#cabin kep

[sunny-rose]

Watched the first episode of the PJO TV show and I have Thoughts.

Warning: this is long, entirely too nitpicky, and written like an English essay (sorry). It also isn't wholly positive so there's that...

I've come to accept that we'll probably never get a perfect adaptation of PJO but that doesn't mean I'm not slightly disappointed by the amount of small details that were omitted or outright changed for the television show.

It's very minor, little touches that at first appear insignificant or trivial but ultimately lead to a watered-down story and an experience that lacks the depth the books have.

The first thing that comes to mind is when Percy pushes Nancy Bobofit into the fountain. Not only could we have avoided the Disney Effect Budget rearing its ugly head, having the ambiguity from the book would have added a great layer of mystery to who Percy is and what his powers are.

In the books, Percy doesn't see Nancy go into the fountain at all. He states, "I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain" (9). I'm no film director, but a good way to interpret this scene might have been to have a quick cut - like implying that Percy blinked and she was in the fountain - instead of showing her being Force pushed into the fountain. It keeps Percy's powers ambiguous and continues to build up intrigue. It's about the suspense of that moment, rather than showcasing Percy as a demigod early.

Another detail I wish they'd left alone was the timing of Percy learning that he's a half-blood. I understand that they wanted the explanation to occur early in order to keep viewers watching and have them understand the premise but I think it was a mistake to have Sally bring it up on their trip to to the cabin because it ruins the tension. It's implied in the books that Sally knows something happened to Percy at Yancy, but she doesn't want to push him on it. And Percy doesn't want to mention it because he doesn't want to cut their vacation short: "But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that" (40). This is EXCELLENT characterization. We can tell that Sally is stressed, that this cabin is her escape. Percy mentions, "As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face" (37). Percy, sweet, kind, Percy doesn't want to ruin his mother. He knows this trip means a lot to her, that it's a brief moment away from Gabe and the complications of her life and he doesn't want to take that away from her. It's STRONG characterization and allows us as viewers to see Percy as something more than a trouble kid; he really loves his mom. Having Percy learn about being a half-blood at the cabin helps expedite the plot but it takes away from a genuinely sweet and good moment for him, takes something away from his character.

I'm not even going to talk about omitting the Fates I'm going to admit full stop that seems weird to me. It's such a small detail, could've been like a ten second scene that adds to the weirdness and mystery but they just didn't?? Go for it?? That's fine. (Honestly they probably should've cut out Grover telling the principal that Percy pushed Nancy into the fountain and replaced it with the Fates but hey. I'm just a uni student).

My final gripe about subtext erasure from the television show is, of course, Gabe. I can absolutely 100% get behind the idea of why they turned down the implications about Gabe. This TVLINE article by Keisha Hatchett contains interviews with the crew of the PJO TV show and in one of them, Rebecca Riordan explains that, "When you see it visually, it is triggering and difficult to watch. That is why we came at Gabe in a different way, because this isn’t supposed to be a horror show." I can absolutely agree that toning Gabe down was the right choice, especially considering the age range for the television show. I just wish it had kept a bit more of the subtext. Having Gabe shake Percy down to cash might've been a little much but there were smaller details in his conversation with Sally that could've been kept that would've flown over kids' heads but had allowed more mature audiences to realize that Gabe wasn't just your average douche.

In the books when Sally asks to go to Montauk, Gabe asks, "So this money for your trip... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?" (35). As a child, the implication of this completely and totally flew over my head. Even as a high school student this line didn't seem weird to me at all. It was only now, in my last year of university, as I was rereading the series, that I thought to myself, "That's so controlling wtf." To imply that Sally, a woman with a job, is being financially controlled by douchebag Gabe is pretty chilling and although it is undoubtedly still abuse, it's also something that I think wouldn't go too far. As it stands, Gabe feels a little bit toothless and if they stick to his canon fate, it'll feel a little bit unwarranted. In that same TVLine article, John Steinberg mentions that, "When you’re reading a story, you can read past the parts that could be upsetting if you’ve stopped to give them more thought. You don’t really get to do that with the show. It’s all in your face and it’s all presented in a much louder way.” I think that even keeping just this one line isn't too "in your face" but still gets across how much of an absolute jackass Gabe is.

I also think that although it was a strong choice to have Sally stand up to Gabe immediately, I do have a bit of an issue with her characterization. One of the first paragraphs you get when you meet Sally is Percy specifically stating, "I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even more or Gabe" (33). The books make it a point to show that despite Sally being on the quieter side, it doesn't mean she isn't an absolute badass. She's calm, rational, and cool during the Minotaur scene and then of course kicks ass during The Battle of Manhattan. The books have proven over and over again that Sally's kind, sweet nature is a strength and not a weakness. I can absolutely get behind seeing this side of her earlier in the TV show, I'm just concerned that they're forsaking her softer nature for something more "cool mom." Part of what I like so much about Sally is her kindness, the way she seems to be the embodiment of a warm hug on a hard day. It's not the vibe I got from her TV show counterpart.

Okay that's it, that's all my grievances. I've only seen the first episode and despite this mega page of my negativity I still think that the show is pretty good! It's infinitely better than what we got before and I can tell that there's so much passion and love put into the show. The young actors who are portraying the starring roles are absolutely brilliant, they're killing it, and I hope they have a bright future. I think the show looks great considering it's a Disney+ show (I've seen your special effects, Mouse) and I genuinely hope that the show is enjoyed by old fans and new ones. My brother said, "Hey, the first half was pretty cool" before the pacing kinda nosed dive off a cliff - high praise indeed.

I'm probably still going to watch the show, just to sate my own curiosity (though I'm probably NOT going to write another English essay on why I wish we'd kept some subtext) and I hope that everyone who's sticking with the show enjoys it. I don't think it's bad by any means, I'm just a pretentious literature nerd and this is how I digest media.

So yeah, here's to another decade of Percy Jackson!

[https-kreideprinz]

(A letter to Jason grace)

To the dumass who keps getting hit with a brik, dont fix the erors. aneway, Ive never felt this way with a boy before but Id like to try this love letter shit. but my idiot cabin mates told me to do it, your pretty cute and Id like to try like, taking you out or sum idk. you dont gotta reply if you dont wanna.

- that one cabin 11 teen who came bak to camp with a park slide

"To the cabin 11 teen,

First of all. We do not talk about the brick. Second, are you free tonight? We can meet by the lake.

- Yours, Jason."

[cratlord]

Prince of the Seas - Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky x Ruby / Some Bucky x Killian

Summary: Things did not get better for Bucky Barnes after he and Sam had their adventure. They got worse. After years of living only through stolen moments of his own life, he is given a chance to build a life in a whole new world. The catch? That life is going to be a very, very long one. This is the tale of the life built in the Realm that will one day be known as Misthaven, or the Enchanted Forest.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, suicidal thoughts, violence, Sexual content

Time went on in the village.  Ronan had gotten better, and Bucky had finished his house.  The years passed, and before Bucky knew it, he was helping Ronan’s daughter and her new betrothed build their house.  Life was quiet, and he liked it that way.  He usually kept to himself, filling his time with hunting and exploring or practicing his trade.  The people in the village knew and respected him, and so on the rare occasion when strangers passed through, they tended to avoid discussing him or his magic.  He thanked his lucky stars he had landed in this particular village every time that happened.

That wasn’t to say he avoided all contact with strangers.  Since he came to live here, twice he had joined in a group to the regional Duke’s capitol.  The capital was much bigger than the village, but it still was a frontier town.  It still had wooden walls with sharp eyes on lookout.  They mainly only went there for the few things they couldn’t forge or forage for themselves.  Those trips weren’t so bad, since the duke seemed to actually be invested in the success of his frontier villages.  He worked hard to maintain the trade routes and keep costs low to travel, so that the villagers could actually afford to get what they needed.  A person in power truly trying to be good was a novel concept for Bucky to see playing out.  

Bucky got into a routine.  He would help with the town’s repairs, building furniture, hunting, tanning, and any other work he could find.  He helped with the harvests seasonally, as did everyone.  He helped prepare the village green for the various festivals, like Yule and Bell Tine, often doing tasks alone that would have taken several men otherwise.  In the long nights alone in his cabin, he would practice various hobbies, like building and practicing instruments, sketching, or cooking, since he only needed about half the sleep of a normal person.  

Life was predictable, quiet, and peaceful.  The rhythm of life in the little village was such that it was almost difficult for him to even notice the passage of time, and that suited him just fine.  There was always something to do, some project to complete, some new path to tread in the forest.  Something.  He had never before lived in a place with so few people, yet felt so little boredom.  All of his active hobbies sere far more satisfying than the excessive amount of reading he had done in his old world.

It was just shy of forty years after his arrival when he got his first real reminder of what he was.  He was sitting by the fire, tooling some rabbit fur into some new winter gloves when there was a knock at his door.  It was after dark, so it was highly abnormal for anyone to come all the way out to his little home.  He set his work aside and opened the door to find Grace, Ronan’s youngest daughter, now a sturdy middle aged woman herself, standing at his door, torch in hand, with tears running down her face.

“Papa’s gone.”  Her voice stayed steady, despite the grief plain on her face.  

They stared at each other in silence for several minutes as Bucky processed what she was saying.  He had barely noticed the passage of time, yet his friend had grown old.  Now his friend was dead.  It shot a spike of pain through Bucky’s chest.  He had felt this before.  Many times.  And he likely would again, because no matter how many times he told himself he wouldn’t let anyone in, that he wouldn’t let himself grow close to someone just to watch them age and die, he kept fucking doing it.  And no matter how many years passed, he never seemed to forget.  

“Let me put on my boots and we can be on our way,” he said, voice low and gravely.  

He shed no tears, but the pain forked through him like lightning, feeding the fire in his chest that always seemed to be there ever since the day he had given Ronan the leg.  He put on his boots and left his cozy little house in the woods to stroll calmly by Grace’s side.  They made no small talk as they walked.  This hadn’t exactly been unexpected.  Ronan had been sick a few times in the last year, and each time it had been worse and lasted longer.  They knew a man his age just didn’t have much energy to fight off the changing seasons anymore, and autumn had been quite difficult already this year, fluctuating from hot to cold every other day.  Colds had been amok in the village.

It took about half an hour to reach the village, bigger now than it had been four decades ago.  They passed the new smithy which had opened shop about five years ago.  The smith’s son had been making eyes at Grace’s youngest daughter recently, and Bucky was wondering if he wouldn’t be building a new house soon, or maybe just adding another room to the smith’s house.  He shook the thought from his head.  It wasn’t important at the moment.  

The roads were lined with people all outside in front of the houses, holding a candle and watching as Bucky made his way to the house Ronan had died in.  Aggie had died about two years ago, and he had moved in with Grace so that Bucky would rebuild the house for someone new.  After all these years, Ronan had finally agreed that the time for rough hewn was past, and the fancy ‘bored’ houses Bucky made left a better impression.  Bucky had just been glad he was in a house that was less drafty.  He was glad he could help his friend pass his final years in relative comfort.

Grace led the way into the house, her husband and children already outside holding their own candles.  Bucky walked through the main room into the little room he’d added to the back for Ronan to live in.  Hope was already there, wiping her fathers face.  She had dressed him in his nicest shirt and pants, and it looked like she had just finished cleaning him.  Even his black and gold foot looked perfectly shined next to his natural one.  She stood and nodded once to Bucky.  

“He’s ready.”  

Bucky nodded and approached the bed.  Ronan had been the first person he had met in this new world, and a lot of the reason he had found happiness in it.  It had been Ronan and Aggie who had pulled out the welcome wagon for him, offering to share their lives and the very food from their table with him.  He had so much respect for their strength and kindness which had brought this village through so many hard winters.  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ronan’s forehead.

“I shall carry my memories of you to the end of all things and the sundering of the cosmos.  My dear friend, may you find peace where I cannot follow.”  

He stood back up and carefully snaked his arms beneath the body’s shoulders and knees.  He lifted his friend much like he had all those years ago, except this time, he knew Ronan would not be recovering.  He set a reverent pace back out of the house, knowing the girls would follow.  He heard them grab their own candles, lighting them with a fatter candle from the table then hurrying to follow him.  As he stepped out of the house, he saw the rest of the village had all gathered to line the main road to the village green, their little candles twinkling in the night behind hands protecting them from the slight breeze.  

As he passed the first mourners, he sent out a faint pulse of his own awareness and the delicate flickering little yellow lights turned bright white and ceased to flutter in the evening breeze.  As he passed, the townsfolk all moved to follow him, only the sounds of sniffles and shuffling feet to be heard from them.  

He took Ronan to the center of the village green where there was a large stone slab.  He laid the body down then stepped back to wait. The villagers all filed in around the slab, keeping a safe distance between themselves and the rock bed Ronan was rested upon.  Bucky waited patiently until everyone had found their places, family and close friends closer to the front.

“It’s time to send Ronan on to the next great adventure,” he said, his voice carrying over the reverent crowd.  Ronan had been very well loved in the village.  The white light of the candles reflected in the tracts running down most everyone’s faces.

Bucky took a deep breath and focused on the fire inside himself.  As he had done for years now, he forced himself to remember the beauty of the Red Flare’s final passing as he reached out his hand.  The white flames from the entire assembled village leapt up from their candles and arced around until they swirled into dozens of shining little balls of light, compacted into a little sphere in front of his outreached hand.  When all the flames were gathered, he pushed them forward to the body and they flitted up and down the corpse, consuming it rapidly.  

Nobody’s eyes were on the body though, but instead on the flickering glowing embers which sparkled and popped even as they flew into the sky above Ronan’s corpse.  The flames chiseled little pieces of Ronan out before lifting them into the air to burn and dance among the stars as they were broken down into nothing.  

The process lasted barely ten minutes, leaving nothing behind but darkness as the final ember burned out.  The villagers began to disperse shortly after the last light dimmed, going back to their houses.  Back to their lives.  Bucky stood there as they left, staring at the empty stone he had used so many times now.  Grace and Hope were the last to leave him, the latter giving his shoulder a compassionate squeeze before they too left to mourn with their  families.

