)

Heartbroken by the death of her father and the marriage of her ex-girlfriend, Lucy Muchelney decides she needs a change of scenery and takes a live-in position translating a French astronomy text for Catherine St. Day, the recently widowed Countess of Moth. Catherine, used to putting her interests on hold for an uncaring spouse, is intrigued by this awkward, independent lady. I’ve read f/f romances before, but this sparkling Regency was the first to really blow me away with its fun banter, neat historical details, and perfect sexual tension.

3. The Wager by Donna Jo Napoli (2010)

After losing his entire fortune to a tidal wave, Sicilian nineteen-year-old Don Giovanni de la Fortuna sinks into poverty and near-starvation. Then Devil makes him an offer: all the money he wants for as long as he lives if he doesn’t bathe, cut his hair, shave, or change his clothes for three years, three months, and three days. This fairy-tale retelling is an extraordinarily moving fable about someone who learns to acknowledge his own suffering, recognize it in others, and extend compassion to all. 

2. Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell (2013)

In this collection, Russell weaves strange tales of silkworm-women hybrids in Japan, seagulls who collect objects from the past and future, and, yes, vampires in the lemon grove. She also posits the very important question: “What if most (but not all) U.S. presidents were reincarnated as horses in the same stable and had a lot of drama going on?” My favorite stories were “Proving Up” (about a nineteenth-century Nebraska boy who encounters death and horror on the prairie), “The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis” (about a disadvantaged high school student who discovers an effigy of the even more hapless boy he tormented), and “The Barn at the End of the Term” (the horse-president story). 

1. The Wonder by Emma Donoghue (2016)

Lib Wright, an Englishwoman who has floundered since her days working for Florence Nightingale during the Crimean War, is hired to observe Anna O’Donnell, an eleven-year-old Irish girl famous for not eating for four straight months. With a jaundiced attitude towards the Irish and Catholicism, Lib is confident that she’ll quickly expose Anna as a fraud, but she finds herself liking the girl and getting increasingly drawn into the disturbing mystery of her fast. Like The Perilous Gard, this novel masterfully plays with the possibility of the supernatural, then introduces a technically mundane explanation that’s somehow much more eerie. Donoghue balances the horror and waste that surrounds Anna, though, with the clear, bright prose and the moving relationship that develops between her and Lib, who grows beyond her narrow-mindedness and emotional numbness. I stayed up half the night to finish this novel, which cemented Emma Donoghue’s status as my new favorite author.

[youcancallmeelle]

Friends With Benefits: Bill Skarsgard... Chapter Nine

I can’t explain to you how excited I was to finally be able to go and get a Christmas tree, I was practically bursting with anticipation of picking out a first tree together.

Bill didn’t care to share my enthusiasm because he knew that he’d be the one who had to cut it down and get it in the car, he’d also be the one who had to go into his loft and get all the decorations down.

“I can’t wait.” I grinned, my legs bopping away and my feet tapping against the soft mats in his car.

“I can’t believe we had to bring my car, there’s gonna be pine needles everywhere. Why couldn’t we just have gone and got a fake one?” Bill groaned, his head tipping back against the leather headrest.

“Shut up, Scrooge. You can just take your car to be valeted, after you’ve got all the decorations out of the attic first though obviously.” I smirked and he narrowed his eyes at me, pinching my thigh playfully.

“I’ve suddenly decided that I fucking hate Christmas.” He grumbled, flicking the radio station over from one that was playing the biggest hits to another that was blasting out Christmas songs.

He groaned louder and went to change the station again but I grabbed his hand in protest before he had the chance to, I pouted hard at him and he merely sighed and continued to drive, leaving me with a triumphant grin.

I’d always loved looking for a tree.

It was a childhood tradition, we’d all go out and hand pick a tree, we’d watch my Dad struggle to manoeuvre it into his estate car, and then we’d all drink cocoa while we decorated it.

I’d had a pretty decent childhood for being an only child and even though I was now estranged from my family, I couldn’t help but think of them at this time of year. Did they miss me? Did they think of me? Would we ever fix our broken bond?

I can’t deny that I missed them, I missed having a family unit. But I guess that Bill is my family now and that’s has basically been the case for the last year or so.

I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer and all but threw myself out of the car once we had arrived at the farm, the smell of the pine needles hit you almost immediately and I breathed in the scent of nostalgia.

It was crazy how just a certain smell could evoke different emotions and flash you back to being a child.

I swear Bill took purposely longer to get out of the car just to annoy me and I was almost jumping on the spot from where I was stood at the entrance, Bill casually strolled over to me and had his hand under his mustard coloured jumper, adjusting his grey t-shirt underneath and pulling his black jeans up. He’d also not long had a hair cut so it was slightly longer on the top and shorter on the sides, his sunglasses conveniently matched his whole attire too.

“Your zipper’s undone.” I pointed to his crotch and he immediately looked down, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“What? No it’s not.”

“Gotcha!” I grinned and he pursed his lips at me, shaking his head playfully before I grabbed his hand and basically dragged him through the entrance of the farm.

Bill released my hand and instead swung an arm around my shoulder, tightly pulling me into his side and pressing his lips to the side of my head.

“You’re kind of a dick.” He spoke against my skin and all I could do was let out a manic laugh, reaching up to lace my fingers through his as his hand relaxed against my shoulder.

There were hundreds of different lights covering the place, in an assortment of different colours and they also happened to be playing the classic Christmas hits, much to my boyfriend’s dismay.

My mouth was agape as I span around and took in my surroundings, taking in the beautiful sight of a variety of different sized trees and wreathes that they had for sale.

“I don’t know why we’re even bothering with a tree at my place when we’re going away, why couldn’t we just shove it in your apartment?” Bill asked, inspecting the needles on a tree.

