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blissfullylostinarabbithole · 4 years

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Duckling Pt. 7

Pairing: AU!Teen Wolf x Reader x AU!Avengers, Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Peter learns why he should never, ever approach the owner of the yellow Skylark.

A/N: This one’s a short, little filler, but not to worry! The next part will probably be up by the time you finish this one!

A/N 2: Plot requester didn’t remember the name of the film this is based on, so if you recognize it, let me know!

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Nat hadn’t spoken to Brock since that game. He’d gone over to the house, actually walking up to the door, and asked to see her on a few occasions. She turned him away every time. She knew she was a hypocrite for getting as angry as she did, knowing she wouldn’t have cared had he attacked any other player on the team. It didn’t matter, though. She was actually pleased she was rid of him, much to her own surprise. More than anything, she was relieved that no one saw anything at the game. Still, she didn’t relax; she couldn’t. Not only would there be other games, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before someone ran into you. It was a small town, after all, at least compared to New York. All she could hope for was that no one recognized you when they did.

The only bad thing about breaking up with Brock was that now she was back at square one; no boyfriend, no friends, and nothing to do. She considered pursuing something with Clint, but it seemed to her that every time they spoke, it was because she initiated it.

Word spreads fast in school, so she knew everyone knew she had left her old group of friends behind, yet no one stepped up to try to befriend her. She thought for sure Clint would, but he didn’t. At first she thought maybe it was because he was Brock’s teammate, and it would complicate things or cause problems amongst the team, but it looked like Brock was getting the same treatment. It shocked her, as she didn’t think his usual crowd could ever do anything but worship the ground he walked on. She didn’t care, though. Brock was no longer her concern.

For the first time in a long time, Nat didn’t want distractions. She wanted something real. It hit her when she saw not only the concern of your teammates, but the concern of some of the academy’s players, too. She saw how T’Challa had commanded his players to back off when Derek beat Brock, and when Clint actually spoke to you, making sure you were ok. It made her realize just how lonely she really was.

She didn’t understand it until she saw Derek, though. He was even angrier than she was when Brock tackled you, and Clint’s words came flooding back to her.

When you see them together, you’ll know.

The relief on his face when he realized you weren’t hurt morphed into pure adoration. As he looked you over, needing to be sure you were alright, her own heart broke at having never seen that look on Brock’s, or anyone’s, face. Whatever Derek was, whatever he did or whatever facade he put up, it’s not who he was when he was with you. Meanwhile, she never dropped hers in front of anyone. No one had ever made her feel the way you seemed to make each other feel.

Now she’d seen you together, and she knew.

She never stood a chance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

As much as Peter missed his friends and his old hangouts, he was starting to love his new home. He had a smart, beautiful girlfriend, an awesome car, and little to no city traffic to prevent him from enjoying it when the time came.

He was in the driveway again, listening to the radio in his ‘new’ Chevelle. It was about the only thing that worked in the old car, but that was the way he wanted it. Sometimes the twins would join him, making engine sounds and pretending they were on a trip. Other times, he’d end his dates with Shuri there, talking until it was time for her to go home.

The sun had just set, and the light was quickly diminishing. Her brother was due to pick her up any minute, so they sat in the car, relishing the last few moments they had together. They were speaking animatedly about their plans for spring break, which Steve had surprised them with a trip to the southern part of the state, and invited Shuri to come along. She had squealed that she’d always wanted to go to Disneyland.

A yellow car sped by, and Shuri pursed her lips at the gleam in Peter’s eye as he watched it shrink in the distance. He turned back to her, and his smile faltered at the worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the Skylark?”

She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

“Oh, well, what is it?” He could hear her mind working, trying to decide if she should say what she was thinking. “Do you know who owns it?”

“No, not really. I know her name’s Y/N Lang, and she calls it Honeybee.”

“Aww,” Peter gushed. “That’s cute. You think she’ll let me take a picture of it? My friend Ned back home would-”

“No!” Shuri interrupted, clutching tightly on his arm. “You mustn't speak to her!”

“W-why not?”

Shuri sighed, deciding it would be better to tell him what she knew, rather than risk Peter putting himself in danger. “Because of Derek Hale.”

Peter knew that name, he’d even seen the guy around town once or twice. Most people seemed to be afraid of him, from what he could tell. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He’s her boyfriend,” she leaned in, whispering as if it was some big secret. “Things don’t go well for people who cross their path. I’d say ‘Just ask Matt Daehler’, but...”

Peter’s brows knit in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“A boy who was found drowned in a creek last year. A shallow creek. My cousin said it happened just days after he spoke to her. Derek was the prime suspect.”

Peter visibly paled, swallowing hard at the information she’d given him. “But, there wasn’t any evidence, was there? Since he’s free right now. Why did they think it was him?”

“Look, we don’t even know Derek. My cousin thinks all the rumors are true, but my brother’s not so sure.” She hesitated again, but she quickly relaxed, resigning herself to just getting it all out there. He’d hear everything eventually, it might as well be now. “His family died in a fire a few years ago. Only three people survived: him, one of his sisters, and an uncle who said it was a miracle he was able to get out. Then, two years ago, his sister was killed. Had their uncle been trapped in the house, the only surviving member would be Derek.”

“Wait, so people think he killed his own family?”

“That’s the rumor,” she said. “It’s not just family, but girlfriends, too! Before his sister, his girlfriend was found in the woods. Then it was an ex last year. Throat ripped right open. Then when Matt died, and people started saying he was seen talking to Derek’s current girlfriend…”

“They assumed he did it.”

A loud knock on Shuri’s window startled them, making them both scream. They could hear T’Challa laughing, and they climbed out of the car just as Bucky ran out the front door, clutching a large hunting knife in his hand.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

There weren’t many times you were seriously angry at your sister, but this was one of them. You’d all been ready to go, and were only waiting on your dad to double check the back door was locked before leaving, when Cassie spilled juice all over herself.

Now your dad had to get Cassie cleaned up and changed. You’d offered to do it, but he already had her halfway up the stairs and told you to sit tight. You swallowed thickly, turning back toward the living room.