Bucky stood lost in his memories for some time.  His mind flitted from Dick, to memories of Ronan, to Sam and Steve, and dozens of others.  Part of him wished he’d had the ability to give his friends in his old world such a beautiful send off, but another part of him was glad that he hadn’t had this power till he came here.  He knew way less people here, and these ceremonies were painful.  They always served to remind him that he would always be there to see everyone die.  Eventually, the village might even get big enough that he wouldn’t be able to give everyone a proper ceremony.  He couldn’t decide if that thought made him happy or sad.  Right now, at least he felt like he was a vital part of this village.  In a way, he was kind of like their patron god.  

He sighed deeply as his shoulders slumped.  He was their patron god, but all he could really do with his godly powers was kill things and burn bodies.  He was kind of a shitty god.  Everything he did to help the living he did as a normal, if a bit stronger than typical, man.  

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” came a soft female voice from beside him.

He turned his head and had to blink for a moment to accept what he was seeing.  A beautiful fairy was hovering beside him, in a fluffy blue dress and an elaborate up-do tied into her shiny tiara.  And she was like a real fairy too, not like the vaguely creepy and definitely dangerous and threatening fey of his home world.  She was probably about a foot tall, with shiny little insect like wings, and she looked all sparkling and cute.  She seemed to glow from within, illuminating the immediate area around her.  

She noticed him eying her in surprise and smiled sweetly at him.  “Did they not have fairies in the world you came from?”

He shook his head.  “We had high fey, Selie and Unselie, who could phase into our world from the fey realms, but they were,” he paused, considering the best way to describe them, “dangerous.”  

She nodded sagely.  “I know of the fey of which you speak.  They had some contact with us long ago, but the magic of this world would not bend to their will, so they did not wish to stay.  Several were left behind, and a couple do cause a lot of trouble, but this world has warped them beyond recognition of what they were before.  I am not even sure they remember what they once were.”  

Bucky nodded, taking in what she was saying.  That made sense then that Titania would send him here.  If the magic here was harmful to the fey then nobody would come here looking for him.  He smiled sadly at the little blue fairy.  “It’s nice to know they don’t come here.  To be honest, they give me the creeps.”

She chuckled lightly.  “I know how you feel.  I found them to be quite frustrating myself.  The games they played, and their inability to simply say what they meant really left little reason to overcome their disconcerting smiles.”  

They lapsed into silence.  It wasn’t uncomfortable.  The fairy seemed to sense that he was in a pensive mood, and wasn’t pushing him to speak, so they just stood in companionable quiet.  Eventually though, Bucky’s curiosity outweighed his desire for contemplation.  “I don’t mean to be rude, ma’am, but why are you here?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her lightly shrug her shoulders.  “I just thought you might like to meet someone you would never have to burn.”  She kept her eyes forward as she spoke.  “There are many magical beings in this world, and some, like we fairies, do not age, same as you.  I am the queen of the fairies, also known as the Blue Fairy, or the North Star.  Like you, my existence serves a magical function in this world, as part of the great cycle.  I guess you could say, I too am a god.  One of four, since you arrived.”

He bit his lip.  She had just confirmed what he had suspected since shortly after his arrival in this world.  He was a god.  But also, she had implied it may be a bit more complicated.  Titania had also alluded to the fact that on the quantum level, this world ran on magic, that it’s systems and cycles were based in magic.  He needed more information.  

“May I ask about what you said?” he asked, turning to face her fully.

She smiled and nodded.  

“You said our existence serves a magical function, part of the great cycle.”  He shrugged lightly.  “Magic wasn’t so common in my old world.  Everything ran by different rules.  Is there something I’m supposed to be doing here?”  

She looked at him thoughtfully.  “Well, I’m not sure it’s something so habitual that you need to really worry about it.  With the kind of god you are, I am sure your purpose will find you, though I am not sure you will like it when it does.”

His head tilted.  “The kind of god I am?”

“Yes,” she nodded.  “I’m afraid you and I are very different kinds of gods.  I give people chances at a new life.  I am a god who helps break cycles of despair.  I bring hope.  You are a god of a different kind of change.  You are a god of judgment, an avenger of the innocence lost to the evils of this world.  You break the cycles of cruelty by dispensing justice where mortal law cannot.”

His breath froze in his lungs, and he had to force himself to take the next few breaths before he could bring himself to inquire further.  “How can you tell?  That that’s my purpose?” he asked, his voice cracking even with his soft volume.

The blue fairy looked at him sadly.  “You are a complicated man, Bucky.  You have lived a long life, and loved and been loved by many.  When people love you, as you have figured out, they leave a mark on your soul.  Some of those marks hold great power.”  She gestured to the stone, and he nodded that he understood.  “Some things, though, are simply part of who you are.  Your need for fairness and justice is a foundation of what makes you you, as is your willingness to use violence to see that justice through.  Even if you had never found the power you currently possess, you would always have fought against injustice.  It is not in your nature to allow an evil deed to go unanswered for.”

His shoulders tensed and he licked his lip.  His mind was churning through all the ways she could be wrong, but deep down, he could feel that she was right.  So many times in his life he had thought he would never willingly fight again, but the moment he saw innocent people getting hurt, he had never been able to stop himself, even when getting involved was against his better judgment.  

He had finally found a bit of peace after the final battle with Thanos, then when Sam was in trouble he had jumped in with both feet and landed himself as part of the Avengers.  Before that, when he had been in Wakanda, they would have let him stay, living in peace with his goats, but when they said they needed him to protect the people, he took their damn arm and joined the battle.  After being tortured for months and experimented on by Hydra during the war, they had offered him the chance to go home, to be done with it all and go back to his family.  Instead he had followed Steve deeper into the war all because he couldn’t stand the idea of Hydra continuing to be allowed to do what they had been doing.  Even as kids, he had fought in so many back alleys and school yard brawls to protect Steve, because the scrawny runt had the uncanny ability to attract every bully within six city blocks.  Steve was always known as someone willing to fight for what was right, but there was a reason that Bucky was the man Steve called his brother.  They had never been in a fight that they both didn’t 100% agree on.

He let out a sigh.  “I don’t want my life to just be endless phases of blood and death.”

The Fairy smiled.  “And that is what makes you a good god.  Fighting injustice doesn’t always mean bloodshed.  Sometimes the greatest good can come from halting the cycle of vengeance.  Revenge can be blind to the harm it causes others, but true justice can only ever be thoughtfully and fairly implemented.”  

Bucky looked into the ancient fairy’s eyes, and he could tell she meant every word she said.  He considered that she may be biased towards optimism, considering she was a goddess of hope.  Maybe that was okay though.  Maybe a little hope was what his life needed.  He smirked at the Blue Fairy.  

“You know, you’re pretty good at your job, Blue.”

She laughed.  “I’ve had many years to practice.”  

He let his eyes tell her how much he appreciated her words, and they lapsed again into a companionable silence.  And so they stayed until the first hints of dawn colored the sky and Blue needed to return home, just as Bucky needed to begin on his many tasks of the day. 

Next Chapter

Chapter List

[hyundaimpc]

Xe tải cabin kép là gì? Các loại xe tải Cabin kép hiện nay

Xe tải cabin kép là gì? Các loại xe tải Cabin kép hiện nay https://hyundai-mpc.vn/cabin-kep-la-gi

[locker42]

Bounty Hunter - No.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, blood, injuries, violence.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Grounder!reader.

Word count: 6505

Main Masterlist.

Series Masterlist.

You tightened your belt, putting your knives back in their places. You then took your jacket, putting it on before you got up and started walking out of the room. Lexa let you stay for a few weeks in Polis for a mission she needed you for. You walked down the hall to the stairs, climbing up and headed to the throne room. Two guards were standing beside the doors, opening them for you. You walked in, seeing Lexa dressed in more casual clothes rather than her armor. You bowed your head.

“Yu asked gon ai, Heda.” You asked for me, Commander.

“Sha, ai yu don moun mission gon yu, Nokeryon.” Yes, I have another mission for you, Nokeryon. She said and walked closer to you. “Ai sent hainofa Roan kom Azgeda gon homplei daun Wanheda, ai gaf yu gon gyon au after em en kep in an blinka ona em.” I sent prince Roan from Azgeda to hunt down Wanheda, I need you to go after him and keep an eye on him.

You nodded. “When dula ai ban op?” When do I leave?

“Nau.” Now. She said. “Ai gaf yu gon make sure she comes kom nou bash op.” I need you to make sure she comes with no harm.

“Got em, ai na ai op yu raun bida hours, Heda.” Got it, I’ll see you in a few hours, Commander. You said and walked out of them room. You quickly ran down the stairs, your hip was all healed now after days of resting, allowing you to go back to full movement in your joint. You climbed on your horse and left, knowing you weren’t far behind Roan. After living in the palace for quite a time you knew what was going on there, which meant you knew that Roan was banished. Lexa probably gave him the mission in promise to lift his banishment.

After the battle in Mount Weather you lived in the village with Nyko for a while, deciding to settle in until your hip healed. You visited Bellamy and the others from time to time, but after you moved to Polis you didn’t see them anymore. Even today, a part of you wondered what it would have been like if you did come back with Bellamy to Camp Jaha and stayed there, but you knew that it wasn’t an option. Even though you heard about Lincoln living there, because of the kill order on his head but still. The difference was that he had someone he loved there; Octavia. You didn’t have anyone. You got back to doing missions a week after you hip healed, the word of you getting back in business passing along to Lexa, and she welcomed you in her palace. It was weird waking up to the same place for the first few days, but you got used to it two weeks in.

You were getting closer to a villaged area, which meant you weren’t too far from Arkadia. You decided to leave your horse in one of the villages, still having the clear passage Lexa gave you. You walked through the woods, circling the area around the villages. You saw a small cabin up ahead, not too difficult from the one you grew up in, distanced from the village as well. You crouched behind a tree, the cabin being the perfect spot for someone who lived in the woods to be in. Your father ran a small hunting business, people gave him hunted animals and he cooked them and gave half of it to them. You heard leafs moving behind you, turning around to see a man dressed in dark clothes, his face covered in mud and paint so you couldn’t recognize him. Except for the hunch you had. You walked as quietly as you could behind him, pulling out your sword and pressing if against his throat.

“Stand up.” You said and stepped back a little to give him space. He rises his hands and turn to you. You smirked. “Hainofa Roan, chit an koma.” Prince Roan, what an honor.

“Nokeryon.” He hissed under his breath. You were very much aware of the hate and judgment assassins and bounty hunters like you received, you were counted as one of the lowest stands.

“Heda sent ai gon kep in an blinka ona yu. Nau, let’s fig au Wanheda.” The Commander sent me to keep an eyes on you. Now, let’s find Wanheda. You said and withdrew your sword, no longer a theat to his life.

“En chomouda would ai trust yu?” And why would I trust you? He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Ai gaf in gold, en yu bilaik ai edei kom getting dei de gold. Easy as dei de.” I want gold, and you are my way of getting that gold. Easy as that. You said and shrugged.

“Ait.” Alright. He said and nodded. You offered your hand to him but he just laughed. “Yu laik no gona.” You are no warrior. He said with mockery.

“En yu laik no hainofa. Krei ai don heard.” And you are no prince. So I’ve heard.

His jaw clenched before he accepted your hand, accepting your deal.

“Let’s gyon au.” Let’s go. You said and turned around to leave, hearing his footsteps behind you. You searched the area, finding no one. You eventually sat down and watched the cabin as the night fell.

“Let’s gyon au, dison laik branwoda.” Let’s go, this is useless. You said, getting tired of being in the same position for over two hours.

“Em te nou branwoda. Ai saw em walking raun hir bida days kom gon.” It’s not useless. I saw her walking around here a few days ago. He said, keeping his eyes on the cabin while yours turned to him. You opened your mouth to say something but he quickly placed his hand on it, shutting you up.

“Shof op. Em ste hir.” Quiet. She’s here. He said and pointed up ahead. You followed his finger and saw Clarke, or Wanheda, standing out side the cabin. You looked at Roan and he nodded. He moved to the back of the cabin, slowly moving closer. You walked straight to her, sword in your hand. You pressed the blade against her throat, making her turn her head towards you, shock in her eyes.

“Hello, Wanheda.” Roan said from behind her before she could move away. You grabbed her and turned her around, putting away your sword and tying her wrists together.

“No, please, don’t. Nokeryon, stop, you don’t want to do this.” She begged before Roam gagged her with a piece of fabric.

“Just stay quiet and don’t fight.” You said before walking away. “Come on, we need to be there by tomorrow.”

You walked through the rest of the night in silence, only discussing matters of navigation. You reached the river, walking on the rocks along it. Roan was holding the rope attached to Clarke while you walked beside him. She was panting, trying to slow down but Roan just pulled the rope, making her almost fall. She suddenly dropped to the ground, Roan pulled the rope and dragged her.

“On your feet.” He said but she didn’t move, her eyes closed. He looked at you, nodding for you to check her. You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, grabbing her and turning her over. “Looks like the great Wanheda’s human after all.” He muttered and dropped the rope, walking to the river and filling the small bottle with water.

“We need to get going, Roan. We have a long way ahead of us.” You said and joined him by the water. You washed your hands and face, sighing. “Do you expect me to carry her all the way to Polis?”

“No, but-“ you were cut off by a rope wrapping around your neck, Clarke choking you with it. You tried to flip her over but your height came as an obstacle. She pushed you down to the water and drowned you. Luckily for you, Roan pulled her off of you and knocked her down, now drowning her.

“Wait!” You called as you stood back up. “We need her alive. Get her up.”