“You’re gonna carry it up all those stairs then, yeah?” I replied, tilting my head to the side.

“No.” Bill spoke, pulling a sarcastic face at me.

“Well then, your place it is. And to answer your question, we’ll be back a couple of days before Christmas and it’ll be nice to have a tree. It’s our first Christmas as a couple, don’t you want it to be special?” I pouted, walking over to where he was stood and wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his chest.

“Of course I do, baby.” He said softly, leaning down to peck my nose.

I couldn’t help but gush internally at his use of pet names, I loved the way he spoke to me.

“Then we better get choosing the perfect one.”

We must have spent a good hour browsing through the vast amount of trees but there wasn’t one that I’d yet found that I knew was the one.

They were either too big or too small, too leafy or too sparse, to fat or too thin.

I’d almost given up hope and caved into Bill’s idea of just buying an artificial one, storing it in the loft for the next ten years and only bringing it out every December.

But, swamped in between the mass selection of tree was what could be described as, the chosen one. 

I knew we had to have it, it was perfect.

It was around six feet tall and the width was probably two feet, it was gorgeous, almost like it had been hand crafted.

“You sure this is the one?” Bill asked, looking it up and down.

I nodded enthusiastically and Bill chuckled at my childish behaviour.

“I’ll go let someone know then, keep guard and make sure nobody tries to steal it.” Bill joked, wondering off to go find a member of staff to cut our tree down and wrap it up in netting.

I know Bill was joking about protecting the tree but I wasn’t, I was going to defend that tree with my life and it was either coming home with us or goign home with nobody at all.

I glared at everyone who strolled past and glanced at the tree, I was essentially a bodyguard to an inanimate object.

I admit that I didn’t do a thing to help Bill get the tree in the car.

I merely watched on in amusement as he cussed away, dropping all the back seats in his Volvo to make space for the ginormous plant.

It was actually comical seeing him wrestle with the packaged tree, swearing under his breath once he’d managed to shove it in and close the trunk.

He scowled at me and all I could do in return was shoot him an innocent smile.

If I wasn’t amused before when he was loading the car, then I definitely was when he struggled to get it through his front door. It took both of us and once we finally got inside and to the lounge, it was a relief.

Bill helped me remove all the netting and get it into the mount, it was just about right for the space in the corner of Bill’s open lounge.

I think I owed it to Bill to help him get all the decorations out of the loft and it was actually a laugh to do so, we always managed to make any situation into a wacky one, even when it probably wasn’t appropriate.

But, one of the things that made us perfect for one another was definitely our sense our humour.

It took us a few hours to decorate the Christmas tree, between us just pratting around and taking the time to stop for dinner.

Once it was finished though, it was a sight to be seen. 

We’d stuck with a theme of classic colours, like green and red with accents of gold. To be truthful we had to stick with this theme as it was the only decorations Bill had, from where he’d celebrated Christmas before and picked them out himself.

Bill was fiddling with the remote that operated the lights, changing the settings of the white bulbs.

 I couldn’t help but tilt my head to the side with a frown, biting my lip.

“It’s wonky.” I stated, standing up straight and folding my arms across my chest.

Bill stopped messing with he remote, settling on a setting that made the lights twinkle ever so gently. He came and stood next to me, also crossing his arms.

“It’s not wonky.” He denied, pursing his lips.

“Bill, it’s literally tilting.”

“That’s just your eyes, I put that thing in the stand myself.” Bill said, draping his arm around my waist.

“That’s exactly why it’s wonky.” I mumbled.

“Yeah? Like you could have done a better job.” He scoffed, turning me to face him.

“I could have done such a better job.” I teased, rubbing my nose along his chiselled jawline.

“Hmmm, I bet.”

“I can’t believe we leave for New York in a week, I’m so excited.” I giggled, standing on my tip toes and reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck.

“It’s gonna be the best vacation ever, no disruptions or work.” He sighed, his green eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t wait.”

                                   xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

- Just a very short one because I wanted to make sure there was something up for you guys since I haven’t posted an update in forever. Nothing too crazy as I just wanted something sweet after the intensity of the last chapter, hope you all enjoy!

[bermudaroad]

Personal History:  Summer of ’91

My kids Walker Roe and Clayton, ages 18 and 20, his girlfriend Adrian and their friends Reed, Shelby and Trevor spent the covid spring and summer of 2020 hanging out together, swimming, kayaking, watching movies, lamenting their lost semester and generally not following recommended guidelines for social distancing. Clayton was able to continue work while the rest finished spring classes online, which was a total bummer.  With businesses and restaurants shuttered for quarantine, there hasn’t been much else to do.  Walker and Reed had internships lined up that were cancelled.  Adrian did some housecleaning and as soon as a few restaurants did open back up, she and Trevor, who both used to work at the pub, got part-time jobs.  Reed cuts grass. The rest of their time is spent mostly at leisure.  

In seeming unrelated news, Thomas, one of my oldest friends, became a grandfather last week.  Because of covid, no visitors could go into the hospital, so when the baby was born, the new dad held her up to the hospital window and the grandparents all held up posters and signs of congratulations outside.  It was shared on Facebook, so I sent Thomas a text.  I could tell from his response how giddy he was. They didn’t get to actually hold the new baby for three or four days.

The quarantine, my kids’ spring and summer getting derailed and Thomas becoming Pawpaw got me thinking about the summer after our first year of college, back in Many, the summer of 1991.  I spent that time mostly with a small group with whom I had been friends since first grade: Thomas, of course; Ginger who was home from school in Oklahoma, Jeff and Andy who, like Thomas and me had been going to Northwestern State, and Ginger’s brother Clay who had just finished 10th grade and had finally stopped being a complete jerk.  Sometimes there would be one or two others, but that was the core group. 