Hope smiled at you, but you could see it didn’t reach her eyes. You offered your own strained one in return before taking a seat on the couch across from her.

“So,” she began awkwardly, “will Derek be joining us tonight?”

“Oh, um, no. He has… other things to take care of.”

She nodded in understanding, only letting silence linger for a moment. “Everything’s going well at the garage?”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s good.”

“That’s good. And you? Are you happy at Argent’s?”

“Can’t complain.” You hadn’t noticed when your knee began to bounce, so you pulled your legs up and sat cross legged instead.

“I hear your team made the semi-finals. Excited?”

The minutes dragged, and though you resolved to try to make things less awkward with Hope, it didn’t seem like it was any different than before. You suffered through small talk, silently begging your dad to hurry up and get down there already.

It felt like hours had passed by the time they descended the stairs, finally ready to begin your ‘family’ outing. They were a regular occurrence, but it was the first one Hope attended.

It wasn’t too bad, once it was the four of you again. You pretty much just focused on Cassie, keeping interactions with your dad and Hope to a minimum. It was easy enough to do, and easy enough to not let negative thoughts creep to the forefront of your mind. At least, it was until you fell a bit behind, and noticed how sweet the three of them looked together.

They held Cassie up, swinging her between them as she laughed. You tried to be grateful that Hope seemed to genuinely care about them, but you couldn’t help the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach that made you question if there was room in that picture for you.

Your father’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts. As you picked up the pace to catch up, you realized it didn’t matter whether or not you fit in. You only had a little more than two years of school left. After that, you’d be off to college, or moving in with Derek, and you wouldn’t have to feel like the odd one out anymore.

Permanent - @melconnor2007 @ria132love @psychicwitchphilosopher @sireennotsiren @silence–in–the–library @thefridgeismybestie @hymnofthevalkyrie @abbybills22 @mvasquez492 @ek823 @nicky10876 @sophiealiice @madeof-ink @dugan365 @magnitude101999 @way-ward-whale @i-am-the-fandom-warrior @seabasstiantrash @eden-the-human-garden

Duckling - @lgkoval@charmed-1998 @broco8 @sailor-earth-1 @sincerely-kizzy

If I missed you, let me know!

#marvel #Avengers #teen wolf #derek hale x reader #reader #reader insert #Duckling

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lilith-lovett · 4 years

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Extra Scene from Chapter Twenty - Home is Where the Hart is - Found Families

Here is the extra scene I was talking about in the last chapter. It is our first Roman POV. I’m sorry it took so long but I promise their will be more Roman chapters in the future. So, here is a Roman x Elliott scene. I was thinking what their ship name would be. Ellan? Romlett? If you have any idea please let me know. Thank you, I hope you enjoy this extra scene.

Masterlist

Summary: Roman’s birthday comes to an end

Word Count: 871

Warnings: Past child abuse, vomit mention. This is pretty cute one for once. (If their is anything I have missed please let me know)

“Did you enjoy your birthday?” Elliott asked, at the cusp of midnight, mere moments until his birthday would officially end. They lay side by side, in Roman’s bed, his duvet cover pulled up over their shoulders. Sleepovers were a near weekly occurrence in Roman and Elliott’s friendship, ever since they were young and it was completely compulsory on birthdays.

“It was the best birthday I have ever had,” Roman answered turning onto his side to face Elliott, feeling his face heat up due to their closeness.

“You say that every year,” Elliott said with a giggle.

“And every year it is true,” Roman responded. And it was. He knew his dad strove to make his birthdays better and better, year after year and every year he succeeded.

“I’m sure,” Elliott said before yawing and resting his head against the pillows which decorated the head of Roman’s bed. It was approaching the time, one of them - usually Elliott - would fall asleep. They had tried and failed on numerous occasions to stay up all night, through various means such as; eating an insane amount of sugary snacks throughout the night which only resulted in them both puking their guts up before passing out which gave Mr Sanders quite the fright the following morning and blasting show tunes as loud as his speakers would allow until Virgil stole his speaker and refused to give it back unless Roman promised to never play his music again passed 11 pm. “So Logan seems cool,”.

“He is a complete nerd to be honest but he is alright,” Roman responded. He hadn’t truly adjusted to having Logan around the house but it certainly wasn’t as bad as when Patton adopted Virgil and Dee. Logan seemed different. Roman knew Logan had gone through a lot - just like Virgil and Dee - especially recently and while they hadn’t had the best introduction, Roman didn’t dislike him as much as he though he would. Now knowing what that evil, villain of a woman did to him. But in the couple of weeks Logan had been officially apart of their family he had been quiet - though Roman had expected that -, he was clueless about almost everything; Disney, musicals, shows and Roman had so much to teach him. He recalled their conversation yesterday. Roman had been surprised Patton chose Logan to attempt to distract him while he prepared the party but Roman had to admit Logan tried and he found he actually enjoyed talking to him. Telling him all about his favourite musicals and the shows he had been to and he actually listened unlike Virgil who had told him on numerous occasions how he couldn’t care less yet Logan seemed interested in what he had to say. “Yeah, he is alright,”.

“You are nerd too,” Elliott said sleepily, chuckling at Roman’s mock look of shock.

“If I am a nerd then what are you?” Roman quipped, poking Elliott in the check producing a fit of giggles from him.

“Oh, I’m definitely a nerd,” Elliott proclaimed with a sense of pride. Roman always had a problem with being referred to as a ‘nerd’ but Elliott seemed to embrace it. He always had. Never shying away for his traditionally nerdy hobbies and interests instead fully accepting them as apart of his personality, never allowing anyone to criticise him for it. Elliott had unwavering confidence and it was one of the many reasons Roman admired him so much.