He let her go and she rose to her knees, her hair that was once red now back to her blonde one. “Now, that’s better.” You said and pulled her to her feet. She eyes you suspiciously before returning her gaze to Roan. The paint that was hiding his face now gone, revealing his scars. “You’re Ice Nation.” She mumbled but he just pulled her by the rope, walking away. You walked in the woods for a while before stopping once you were in an open area. Roan pulled the rope, Clarke falling down, and placed his hand on your shoulder, pulling you down as well.

“Quiet. Ice Nation scouts.” He said and pointed. You clenched your jaw and turned to him. “Let’s get back in the woods, we’ll find another way.” You whispered. He nodded and stood up, pulling Clarke with him. Before you could walked away Clarke screamed out, making you put your hand on her mouth aggressively. “What part in shut up and come with us wasn’t clear?” You yelled-whispered. You took the bag that was attached to your belt and pulled it over her head. “I’ll take care of them, go back to into the woods. I’ll find you.” You said to Roan before pulling out your sword.

“If you die I’ll keep your gold.”

“Shop of.” You said before turning away, running towards the warriors. You jumped up, making it look like you were about to attack but quickly slid down to your knees, stabbing the warrior in the thigh before moving up to slit his throat. Another one grabbed you and went to pull out his sword but you were quicker, reaching to your holster only to find the knife gone. “Fuck.” You muttered and settled on punching the guy instead. You pulled your other knife, plugging it in his heart two time to make sure he was dead. You stood up, seeing the third one running to where Roan and Clarke went. You aimed and threw you knife, hitting him in his back. You picked your sword and blocked the warrior’s one, then sliding to his side and stabbing him in the heart. You withdrew your sword and ran away, stopping to pull your knife from the body before running to find Roan.

You spotted them near the entry of a cave, running towards them. Roan turned to you when he head footsteps, clear relief on his face when he saw you. “Come on, there’s a cave here.”

You nodded and walked forward. You stepped down the old stairs. Roan tied Clarke to the pole before lighting up a small fire and putting a familiar knife in it.

“That’s my knife. Why do you have it?”

“Ask her.” He said, pointing at Clarke. “She probably took it from you and stabbed me with it.” He stood up, taking off his layers. You sat down on your knees, throwing leafs in the fire from boredom. He took off his shirt, drawing your attention. You cringed as you saw his stab wound. “Another inch and I’d be dead.” He said, then turning to Clarke. “Maybe you’re not the Commander of death after all.”

“Why are you hiding me from your own people? Why did you let her kill them?” She asked after a few seconds.

“Why’d you run away from yours?” He shot back, picking the knife from the fire and placing it on his wound, hissing in pain. “The great Wanheda.” He walked closer to her. “Mountain Slayer.”

“I’m no one.” She said, her tone annoyed.

“There’s a lot of people out there looking for no one.” You commented.

“You’re obviously not loyal to the Ice Nation.” Clarke said, ignoring your comment. “So why are you taking me there?”

He didn’t say anything and just walked away. “Look, whatever the Ice Queen is giving you, my people will offer you more.” She said, making him stop.

“Not them. Not for someone who abandoned them.”

What he said ticked her off, her tone now angry. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you took the coward’s way out.” He said.

“You’re no different. You’re in disguise, same as me. You’re on the run, same as me.”

“Expect you don’t have anything to run from. You chose to walk away.” You said, starting to get annoyed.

“You’re no different as well.” She said, turning to you. “You’re a bounty hunter, living off of killing people. Nokeryon, soulless, no one.”

“Exactly what you claim to be, right?” You said, standing up. “You got your people, and you left. Don’t take your guilt out on me.” You walked over to her, lifting her gag back up. “That’s better.” You stood back up and turned to Roan. “I’ll scout the area, make sure no one’s following us. I’ll come back and then we move.” He nodded, but stopped you from exiting the room. You sent him a confused look. He handed you your knife back. “Figured you’ll need this.” You nodded and walked out, circling the area.

You walked to the edge of the woods again, your eyes widened. There was an army, an Azgeda army, marching towards the same place you need to get to - Polis. You quickly turned around and ran back to the cave. You stopped when you saw an Azgeda warrior walking into the cave, his sword in his hand. You ran forward, taking out the knife Roan gave back to you. You walked in, seeing Roan pinning the man die, his sword to his chest. You walked forward and saw his face. Bellamy.

“Wait, stop.” You said, Roan turning to look at you. “Just don’t kill him, okay? Let’s just go.”

He shook his head. “He’ll follow us.”

“No, he won’t, I’ll make sure of it. Now, put the sword down, Roan.” You begged, eyes locking with Bellamy’s. His face showed surprise, looking you over. You frowned your eyebrows, wordlessly asking him if her was okay. He nodded, making relief wash over you.

Roan leaned back, taking the sword off of his chest. Then he plugged his knife in his thigh, making him scream in pain. “Stop!” You said and pulled him off, taking the knife from him. “That’s not what I meant by ‘put the sword down.” You hissed before turning to Bellamy. “Go, I’ll take care of him.” Roan rolled his eyes but did as you asked. He pulled Clarke to her feet and walked to the exit. “Don’t be long.” He said before walking out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he would do such a dick move.” You said as you crouched down next to him, placing your hand on his wound.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He snapped at you. “Why are you hunting Clarke? What, you’re gonna kill her for gold?”

“Relax,” you snapped back, “I’m not gonna kill her. I’m delivering her to Lexa.”

“That’s the same as killing her.” He almost yelled. You would have though he was completely angry with you but he didn’t move away from your touch.

“No it’s not, Lexa asked me to bring her unharmed. And trust me, if she wanted her dead she would have me do it.”

“Trust you? How am I supposed to trust you when you’re hunting down my friend?”

You rolled your eyes, getting tired from the conversation. You had to go. “Don’t follow me, and I won’t have to knock you out.”

“Are you even listening to me? Lexa will kill her!” He yelled, trying to move but hissing in pain.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe, I promise. I wouldn’t have agreed to the deal if I knew she would be killed. She save my life, you have to believe me.” You saw his expression soften a little bit. “Where were you? You just disappeared for weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Lexa sent guards to take me to Polis. I thought it was going to be just one mission but she offered me a room in the palace.” You explained and placed your hand on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I left you, I didn’t know how long I would be there.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “You promise she will be safe?”

“I promise. I won’t let Roan and any other person hurt her.” You said, giving him a small pet before drawing back. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.” You said and turned to walk out of the room, but his voice stopped you. “Thanks for not knocking me out.”

You turned to him and smirked. “Anytime.”

________

The doors opened, revealing Lexa on the throne, her bodyguards along Titus standing by her side. You walked forward, Roan dropping Clarke to her knees. He pulled the bag from hear head. She blinked a few times baffle her gaze fell on Lexa.

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa got up and walked over to Clarke, eyeing her injuries. “The deal was for you to bring her to me unharmed.” She said, glaring at Roan.

“She didn’t come easy.” You said, drawing her attention away from Roan. She looked back at Clarke. “I’d expect not.”

“I’ve don’t my part.” He said, stepping forward. “Now do yours.”

“Very well.” She nodded and turned to you, pulling out a bag from her pocket, handing it to you. You opened it, seeing not gold but diamonds. You looked up at her in surprise. “You’re dismissed, free to go back to your life. Thank you.” You attached your bag to your belt. “Sure. Let me know if you need anything.” You said and turned to Roan. “Nice working with you, partner.” He just smirked and nodded.

“See you later.” You said and walked out of the room, smiling as you looked down at the bag of diamonds. You saw a few people standing in the hallway as you turned around the corner. You recognised one as the Azgeda ambassador and the others were also Ice Nation. You leaned against the wall, deciding to stick a little longer.

“Ai sent assassin gon maun. Em ste jos a matter kom gou fou oso na nou longer souda deal kom emo.” I sent the assassin to the mountain. It is only a matter of time before we will no longer have to deal with them. You heard one of them say, making you suck in a breath. You quickly connected the dots before going off the other direction. You stopped when you saw Roan being led out of the room, his hands tied. You sent him a confused look.

“Azplana.” The Ice Queen. He said before being pushed forward. You sighed in annoyance before heading down, knowing you didn’t have a lot of time. The assassin left before you which meant you were at least one hour late. You cursed when you realised your horse was back at the village. “Fuck it.” You said and took off running.

You stopped, leaning on a tree, panting. You pulled the map Roan gave you and saw a village close to you, you decided to take your chance. You ran to the village, rising your hands in the air, showing them you were no threat. You pulled out the piece of silver, saying, “Ai gaf a gapa. Ai laik kom Heda.” I need a horse. I’m with the Commander. You said, feeling a little bad for lying to them but part of it was the truth.

An older man walked over to you. “Chon ste yu?” Who are you? He asked.

“Ai laik Y/N.” I’m Y/N. You decided to use your name instead of the name you were given, knowing that it will only make things worse. “Ai work ga Heda.” I work for the Commander.

You watched his head nodding before he motioned with his hand, a young man walking towards you, holding a rope that was attached to a horse. “Na kefa.” Be careful. He said.

“Chof.” Thank you. You said before taking the horse. The man nodded. You climbed on the horse and left.

You were getting closer, remembering some of the routes you took when you came back from Mount Weather. You saw guards patrolling the woods, making you stop. You got off your horse and slapped his back, making him run off. You knew someone would find him. You chose not to attack or sneak, walking straight to them with your hands raised.

“I’m not here to attack, I’m here to warn you. I need to talk to Bellamy Blake.” You said as you got closer. They looked at each other before walking forward and grabbing you, pulling you with them.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m not here to attack you, I come in peace. Please, you have to listen to me.” You begged as they dragged you. You resisted your urge to take them out and go by yourself, knowing you could take both of them. But you knew that they didn’t trust you as it is, you didn’t have to add to the list of why they didn’t trust you. You reached the top of a hill. In front of you you saw the big metal door you’ve once walked out of. On top of it were Octavia and Bellamy. They climbed off as soon as they saw you.

“Hey! Let her go!” He yelled as they got closer.

“Bellamy.” You said, his eyes locking with yours.

“I said, let her go.” He said again, glaring at the guards.

“She’s a Grounder.” One of them said, spitting the word ‘Grounder’ as if it was a deadly disease, making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t care, let her go.”

“She threatened you.” The other one said, making you look at him with anger. “No I did fucking not. You wouldn’t even let me get a word in.”

“Shut up.” He said and punched you in the stomach making you groan in pain.

“Leave her alone.” Octavia said, stepping forward. “We can trust her.”

“Yeah, what she said.” You said, nodding.

“Get your hands off of her. Now!” Bellamy snapped. The two guards finally let you go but not without a final push. If it wasn’t for Bellamy stepping closer to you you would have snapped back at them.

“Are you okay?” He asked you, eyes running over you, searching for injuries.

“I’m fine, glad to see your leg is alright.” You said, then moved you gaze to Octavia. “Hello there, Little Blake.” She smiled and said, “good to see you too.”

“Okay then, we’re all caught up. Now, I need to talk to you.” You turned to Bellamy. “I was at Polis, I heard the Azgeda ambassador talking about an assassin coming here. You need to get your people out of here.” You said, but then realised. “What are your people doing here, anyway?”

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He said and placed his hand on your shoulder, ignoring your question.

“Inside? To Pike?” Octavia protested.

“Who’s Pike?” You asked only to be ignored.

A movement caught your attention, not too far away. You saw another pair of guards leading Echo, the woman who you met in Mount Weather.

“Echo?” Bellamy asked, standing beside you.

“Hey!” You stepped forward. “Let her go!” When the didn’t listen to you you turned to the guards who brought you here. “Tell them to let her go or I’ll slit your throat.”

They nodded before signalling them to let her go.

“What are you doing here?” Bellamy asked her as she walked to you.

“The summit’s a trap. The assassin is already there. At sundown, your people will die.”

_______

“I was with the queen’s army, heading toward Polis.” Echo said, explaining what happened. You were standing beside her, Bellamy to your right, listening to her. Being in the mountain brought back bad memories so you focused on her.

“The war chief talks too loud.”

“You’re one of them. So why are you telling us this?” A man stepped closer to the table.

“We abandoned Skaikru in the battle for the mountain.” She said, then looked at you and Bellamy. “It was wrong.”

“And won’t they miss you?” The man asked again.

“Maybe. That’s why we need to hurry.” She said, glaring slightly at the man.

“You said an assassin was heading to Polis?” You asked, things not adding up.

“Yes.”

“But why would he? There are only a few of your people in there,” you turned to the man standing beside Bellamy, “it’s not a great loss.”

“You know nothing of our people, Grounder.” He snapped, glaring at you.

“You’re Pike then.” You muttered, controlling your anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, taking a step closer to you, but Bellamy put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.” He warned him before turning to Echo. “She’s right. Why would they send the assassin there and not at Arkadia?”

“Or here.” You mumbled.

“Wanheda. The queen wants her power.”

“She saved my life, Pike. We can trust her.” Bellamy said. Pike nodded after a few seconds.

“Listen up.” Bellamy called. “If we want to get to Polis before the attack, we have to move.”

“Attack?” A man from behind you said. “Do we have conformation of that?” You turned to him and recognised him as Sinclair, Raven’s boss.

“Not really.” You muttered under your breath, quietly enough only for Bellamy to hear.

“We radioed, but no answer.” He said.

“They may be already dead for all we know.” Pike said. “And if they are, we need to be ready to respond.”

“Don’t make this about the missiles.”

“Missiles?” You asked, turning to look at Bellamy. “What is he talking about?” He shook his head, shrugging. “I don’t know.” He whispered.

“This is about survival.” Pike said, getting into the man’s face.

“Not if you kill inocente people.” You said, getting tired of his bullshit.

“Stay out of this, Grounder.” He spat, turning to you.

“Or what, huh?” You said, stepping forward, ignoring Bellamy’s warning look. “Polis is a big city and those things are deadly. This attack is by Azgeda and Azgeda only, not other clans.”

“Your words mean nothing to me, they are all the same.” He said, making your jaw clench.