Except for Clay, we were 18/19 and had just got our first big kid jobs.  Thomas and Jeff went to work at the mill in Florien, Gin got a job at the radio station and I was tellering at Sabine State Bank. I can’t remember what Andy was doing, probably working for his grandpa, and Clay, who was 16 and fast growing into a giant of a man, tooled around in his truck and worked out at the gym.  We no longer had curfews and seldom felt the need to ask our parents for anything.

We were all single, too, which probably explains why our group was small and close.

Ginger had come home from Oklahoma unsettled.  The previous Christmas, she had appalled her family by getting engaged to her long-time boyfriend Nathen, the same person who had been fooling around with our other friend Jamie behind Ginger’s back for most of the time they were dating.  Ginger found out about it in the middle of our senior year which was pretty much wrecked after that, but she and Nate stayed together, even though neither was happy. Her parents had hoped that when she shipped out for Oklahoma and Nate left for LSU, things would fizzle between them, so their surprise engagement at Christmas 1990 was less than joyous. By February, Ginger had come to her senses. She mailed Nathen back his pitiful little ring and he decided to stay in Baton Rouge for the summer, thankfully bringing that awful drama to an end. Also, she had met someone new in Oklahoma.

Clay’s girlfriend Anna had broken up with him right after Prom.  She was a classy girl, also a friend of ours, and she returned the jewelry Clay had given her, which Ginger divided up with me. Thomas and Jeff had recently split with the girls they dated through and beyond high school. Andy was always single, even though he carried a torch for Jamie for years. They were funny, affable guys and great pals.

I was fractured, too. My first love Patrick and I had outgrown each other and he had broken up with me in the spring, which was for the best, but I missed him terribly.  He was already seeing someone else. I was on a mission to get over Patrick, lose the freshman 15 I had packed on and have fun with my friends – Thomas being chief mischief-maker and proponent of fun.  

Riding around town, “making a drag” as we called it, wasn’t for us anymore as we tried to avoid our old flames, which was hard to do in Many.  Most of our friends had significant others to absorb their spare time and several had jumped straight into adulthood, going to work in the oilfield, joining the military or getting married.  We, on the other hand, aside from work responsibilities, could do pretty much whatever we wanted.  

Often after work, we would meet up and go hang out somewhere on Toledo Bend, the long pier at Pendleton or my parents’ place down near Quiet Cove, to drink wine coolers and talk nonsense.  Weekends we went swimming at LaNan or San Miguel and a couple of times Andy drove his grandpa’s barge across the lake to the cliffs on the Texas side where kids used to shinny up a frayed rope as thick as my arm to the top of the bluff and jump off.  The boys listened to the Beasty Boys, N.W.A., Sir Mix-A-Lot and Color Me Bad (I wasn’t a big fan of any of it) and Ginger had discovered Garth Brooks. We went to our friends’ weddings, stayed out too late, crashed at each other’s houses, made it to work on time and irritated our parents.

There were some long serious talks, too, as we commiserated and sorted out our broken hearts. Clay even opened up about his lost love.  It was a bonding period for Clay and Ginger who had spent most of their childhood fighting, and for he and I as well.  

I hope my kids aren’t as stupid as we were and I’m eternally grateful that social media did not exist.  One night – I don’t know what go into us - we got a wild hair and vandalized a dumpster with spray paint.  Thomas and Jeff frequently made a contest of pitching empty beer bottles at road signs going 4/60 down the highway headed to the lake. Under a full July moon, Andy took us armadillo hunting at his grandpa’s farm.  Riding four-wheelers and armed with .22s and homemade pipe bombs, we crisscrossed the pasture in the moonlight firing at will in the humid night that was thick with recklessness.  Another time Thomas and I were headed to Natchitoches in his monster old Bronco when I told him I wanted to smoke a cigarette. Thomas habitually swiped packs of Marlboro Reds from the carton his dad kept on top of their fridge. He offered me a light and told me what to do.  And so it was that I smoked the inaugural cigarette – the very first one -- in the drive-thru at Maggio’s, coughing and turning green and reveling in my rebellion. I even remember the music we were listening to: a cassette single of “I Wanna Be with You” by Pretty Boy Floyd. I don’t know why that detail has stuck with me.

At some point, Jeff and Andy both noticed charms about Ginger that had never been obvious to them before.  This was typical of Andy but surprising for Jeff. Thomas and I were greatly amused. Jeff made the first move, asking Ginger on a date that Clay offered to chaperone.  They went to see “King Ralph,” and the rest of us chased them down at Hardee’s after the movie.  I remember gathering around Jeff’s white Dodge stepside in the parking lot and snickering because Gin was sitting next to him in the cab. We all knew it wasn’t going anywhere; it was just a lark.  It wasn’t long before Ginger’s beau from Oklahoma couldn’t stand the separation anymore and hauled it down to Louisiana for a visit, which is how I met Brent and was maid of honor at their wedding a year later.  

With Ginger unavailable, Andy turned his attention to me and was rebuffed again.  But he wasn’t too disappointed.

As summers do, it went by in a blink and in mid-August, it was time to get back to business.  Clay started two-a-days, Gin packed up for Oklahoma and I, who had starved myself down to a wafer, moved back to Natchitoches. Thomas and Jeff were supposed to commute together, but Jeff dropped out of school to work full-time.  Andy transferred to LSU.  Thomas fell in with my college buddies and we share those memories as well.  It wasn’t our last summer of fun – we had a few more in store before adulthood really caught up with us.