As Elliott drifted in and out of conciousness, Roman simply watched as his expression relaxed and his droopy fringe fell into his eyes. Once Roman assured Elliott had fallen asleep he tentatively reached out a trembling hand, pushing aside his fringe, tucking it behind his ear before quickly retracting it, drawing them both into his chest. His heartbeat rapidly pounding underneath his fingertips with the simple contact. He quickly averted his gaze from Elliott’s sleeping expression as his face grew hot. Virgil often teased Roman for having ‘more than friendly’ feelings for Elliott and he always denied it. Of course he did because it was true. Elliott was his best friend and a boy. Roman couldn’t have a crush on him. Right?

Elliott was incredible. He always had been. Ever since they met in first grade, shortly after Roman was adopted by Patton, and immediately proclaimed their friendship. They would do everything together. Perform together. Do class projects together. They shared a majority of the same interest also, so were rarely ever apart and Roman wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Goodnight Ellie,” Roman whispered, careful not to disturb Elliott as he softly snored - which he strongly refused he did - and inched closer to Elliott’s sleeping form before allowing himself to slip into unconsciousness with a small smile on his face.

Thankful to have his best friend by his side.

Taglist: @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @skylark-cain @amber1594 @darkrainbow333 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @gr3ml1n-loser @callboxkat @tacochippy @love-angel-03 @comicsimpson @harrypotternerdprincess @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8 @coloursintheblur @read-write-inspire-repeat @clinicalawesomeness @janus-sanders-deserves-better @scared-ghosthunter @silverstarlinedart @winterrose42 @dumbgayemo @imthatgrace2 @glitchybina @quietwords-loudthoughts @altruistic-skittles @thecrimsonstoryteller

If you would like to be added to the taglist or have a question for me about the series please do not hesitate to ask.

#sander sides #sander sides au #Adoption AU #roman sanders #elliott cartoon therapy #patton sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #symapthetic deceit #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #character thomas #home is where the hart is #found families #My writing #My fic

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pvrestwolff · 6 years

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—- are you ready for another bad poem? one more off key anthem? let your teeth sink in; remember me as i was, not as i am.

trident’s task 003; playlists.

playlist 01. // about ekaterina.

01. girl // the beatles ---- she's the kind of girl who puts you down when friends are there, you feel a fool. when you say she's looking good, she acts as if it's understood; she's cool.

02. everybody wants to rule the world // tears for fears ---- help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever; everybody wants to rule the world.

03. what’s wrong // pvris ---- oh, it's all getting old; no, i didn't want this throne. only fools make feasts of gold, they rot the fruit on tables.

04. all that’s known // spring awakening cast ---- on i go, to wonder and to learning; name the stars and know their dark returning. i'm calling to know the world's true yearning; the hunger that a child feels for everything they're shown.

05. the schuyler sisters // hamilton cast ---- i’ve been reading common sense by thomas paine, so men say that i’m intense or i’m insane. you want a revolution? i want a revelation, so listen to my declaration: “we hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.”. and when i meet thomas jefferson-- i’m ‘a compel him to include women in the sequel!

06. rhiannon // fleetwood mac ---- she is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness. she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless; all your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind. would you stay if she promised you heaven? will you ever win?

07. ship to wreck // florence + the machine ---- ah, my love remind me, what was it that i said? i can't help but pull the earth around me to make my bed. and, ah, my love remind me, what was it that i did? did i drink too much? am i losing touch? did i build a ship to wreck?

08. elastic heart // sia ---- i wanted it, i wanted it bad, but there were so many red flags. now another one bites the dust; yeah, let's be clear, i'll trust no one.

09. devil in me // halsey ---- you said i'm too much to handle; you said i shine too bright, i burnt the candle; flew too high. i won't take anyone down if i crawl tonight, but i still let everyone down when i change in size. and i went tumbling down tryna reach your high, but i scream too loud if i speak my mind.

10. are you satisfied? // marina ---- high achiever, don't you see? baby, nothing comes for free. they say i'm a control freak, driven by a greed to succeed. nobody can stop me-- 'cause it's my problem if i wanna pack up and run away, it's my business if i feel the need to smoke and drink and swear; it's my problem, it's my problem if i feel the need to hide, and it's my problem if i have no friends and feel i want to die.

11. disco tits // tove lo ---- you think i'm drunk now, but i am not-- you're so pretty, come roll with me. i'm 'bout to get down, i'm high as fuck; i'm no chemist, but it's good shit.

12. greedy // ariana grande ---- i don't need a phone call, got nothing to say. i'm ‘a tell you when it's over, got no games to play. you know that i'm coming tonight, i know i'm coming tonight; i just need to get this out the way.

13. wreak havoc // skylar grey ---- i don’t give a fuck when i walk into battle and that’s why i got all the power; i’m where you wanna be, ain’t no one ahead of me; all of my enemies made a decision it's better to follow me. i make no apologies; all of my sins i would repeat and i repeat, cause i'm ‘a be me 'til the death of me.

14. the weight of living part i // bastille ---- there's an albatross around your neck; all the things you've said and the things you've done. can you carry it with no regrets? can you stand the person you've become?

15. die wild // dia frampton ---- if there is no heaven, fuck it, you can sleep with me tonight. we can all just be tragic or lucky beneath the faded stars. i don't wanna get better, i wanna burn like the fourth of july; a little bit of god to fill me up, a little bit of spit in my eye.

playlist 02. // ekaterina’s favourites.

01. just a girl // no doubt ---- oh, i'm just a girl, guess i'm some kind of freak, 'cause they all sit and stare with their eyes. oh, i'm just a girl, take a good look at me: just your typical prototype; oh, i've had it up to here!

02. dreams // gabrielle aplin, bastille ---- now here i go again, i see the crystal vision; i keep my visions to myself. it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams-- have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

03. let go // frou frou ---- drink up baby doll, mm, are you in or out? leave your things behind, ‘cause it's all going off without you.

04. dream a little dream of me // the mamas and the papas ---- stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper "i love you."; birds singin' in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me.

05. you don’t own me // grace, g-eazy ---- you don't own me, don't try to change me in any way. you don't own me, don't tie me down 'cause i'd never stay.

06. celebrity skin // hole ---- when i wake up in my makeup, have you ever felt so used up as this? it's all so sugarless; hooker, waitress, model, actress-- oh, just go nameless.