“Well they’re not. Just like your doings isn’t all of these people’s doings, one clan’s doings isn’t all clans’ doings.” You said, trying to keep yourself in check, your recklessness wasn’t something that you needed right now. Bellamy stepped forward and placed his hand on your back, signalling you to stop. You rolled your eyes, ignoring how your heart reacted to his simple touch, but stopped talking.

“We don’t even have the launch codes.” Sinclair said, drawing Pike’s attention.

“No, but we have me.” Raven said, stepping forward. Sinclair stepped closer to her, smirking. “And you accuse engineers of arrogance.” He said in a teasing tone. “I’m growing as a person.” She shrugged.

“Let’s go.” Pike said and picked a bag up, waling out of the room.

“Finally, I can’t stand that guy.” You said, turning to look at Bellamy. “Now I have to suffer through like an hour of being in the same room as him. Kill me.” You groaned, making him chuckle.

“Well, consider me your saviour then.” He said, making you frown. “Why?”

“You’re not coming.”

“Oh, fuck no. I can walk, I’m not injured, I’m perfectly fine-“ you started to argue, but he cut you off.

“Which is why you’re staying here. I don’t have a good feeling about this, and I need you to stay here, make sure everything is alright.” He said, voice softening.

“No, Bellamy, I should be out there, helping you.” You said but he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it. “If there is really an attack, I don’t want you anywhere near it.” He said. Your face turned red, all the words suddenly leaving your mouth.

“O-okay.” You stuttered, hating the stupid smirk that rose on his face. “Are you blushing, Nokeryon?” He teased you. You rolled your eyes and moved his hand away. “Shut up, Blake.” You said but couldn’t help the small smile tugging on your lips. “I’ll be safe.” He reassured you. “And I need you to be too.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t worry about me.” You said, shrugging.

“It’s cute that you think you’re immortal.” He said, pinching your check with his thumb and finger.

“So you think I’m cute?” You smirked. “Well, now I really can’t die.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

“You bet my cute face I will.” You said, now smiling shamelessly at him. He laughed and walked away.

“Careful, Bellamy, you’re blushing.” You heard Raven’s teasing voice, making your smile go away. You shook your thoughts away, knowing impossible was impossible, there was no way to reach it.

“Let’s go.” You heard from behind you, turning around to see Raven. “I’ll figure out a way to make you useful.”

“Funny.” You said before joining her. You walked down the hallway, stopping at the control room. As you passed the hallway you mentally cringed at the memories running through your head. You walked in, taking one look around before sitting down on one of the tables, knowing you were as good as a tree in that room.

“Damn it.” Raven said, slamming her hand on the table.

“What happened to that Reyes confidence?” Sinclair, who sitting behind a computer, said.

“It’s a 12-digit code, there are a trillion combinations.” She said with a frustrated sigh. “It’s gonna take me a minute.” She added with an annoyed tone.

He got up and walked over to Gina, who was standing, leaning her hands on the table. “Gina, what have you got?” He asked her.

“Don’t look at me, I’m just a grunt.” She said, raising her hands in the air. He turned to look at you, but you shut him off. “Do I look like I know this shit?”

He nodded and turned around. “It’s gonna be dark soon. We’re working analog, we’re working digital, what are we missing?”

“How is the president gonna remember a number that long?” Gina said from beside you. “She’s right, he was pretty old.” You said.

“Not well.” Raven said.

“He probably wrote it down, kept it near him.” You said, running the thought in your head. “In a reachable place.”

“Oh, come on. That’s like setting the launch codes to all zeros.” Raven said as she started pacing the room.

“And yet, it’s better than anything we’ve come up with.” Sinclair said, a small smile on his face.

“To the president’s office then.” You said and stood up, walking towards the door. “Count me in.” Gina said and walked with you.

You reached the office, Gina going to the desk and you going to the bookshelf. You took one book, opening it, running through the pages. You rolled you eyes. Walking through the room, you tried to find something useful.

“Can you help me with the drawer?” Gina asked you, making you turn to her. “Yeah, sure.” You saw the lock on it, pulling out your knife and crouching down, trying to pry it open. You heard Gina grunting before you turned, gasping as you saw a man stabbing her multiple times in her torso. You quickly jumped up, twisting your knife before taking a swing at him. He dodged and grabbed your arm, stabbing you. You used your other hand to punch him side, then pushing him on the table. He recovered quicker than you expected, grabbing your hair and throwing you back. You held the knife in your hand tighter and turned around, swinging you knife with you. You managed to cut his side, but it didn’t seem to affect him at all. He punched you in the face, hard enough to push you back, and then hit your head, knocking you down. You blinked, trying to shake off the dizziness. You saw him typing something into a screen before turning to leave. You quickly jumped into action and grabbed his leg, making him fall. You climbed on top of him and threw your punches, you didn’t even see him taking his knife in his hand until you felt a pain in your side. He took out the knife and stabbed you again. You screamed in pain before ignoring it, your mission clear to you. He kicked you off of him and got up, but you were on your feet faster than him.

You grabbed two knives from your holsters, twisting them in your hands before lunging forward. You raised your hand, making it seem like you were going for his shoulder but your left hand plugged the knife in his side, making him step back. You attacked again, but this time, he predicted your moves. He caught your wrist and stabbed your shoulder, then elbowing your face and stabbing you again in your thigh. He pushed you back and didn’t waste any time, taking off running. You ran after him, the pain running through your body being almost unbearable. Bellamy’s voice suddenly came to your mind.

“I know you’re in pain but you have to run as fast as you can..”

And you did, you ran as fast as you could, ignoring your body and holding that it will make it a few more seconds. You took the radio that Raven gave you from your belt, pressing the button. “Raven! Sinclair! There’s an assassin in the mountain, Gina’s dead. I’m going after him. This place is going to blow up. Run!” You yelled through through the radio as clearly as you could as you kept running.

“What? Are you okay? Where are you?” Came Raven’s response.

“Doesn’t matter, run!” You put the radio back in your belt before turning around the last corner, seeing the door opened up ahead. As soon as you were out you jumped forward, knife already ready. You stabbed him in the back before turning his around, stabbing his chest five times before placing your knife back in its holster and got up. Your body has reached its limit, you dropped down on the ground, not being able to move a muscle. You heard Raven and Sinclair running to you, seeing Raven’s face and feeling her hand on your wound.

“Stay with me, I’m here, it’s okay.” She said before an explosion was heard. You looked up, seeing glimpses on fire. “No..” you said, your voice was so weak you didn’t even recognize it. Raven took her radio with her free hand. “Bellamy.” She cried to the radio. “Bellamy, come in. The Grounders attacked Mount Weather.”

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy said after a few seconds, making you sigh in relief.

“It’s gone. It’s gone.” She cried. “It’s all gone. Sinclair and I are the only ones left and Nokeryon is dying.” She sobbed. “I’m so sorry.” She broke down in sobs. “Bellamy you have to hurry. She’s dying.”

She put the radio down and focused back on you, keeping pressure on your wound now with both of her hands. “Sinclair, put pressure on her thigh. We need to keep her stable until Abby will get here.”

“Don’t.” You whispered. “I won’t make it.”

“Yes, you will. Now stay with me.”

“Raven,” you said, moving your hand to rest on her thigh, wincing at the pain in your shoulder, “it’s okay. Let me go.”

“No.” She shook her head, a sob breaking through her. “I won’t let you die too.”

“My name is Y/N.” You said, knowing your fate. “It was nice to meet you.” You smiled, although you were sure it didn’t look convincing.

“No, shut up. You’re going to make it.” She insisted, then looking up at Sinclair. “Keep pressure on her wound.”

“She’s right, Raven. She won’t make it.” He said, a sad look on his face.

“Tell Bellamy,” you coughed, blood coming out of your mouth, but you ignored it, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save his people.”

“No. If you’re gonna blame yourself then fine, but you’re telling Bellamy yourself.” She said, tears running down her cheeks, making your own eyes water. All the things you didn’t accomplish, all the things you’ve been through running through your head. You didn’t want to die, you weren’t ready. But it was your time, and you needed to accept it.

“What is it that you say? May we meet again?” You said, a small smile on your lips.

“We will. Just keep your eyes opened and stay alive. They’re on their way.”

“Ai gonplei ste odon.” My fight is over.

“No, it’s not. Keep fighting.” She said and kept putting pressure on your wound.

“It’s not your time yet, we have a fight to win.”

Bellamy’s voice came to you again. You remembered it like it was yesterday, you laying on the floor and him telling you you had to keep going. This time, you did fight, and you failed. It was your time.

“Say it, Raven.” You begged her. You needed to hear those words, a confirmation to the fact that indeed it was your time, you needed a voice to say it, other than your own.

“No. Your fight isn’t over. Bellamy will kill me if I let you die. He can’t lose you, and neither can I .” She said, her tears now dry and face serious.

“Yu gonolei-“ Sinclair started but Raven turned to him. “Shut up!” She cut him off. “Her fight isn’t over. They are on their way, all we have to do is keep alive till then.” She yelled and turned to you. “All you have to do is keep your eyes opened.”

You wished you could, but all the fighting in you was gone. The pain in your body made it go limp, and you felt your eyes closing without your control. You tried to fight, you really did, but couldn’t. Flashes of memories running through your head, your parents, Nyko, Lincoln, Lexa, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Clarke, Roan, Maya, Gina, then back to Bellamy. You’d expect your last thoughts before your death to be about your parents or all the people you’ve killed, but when you closed your eyes, all you saw was Bellamy and all you heard was his voice. You didn’t hear Raven’s screams at you to stay awake and you didn’t feel her hands shaking you.

He was in front of you, disguised as a guard, he cupped your cheek. “I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

“No! I’m not leaving you, not after everything.”

His arms wrapped around you, you felt safe. You felt his head drop on top of yours. He placed his hand on top of yours. You cupped his cheek. He put his hand on your back. “Are you okay?”

No.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#158

“Well you fucking showed up. I’m surprised. Most fags run screaming. You know what’s expected of you at this moment. Give me your car keys, your telephone, and your wallet. I see you wore a t-shirt and shorts. Good, that will make stripping out of them easier. Now take them and throw them in the fire pit behind you. Now do it!… Atta fag!… Come here. Put this collar and this padlock on and hand me the keys....

"Also do these wrist and ankle cuffs too. They won’t need to be locked in place. Now, I fucked you twice in town. The first time to see if you can take a savage fucking with my beer can dick. You were able to take it with right amount of difficulty. After running a background check on you with my friends in the Sheriff’s Dept., I know you have serious debt and no criminal activity other than being busted at a local pickle park for taking it up the shitter. I bet you didn’t know I did that. When I came to your shithole apartment for the second time, I wanted to see what the fuck I could do to you. After draining my bladder on your faggot face and soaking your bed, you ate my barely wiped ass crack. You took my belting too.

"But it was when I kicked you in the balls and you crawled back to lick my boots was when I knew I had to own you. I could see it in your eyes when I left you wanted that. You seem smart enough to realize that I owned you right then and there. This is my cabin where you will be kept. You will never view this as your home. You do not call anything yours; you have no possessions. This is not one of these power exchange things. No pussy safe words. No, to me you are an object for me to use as I want. I won’t ever use your name. For now you are Shithead. I am your Lord and Master. You may address me as either. You will not leave the cabin grounds unless I decide. That collar you have on is a shock collar, like the ones they put on dogs. But it is even more high tech. You cannot go any more than 200 feet from the cabin in any direction or you will be shocked. I can control it from my keyring or an app on my phone. Yes, I can shock you from anywhere in the world. I also have security cameras all over the property, both inside and outside the cabin. I know what you are up to. I may look like some stupid redneck, but shithead, you will learn that I am not.

"Follow me inside. As you can see, it’s one big room. Now another thing this App does is that it tells me how much battery it has. Every day you will charge it by standing in that corner. The plug does not have much wire to work with, so you will plug the charger into the battery port under your chin. The length requires you to face the corner. You will need to stand there for two hours, at least every day. I get notified when you plug in, when you unplug and what your battery level is throughout. You can set a cooking timer to measure two hours.

"Over there is my bedroom. You are never to use the bed unless I tell you. You will sleep on the fag mat next to it. There’s a guest room over there. Every so often I bring friends up here. You will be expected to serve them as I instruct. Now there’s the TV. You can watch it but with a limited selection. This place is wired for Wifi, but you won’t have a device to use it. You will be here alone pretty much all the time. There will be times where I have to be in town for a number of days in a row, other times I am here for weeks.

"My business is none of yours. Now your background check indicates that you went to a rather impressive culinary school for two years, but your employment history shows that you did nothing with it. Don’t much care why. So I trust you know how to cook. The kitchen is over there. You will have a full fridge. When I come up here on the weekend, I’ll bring the groceries. If there is any special ingredient you want, you will let me know. We can discuss if you want to put together a garden. Mind you, that is a luxury. I have never offered something like that to any previous shithead I kept here. But it will be good for me in this case if I do. When I am here, you will naturally cook and wait on me. I expect some damned good food. The previous shitheads didn’t have a clue. So don’t make me regret offering you this luxury.

"My bathroom is in there. You won’t use this room without my permission. If you need to wash your hands, the kitchen sink will do. There’s an outdoor shower that I hooked up a douche hose to. Of course, there’s no privacy. You will most certainly not use my toilet. The woods behind the cabin is good enough for you. If you need to wash up your cunt afterwards, the douche hose will be fine for power washing. So this is it. Did you douche out before coming here tonight? Good.