Now we are in our late 40s – the summer of our lives. Thomas and Jeff still work together. They are deacons in their church, volunteer coaches and planners of wholesome youth activities.  Ginger and Brent have been over in Nacogdoches for over 20 years and active in ministry in their community.  Andy married a girl from Baton Rouge and lives on his family’s farm.  Clay went on to play football at Louisiana Tech, but personal troubles have always dogged him, even unto today. I married a nice guy I met in journalism class and have lived in Natchitoches ever since. We have seen each other quite a bit over the years, most recently when Ginger and Clay’s dad died, an occasion marked by the same old sense of camaraderie, nostalgia and some measure of sadness.  

It’s been a strange year, this spring and summer of covid.  It’s nice to see Clayton and Walker spending quality time together.  Interestingly, during the pandemic, Walker and her college friends have been writing old-fashioned letters and mailing them to each other, a true novelty for them.

It brings to mind the contrasts between the now and then.  In 1991 we had no cell phones, no email, no Internet, no Netflix, no Twitter or Snapchat.  Our parents had no idea where we were or what we were up to most of the time.  We had to make plans and sometimes locate each other by that peculiar friend-radar teenagers used to have.  We could buy alcohol and never wore seatbelts. Most blessed of all, youthful indiscretions were not splashed all over the social media, although I do have some lake photos boxed up on a high shelf.  It seems like our freedom was much greater in many ways. Some things change and some things stay the same.

It’s hard to believe it was almost 30 years ago.  Summers always go by too fast.

[the-reason-to-sail-home]

Hold Me in this Winter Weather (1/1)

Summary: Killian Jones just can’t seem to warm up. The solution? Professional cuddling in the arms of a David Nolan: handsome farmer and winter enthusiast. 

Romantic Captain Charming, Rated G, 3k words. (Ao3)

For @phiralovesloki, because her birthday was last week and because she deserves a little bit of winter cuddles, no? You requested this some time ago, but I wanted to do it right for you! I hope you love it just as much as I love you!

Special thanks (and my eternal appreciation) to @hencethebravery, aka Queen of the Trashcan, for the excellent beta job AND for making the gorgeous edit seen above. If you want to check out any of her CC fics, you can find them in her CC tag here!

The story of how Killian found the idea was actually rather dull compared to other tales he had hidden up his sleeves. It went like this: man sits at his computer after a very frigid, winter day at the docks. Man cannot seem to warm up, even after the usual reliable methods of heavy fleece blanket, two pairs of wool socks, and a mug of coffee had been attempted. Perhaps out of curiosity, but most probably out of boredom and a bit of desperation, he opens his internet browser and unashamedly types out “Fast ways to get warmer.”  

Spoiler alert: going to a professional cuddler was actually not the first suggestion that appeared on the screen, and it certainly wasn’t the first thing he tried. Turned out, a hot shower did the trick, an idea he came up with himself thank you very much. But Killian was a man of learning, and how could he not read up on the transfer of body heat once it was suggested to him by some hipster blog. Not just any transfer of body heat. Professional cuddling.

Then of course, before he could even think about indulging in a hot shower, he had to answer the question What the actual fuck is professional cuddling? Luckily for him, the internet is a wealth of information.

And oh, he liked what he found. The excitement wasn’t loud in the, “Call your lads and go hire a professional cuddler right this bloody second” kind of way, but rather a quiet encouragement in the back of his mind whispering “Wow, what would it feel like to be properly held?”

Anyone else would have outright laughed in his face if they saw how seriously he scrolled through the exceptionally long list of professional huggers. With a sigh of frustration, Killian glared at the screen. Not one cuddlist looked any more capable than the others. The longer he looked, the more he felt like was shopping for a human person more than looking for the right person to provide a service.

In the end, he e-mailed the company with the request that they choose someone for him. He had no preferences, just that the person be within traveling distance. The next day, he received just what he had asked for. The reply e-mail expressed the director’s elation that Killian was joining their community, ensured the safety of signing up for the service, and asked him when he would like his appointment.

In the week and a half leading up to meeting his cuddlist, Killian only told a select few people about what he decided to do. There were his old navy mates, Robin and Will, who wanted to know why he couldn’t attend their usual Friday evening pub outing. Killian didn’t really see the point in lying, but changed his tune when all Robin and Will wanted to talk about was, What if she’s pretty? and How will you possibly survive an hour in the embrace of a women who specializes in snuggling? They both received proper thwacks on the back of their heads, and only shut up about it when Killian shoved beer into their hands. Perhaps it was his own fault that Killian didn’t correct them when they assumed that the cuddlist would be a woman, because after awhile, he started believing it himself.

In the end, he didn’t care. His own masculinity would survive the trip to the professional cuddler’s house and if he was looking forward to being held for the first time in years, no one needed to know. With Liam gone there was no family to share affection with. As far as romantic affection went, Killian hadn’t sworn it off after Milah’s death, but he was definitely steering clear for a while. His own rules said nothing about platonic hugs, though, and it was a loophole he was thankful he found.

When the day of his appointment arrived, he could count the number of things he knew about his cuddlist on his one hand.

D. Nolan lived on a farm just outside the city. It was exactly 27 miles away, and in traffic and weather, it would take him under an hour to get there on time. Miss Nolan was apparently a favorite of the company. Happy clients had all left five stars on the website, and the company director who sent him there promised that the clean aroma of fresh air would be well worth the lengthy drive.

Miss Nolan lived in a farmhouse the same color of the expanse of glistening snow that surrounded it. It was complete with navy shutters and a porch that wrapped nearly all the way around the home. The air did smell clean, with traces of warm hay and horses that reminded him of those few days Liam took him riding when they were boys. It could’ve been the nostalgia, or maybe it was the warm light that seeped out of the windows, but he felt ready to face whatever he would find inside.

He rang the doorbell, snow crunching under his feet as he shifted his weight. The tips of his fingers began to ache with the bite of the cold, so he shoved his non-prosthetic hand into his pocket, hot breath clouding in front of his face.