07. i put a spell on you // annie lennox ---- you know i love you; i love you, i love you, i love you anyhow-- and i don't care if you don't want me, i'm yours right now.

08. the sweet escape // gwen stefani ---- you melt me down, i'm at my lowest boiling point, come help me out, i need to get me out of this joint; come on, let's bounce, counting on you to turn me around; instead of clowning around, let's look for some common ground.

09. hard out here // lily allen ---- sometimes it's hard to find the words to say-- i'll go ahead and say them anyway: forget your balls and grow a pair of tits.

10. body say // demi lovato ---- if i had it my way, i would take the lead. and if i had it my way, i would take you deep. if my body had a say, i'd get it off my chest-- show you all the red lace underneath this dress

11. twist of fate // olivia newton-john ---- a higher voice has called the tune, two hearts that lost the beat will now resume; the gift of life extension by divine intervention; it's gotta be a strange twist of fate, telling me that heaven can wait-- telling me to get it right this time. life doesn't mean a thing, without the love you bring; love is what we've found, the second time around.

12. god is a woman // ariana grande ---- i can be all the things you told me not to be; when you try to come for me, i keep on flourishing; and he see the universe when i'm the company-- it's all in me.

13. never enough // loren allred ---- all the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky will never be enough; never be enough. towers of gold are still too little, these hands could hold the world but it'll never be enough.

14. how ‘bout a dance // bonnie and clyde cast ---- let's make a start, music like this can really throw ya. you'll lose the blues and you may lose your heart.

15. la vie en rose // édith piaf ---- il est entré dans mon coeur; une part de bonheur dont je connais la cause. (he has entered into my heart; a bit of happiness that i know the cause of.)

#task003 #//** this is like a fraction of what ekaterina's playlist is but here's thirty songs for her recent thirtieth birthday #♛ [ ** 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ⁎⁎ ] PRINCESS EKATERINA #trident;task #☾ [ ** 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘵𝘺 ⁎⁎ ] TASKS #♛ [ ** 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦 ⁎⁎ ] MUSIC

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seijuurouxryuu · 6 years

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We Are Not Meant To Be (But We Are)

Title: We're Not Meant To Be (But We Are) Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Reborn/ Hibari Kyouya, Yamamoto Takeshi/ Sawada Tsunayoshi, (one-sided)Hibari Kyouya/ Yamamoto Takeshi, (one-sided) Reborn/ Sawada Tsunayoshi Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompt: Bodyguard/ Hitman AU | Kidnapping Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warning, Graphic Deciptions of Violence, mentioned of drugs

Day 6: Cloud Day

Hibari glared at him. "Quit it." He tried to turn around again but Reborn held him back. "Wait."

"What do you want?"

Reborn looked at him and sighed. "I know that you like Yamamoto."

AO3

Watching Yamamoto chattering and smiling brightly at Sawada annoyed Hibari a lot. Every day, he would hear the Rain laugh at whatever Sawada said, joking with him, holding him. Whenever he managed to see them together, he could see the affection from them, the sickening tenderness in their eyes for each other.

Hibari hated it.

His mouth would run dry, rage bubbling in him followed by cold shiver down his spine. He would unconsciously clench his jaw, curled his hands into fist, wanting nothing but to bite someone to death.

And yet, when he saw them so happy, he couldn't do anything. When he saw them together, contented, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't find any will to even try and break them up.

They deserve each other, fitted like puzzle pieces, complimenting each other in every step, every movement. They were meant to be.

And Hibari knew that.

So he turned around, looking away each time and leave. He left every time, but the cold loneliness in his heart did not. Never did, and perhaps never will.

"Yo, Hibari." He looked back from his perch on the window stilt, gazing far away, watching the foreign land that was never his home, to see Reborn by the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed. The hitman was holding a folder, which he suspected it to be his next mission.

He grunted at him and turned, facing the hitman fully. The now physically adult hitman seemed to be amused at that and sauntered into the skylark's room, handing him the folder. "Hunt. Yes?"

Hibari's eyes flitted over the words before he closed the folder. He stood up and headed out. "Let's go." Reborn rolled his eyes at that before following, easily falling into steps beside the younger man.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. None were their as they go on rampage, never holding back. Horrified scream rang out in the air as they slaughtered through the crowd, fire burning in the background. Multiple gunshots resonated in the air along with the screams, the smell of iron in the air increases.

The herbivores ran, and they both let them, concentrating on those who were still up and fighting- futilely- against them. They would let them run, let them have the small moment of hope, but they were not done with them. Hibari whirled around, his chain from his tonfa circling around him and took out some, clipped some. He brought his tonfa down and crushed the head of one man whose name and face he didn't bother knowing with one blow.

The blood splattered on his face didn't bother him, neither did it stop his killing frenzy. If anything, the feel, colour and smell of blood increased his thirst for more.

He ducked down low and did a 360, catching the one who tried to punch him with his thigh and pulled himself up as the man tried to claw him off. He smirked, lips pulled back to show his teeth and twisted the man's head off, pulling it out from the neck. He jumped away and landed gracefully on the red floor, flooded with blood. He threw the head up and down, ignoring how the flesh seemed to splatter all around.

He wondered if a certain Rain were to throw this head at someone, would it punch through, or would the head shatter first.

He scowled and threw away the head at that, annoyance bubbling in him. He flicked his tonfa and the chain swung, cutting down someone with the speed it was going before the chain shortened.

Reborn, a few feet away from him, roundhouse-kicked someone, throwing them back before he pulled another trigger at someone else. He could see through the corner of his eyes that Hibari was overpowering the crowd that decided to team up against him, could feel the shift in emotions in the man. He clicked off the empty magazine of his gun and swiftly snapped in a new one, kneecapping someone on their left leg. The pitiful man screamed, clutching onto his leg. Reborn had to give him his credit when he noticed that there was no way he could win against the two of them.

That no one can win against the Strongest Hitman in the World and Vongola's Strongest Guardian.