"Now one final thing. See that chain hanging from the ceiling. Notice the hook at the bottom of the chain. That’s where your wrist cuffs will go. Now. Reach up. There. Got it! Now there are hooks in the floor that will stretch your legs out. Now the positioning of the hooks are not only to painfully stretch you out so you can’t move. No, I designed that exact spot because there’s enough room in front of you and behind you so that I can get a full swing of a whip. None of that sissy shit of building up slowly. I wanna fucking make you scream right off. But my goal is to make you bleed. Every night I am here you will be whipped. It’s usually after I feed you through the rimseat. Hey, you get to find out what your meals taste like once I get done with it. But tonight you have to realize the severity of not following my wishes first. Don’t want to eat your dinner? You’ll understand the consequences when I will take it out on your back, your chest, your ass, and even your little pecker. Always at the end of the beating the shithead is so exhausted that getting fucked is no longer enjoyable, which is fine by me. Every night it will be ‘Feed, Bleed, and Seed’. You ready to scream your head off? I know I am.”

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Hermione vs. Draco” || YEAR 3 – Ch.30 (HP au)

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Day posted: 11/3/2020

Word count: 3, 254

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather sat with Harry on the grass and looked over at Ron and Hermione talking – or more like Hermione talking on and on and Ron nodding his head every once in a while – which was a huge relief. It only took Hermione apologizing and Ron was instantly all “Oh, he was only a rat. I’ll get another not so old one now, or maybe an owl – they’re much better.”

The whole class was waiting on further instruction from Hagrid besides just feeding the Salamanders dried twigs, but Hagrid was even less himself after the hearing. Harry tried talking to him during the start of the lesson, but Hagrid refused, not wanting to burst out crying in front of everyone.

The bells rang in the distance and the whole class got up, picked up their Salamanders and dumped them in the fire. Heather stayed by the fire, watching them curl up and nap while Hermione and Harry convinced Hagrid to walk them back to the castle.

“It was awful,” Hagrid croaked, holding back tears. “All those black robes… sittin’ there, lookin’ down at us. S’all my fault, it was. I kep’ droppin’ me notes an’ got all tongue-tied an’ – OH – an’ then Lucius Malfoy takes the stand an’ said his bit, an’ the committee jus’ did exac’ly what he told ‘em to do… So they… they gave Beaky a final date…”

“It’s not fair. Those doddery old fools shouldn’t be on the committee if they can be so easily scared by Malfoy’s dad.” Hermione teared up and shook her head.

Ron ran ahead and jumped on a rock at the top of the hill. “Hagrid! You can still save him with the appeal! This time we’ll all really help and – ”

“Lucius Malfoy won’t let the committee change their minds. I jus’ have tuh make sure the time Beaky has left is a good one. I owe ‘im that… s’cuse me – ” Hagrid broke off and hurried back down the hill towards his cabin.

“Look at him! The blubbering oaf.” Draco came out from behind the castle doors with Crabbe and Goyle laughing just behind him.

Heather ran up the last small hill to the castle steps and faced Draco. “Leave it alone. You may not care about Hagrid or Buckbeak but I do, and them, and so many other students. And it’s YOUR fault.” Heather jabbed his shoulder, forcing him to step back.

“Sorry, Potter. But it’s just so funny! I’ve never seen anything quite so pathetic.” He turned around to Crabbe and Goyle. “Have you?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had climbed the rest of the hill quickly and stopped next to Heather, except for Hermione who continued forward and smacked Draco across the face in one long swoop of her extended arm.

“Hermione!” Heather’s hands covered her mouth, not sure whose side to take now or who to be mad at. If Ron had been the one to hit Draco, Hermione would be giving him an angry talking to already.

Draco staggered back and was caught by Goyle before he could trip. He pushed off him and stood, astounded and scared at Hermione, who looked ready for another go.

“Do NOT call Hagrid Pathetic! Ever! It’s all YOUR fault you – you foul – evil – “ Hermione went for another smack.

“Hermione!” Ron caught her arm.

Heather held her back as she tried pushing them away.

“Get off!” Hermione broke free and pulled out her wand, surprising Draco and leaving him frozen in place with fear. “Don’t ever call Hagrid pathetic!”

“L-let’s go.” Draco turned and hurried into the school with Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.

“Nice Hermione!” Ron held out his hand for a high five and Hermione laughed, giving him one.

“That wasn’t very wise, Hermione.” Heather crossed her arms.

“It’s the wisest thing she’s done all year.” Harry smirked and ran from Hermione’s punch. “Save it for Malfoy!”

Heather was unamused but Ron and Hermione laughed, which was nice to hear after so many weeks of them being angry with each other. They followed Harry inside.

“I’m sorry to say, Heather, but I do hope Harry wins the final Quidditch match against Slytherin. I can’t stand Malfoy winning another thing.”

Heather re-crossed her arms. “Not forgiven. I want to win, not lose just because Malfoy’s on my team.”

Ron made a loud nose. “Oh, don’t you two start now.”

The castle corridors were full of students running to their classrooms. They jogged passed several groups of chattering fifth and seventh years and climbed the stairs all the way up to the charms classrooms. They waved to Ginny quickly as she passed them in the halls on her way to Herbology and reached Professor Flitwick’s class with minutes to spare.

“I like when we’re not late.” Ron pulled on the door and held it open for them.

Heather and Harry walked in and took their normal seats, waiting for Ron and Hermione to take the ones in front of them, but only Ron sat down a minute later.

“Where did Hermione go?” Ron looked around the room. “She wasn’t in the corridor.”

Heather looked towards the door. Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs entered the class along with a few Slytherins and Gryffindors, but Hermione never stepped through. The bells rang and Professor Flitwick took his little podium.

“Now, let’s start on Cheering Charms. Everyone – wands out – we’re already into pairs – er, Mr. Weasley, pair with Mr. Longbottom – and let’s begin.”

“Maybe you should go check the bathrooms?” Harry whispered to Heather between swishes.

“And miss class like she’s doing? We’ll find her later.” Heather followed Professor Flitwick’s instructions perfectly and within minutes she was able to do a minor cheering charm, earning her praise in front of the class.

Several attempts later and she was able to perform the full cheering charm, second to a Ravenclaw across the room who always fought with Hermione for first place. The Ravenclaw gave her a look of triumph but it was Heather who took extra points for helping Ron, Harry, Neville, and the two other Slytherins in the room to complete the charm.

After class they went to lunch and split up. Heather sat at the Slytherin table and was soon joined by Draco and even more unfortunately, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

“Draco!” Heather smiled and took a bite of her ham sandwich, the mustard was extra good on it that day – although everything seemed better under the effects of a cheering charm. “Have you done anything to Hermione?”

“No.” He sat down and looked Heather up and down.

“Cheering Charm.” Heather said and Draco nodded in understanding.

His brows furrowed. “If she thinks she’ll get away with – ”

“Of course she won’t. We should tell on her. Get her detentions for the rest of the year. I mean, first your attacked by a wild creature and then by a stupid Gryffindor?” Pansy added a large glop of salad dripping in dressing onto her plate.

“Or, we can focus on winning the final Quidditch match. Gryffindor won against Ravenclaw which puts them at second place right now. If they beat us, then we tie and the Quidditch cup doesn’t go to anyone.” Heather finished her lunch and moved on to the pies for dessert, cutting off a small slice.

“What’s that go to do with Granger?” Draco pointed to his puffy cheek. “I want her to pay.”

“And she wants to see you lose. So win and rub it in her face.” She didn’t like encouraging Draco to gloat, especially not to her friends, but it was better than letting him get Hermione in trouble. The cheering charm wore off mid apple pie bite and she winced at how sweet it was. “Don’t try the pie.”

“Flint says he has a plan. A good one.” Draco tried looking confident and hopeful.

“Well. Good then.” Heather stood and left the great hall, heading into the girl’s bathroom. “Hermione?” she called out, looking under several stalls for Hermione’s shoes but there was no one there at all. She walked out and saw Harry and Ron leaving the great hall and ran up to them. “She’s not in the bathroom. We should check your common room – and before you ask. No, Malfoy hasn’t turned her into a shrimp and hidden her away or anything at all. She’s missing all on her own.”

They headed up the entrance stairs and down the main corridor. As they started up the stairs to the higher floors, Ron began listing other possible ways Draco could have gotten to her, one way involving Crabbe turning into a giant bird and swooping down and taking her into his talons. They walked up to Gryffindor tower debating the logistics of that scenario – Ron adamant that Crabbe would turn into a BIG bird because of his size and not just a regular sized bird because of the spell.

“Flibbertigibbet” Harry said loud enough for Heather to hear.

“Not so loud,” the fat lady hissed, sensitive to both Heather and possibly a very dangerous Sirius Black hearing it. “I’m changing it again tonight… Just to be sure.” She opened up.

Ron and Harry walked in through the hole While Heather stood just outside, watching them approach a distant lump of frizzy brown hair fast asleep around a tower of books. They poked Hermione awake and began talking – Hermione seemed frantic and upset.

“Hurry up!” Heather called in. “Divination is in ten minutes!”

Hermione stuffed all her books in her bag and came running out ahead of Ron and Harry. “I’ll meet you guys there! I need to talk to Professor Flitwick!” She turned and ran down the stairs towards the charms classrooms.

“She said she forgot to go.” Ron came out of the hole and crossed his arms. “But she was right behind us.”

Heather chewed on her finger the whole way up to the Divinations classroom in thought. Hermione was definitely keeping something, and she needed to know what. She couldn’t believe Hermione was actually possibly keeping a secret from all of them. It was different from her own secret about helping Draco over the summer, that time was once but Hermione has been going on with her secret all year.

They reached the ladder and Hermione joined them almost immediately, looking out of breath.

“Oh Heather, tell me you got the Cheering Charm down. Flitwick hinted at it being on the exams!” Hermione brushed down her hair and sighed with relief as Heather nodded her head.

“Of course I did. And I earned five points for Slytherin while doing so. If you think Slytherin’s going to lose the house cup, that’s one-hundred-and-fifty-five points you need to make up before the last match… And counting.” Heather smiled and climbed the ladder, ignoring Harry as he silently mocked her.

The second Heather stepped in the room she was engulfed in that familiar awful mist that made everything go blurry and hazy. She found her usual seat in the far back of the room at the table above Harry’s and Ron’s. Hermione took the seat opposite her and they all sat waiting for Professor Trelawney to appear from behind a curtain or from inside a cabinet looking all mysterious.

“Look at these crystal balls!” Ron turned to them and held it up to his face, making it look all wonky and distorted through the glass. “Thought we weren’t starting this until fourth year.”

Harry took the ball and set it down on its holder. “Shh. I was getting tired of seeing her flinch every time she saw my hands. I’m scared to sneeze in here in case it sounds like the grim to her.”

Heather laughed. “Your sneezes do sound kind of barky.”

“Shut it.”

“Well as long as crystal balls aren’t on the exams, I don’t care.” Hermione shook her head. “I can’t deal with much more of all this nonsense.”

They all raised their brows at Hermione, but before she could respond, Professor Trelawney appeared from behind the large stack of teacups in the corner.

“Good day! Good, good day to everyone.” Her voice was misty and almost sing song-y as she stepped out and addressed the class. “I was checking the Fates and had seen that the art of the Orb would be on your exams in June, and so we will begin Crystal Gazing early! I am anxious to give you sufficient practice with it.”

Hermione’s hand was up in the air instantly. “But Professor, don’t YOU set the exams?”

Ron and Harry chocked back laughs while Professor Trelawney turned away and hummed loudly.

“Crystal Gazing is a very perfected art. It takes years of practice for many capable wizards – and on the very rare occasion, those particularly gifted with the Sight, can come to see things within a matter of months. I do not expect anyone here to be able to See into the Orb’s infinite depths of wisdom on their first try.”

Professor Trelawney took her seat in her large chair and brought her legs up, crossing them under her layers and layers of skirt fabric. She looked like a monstrous creature, half pile of laundry, half human.

Professor Trelawney breathed out slowly and continued. “We shall first start …with relaxing the conscious mind while keeping our external eyes closed. …This will allow for the Inner Eye to open …and let you into your superconscious – should anyone start Seeing, please speak up!”

Ron’s head was on his table and his shoulders shook uncontrollably with suppressed laughter. Harry was biting down on his wrist and Heather was gripping her chair’s arms so tight she thought her fingers would pop off. Heather looked around and up behind her Neville caught her eye and gave her a face of such extreme confusion that she thought she’d burst out laughing. Hermione was looking like she’d just been murdered with boredom – or hoping to be.

After several not so silent minutes, they began Crystal Gazing by just staring into the crystal orbs and waiting to see anything at all. Heather cleared her mind and looked at the mist swirling and then stilling. Every time she cleared her mind the mist would swirl and then the second Hermione tutted right across from her, the mist would still.

“Would you mind keeping your tutting to yourself?” Heather sat up straight and looked deeper into the orb. The mist swirled into a large spiral, slow and steady as if stirred by a spoon. It went on for several minutes, growing slower. Heather was feeling her eyes going blurry in what she thought could be the start of a hypnotic trance as the misty swirl expanded. It sparkled slightly and the center seemed to still as the mist around it turned clockwise and –

“Tuh. It’s just mist being misty.”

“Has anyone Seen anything yet?” Harry whispered.

“I thought I had seen my Grandma, but it turned out I was just too close to the crystal,” Neville whispered back.

“Oh hold on!” Ron whispered excitedly, looking at the crystal. “I see… I see… That someone’s burnt the table cloth there with a knocked over candle.” He pointed.

Heather couldn’t help but give him a small giggle.

“What a waste of time,” Hermione hissed. “I could be studying for Charms. I could be practicing something actually useful like the Cheering Charm.”

They hushed as Professor Trelawney came shuffling passed asking students if they needed help ‘interpreting the shadowy portents within the Orbs’.

“It’s obvious what it means, isn’t it?” Ron whispered. “There’ll be loads of fog tonight.”

Heather, Harry, Hermione,and Neville behind them burst out laughing. Ron’s ears went red but he grinned wide until Professor Trelawney stopped at the bottom of their row right in front of him.

“Why are you disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations of this room? Let me see here.” She looked down into Ron and Harry’s crystal orb.

Harry looked back at Heather and she rolled her eyes, knowing just as well as he that Professor Trelawney was about to see the Grim in the mist. And sure enough –

Professor Trelawney clutched at her wooden beads. “My dear…” she breathed. “It grows closer… Nearer and nearer… the Gr – !”