Maybe something had gone wrong with the scheduling? Either D. Nolan wasn’t home or she just hadn’t heard-

The door swung open and, oh.

Mister D. Nolan.

“Hi, there. Are you Killian?” the man asked, a stupid welcoming smile on his face that Killian couldn’t help but return.

“I am,” Killian replied, a nervous chuckle intruding his words. “And you’re D. Nolan I take it?”

“David Nolan, but just David fine,” the man supplied. “Please, come in!”

The inside of the house looked exactly like Killian pictured it might look. The inviting, comfortable arrangement of the home looked like it had come right off of some folksy interior design website. He couldn’t tell if it was the constant flow of visitors or just David’s personal taste that the place was kept so clean. Killian’s own woolen socks plodded across smooth hardwood floors as David gave him a brief tour of the house.

Killian followed politely, taking in each room as David explained that he lived alone and had inherited the house and farm from his late mother. He seemed like the type of guy to enjoy the freedoms of living on a farm, slightly calloused hands and scruff along his chin and neck. But there was a softness to him, as well. Compared to Killian, who came dressed in a knitted, grey turtleneck and soft jeans, David wore a loose, red long sleeved henley and sweatpants. He treated Killian as though they had been friends for years, lounging around hugging and enjoying the slight bite of the winter chill.

Then, of course, there was the fact that the inside of the house was still decked out for Christmas. From the soft lights that lined doorways to the lingering aroma of evergreen candles, Killian thought that maybe he had fallen into some Hallmark Channel movie. Lonely man seeks physical affection in a house that tangibly feels like warm holiday cheer.

“Christmas was two weeks ago, mate,” Killian commented, eyeing the wreaths and stockings that hung from the fireplace. David leaned against the mantel, warming his hands by the toasty blaze.

“I like to drag it out as long as I can. There’s something about hugging by a christmas tree that brings people back to their childhoods, but I took the tree down a few days ago. Didn’t have the heart to pack the rest of it away just yet.” Clapping his hands together, he joined Killian where he sat stiffly on the couch.

“I received your payment and signed contract a few days ago, so we’re all set to get started whenever you’d like. Do you have any questions?” David asked.

Killian had read the contract over twice before he signed it, not wanting to accidentally cross any boundaries. It wasn’t rocket science, though. The session would play out platonically, nothing sexual. Even platonic kisses to cheeks or forehead needed to be exchanged on a consent basis. Killian doubted David would want any of that with him. Either of them could terminate the session at any time they pleased, for any reason. Both of them would be fresh and clean, as well, per the contract’s regulations. He’d done the research. He knew what to expect. There was just one thing he hadn’t taken into account.

“Am I your first male client?” Killian asked nervously, fingers winding through those of his prosthetic. David’s eyebrows shot upwards towards his hairline, but then he was vigorously shaking his head.

“About half my regular clients are male. Professional hugging isn’t just for women.”

“No, no, I know. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.” David offered a shrug that was both indifferent and friendly.

“I’m more than fine with having male clients. Are you comfortable?”

“I think so,” Killian said slowly. David paused, seemingly unconvinced so Killian amended, “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then let’s get started!”

David led Killian onto an enclosed porch at the back of the house. He’d set up a few atmospheric candles, which flickered in the calming light of the late afternoon. Killian felt the warmth of the setting winter sun through the diffused clouds in the sky. Fuschia light spilled across the aged porch and into David’s hair as he added wood to the small stove. In between the window and the side of the house, a cushiony futon laid on the ground. The sides were caged in by an array of soft pillows. A few layers of fleece and cotton quilts had been spread out on the billowy mattress, enticing Killian to just collapse onto it.

David plopped down first, stretching his legs out like a cat before propping his head up on his hand. The futon had appeared big enough at first glance, but now with David sprawled out across it, Killian wondered if it would fit both of them on it. David seemed to realize what he was thinking, so he gave a welcoming smile and patted the space beside him.

Then, of course, there was the brief moment of sheer panic when Killian remembered he didn’t know how to cuddle with someone who was bigger than him. Most people he’d ever had in his arms enjoyed laying on top of him, head curled under his chin, a handful of women and men who tended to be smaller than him in size.  David was different, and Killian couldn’t help but feel just a bit intimidated.  What if he made a bloody fool of himself because he couldn’t even cuddle without fucking it up?

Killian hadn’t noticed David rise to his knees, but was snapped out of his thoughts when the man grabbed his hand and tugged gently. There was a split second where everything went blank, and Killian couldn’t hear anything except the roaring in his ears, and then there was David.

They fell into place as if they’d done it a thousand times. With David’s gentle guidance, Killian settled onto David’s chest, arms falling to lightly cling at the sides of his shirt. One of David’s hands reached down to tug Killian’s leg over his, a more comfortable position for both of them. Killian had to bite in the inside of his cheeks to keep from sighing too loudly. He couldn’t remember a time that he felt so safe. For what seemed like decades, it had always been “Killian against the world.” But the way David was holding him took the weight off of his shoulders. How could such a simple embrace say so just what he needed to hear so clearly? You can let your guard down, no one will hurt you here.

“How’s this?” David asked, little huffs of breath swirling through Killian’s soft hair. Killian didn’t have words to describe how it was. It was more affection than he’d seen in years, just in the gentleness of the way David ran his fingers down his back and through his hair. It was the ease with which Killian practically melted into nothingness, held together only by the vibrations in his nerves. It was feeling the rise and fall of David’s chest, hearing the steady beat in his chest.

But most of all, it was the quiet desire in the back of Killian’s mind that wanted more than this.

“This is good,” he finally replied, throat dry.

“Good.” David’s arms tightened around him, and Killian felt him rest his cheek onto his head.