"P-please! M-my wife and kids! I-if you kill me, w-what would they do?!"

But still, stupid.

"That's overused." Reborn hummed, sauntering closer. He leaned on one leg, smirked as his dark eyes glinted. "Tell me something more interesting, and maybe I'll let you go, hm?" The man stuttered an affirmative hastily. "Great!" Reborn chirped cheerily. He tapped his chin as though he was contemplating. "Hmm, let see. Ah! Right!" He leaned down, looming.

"What's the drug that your boss decided to develop?"

The man hesitated for a moment. Reborn tutted and aimed at his right leg. "W-w-wait! I-I don't know!" He pulled the trigger as the man screamed, dropping onto the ground.

"P-p-please! I really don't know!" He shot at his torso, deliberately avoiding the lungs and heart. "Next will be your head if you don't tell the truth~" He sing-sang, shifting his aim to the head.

"E-Ecstasy!" The man blurted out. "I-it's a sort of ecstasy and aphrodisiac! I- I heard that whoever that takes it experience a sort of black out during the whole time yet still feel a high that felt like a dream! That's all I know! Honest!"

Reborn hummed. The man doesn't seemed to be lying. "T-there's information on the drug i-in the research room!"

"Oh?"

"Y-yeah! T-the research room is linked to boss's room." Reborn paused, reading the man, taking him off piece by piece in his head. The man was sweating profusely, but he wasn't lying. He had just spilled the Famiglia secret without any remorse. He smiled. "What's your name?"

"E-eh? Uhm- Giuseppe."

His smile stretched an inch. "Well, thank you for your information, Giuseppe. With this, I'll grant you the fastest way to die!"

"W-w-wait! You said you'd let me go if I tell you something!"

Reborn nodded. "Yep, I did. And you did told me something interesting. But," He drawled. "You just broke the Omerta. You would ended up being killed anyway. I'll do it for you instead. Consider this an honor."

He smirked and pulled the trigger with one last parting words, ignoring the loud protests. "Le mie condoglianze."

The bullet went through the head as it lolled back, lifeless. Reborn hummed and turned away, flicking the blood of his hand and gun. His eyes scanned the blood tainted room, fire burning down the curtains and some of the furniture. The fire was the least of Reborn's concern as his eyes locked on Hibari's bloodied figure.

He had already dealt with the rest of the enemies- no- victims, stomping on one's head until it reduced to nothing but bits and pieces of flesh and gore that clung onto his shoes. Instead of the pure glee of bloodlust he had earlier, it had shifted into thick annoyance and irritation, killing intent increased ten fold.

Reborn watched, let the younger man take everything out on the already dead body. He knew why he was like that after all. Recently, Hibari had been distant, far more distant that he usually was. Whenever he spotted Tsuna and Yamamoto together, he had this look on his face before he avoids them quietly. Whenever Reborn saw him looking at the couple, he would see the tension in the shoulders, the curl of his fist, the anger burning in those sliver eyes.

He knew what were those.

It was the sign of jealousy.

Hibari did a really good job at hiding them, but Reborn could tell.

Because he himself had that look whenever he saw how happy Tsuna was with the Rain before his attention was diverted.

He tilted his head slightly, face blank before he called out. "Oi, Hibari!" The skylark jerked once before stopping. He whirled around and locked eyes with the hitman, sliver-blue orbs burning in jealousy, in envy, in bitterness and in loneliness.

Reborn licked his lips at that.

He pointed up the stairs. "Let's go catch those people and grab the information."

Something flitted in Hibari's eyes before he moved. He wordlessly walked up to Reborn and they both climbed the stairs.

It was a one-sided slaughter fest. In an hour time, Reborn and Hibari had killed every single human being in the building, combing through until there was no one left but them. It was a bit fun, if Reborn had to say. To see and feel how feral and uncontrolled Hibari was. To share the excitement and adrenaline with Hibari. Reborn hadn't feel that thrill for a long time.

He loves it.

He doesn't forget though, that he still had to retrieve the information on the drugs. It was one of their main task other than, well, killing everyone. The information was needed to counter the drugs that had been sold and spread all over the country.

He stepped over the bodies and headed into the boss's room, followed closely by Hibari. Fiddling around and opening the secret door to the research room, they swiftly gathered the information and headed out. But before they stepped out of the building, Reborn pulled Hibari back and stole a kiss from him.

He managed to tangle his tongue with the other's once before he had to broke it off, licking off the blood from his lips where Hibari had bitten him.

"What do you think you are doing?" Hibari snarled.

"Kissing you." Reborn said nonchalantly.

Hibari glared at him. "Quit it." He tried to turn around again but Reborn held him back. "Wait."

"What do you want?"

Reborn looked at him and sighed. "I know that you like Yamamoto." Hibari swatted his hand away, eyes flashing. "Listen. I know you like him, but you and I both know that he isn't going to leave Tsuna. So give up.

"Give up, and let me hold you." Let me love you.

"... I thought you liked the small animal."

Reborn nodded, a wry smile on his face. "Well, as you had said, liked. He.. He and I are not meant to be. Not suitable." He shook his head. "But he doesn't matter. I still to like him, but not like that any longer. Not when you caught my eyes."

Hibari stared. "I'm willing to wait for you." Reborn continued. "I'm willing to wait until you'll take my hand, until you forget about Yamamoto."

"You know that that's impossible."

"It is not impossible."

Reborn took a step forward and grabbed Hibari's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'll wait." For you are worth it.

For we're meant to be.

"For Primo's sake- must you guys kill all of them?!" Reborn took a sip at his espresso, twiddling his sideburn as he watched Tsuna groaning. "I should have known- I shouldn't have send the both of you together. What was I thinking- ouch!" The brunette pouted as he rubbed his forehead where Reborn had flicked.

"What was that for?"

"For ranting." Reborn poked the sore spot and rubbed harshly. "You of all people should know that they would ended up dead in the end when we send the evidences to Vindice. Might as well do it ourselves. It's more fun this way."

Tsuna huffed as Reborn grinned. "Not to mention, you're the one who told us to not hold back."