“The Grim!” Hermione yelled, exasperated. “Oh of course! Why predict the results of the Gryffindor Slytherin match, or the results of Harry’s exams, or what he’ll have for dinner when you can just predict the ridiculous Grim every day.”

“They are not predictions,” Lavender Brown growled. “They are truth.”

“Not guesses,” Parvati joined in.

Hermione huffed at them.

“My dear. Since you stepped foot in my class it has been clear that you do not have what the noble art of divination requires in order to See into the beyond.” Professor Trelawney tisked. “I have never met a student whose mind is so hopelessly and irreversibly mundane.”

Heather closed her gaping mouth and looked at Hermione, who was not having a good day by any means.

“Fine!” Hermione stood and shut ‘Unfogging the Future’, cramming it in her bag. “Fine!” she repeated, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Then I’m leaving.” She stomped across the classroom and turned. “Let me guess, next topic is flames, and with my SIGHT I predict you’ll predict THE GRIM for Harry.” She turned and kicked the trap door open and climbed down the ladder.

For several minutes the whole class was talking. Heather convinced Neville to be her partner, leaving the Hufflepuff he was partnered with alone, and Ron and Harry wondered if Hermione would come back. Heather doubted it.

Suddenly Lavender stood up and quickly found Professor Trelawney stoking the fire and adding more herbs to make the room mistier. “Professor! You saw this! You saw her leaving! ‘Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever’! You said that first day of class!”

Professor Trelawney gave a small smile. “Oh yes, I knew Miss Granger would leave us. That is the burden of the Inner Eye… however, sometimes one hopes to have mistaken the Signs.”

The bells rang and class was over. They packed their things and headed down the ladder.

Harry leaned in to her. “You don’t think me seeing the Grim has anything to do with her seeing the Grim do you?”

Heather shook her head. “I saw that cloud Grim during your match and I haven’t ever seen the Grim in the classroom so… I would guess no.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Heather sighed and shrugged. “I really don’t know.”

They didn’t see Hermione all day after Divination, not even during dinner. Heather hadn’t heard anything about Hermione until Draco arrived late to dinner holding his other cheek in his hand.

“Easter Holidays we’re practicing EVERY DAY. I told Flint we should and he agreed.” He let go of his cheek to grab his cup and exposed his red and slightly swollen cheek.

“W…what happened there?” Heather could almost see fingers marked on his skin.

“Nothing. I heard Granger was told she was too muggle for Divination so I told her not to blame her parents for making her weaker than the rest of us and she slapped me.” He turned to Pansy who started defending him instantly.

“I would have hit you harder.” Heather decided she could let Hermione’s smack slide one last time, although she guessed there wouldn’t be any more after now. Surely Draco had learned his lesson about messing with Hermione after that second, much heavier slap. “So double practices starting tomorrow?”

“Early morning.”

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[lebideduroutard]

Jour 34, 35  - 22, 23 Février Kampot et Kep : Du sel, du poivre et du crabe nom de Dieu...

Après un réveil bien trop tôt, et un petit-déjeuner bien trop médiocre (ce moment d’angoisse où tu vois deux cafards sortir du grille pain où tu viens d’enfourner ton pain…) la navette pour rejoindre notre bus passe nous prendre à l’hôtel. C’est reparti pour un trajet de 5h environ où nous sommes installés au premier rang, ce qui immédiatement me rappellera les bons conseils de notre ami Bjoern : “Ne t’assois jamais dans les 3 premiers rangs, statistiquement ce sont ceux qui subissent le plus de dommages en cas d’accident !”. Joie. Je relativise cependant quand je vois l’accompagnatrice du chauffeur déplier une chaise de camping pour s’asseoir dans l’allée centrale, à quelques centimètres du pare-brise. 

Le trajet, sportif, mais nous avons dorénavant l’habitude, se déroule plutôt bien, et nous parvenons à notre destination en milieu d’après-midi : la Green House, charmante propriété où nous logerons dans un bungalow de paille et de bambou avec Marion et Florian. Très sympa visuellement, moins en terme d’intimité (je n’entrerai toujours pas dans les détails, mais mon petit estomac sensible maudit encore ces parois avec des trous d’un pouce ou plus)... Profitant des derniers rayons de soleil, nous nous dirigeons vers la petite plage privée et piquons une tête dans la rivière où l’eau est à la même température que l’air ambiant avant d’essayer le restaurant de la Green House. Les plats sont très chers, mais se révéleront exceptionnels. Personnellement impressionné par la cuisson de la longe de porc, j’oublie rapidement l’addition salée qui accompagne ma boule de glace au poivre rouge de Kampot. Nous rentrons donc au bungalow, fatigués, comme après chaque journée de transit, avec l’objectif de nous écrouler rapidement dans notre lit couronné d’une moustiquaire. Sauf qu’au moment de passer sous la douche, Florian revient dans la pièce principale en nous expliquant que non, ce soir il ne prendra pas de douche car un gecko de 30cm a élu domicile à proximité directe de la cabine… Après un rapide coup d’oeil, il s’avère qu’il a raison, le reptile est considérablement plus gros que ceux rencontrés jusqu’à présent, ne dépassant que rarement la dizaine de centimètres. Nous élaborons alors un stratagème, incluant un balais et une petite dose de courage, avant que Marion ne nous arrête dans notre élan : une rapide recherche Google lui aurait suggéré qu’un gecko stressé propulse autour de lui une substance toxique afin de venir à bout de ses prédateurs. Okay. Nous décidons donc d’un accord tacite de nous réfugier sous nos moustiquaires, en espérant qu’elles soient également des geckoaires, et de fermer les yeux jusqu’au lendemain matin en maintenant nos doigts croisés pour que le vil lézard ait quitté notre salle de bain.

Le lendemain matin, notre ennuyeux porteur d’écailles est toujours là, et il a convié une amie à le rejoindre : une énorme araignée, de la taille de ma paume de main (et je tiens à préciser que je n’ai pas des mimines d’enfant), se trouve maintenant à ses côtés. Surpris que le gecko ne soit pas plus intéressé par un casse-dalle de cette dimension, nous nous rappelons alors avec joie qu’aujourd’hui nous changeons de bungalow : en effet, au moment de la réservation celui-ci n’était disponible que pour une nuit, et nous avons dû booker celui se trouvant juste à côté, un poil plus cher mais aussi un poil plus grand. 

Aujourd’hui, nous avons prévu de passer la journée à Kampot, pour découvrir une plantation du poivre local très renommé, avec quelques arrêts sur la route pour découvrir différents lieux de la région, puis d’aller à Kep, la ville voisine connue pour son marché aux crabes. Nous avions réservé la veille deux tuk tuk pour la journée (45$ chacun, ce qui est énorme, surtout quand on sait que le salaire mensuel régional est de 90$...), mais malheur, ce matin Yann ne se sent pas bien et ne se lèvera pas. Lucie, en bonne conjointe, décide de rester à son chevet pour le veiller (note de Cha : je vais discuter avec Arthur de sa notion de bonne conjointe ….). Nous tentons donc de négocier pour annuler le deuxième tuk tuk, qui n’est plus nécessaire depuis que la troupe de 6 est passée à une équipe de 4, mais il nous sera malgré tout demandé 10$ pour le déplacement, le tuk tuk étant déjà arrivé. Un peu cher, mais nous aurons fait un heureux…

Nous rejoignons notre amène automédon, dont la prospérité est dorénavant assurée, et nous embarquons dans notre frêle fardier pour rejoindre l’ocre poussière des routes khmers. (Arthur, futur prix Goncourt, pour vous servir.)

Premier arrêt : 

Les marais salants exploités par les Cham, une communauté de musulmans locale. Nous nous baladons rapidement le long des précieux cristaux blancs exposés au soleil tout en observant un petit groupe de personnes occupées à préparer les prochains bassins destinés à recevoir l’eau salée, appelée à s’évaporer, et en écoutant les explications de notre chauffeur sur les procédés de conception et de stockage du sel. 

Deuxième arrêt : 

Un temple caché dans une grotte. C’est, de ce que l’on nous a dit, le plus beau temple du coin, et il date du 7ème siècle : à voir donc ! En arrivant sur place, notre guide nous présente un jeune homme, et nous explique c’est un type super qui connait très bien le coin, et que pour seulement 2$ il nous emmènera jusqu’au temple caché. Pourquoi pas, ce n’est pas si cher et ça peut être intéressant d’avoir quelques infos complémentaires sur le lieu ! Nous suivons donc notre guide, et croisons plein d’enfants très souriants sur la route, ravis de nous envoyer des “C’est parti mon kiki !” et des “Roule ma poule !” pour montrer qu’ils savent parler français. Marrant ! 

Nous arrivons au pied d’un escalier, et le guide nous explique qu’il faut monter environ 250 marches, puis redescendre de l’autre côté pour s’enfoncer dans la grotte. Okay ! Aucun souci durant cette courte ascension, même si on ressent bien la chaleur dès la 50 ou 60ème marche. La vue sur la vallée est imprenable et on apprécie s’arrêter cinq minutes pour prendre des photos et reprendre notre souffle. Nous arrivons finalement dans la fameuse grotte, où nous découvrons le temple. Enfin temple… Il s’agit plutôt d’un autel, car il n’est pas bien grand : 4 ou 5 mètres carrés tout au plus. Ce n’est pas grave, l’endroit est sympa comme tout, et notre guide du moment nous montre différentes roches baptisées par des noms d’animaux à cause de leurs formes (le rocher de l’éléphant, le rocher du crocodile, etc…). Le jeune khmer veut ensuite nous emmener dans les profondeurs de la grotte, mais là, nous déchantons rapidement : il faut descendre à pic, entre diverses formations rocheuses et sans beaucoup d’accroches, pour ressortir en bas de la montagne, là où commençait l’escalier. Charlotte n’est pas partante du tout, normal pour quelqu’un qui n’aime les endroits confinés, mais aucun membre de notre groupe de joyeux lurons ne l’est réellement : nous ne sommes pas vraiment équipés pour ce genre d’escalade, et le chemin semble VRAIMENT étroit. Ne voulant pas rater une expérience qui ne se reproduira pas de si tôt, j’hésite et jette malgré tout un oeil dans la crevasse qui s’enfonce dans les entrailles de la montagne. Le guide m’éclaire le chemin avec sa lampe torche (ah oui, j’ai oublié de préciser qu’il faut descendre dans le noir complet), et me montre comment descendre les 2-3 premiers mètres. Donc, non. Malgré l’aisance dont fait preuve ce gamin du coin, je ne me sens pas capable de le suivre : la roche est lisse et j’ai un doute quant au fait que mes fesses puissent passer à certains endroits. Nous lui expliquons donc que nous préférerions repartir par le chemin d’où nous sommes venus, et malgré sa surprise et sa déception (il avait l’air vraiment content de nous faire découvrir ce chemin caché) nous rebroussons chemin. (note de Cha : il nous a montré là où nous aurions dû ressortir et je pense pas que mon corps passait par le “trou” de la sortie… J’aurai bien aimé voir s’il y avait vraiment des touristes qui faisaient cette petite escapade)

Arrivés au tuktuk, nous devons payer notre guide, et surprise (ou mauvaise compréhension…) il s’agissait en fait de 2$ par personne. La visite n’ayant vraiment pas duré longtemps, et l’accompagnement d’un guide n’étant, après tout, pas si indispensable que cela, nous nous permettons de négocier un peu et payons 4$ pour 4 personnes. Cela nous semble malgré tout un bon prix pour le laps de temps qu’il nous a consacré, et nous voyons arrivé d’autres touristes derrière nous, il y a fort à parier qu’il a de nombreux clients tous les jours. Nous reprenons notre route !

Troisième arrêt : 

Nos fesses commencent déjà à nous faire mal. (note de Cha : personnellement ça allait mais il est possible que mon fessier soit plus moelleux que celui des autres). Nous sommes arrêtés au niveau du Secret Lake. Qu’est-ce donc que ce lieu ? Si sa localisation n’est aujourd’hui plus un secret, ce lac gigantesque a été creusé à la main par des esclaves du régime des Khmers Rouges afin de servir de charnier à ciel ouvert pour les opposants du régime, qui comme nous l’avons découvert au musée S-21 ne sont finalement pas souvent des opposants avérés mais plutôt des malchanceux s’étant trouvé au mauvais moment au mauvais endroit… Il semblerait donc que le fond soit recouvert des ossements de ces malheureux. Depuis, le charnier a été recouvert d’eau, tant pour masquer l’abominable histoire que pour servir de réservoir d’eau aux cultures agricoles locales. Il est très difficile d’avoir des informations sur ce lieu, pratiquement rien sur internet et dans les guides, il a fallu recouper diverses informations glanées ça et là auprès de locaux. Il est possible que la version que je vous retranscris ici soit partiellement erronée, certaines variantes semblent expliquer que les corps reposant au fond de l’eau sont ceux des esclaves morts durant l’énorme chantier que représentait l’excavation du lac, qui était déjà prévu à des fins agricoles dès son élaboration. Nous n’en aurons sûrement jamais le coeur net… Il est en tout cas assez incroyable de constater qu’aujourd’hui, quand on tape “Secret Lake Kampot” sur un moteur de recherche, ce dernier préfère mettre en avant les commentaires TripAdvisor de touristes vantant le plaisir de se baigner dans le lac (certainement la dernière chose à laquelle nous aurions pensé nous même) plutôt que sa triste histoire. En remontant dans notre tuk tuk, nous ne pouvons nous empêcher de constater encore une fois, avec candeur, la quantité de malheurs qui s’est abattue sur le Cambodge.