They laid like that for three hours, and when Killian realized how much time had passed, he kind of freaked out.

Granted, it was a wonderful three hours, which is probably how it passed so quickly without either of them realizing it. Nearly every second was spent in the other’s arms. As soon as their muscles began feeling stiff in one position, David would lean back and allow Killian to settle back in another way. It was easier as time passed, too. They talked and napped and joked and told stories. Killian admitted that the whole reason he found out about this sort of thing was because he was cold, to which David laughed and replied, “That’s a new one.”

The minutes flew by as David caressed the side of Killian’s cheek and down his neck, his rough fingers a pleasant contrast against the soft scruff of his face. In David’s arms, Killian began to unravel. The last stones of his defenses were torn down with such reverence, Killian found himself not wanting to hide himself anymore. The truth was, he was lonely, a little damaged, and no one had ever held him like they wanted more than just the temporary heat of his embrace. When he told David, the man smiled softly against the back of Killian’s shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Killian,” David told him. “You deserve someone who will appreciate you for all the wonderful things you are.”

Killian’s eyes fell shut, and he turned himself around so that he could gather David into his arms. With David’s lips against his ear, Killian could hear him chuckle, “I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, you might just steal my job.” A gentle smile lifted Killian’s lips, but the heat of the stove and the last drops of the sunset had turned his eyes heavy.

“It’s alright Killian, rest.”  So he did.

And when he woke up, he realized it was eight o’clock and he had overstayed his welcome by two hours. He stirred, still wrapped in David’s arms.

The polite thing to do probably would have been to gently wake David, apologize for staying longer than he paid for, and make sure that David knew the reason Killian couldn’t ever come back again had nothing to do with his his cuddling abilities. He would, of course, leave out the part that it had had everything to do with Killian’s tendency to fall in love quickly, without warning.

So he left. He wrote a note with a brief apology, blew out the lit candles, got in his truck, and drove away. The next morning he contacted David’s company and made sure he received payment for the extra two hours. He even left David five stars on the website.

And that was that.

That is, until he was getting into his truck, enjoying the breezy spring weather as he made his way back to that white farm house in the country. The christmas decorations were finally gone from the window, and it seemed all of David’s horses were roaming the fields. Parked in front of the house, Killian went to war with himself. He rolled up the sleeves of his flannel in a nervous effort to keep himself busy, but he knew what he came here to do. He just had to do it. Against his better judgement, he swung open the truck door and marched up to the front door with false confidence.

David came to the door shortly after Killian managed to ring the doorbell.

“Killian!” he stuttered, surprised. Killian shuffled his feet a little, shooting him a nervous smile that he felt all the way down to his toes. David remembered him which was a good start, he supposed.  “It’s good to see you, but I can’t really take walk-ins. Maybe I can figure something—”

“That’s not what I’m here about,” Killian interrupted.

“It’s not.”

“No.”

David’s hand came to rest on the edge of the door, leaning on it with a twinkle in his eye that seemed a bit uneasy and perhaps a bit hopeful. “Then what did you come here for?”

Killian ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, reigning in what little confidence he had left.

“I was wondering if you were free for coffee… or something.”

David cocked a brow, and Killian felt himself visibly relax when the man lit up in an affectionate grin.

“I, uh, have a client in a few minutes but there’s this cafe in town that isn’t too far. I could meet you there when I’m finished. That is, if you don’t mind waiting a little bit.”

Killian heaved out a breathy laugh and shook his head.

“No, I don’t mind waiting at all.”

[cheetah-ace]

To Carry the Torch

a post apocalyptic short story about book burning

2107 words

Over the floor were scattered piles of books, each tottering stack reaching up through the dusty air to the ceiling above. Pages fell down in a rain of words, a smell of death hinted at the air.

As time passed, the words were collected into buckets. Unnamed faces spent weeks sorting and identifying the pages as people attempted to set name to the type. The pages would either be identified, filed away, given new life; or were unidentifiable, lost, set to the side and forgotten. It was said that They should do something about those pages at the side of the room, but nobody wanted to strike the first match.

She was crying, her eyes streaming from the smoke. The smoky air clawed at the back of her throat, she attempted to cough it out but it had nowhere to go, there was nothing to come up. The sound of feet coming down the stairs, a cacophony of fleeting, fleeing lives. Each crash a burst of thunder unidentifiable in the whole. She felt arms around her and she was pulled upwards into the heat and the smoke and the fear, her lungs giving their last, silent scream of protestation. She felt herself carried in a crowd, a tide of bodies each as desperate to escape. Then pushed against the hot glass, her mind unaware of how she could have got there. The force of all the bodies, the desperation was somehow enough to force the doors open, and her head broke into the air, oxygen trying to force its way into smoke-filled lungs. Her eyes were streaming in the bright sunlight as thick clouds of smoke poured out of smashed windows.

And then time began to work again. Her legs began loudly complaining to her, uncontrollable coughs lodged in her throat. She collapsed on the stairs outside the library, her head screaming and her mind starting to drift.

Concentrate. She concentrated on the bloody scratches up her arms. The blood trickling round in tattoos, telling a story of pain. She concentrated on the burn on her right palm. On the screams of children cutting through the air. The funeral bell coughs.

Bodies still streamed through the glass doors. Friend or foe, the distinction burned with the books. Sirens pulled at the air, the red of a fire engine materialised at the front steps. The bodies sprawled in front of the library attempted to pull themselves to the side as firefighters ran past. Paramedics overwhelmed with their workload.

Time slowed.

A crash broke the silence, a door slamming open as a crush of bodies rushed in. Some carried guns, but most held up flame-licked torches.