Tsuna's eyes darken slightly, his lips jutting out. "That's because they killed a few of ours with that stupid drug of theirs.."

Reborn smirked and leaned back. He looked smug, which made Tsuna sulk even more. The brunette sighed in exasperation. "... Well, good job. Thank you, Reborn."

The hitman said nothing and ruffled the soft, brown hair, eyes soft as Tsuna yelped.

"Hey- stop!"

The door slammed open. The two of them looked towards the door to see Hibari storming in. Tsuna blinked. "Oh, Hibari! Welcome back! How's-" Tsuna shrieked when the skylark grabbed the hitman's tie and tugged him down, crashing their lips together.

Reborn's hands immediately grabbed Hibari, a hand behind his head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss while another around his waist to keep him in place.

"W-wha- Do it outside!!" Tsuna yelled and they broke apart.

Hibari hissed while Reborn laughed at the brunette. The skylark huffed and tugged the man out, leaving the room.

Alright.

A/N= Hibari is absolutely the kind to do that-- yep-- uhum. Reborn is the same as well pppffftt--

Le mie condoglianze means my condolences in Italian. It's from google so I don't know if it's any accurate.

There's a stretch of time from the third and last part. They were given two week to deal with everything; they finished it the first week before Reborn and Hibari separated, the skylark having another set of minor mission. Reborn lingered around before heading back to Italy.

[I apologize from any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]

#khrrarepairweek2018 #khrrarepairweek #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #KHR #Reborn #Hibari Kyouya #Reborn/Hibari Kyouya #Sawada Tsunayoshi #8027 #My Writings #Slight Gore?#One-sided R27 and 1880 #Reborn and Hibari goes hunting :D #mentioned of drugs #Yamamoto Takeshi

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clonerightsagenda · 7 years

Text

Most of this popped into my head way earlier this year, but I thought I’d polish it up for this update.

So here’s a double eulogy, I guess, for a character I finally came to love when I had to kill her.

“Dreambubbles can be disorienting at first,” Tavros says to a gathered crowd of ghosts. Stating the obvious is a major part of his orientation speech for new recruits.

You lean against the hull of his flagship just out of view, arms crossed. This latest batch was a team effort, same as the one before. You’re not allowed to go out on solo rescue missions yet, only to serve as bait. Apparently you’re “unreliable”, like you weren’t FLARP champion of your hiveblock with all the achievements to your name. All the important ones, anyway.

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times, first as its victim and now as an observer. You want to jump onto the deck and shove him out of the way so you can set the record straight. “Listen up, losers. We’re not important. We’re not here for a reason, except that we messed up or someone stuck a sword through our backs. We’re dead weight, dead. Get used to it and get moving, unless you want to be dust too.”

That wouldn’t “send the right message”, though, so instead you scowl while Tavros drones on. One day. One day you’ll do it, once you’ve figured out where to go next and are ready to bail. A fitting farewell to this juvenile playacting, to remind them what real go-getters look like.

“There aren’t any obvious boundaries between one place and the next, which you might have noticed,” Tavros goes on. The Boy Skylark can win some achievements for self-evidency, anyway. “And the bubbles themselves tend to, merge together or drift apart. That’s normal. You should just expect that, um, the only thing to expect here is everything changing all the time.” You roll your eyes. Eloquent. “Even you!” he adds. “You’re not bound, to be whoever you were before you came here. Whatever that might be. Even if there are things you feel bad about, or wish you could change. If you take enough steps here, the place you’re in could change into a field, or a mountain, or a lake. There’s no reason, that if you take enough steps, you can’t change into something else too.”

Feel good wiggler crap. You’ve always hated these speeches.

“Why are you working with this freakshow?” Eridan asks.

Tavros assigned you to deal with him while he adjusts. You guess your not-leader figures Eridan will respond to a higher blood better, and he has the sense not to ask Feferi to grubsit. So when someone has to deliver marching orders to your newest recruit and you’re not off roaming the fringes of the Furthest Ring, that’s your job.

“I wanted revenge,” you say, tossing the map with Tavros’s latest coordinates in his direction. He doesn’t catch it. Another Eridan helped plan the fleet placements, putting that military history obsession to work, but you’re not going to tell him if he doesn’t ask. “This was a way to get it.”

“Not charging directly at the big bad and getting your ass kicked?” He scoffs, polishing a smudge only he can see off his rifle. “You have changed.”

“I’m biding my time.” You say it loftily, to suggest plans are already in motion. After all, this was supposed be a temporary arrangement, a way to regain your strength and sense of purpose. Then you’d find a new, bigger plan, a way to take English down once and for all.

It’s been sweeps. You haven’t come up with one yet.

Instead you’ve settled into whatever this existence is, a team member whose role is not being part of the team, bait for a destroyer of worlds. It’s not all bad. Gets the adrenaline pumping, for sure, which is vital in a place that lulls you into quiescence. Even though the Furthest Ring isn’t a natural home for Light players, you’ve gotten good at it. If there’s anything you’ve got a knack for, it’s adapting to places that want to kill you.

You learn how to let memories bubble up from inside you and warp your surroundings into shelter and places to hide. You learn how to leap from bubble to bubble when they’re not quite touching, bracing yourself for the chill of the Furthest Ring and the song of the horrorterrors scraping like frozen blades across your mind. You learn the fickleness of luck (winning a coin toss doesn’t matter if your sister stabs you in the back) and wrap fortune around only the outcomes you’ve thought through. It’s like one of those too-clever storybook genies, twisting your wishes, taking you at your word and leaving you scrambling to set things right. Luck must be handled with care.

English has a lot of luck to steal, at least. Everything works out in his favor in the end – that’s more than luck; it’s certainty. You can’t do much with a probability of 100%, but you can slow him down and leach off bits around the edges, making him a hair too slow and yourself just fast enough. You can dart around the margins of his story, for now.