Quatrième arrêt : 

La Plantation. C’est l’arrêt que j’attendais le plus ! Une plantation de poivre (et de plein d’autres choses en fait : mangue, fruits du dragon, piments…) qui s’appelle La Plantation (original) avec visite gratuite, en français et dégustation des différents poivres produits sur place. Le top quand on est comme moi à la recherche de saveurs du monde. L’endroit est beau, mais presque un peu trop : on sent qu’il y a un aspect marketing très poussé et que nous ne sommes pas dans la petite plantation locale. C’est ce que nous avait dit notre “conseiller” à la Green House : La Plantation a été créée par un riche couple Franco-Belge il y a seulement 5 ans, et via des opérations de communication massives auprès des tour-operator, des hôtels et même des tuktuk, La Plantation est rapidement devenue “the place to be” dès que l’on parle de poivre de Kampot. Cependant, nous sommes très bien accueillis, et nous partons rapidement découvrir la production de poivre accompagnés d’un groupe de français et de notre guide, Merlin (enchanté !).

Merlin est souriant, intéressant et connaît son sujet malgré qu’il ne soit arrivé sur ce site qu’il y a quelques mois. Il nous fait découvrir, sous un soleil de plomb, tous les angles de la production, de la récolte du poivre et de plusieurs autres aspects qui entoure cette culture : l’aspect permaculture (planter d’autres choses que du piments pour que les plantes interagissent entre elle, comme le piment qui repousse les nuisibles, ou certaines fleurs plus sensibles qui permettent détecter de les maladies ou les champignons avant que ceux-ci ne s’en prennent au poivre…), l’aspect social (La Plantation, de ce qui nous est dit, choisi de doubler le salaire mensuel des locaux qui viennent travailler sur place) ou encore l’aspect économique avec la démarche de créer un label pour contrôler l’origine et la conception du poivre de Kampot.

Je ne pourrai pas vous relater toutes les informations que nous apprendrons durant cette visite, ou alors il nous faudrait créer un blog sur cet unique sujet si vaste.

Viens l’heure de la dégustation ! 

Poivre vert, noir, blanc ou rouge, nous goûtons entre quinze et vingt déclinaisons de poivre, toute produit à partir de la même graine (le poivre vert n’est pas arrivé à maturité, le poivre noir est un poivre vert séché au soleil, le poivre rouge est un poivre vert arrivé à maturité, et le poivre blanc est un poivre rouge un peu “moche” qui sera épluché et qui perdra au passage sa couleur). J’ai un coup de coeur durant cette dégustation : le cuir de poivre long. Il s’agit à priori de lamelles de poivre long séchées au soleil après une longue maturité sur pied, qui suite à ce procédé développent des notes incroyables : chocolat/caramel/spéculoos/beurre, au moment même où je l’ai goûté j’ai tout de suite vu des dizaines d’applications possibles en cuisine (je suis persuadé qu’un Kouign-Amann serait sublimé par l’utilisation de ce cuir de poivre, ne me demandez pas pourquoi). 

C’est la bouche en feu et les sinus débouchés (oui la dégustation était ponctuée de nombreux éternuements) que nous remettons sur notre tuktuk : il est désormais l’heure de manger, alors direction Kep pour découvrir son marché aux crabes qui fait sa renommée.

Après près d’une heure de tuktuk (aïe… aïe… AÏE !), nous arrivons directement au fameux marché. L’heure est un peu avancée, il est donc possible qu’une partie de l’activité soit déjà terminée, mais qu’est-ce que ça bouillonne ! Nous nous enfonçons sous les toits de bâches et de taules qui recouvrent les dizaines d’étals. Certains pêchent, d’autres négocient les prix, tous cuisinent des crabes et autres crustacés. Nous tentons de négocier le prix, assez élevé, qui nous est proposé pour les différentes composantes de notre futur repas, mais nous comprenons rapidement que d’un stand à l’autre, un prix “touriste” a été déterminé en amont. Pas grave, c’est le jeu. Nous achetons donc un petit crabe chacun, ainsi qu’un calamar, qu’un monsieur va nous cuisiner avec une sauce au poivre vert de Kampot. Top. Nous patientons attablés entre tous ces étals, l’air encore un peu plus réchauffé par la fumée des dizaines de barbecues en action autour de nous. La pitance arrive, et nous ne laissons aucune chance à ces délicieux crabes épicés : aucune miette ne sera perdue.

Le ventre plein, et la nuque rouge, nous profitons d’une dernière vue sur la mer puis décidons de rentrer à notre petit bungalow où, nous l’espérons, il n’y aura pas de gecko dans la douche.

Finalement, pas de gecko, mais de nombreuses petites crottes sur la lunette des toilettes (notez l’effort de politesse) qui attestent du passage d’un rat ou d’une souris.

Arthur

[amethystina]

2 and 62/WinterIron You're the best(~>u

Ohohoho! Okay, let’s go!

THE TROPES:2. Royal AU62. Love Confessor (Character A confessing their love for Character B to Character C) 

Oh man, I love this. And I had such trouble deciding if I wanted the setting to be fantasy or sci-fi (I am in SUCH a fantasy mood right now) but, in the end, I think sci-fi has the most potential. So go ahead and read more about it below the cut ;)

Bucky is a space pirate. Well, privateer, to be more precise, together with Steve and their rowdy little crew. They’re a bunch of strays from all across the galaxy who, at the time being, has the fortune of being commissioned by the king of a, particularly wealthy planet. King Stark isn’t what Bucky would call a nice man, but he’s firm, ambitious, and pays well. His planet, Vordania Prime, is currently in dispute with a neighbouring one about travel routes, and Steve and Bucky have been tasked with plundering as many of the ships on that route as they can. It’s risky, sure, because their spaceship is small and has definitely seen better days, but the crew is skilled and Steve an amazing captain. So they make do.

It is when they happen to come across a delivery of wares stolen from Vordania Prime and unravel a smuggling ring of epic proportions that the king invites them to the royal palace to personally thank them. It’s a nerve-wracking visit since, even if the crew clean up well, they are not used to dealing with royalty. Banquets are even more out of their comfort zone.

Bucky does his best, however, nodding politely and saying “sir” and “lady” a lot and never once flinches when people ask him about his bionic arm. It’s a touchy subject, but they can’t know that. They can’t know he got it when he was captured years ago during a war in his own home system, tortured and brainwashed and turned into a killing machine. Steve managed to save him and, somehow, help him straighten out the mess his head had become, but they were no longer welcome in their home system. Bucky had done too much damage — killed too many people.

Steve hadn’t cared, following Bucky literally to the other end of the galaxy to start their careers as space pirates. Bucky isn’t unhappy with his new life — the crew ss great and he has more or less recovered from his time in Hydra’s clutches— but he would be lying if he didn’t admit that he misses home sometimes. And that there are days when the guilt gets just a little too heavy to bear. Still, he's comfortable— he’s got a job, friends, and life that’s not exactly honourable, but uncomplicated.

At least until he sees the prince.

Bucky has never had a reason to meet him before— they have only ever dealt with the king or his advisors— and, from the moment he lays eyes on him, Bucky knows. He has almost forgotten about that particular quirk of his race. He has forgotten that, if he’s lucky, one day he’ll meet his Destined.

He just hadn’t expected it to be the crown prince of Vordania Prime.

Bucky quickly suppresses the rush of rightness and hope and yearning, knowing it has to be a mistake. Bonding with a different spiecies isn’t unheard of, but it certainly isn’t easy. There are no guarantees that the other can or want to embrace the bond— not all races mate for life, like Bucky’s— and that’s without the added complication of this being the crown prince of an important, wealthy planet. A young, charming prince with his whole life ahead of him.

The universe is clearly trying to punish Bucky for something.

But he keps his roaring emotions in check— if only barely — and manages to remain polite even when the prince comes to talk to him. He’s even prettier up close and Bucky’s heart is racing, his entire being screaming at him to just reach out and pull Prince Anthony to him and never let go. But he can’t do that.

He can never do that.

It hurts to be so close to the prince and not be allowed to touch. Later, Bucky can barely even remember what they talked about, except that it made Prince Anthony laugh, his beautiful, brown eyes sparkling.

After the banquet, once they return to their ship, Bucky locks himself inside his cabin and breaks down. Resisting the bond is painful in and off itself, but the knowledge that he can never allow it to grow is agonising. He can’t tell a prince that he’s Bucky’s Destined. 

Prince Anthony deserves so much better— is probably already engaged, which causes a painful stab in Bucky’s chest— and Bucky is far too broken. He can’t tie someone as beautiful and carefree as Prince Anthony to the legendary Winter Soldier. No one in this system might call Bucky that— no one but Steve knows of that particular part of Bucky’s history — but the name is known far and wide. Everyone fears the Winter Soldier.

Prince Anthony deservs so much better.

So Bucky vowes never to act on it. Steve gives him a couple of weird looks in the days that follow — Bucky is distracted and disoriented from denying the bond— but doesn’t ask.

They keep working, pillaging space ships in the name of King Stark.

And they keep getting invited to the palace.

Every time, Bucky both hates and loves it. Prince Anthony always wants to talk to him, eager and friendly and so beautiful it takes Bucky’s breath away. He can’t help it— can’t say no— because any kind of contact with his Destined is better than none at all. Bucky knows he’s falling in love— that’s what he’s supposed to be doing— but he never tells Prince Anthony.

He can never tell Prince Anthony.

But they grow closer — become friends, of sorts. Bucky starts sneaking into the palace when he and his crew are planetside, just to see Prince Anthony. He teaches the Prince how to shoot with plasma rifles since no one else will— they seem to think it’s not suitable for a prince to know that. And Prince Anthony invites Bucky to his workshop to show his projects — Vordania Prime is famous for its technology, always top of the line and extremely expensive— and the prince has clearly embraced that. He’s clever, intuitive, and so brilliant that Bucky just doesn’t know what to do with all the affection growing inside of him.

Anyone would be lucky to have Prince Anthony as their Destined, but Bucky knows he can’t. He just can’t.

Bucky loves the prince, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s a filthy privateer with a past darker than anyone should have to carry, and he just can’t burden Prince Anthony with that.

Not to mention that the king would never let him.

So Bucky keeps quiet and does his job. He also secretly meets with the prince— which Steve teases him about— and tries not to let his emotions get the better of him. It works, more or less, which is a relief.

Then comes the day that King Stark is overthrown.

Bucky and the crew aren’t even on the planet when the coup starts, but they certainly hear the desperate hailing over the comms. Pleas for aid from the royal guard that is desperately trying to keep the invading forces at bay. Steve doesn’t need to see the panicked look on Bucky’s face to turn the ship around, heading back to the planet.

As they get closer, they receive more and more news— the reports growing more and more desperate.

The king has been murdered.

Queen Maria found dead.

The Prince is missing.

The only way for Bucky to keep the panic at bay is to focus on those reports. Focus on what needs to be done when they arrive at the royal palace. As long as Prince Anthony hasn’t been confirmed dead, Bucky still has hope.

He can feel himself slipping— a calm settling over him that he knows does not bode well— but he doesn’t try to stop it. He needs to find Anthony. That is the only thing that matters.

He needs to find his Destined.

They bypass the docking stations and head straight for the palace. A part of it is burning, another explode as they go in for landing, but Bucky doesn’t even flinch. Steve grabs his arm when the ramp is about to open, giving him a worried look, but Bucky doesn’t stop to hear what he has to say. As soon as he can, he’s out of the ship.

Bucky finds a gun — takes it from one of the insurgents— and does not stop. Instincts he’s suppressed for a long time rush to the surface and there is no stopping him. He doesn’t care who gets in his way, he just keeps searching.

He need to find his Destined.

And, eventually, he does. Anthony has fled to one of the gardens— the one they used to meet in — and is huddled behind a statue with a plasma gun in his hands. The ground is littered with dead insurgent members and Bucky is so grateful that he taught Anthony how to shoot; he would no doubt have been dead or captured otherwise.

The cold, burning rage Bucky feels is matched only by his relief at seeing Anthony alive. Then Anthony looks up and the detachment Bucky has wrapped himself with melts away. He can never be detached at the sight of his Destined in so much pain— so much grief and fear.

With a choked gasp — Bucky’s name — Anthony scrambles to his feet and throws himself into Bucky’s arms. He’s still so young, his shoulders trembling from panicked sobs, and Bucky knows he’ll never let him go. He might still not tell Anthony that he’s Bucky’s Destined, but their lives are irrevocably linked and Bucky will follow this beautiful, brilliant prince to the end of the universe if need be.

But they cannot stay. Whoever is attacking the palace, they clearly want the royal family dead. Bucky has to get Anthony to safety.

So he carefully wipes Anthony’s tears away, relieved when Anthony regains his usual determination. There is nothing weak about Bucky’s Destined and, even when he no doubt wants to break down, Anthony will soldier on. He carries an inner strength that Bucky greatly admires.

The head back to the ship, Bucky hailing Steve and the others, letting them know he has the prince. It’s not easy— people are fighting, explosions going off— but they make it aboard and are flying off before the ramp has even had time to close.

Bucky isn’t sure what to do after that. They have escaped with the prince— one without a planet— and, more pressingly, a young man who has just lost his parents. So Bucky starts fussing, taking Anthony aside to make sure he’s warm, fed, and unharmed. Soon Anthony is tucked away in Bucky’s bunk, staring blankly at the wall, but safe, at the very least. That’s all Bucky can ask for at the moment.

He goes to see Steve, to ask if they suffered any casualties, but is relieved to find there were only minor injuries. The rest of the crew had stayed close to the ship while Bucky rushed off to rescue Anthony.

And Steve asks about that— of course he does— because he’s getting suspicious at that point, and Bucky realizes he can’t lie anymore. not if Anthony is going to stay on their ship for any length of time. Steve will see the signs anyway.

So he tells him. He tells Steve that Anthony is his Destined and he just couldn’t leave him.

Steve is shocked, not understanding why Bucky hasn’t acted on it yet, and Bucky isn’t sure how to explain it if Steve doesn’t see it right away. Of course he can’t. Anthony deserves so much better.