Everybody knew there was nothing to fear from those who would carry guns. Cowards. Those who would bring fire into a library, they were to be feared. Those with the steely eye and the wooden smile. Those were the ones to do anything to achieve their ultimate aim.

“Stand up!” The man at the front, the leader as much as there was one, seemed unarmed. Those with torches or guns stood back from him, glanced at him in revery, fright. As if he might order any one of them to burn. He raised his hand.

“Slowly does it... no need to rush.” He seemed calm, an heir of nonchalance. But there was something in his expression, the turn of his face. Nobody could refuse him of anything. He was in possession of total control, he would not be challenged. Because any day could see that finger pointed at you, at somebody you loved.

“One day, you will understand. Everybody will understand, but you just need some help.” His arm dropped from the sky and with it came the torches.

It started immediately. Paper was everywhere, mingling among the people. Within seconds, a hundred torches had been dropped round the library and flame reared up to stand sentinel.  Fire licking at the bookshelves and climbing the walls, gorging on the knowledge within the pages. In the rush of things a single thought managed to slip into Maddy’s head before the adrenaline took centre stage: so quick, so immediate a loss.

The heat in the room should have smashed the glass; she rushed out, half-jumping over the fire into the main library, almost as hot. Everywhere bodies were crashing into each other, faces twisted with the pain and fear and panic which consumed them. Heads spun around, trying to find some glimmer of hope, survival, or a hint that a loved one is not lost. The mind shouting out that they must already be dead. People screaming, children trapped in rooms, bookcases burning, flames reaching high into the smoke-filled sky. Small bodies clinged to unknown legs. Maddy picked up a small child, trying her best to smile through the smoke.

“Hello, have you lost your mummy? Shall we find her?” Probably trapped screaming behind a bookcase, locked in a burning room, already dead. Will you go the same way?

Her arms were already burning from the weight of the child. She was half-running to the stairs, trying to maintain a veneer of calm, hoping that those stairs wouldn’t give way under the weight of so many lives. The child’s cries cut into her ear, her arms and legs threatened to give out, the fire was burning up her back, creeping up her spine and her neck and her head. The crush of bodies stopped halfway down the staircase. There was no way forward, she couldn’t see above the writhing heads for the smoke that filled the air. The screams grew, the child’s cries only adding to them. It was struggling to escape, she placed it down on the step. She could do nothing more for it.

A hundred bodies had crowded into the hall, pushing desperately against the locked doors. She saw the child run through the forest of legs, a futile attempt to reach the exit. She could feel the crush of the bodies behind her, pushing against her back. They mingled with the heat of the flame, the back of her neck scorching, her body carried up on the crush.

She had grown used to the screams, a kind of background noise; she now noticed them only by their absence. A siren rang out to replace them, joining it a gas which mingled with the smoke and left a chemical tang to the burnt air. The people at the front started pushing back against the crowd, towards the carnage.

The middle of the crown was crushed between the two great forces pushing against it, the screaming had returned louder than before. The sounds of horror were amplified in the opaque smog that had formed.

Then everybody understood. There was nothing to say why it happened, but everyone in the crush knew to get away from the ground floor. Shouts and screams announced the fire’s advance to fill the space.

There had been some controversy about the installation of sprinkler systems in libraries. Some argued that it would ruin the books, others that so did fire.

This was the point that that controversial sprinkler system had decided to act, and an artificial rain poured down onto the heads of screaming children and burning books. The gas diluted as moisture filled the air. It was still hard to breathe, fire still surrounded them, but there was air.

The ground floor fire was young and struggled against the water, people began to rush down once more. Maddy was oblivious to all this, she was knocked by the bodies and tumbled down the stairs. Trampled by those desperate to escape.

As Maddy stepped through the library door that pleasant dusty smell came to meet her, not quite noticeable but when you weren’t trying to smell it. Full of warmth, a light nostalgia: every library had its own smell, a different taste on your tongue as you first stepped through the door. She had always visited this library, ever since she was a child. It was here that so many memories had formed, interspersed around the pages of her childhood. The whole library was familiar to her, every shelf on every floor, she knew where she needed to go without even checking. The thick carpet deadened her step, she could hear the creak of a shoe behind a bookcase and the swish as a page was turned. The smallest sound was emphasised in the silence of the library.

She found her book, a comfortable seat at a desk in a room off the main hall. The distinct smell of coffee drifted around the room. She breathed it in, absorbing the atmosphere. She always liked the idea of a library, but rarely the work that it entailed. She found her page within the book, skimmed through it, and froze.

An alarm was ringing, cutting through the clean silence. Everybody froze; too afraid to move, too afraid of the consequences. Though they would come anyhow. The tension was building, a child let out a wail only to be quickly shushed, silently by a mother with one hand stroking the child’s hair and the other clamped against his mouth. She begged him silently, desperately to calm, but the child could sense the danger.

As could they all.

One person tried to stand, pulled back into their seat by a neighbour. Maybe they didn’t understand. Maybe they didn’t want to. The whole library seemed to stop as footsteps started echoing through the rooms. Doors were slamming all through the building.

It all started a couple of years ago. Nobody really understood what was happening at the time, people said the government hushed it up. Few people even seemed to remember when the darkness had come.

Power cuts became a regular event. Once a month, a week, a day--especially in rural areas. Soon, villages experienced week long blackouts, then it moved onto towns. There was mass migration into population centres. This formed slums, which became a breeding ground for poverty. Whole neighbourhoods were taken in a wildfire of disease and death and starvation, as the government did everything they could to pretend it wasn’t happening. Power was a luxury to be hoarded by those who already had it.

Then gangs started forming. That culture became the norm; gunfire was the biggest threat to life, even over hunger. Those who could built bunkers, in secret at first. Food became even more sparse as farms began to fail. Even more people came to the cities.

Electricity was rationed; information scarce as newspapers became useless.