There are moments where it’s tempting to make your successful outcome exclude you, when oblivion calls with its seductively easy way out. This place drains you. Fighting is hard. But sitting still and remembering is nearly as bad. Everyone’s haunted by their memories. Some are just lucky enough that they can’t see the ghosts.

The first time you try the savior gig, it doesn’t go well.

Tavros finally lets you off your leash, mostly because English is gunning for two different locations at once. The whole Time hero thing is a real pain in the ass sometimes. You navigate to a shadowy place made up of forests and deep gorges. Finding dreamers is difficult in the gloom, but eventually you draw together a crowd by tugging their attention your way, another Light trick you’ve learned.

“Hey everyone,” you say. “I’m going to be your rescuer today.”

An Aradiabot sneers. “You? You think you’re helping us?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” you demand. “Is it illegal on some notice plastered up somewhere I didn’t read?”

“It’d be unprecedented.”

Leave it to her robo-clones to hold a grudge, just because of a little bit of murder. “I’m all you’ve got, I’m afraid. Any takers?”

No one else says anything, but they don’t start moving either. What’s their problem? Can’t they see that this is important?

You coax and bully and cajole (but you don’t use mind control, not with the memory of glowing eyes and grasping hands still fresh) but they’re slow to move and there’s no time. “Fine,” you snap. “Tavros can come get you here. I’m supposed to be the bait anyway. I’ll lead English away. But if you can possibly bear it, it might be a good idea to head in the opposite direction.”

You hear later that about half of them made it out, the other half hit by a strafe of reality-shattering power before English turned to chase you through a land of flashing colors and fireflies. “We rescued ten,” Tavros says. “That’s good.”

“Good?” you repeat. You either win or you lose; there’s no half and half draw. You lost, and you lost because of you. Why didn’t they listen? You recall the disgusted curl of Aradia’s metal lips and are reminded of that brief time in Tavros’s mind, the uncomfortable sensation of looking at yourself from the outside in. No one ever seems to like what they see.

Obviously they’re not looking right. Who knows you better than yourself?

Other Alternian dreamers’ gazes on you feel different after that. The Beforans don’t know you, but you don’t want to run into any Araneas or Meenahs (and definitely not Kurloz) so you keep to yourself. That’s your purpose, after all. Keep English away from anyone important. Keep him focused on you.

There aren’t many humans in the bubbles. Their Time hero was careful (afraid) and kept as linear as he could. Your session was too long, too many ways to get things wrong or the wrong sort of right. Aradia needed an army to keep the Black King in check, and she got one. The many ways your species could fuck it up is splattered in bloody colors all across the Furthest Ring.

You do run into him a few times. He’s almost always living in a memory that doesn’t include you, or he knows Alternians only as messages over Pesterchum. If you step into his hive, his eyes slide right past you.

Once, though, you open a door in a land of dark landmasses and cogwheels rising out of lava that reminds you of Karkat’s, walk right into a human bedroom, and nearly jump out of your skin when he says, “Hey.”

“You know who I am?” you ask.

“I know what you are,” he says. “Don’t think we ever talked.”

“No,” you say. “Not out there or in here. None of your selves want to remember.”

“Can’t blame them.” He rubs his eyes, and you see a sliver of white from behind the shades he insists on wearing as they slide up the bridge of his nose. “My friends. Did they get out ok?”

You haven’t heard from anyone living in sweeps. Is the game over? Would you still be here if it was? “I haven’t seen many of them around,” you say. “I think they might have a chance at winning.”

“That’s good.”

You study him – the human Terezi adopted, who you’d taken quick glances at just to see why she’d waste her time on him. You still don’t get it. Except that he does a bad job of hiding himself, and she loves it when people put themselves out there for her while pretending it’s a challenge. Among the humans, his guardian seemed the best at preparing him like Alternia tried to do, but it didn’t work very well. The cracks are obvious.

Did she think yours were obvious too?

“Well, I must’ve taken a wrong turn,” you say, and turn to go. You get your mind right before you twist the knob of the door you just came through, and it opens this time onto the Land of Little Cubes and Tea.

“Nice trick,” he says.

“You can join up, if you want,” you say over your shoulder. “We’re collecting.”

“Nah.” He retreats to his desk, opening a copy of Pesterchum where every contact is stuck on idle. “I did my part. Leave me to play my shitty video games in peace until the Incredible Hulk ushers me past the great beyond.”

You send a message to Aradia, since she’s the one who ministers to lost souls brooding forever in their personal memory-holes. She’s good at it, too. “How did you turn into such an expert therapist?” you ask her once, while taking a breather atop a floating lily pad. The last narrow escape involved crawling through clinging vines, and the grasping tendrils ruined your braids. You disentangle your uneven attempt at fixing them and start over. “I don’t remember that being in your skillset.”

“I wasn’t an expert, not at first.” She waves her latest convert away and then plucks at one of your clumsy plaits. “Here, let me.” You flinch – when was the last time someone touched you? – and she clicks her tongue. “You’ve got a knot here. I’ll have to tug. Think you’re tough enough?”

“Sure,” you say, and try to relax like this is normal, like the last person who did this sweeps ago didn’t go up in smoke.

“That’s not the first Latula I’ve talked to,” she says as she works. “Or even the tenth. They have different memories, but a lot of the pain underneath is the same. Eventually you learn the right things to say, even if it’s by trial and error. It’s not hard to sound wise then.”

You remember her kneeling down as you lay sprawled on white sands and wishing your second life was over. “You don’t have that practice with me.”

“No. But it wasn’t hard to guess that you’d want to do something, after what had happened. Beyond that, you’re right. I don’t know what you’re afraid of, or your regrets. But I’m not sure you do either. Besides…” She ties off one braid and moves to the next, easing apart the strands and smoothing them out. “A lot of the dreamers are here because of me. It’s not my fault, entirely, but I still made them. Shouldn’t I make sure they’re happy, as much as they can be?”

Causality tangles you up sometimes, like the twisted corpses of your lusus’s victims dangling like sad party favors from her webs. How much can you say is yours, in a multiverse where so much is foretold? You contacted the humans because of their Jack. Their Jack was able to enter your session because of you. Which comes first? Whose fault is it? Does it matter?