He tells Steve as much, then makes him promise not to tell Anthony. He can never know. Steve isn’t pleased, but he does. They clearly have other things to worry about, like figuring who was daring enough to overthrow King Stark —  they will no doubt come for Anthony if they find out he’s still alive—and just what to do with the grieving prince.

They clearly have a tough couple of months ahead of them but, at the very least, Bucky’s Destine is alive.

For now, that’s all that matters.

Aaaand I think I’ll stop there because otherwise this will go on forever! How come my Sci-Fi AUs always get so long? Also, I accidentally included the Soulmate trope in this. Oops?

If I ever had the time, this might be a pretty interesting story to write...

AH WELL. Enjoy! :D

[themortallivinggod]

Slave Narratives Volume XVI: Texas Narratives—Part 3 Virginia Newman Virginia Newman was freeborn, the daughter of a Negro boat captain and a part Negro, part Indian mother. When a young girl, Virginia apprenticed herself, and says she was nursegirl in the family of Gov. Foster, of Louisiana. She does not know her age, but says she saw the "Stars fall" in 1833. She has the appearance of extreme old age, and is generally conceded to be 100 years old or more. She now lives in Beaumont, Texas. "When de stars fall I's 'bout six year old. They didn' fall on de grou'. They cross de sky like a millions of firebugs. "My fus' name Georgia Turner, 'cause my pappy's name George Turner, and he a freeborn nigger man. He's captain of a boat, but they call 'em vessels them days. It have livin' quarters in it and go back and forth 'tween dis place and dat and go back to Africy, too. "My grandmudder, she an Africy woman. They brung her freeborn from Africy and some people what knowed things one time tol' us we too proud but us had reason to be proud. My grandmudder's fambly in Africy was a African prince of de rulin' people. My udder grandmudder was a pure bred Indian woman and she raise all my mudder's chillen. My mudder name Eli Chivers. "When I's small I live with my grandmudder in a old log cabin on the ribber, 'way out in de bresh jus' like de udder Indians live. I's born on my fadder's big boat, 'way below Grades Island, close by Franklin, in Louisiana. They tells me he carry cargo of cotton in de hull of de boat, and when I's still li'l they puts out to sea, and grandmudder, Sarah Turner her name, tuk us and kep' us with her in de cabin. "Us didn' have stick of furniture in de house, no bed, no chair, no nothin'. Us cut saplings boughs for bed, with green moss over 'em. Us was happy, though. Us climb trees and play. It was hard sometime to git things to eat so far in de woods and us eat mos' everything what run or crawl or fly outdoors. Us eat many rattlesnake and them's fine eatin'. We shoot de snake and skin him and cut him in li'l dices. Den us stew him slow with lots of brown gravy. "They allus askin' me now make hoe-cake like we et. Jus' take de cornmeal and salt and water and make patties with de hands and wrop de sof' patties in cabbage leafs, stir out de ashes and put de patties in de hot ashes. Dat was good. "One my grandfadders a old Mexican man call Old Man Caesar. All de grandfolks was freeborn and raise de chillen de same, but when us gits big they tell us do what we wants. Us could stay in de woods and be free or go up to live with de white folks. I's a purty big gal when I goes up to de big house and 'prentice myself to work for de Fosters. Dey have big plantation at Franklin and lots of slaves. One time de Governor cripple in de leg and I do nothin' but nuss him. "I's been so long in de woods and don' see nobody much dat I love it up with de white folks. Dey 'lowed us have dances and when dat old 'cordian starts to play, iffen I ain't git my hair comb yit, it don't git comb. De boss man like to see de niggers 'joy demselves. Us dance de quadrille. "Us have 'ceptional marsters. My fadder sick on Marster Lewis' plantation and can't walk and de marster brung him a 'spensive reclinin' chair. Old Judge Lewis was his marster. "I git marry from de plantation and my husban' he name Beverly Newman and he from de Lewis plantation in Opelousas. They read out'n de Book and after de readin' us have lots of white folks to come and watch us have big dance. "When a nigger do wrong den, they didn' send him to de pen. They put him 'cross a barrel and strop him behin'. "When fightin' 'gin, all our white folks and us slaves have to go 'way from Louisiana. Opelousas and them place was free long time 'fore de udders. Us strike out for Texas and it took mos' a year to walk from de Bayou la Fouche to de Brazos bottoms. I have to tote my two li'l boys, dat was Jonah and Simon. They couldn' neither walk yit. Us have de luggage in de ox cart and us have to walk. Dey was some mo' cullud people and white and de mud drag de feetses and stick up de wheels so dey couldn' even move. Us all walk barefeets and our feets break and run they so sore, and blister for months. It cold and hot sometime and rain and us got no house or no tent. "De white folks settles in Jasper county, on a plantation dere. After while freedom come to Texas, too, but mos' de slaves stay round de old marsters. I's de only one what go back to Louisiana. After de war my fambly git broke up and my three oldes' chillen never see de li'l ones. Dose later chillen, dey's eight livin' now out'n nine what was born since slavery and my fourth chile die seven year ago when she 75 year old. "When I git back to Louisiana I come to be a midwife and I brung so many babies here I can't count. De old priest say I ought to have a big book with all their names to 'member by. "It were 'bout dis time I have my fur' bought dress and it was blue guinea with yaller spots. It were long at de ankle and make with a body wais'. Us wore lots of unnerwear and I ain't take 'em off yit. "I never been sick, I's jus' weak. I almos' go blin' some time back but now I git my secon' sight and I sees well 'nough to sew."

[frontporchwomanism-photos]

Restored log cabin at Heidemann Ranch in San Antonio, TX.  Julia Blanks was a free African woman who married a ranch hand and they lived in a similar place called Adam’s Ranch near San Antonio during the 1870s.  In her words:

On the Adams ranch, in the early days, we used to have to pack water up the bank. You might not believe it, but one of these sixty-pound lard cans full of water, I’ve a-carried it on my head many a time. We had steps cut into the bank, and it was a good ways down to the water, and I’d pack that can up to the first level and go back and get a couple of buckets of water, and I’d pack that can up to the first level and go back and get a couple of buckets of water, and carry a bucket in each hand and the can on my head up the next little slantin’ hill before I got to level ground. I carried water that way till my chillen got big enough to carry water, then they took it up. When I was carryin’ water in them big cans my head would sound like new leather - you know how it squeaks, and that was the way it sounded in my head. But, it never did hurt me. You see, the Mexkins carry loads on their heads, but they fix a rag around their heads some way to help balance it. But I never did. I jes’ set it up on my head and carried it that way. Oh, we used to carry water! My goodness! My mother said it was the Indian in me - the way I could carry water. 

When we were first married and moved to the Adams ranch, we used to come here to Uvalde to dances. They had square dances then. They hadn’t commenced all these frolicky dances they have now. They would have a supper, but they had it to sell. Every fellow would have to treat his girl he danced with...

Another thing, we used to have big round-ups, and I have cooked great pans of steak and mountain orshters. Generally, at the brandin’ and markin’, I cooked up many a big pan of mountain orshters. I wish I had a nickel for ever’ one I cooked, and ate too! People from up North have come down there, and when they were brandin’ and cuttin’ calves there, they sure did eat and enjoy that dinner. 

The men used to go up to the lake, fishin’, and catch big trout, or bass, they call ‘em now; and we’d take big buckets of butter - we didn’t take a saucer of butter or a pound; we taken butter up there in buckets, for we sure had plenty of it - and we’d take lard, too, and cook our fish up there, and had corn bread or hoe cakes and plenty of butter for ever’thing, and it sure was good. I tell you - like my husband used to say - we was livin’ ten days in the week, then.

When we killed hogs, the meat from last winter was hung outside and then new meat, salted down and then smoked, we put in there, and we would cool the old bacon for the dogs. We always kep some good dogs there, and anybody’ll tell you they was always fat. We had lots of wild turkeys and I raised turkeys, too, till I got sick of cookin’ turkeys. Don’t talk about deer! You know, it wasn’t then like it is now. You could go kill venison any time you wanted to. But I don’t blame ‘em for passin’ that law for people used to go kill ‘em and jes’ take out the hams and tenderloin and leave the other layin’ there. I have saved many a sack of dried meat to keep it from spoilin’.  We would raise watermelons, too. We had a big field three mile from the house and a ninetu-acre field right by the house. We used to go get loads of melons for the hogs and they got to where they didn’t eat anything but the heart. 

I used to leave my babies at the house with the older girl and go out horseback with my husband. My oldest girl used to take the place of a cowboy and put her hair up in her hat. And ride! My goodness, she loved to ride! They thought she was a boy. She wore pants and leggin’s. And maybe you think she couldn’t ride!

After we left the ranch, we took up some state land...After my husband got sick, we had to let it go back...My husband has been dead about nineteen years. 

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Xe tải cabin kép là gì? Các loại xe tải Cabin kép hiện nay

Xe tải cabin kép là gì? Các loại xe tải Cabin kép hiện nay https://hyundai-mpc.vn/xe-tai-cabin-kep-la-gi

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You by Caroline Kepnes. Book & Lifetime Series Review.

You by Caroline Kepnes. Book & Lifetime Series Review.

“Every day I close up without finding anyone like you. Look at you, born into my world today“. Excerpt from the novel “You” by Caroline Kepnes.

    Hey You, ever wonder what’s inside the mind of stalker? oh well, let’s just say, a very romantic stalker that doesn’t really seem to realize that he’s actually a stalker or he doesn’t want to admit that he’s one. This book by Caroline Kepnes called “

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Penyemprotan Cairan Disinfektan Massal, Polres Lutra Kerahkan Kendaraan Taktis

Lutra, Saorakyat.com–Hari ini, Selasa (31/3/20) dari batas Luwu hingga batas Luwu Timur, Polres Luwu Utara (Lutra) melakukan penyemprotan cairan disinfektan secara massal dengan kendaraan taktis, baik Water Canon maupun double cabin.

Kapolres Luwu Utara, AKBP Agung Danargito mengatakan, kegiatan ini menindaklanjuti Maklumat Kapolri dan Telegram Kapolri bernomor ST/868/III/KEP./2020 tentang…

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Self-Care and Boundaries for People in Relationships

The Self Improvement Blog | Self Esteem | Self Confidence

It’s the dream: you find that one person you can truly love who loves you in return. You merge your lives and have an eye on the big happily ever after. One of the most important aspects of achieving this is maintaining a healthy relationship where each partner is supported, and their needs met. Experts have been looking for the formula of a successful relationship for as long as people have fallen in love. When you’re in love, how do you keep from getting lost in someone else or sacrificing your well-being for your partner’s? Sometimes we need to set boundaries to make things work smoothly.

Set and Respect Boundaries

It might seem like walls between you and your partner would lead to distance and a barrier to a happy, cohesive life. Boundaries can be the very opposite, though; they can set up guidelines to help partners care for each other and keep each other safe and comfortable. Boundaries are essential in reducing conflict and ensuring that both partners create space to have their values respected and adhered to. No matter how in love a couple is, if one partner values a clean kitchen and the other doesn’t see a big deal in letting dirty dishes sit around for a few days, there’s going to be friction.

An effective boundary can be very simple or emotionally loaded. The important thing is to know yourself and what you require to feel safe, secure and loved. For example, a simple boundary might involve housework. A more emotionally charged boundary can have something to do with previous trauma. While the former involves picking up wet towels, the latter might include being aware of psychological triggers and how to keep them out of the relationship.

The key to a good boundary is in compromise. Anywhere in a relationship that values clash, compromise is the thing that makes it all work. In the dishes scenario, it might not be manageable to instruct both partners to clean all dishes immediately. It might be better to give the messier partner a roomy timetable — all dishes done by bedtime. The important thing is to have that boundary in a place that’s comfortable for both parties.

Prioritize Self-Care

Sometimes being in a relationship is like being on an airplane when cabin pressure is failing. You have to put on your oxygen mask before you can help anyone else. In a healthy relationship, your health and well-being are absolutely vital.

Keep an eye on your stress. External stress, like work, can affect your home life and the way you communicate with your significant other. If you have stressors in your life, make sure you’re dedicating the time and effort required to manage your stress levels — relax and unwind.

Managing your stress includes managing your body as well. It’s easy to forget to eat properly or to get a full night’s sleep. This is especially important if you regularly share a bed with your partner, and they have poor sleeping habits like snoring, hogging the blankets or falling asleep with the TV on. Make sure you talk through and address your partner’s habits so you can both get a good night of rest.

Kep an Eye Out for Warning Signs

Sometimes you can try to do all the right things, and everything goes poorly. Not every relationship is the happily ever after you hope it will be. If things seem odd, or you feel uneasy, look out for the warning signs that something is wrong on a fundamental level. Are you able to talk about the tough stuff without shouting? Do you feel frequently criticized or put down? Are you constantly in the position of rescuing your partner’s poor self-esteem?

While it’s important to try to work through issues, some issues might be unresolvable. It’s important to know when a problem is unfixable, and when it might be better to free the two of you from a dysfunctional relationship. If your partner displays signs of narcissism, it’s better to separate before you suffer from lasting psychological damage, like narcissism victim syndrome. If your values conflict with each other’s to an unresolvable level, you might want to find someone whose lifestyle is more cooperative with your own.  A partner who habitually cheats or shows signs of sexual addiction can put your emotional well-being at risk as well as your health. It can be difficult to walk away from someone you love, but a relationship that puts your well-being at risk is not healthy, or worth staying in.

Respect, patience, boundaries, and compromise can keep a healthy relationship afloat. It can keep two people in love, help you grow in emotional well-being and develop a beautiful life together.

About the Author

Avery T. Phillips is a freelance human being with too much to say. She loves nature and examining human interactions with the world. Comment or tweet her @a_taylorian with any questions or suggestions.

Self-Care and Boundaries for People in Relationships published first on https://bitspiritspace.tumblr.com/

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A Seafood Banquet Off Kep.

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