Gangs took on “principals”. Started spouting ideas borrowed from others with just as little understanding of them. It was decided that ‘Information Was The Problem’, the cause of the Fall had been the rise of the Internet. We had become too dependant, information was too easily accessed. For that, we had to die. Stacks of newspapers were left burning in the street, as a token gesture. Beside them were the smashed and scorched old husks of ancient computers. They had left pillars of black smoke to hold up the sky.

People said they were harmless, just as doctors failed to save lives and people failed to flourish. At least they weren’t killing anyone. It was ‘All For the Good of the People’.

‘All for the good of the people’. They paraded it, shouted it in the streets as they smashed up homes. They were called ‘protests’. But yes, they stopped killing directly for a time. They burnt libraries to the ground in the dead of night, as everybody ignored the steadily rising bodycount. And then they got more confident, less careful.

‘All for the good of the people’, said as buildings burnt. They ceased to care for human life, not if it should dare seek knowledge. Knowledge was Evil, those who would seek it only deserved punishment, that punishment fire.

They were no longer a gang. More of a cult; they were organised. So many people joined, they became nationwide. Every one ready to carry their flame. Other weapons were banned--guns had to be dismantled, never used. They must maintain the purity of fire.

Libraries were deserted, they resembled ghost towns. Then months went by without reports of an attack and people started to build up courage. They started to trickle back, guards positioned on doors. They were scared, but defiant. And thus libraries began to resurface. Gradually a rebellion formed. They were terrified and attacks carried on.

People died.

People stood up to the terrorists, lived and survived. Knowledge became a thing to collect, people aware it could be gone tomorrow.

Maddy went for her weekly trip to the library.

[sunshine-zenith]

How about something with a green field and a pleasant creek on a cool day? Maybe there's some intrigue, or maybe it's just some nice fuzzy soft time between some nice people

Day broke through the surface of the water was a gasp, blinded by their drenched bangs and droplets in their eyes. They sputtered for a moment, catching their breath as the register a sound coming from a few feet away.

Muffled laughter. Jubilee. Traitor.

Sitting up, they push the bangs from their face- they ought to get their hair touched up, it had outgrown it’s under cut long ago, they were starting to resemble Cousin It from The Addams Family- and made a show at rolling their eyes at her. It was just their luck they would appear face down and nearly drown in a creek that was barely knee deep, while Jubilee landed on the nice grassy edge. 

They pointedly ignored her hand up and plopped on the grass next to her. “So, we just wag off until nightfall?”

“Looks like it,” Chuckling, Jubilee moved the package the two where supposed to deliver- thankfully dry, as she was the one carrying it- away from Day’s spray as they intentionally shook the water from their head in her direction. Day shrugged off the ridiculous overcoat their new peers and coworkers had come to strongly associate with them, and laid it out to dry. Might as well get comfortable. The two had a short hike ahead of them, a little under an hour, and half a day to make it.

They had to deliver a package to some nixies for Madam Lovelace. However, they couldn’t portal directly into the nixie territory, this being as close as they could get. Instead, they would go to the lake this creek trickled away from, and wait for the moonlight to hit the water just right and open a passage. The nixies, not wanting anyone to wander around their home, would come to them along it.

Day didn’t bother raising any eyebrows anymore. Complicated deliveries were better than noting creatures and tracking down anomalies that caught Madam Lovelace’s interest.

It was a nice day. A nice area as well- babbling creek, wildflowers growing along the edge, birdsong drifting down from the trees. Though they had visited places like this before, it almost felt unreal to them in it’s beauty.

Or maintained.

“Reminds me of when I used to visit my grandmother in Wales as a kid. She had a farm with a river like this, and we would have picnics there all the time,” Day said, more to themself.

Jubilee hummed, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head to the sky. Day smiled at her.

“Yeah. This really has an air of childhood nostalgia. Somebody must have loved this place,” she said.

Day nodded. There was a powerful yet fragile magic in a child’s love. It was an old magic, a magic that could easily die if unattended to. It was almost sad, how areas like this could just fall apart. 

“Someone must have loved it here, once, and the nixies have taken root here because of it,” she went on. “Or something like that, at least. Maybe if we’re lucky, Rain will know something about it.”

Rain had become Day’s go-to for information and histories they couldn’t learn from Jubilee or Madam Lovelace, and while he didn’t always have the answers, he was good at finding something for them.

“Wish he was here. And Rory and his girls- they’s love it. Be a great place for a picnic,” they said, leaning back with Jubilee.

“It really is, yeah.” She had a smile on her face that took Day’s breath away- it was different from her small smirk. It was still small, yet it showed more contentment that amusement. 

It was a really nice day.

“What happened with your grandmother’s farm, by the way?”

“Ah, when my parents divorced, my pop and I ended up visiting less often- he only had me every other week, we didn’t have much time to,” They shrugged. “And I was a moody teen, so I never really got out much when we did go. Eventually, ol’ gran Bran had to retire and sold the thing.”

It’s been a while since Day had visited Wales just to visit, they realized. They really should do that soon- visit their grandmother’s grave, see if the farm’s still there, spend time with their father. Maybe they could even bring Jubilee and Rain. It would be nice.

“We should head out soon,” Jubilee said, interrupting their fancying. “I’d like to try skipping stones, and you could tell me more about granma Laundrie on the way there.”

Day rolled their eyes again at the nickname. Sometimes, they couldn’t tell if their coworkers knew “Laundrie Day” wasn’t actually their name.

They got up- their clothes and overcoat were still damp, but there wasn’t much to do about it. “Lets go. I bet all the stones you drop will sink.”

Jubilee smirked at that. “Right, because you’re so graceful where water is concerned.”

Day had every intention of pushing her in the lake when they got there.