“Do you think I did bad things?” you ask.

“Yes,” she says.

You’re stung by her tone more than anything else, how her fingers don’t even hesitate at their work. “But I didn’t mean to. And there were extenuating circumstances for basically everything. I could list them off. Extenuation after extenuation, like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You didn’t ask me if I thought you had reasons for what you did,” she says, exchanging a smile with a far-off Porrim. “You asked me if you did it.”

There’s not much you can say to that. There usually isn’t.

Sometimes you spend some time with the others, before your Light hero aura draws English in too close and you have to leave again. Ghosts come and go, but the group from your timeline has become tight-knit, and sometimes they loosen the weave enough to let you in.

“Vriska!” Nepeta calls. “It’s been sweeps.”

Nepeta has taken to the bubbles well, rubbing shoulders effortlessly with her hordes of alternates, swapping stories and giggling like it’s not uncanny at all. Wherever she is, Feferi is never far behind. You spot her now a little ways back, signing with a Meulin. She picked up Beforan Sign Language fast, saying it would’ve been helpful for working underwater. All of you know the simpler words and use them to communicate in close quarters when danger is too present for speech. You learned “help” first, fist on palm, thumb up, variations in meaning based on the motion of your hands. I help you. You help me. We help each other.

You can’t follow what they’re saying now, but you do catch the sign they’ve created for Lord English: “E” hands held cupping the eyes like the hollow eye sockets of a skull. At least that’s what it’s supposed to look like. It makes you think of people covering their faces in fear, but that’s the kind of thing you’re not supposed to point out. Bad for morale. Like telling people that you’ve been all over the Furthest Ring, and there’s a lot less of it than there used to be.

“Have you heard about our plan?” Nepeta asks, as Feferi jogs over to join her.

“Plan?”

“We’re not supposed to spill the details yet, remember?” Feferi nudges her with her elbow and grins, showing off rows of shark teeth. The sight reminds you of Meenah’s sharp smile, and you swallow. “We have to make sure it works first. Then we’ll tell everyone.”

“A few more practice rounds would be a good idea. Do you think you can talk Sollux into helping out again?”

“He’ll be grumpy about it, but I’ll try.” Feferi waves at you and sprints off again. She’s animated for a dreamer, but then most people who stay close to Tavros are. Dreamers you have to harangue to even make them look your way perk up at the sight of him, soaking up his assurances that they matter, that they can still grow and change and do things, like Kanaya soaked up sunlight. Is this what the Summoner or Karkat’s ancestor were like, all those sweeps ago? No wonder the Empress wanted both of them dead.

Nepeta’s as cheerful as she always was, but her time here has given her an inner stability you lack. She settles beside you. “I like your bracelets.”

You twist the smooth bands around your wrist. Some of Meenah’s fashion sense stayed; you weren’t copying it all just so she’d like you more. Maybe Alternians as a rule thought fashion was stupid, but Alternians weren’t right about everything. “Thanks. I like your vest.” It must be new, but the cloth is already as ragged as the rest of her clothes. Even when she’s not prowling through jungles, her hands are busy plucking at loose threads or picking at gaps in the weave.

She taps what looks like one of many scales studding the fabric. “I got it from another me. She liked my coat, so we traded. It’s fun to change occasionally.”

You tug at your hair – in a ponytail today – and wonder if she means to tease. “You don’t think it’s weird, meeting other versions of yourself?”

“Why would it be? It’s nice, seeing all the different things I’ve done, like living a million lifetimes with a million possibilities. Of course, not all of them are as lively as us. But they can teach us things.” She nods over at Feferi. “Learning about her other self on Beforus helped her see the problems in her ideas of reform. Although knowing us lowbloods alone might’ve done the trick! Sometimes you need another perspective to navigate, like our maps where you need a bunch of coordinates to know where to go.”

You and Tavros haven’t spoken again about your brief time in each other’s minds. Sollux and Eridan pretend it never happened. Feferi and Nepeta are the only two who emerged without unease, although Feferi does joke that it helps to have four hands again. What would it be like, to not mind someone seeing you that closely? “Are you two matesprits?” you ask.

She blushes olive and punches you on the shoulder. “Don’t be nosy!”

“Fiiiiiiiine. I thought you liked that kind of gossip.”

“It’s different when it’s about you.” The blush hasn’t left her cheeks.

“I won’t pry then. But if you need me to find you some chalk in a memory to update your shipping wall, let me know. I find lots of great loot out there.” You turn out your empty pockets for her inspection. “I’ll have to bring back presents next time. We can have a late perigree’s eve party. Or early. I can’t keep track, but we’ve probably missed a hundred or so.”

“I’d like a celebration. Even if it’s a ‘we survived this long’ party.” Nepeta digs her nails under the edge of another scale on her vest. “Sometimes I forget you’re from our timeline,” she says frankly. “You’re a lot nicer now.”

You stuff your pockets back in your pants, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks?”

“Sorry if that was rude.” She sneaks a look over at you from underneath her bangs. “I meant it as a compliment.”

“There’s not much of a standard of comparison. There aren’t any other mes out there.”

“Even if you can’t see them walking around, you can meet the versions of yourself that you used to be.” She taps her chest. “They’re all still right here.”

“I’m not looking for enlightenment in your rumblespheres,” you say, and she snorts so loud you start laughing too.

Sollux approaches you not long after. You’re not sure if he’s half dead again now that Eridan’s back. He doesn’t like to be asked. His lisp is still gone, replaced by the hollow tones you remember from Aradia’s post-death days. “I still don’t trust you,” he says.

“Hello to you too.”

He ignores you. “AA thinks it’s not her place to judge, and Nepeta and Feferi always look for the best in people. But me? I remember what you made me do. You liked it.”

He’s right. Oh, Scratch helped talk you into things, but the sick twists on top? Those were yours. Making Tavros fly off a cliff like Pupa Pan, sending Sollux to kill Aradia for you – you prided yourself on getting people where it hurt them most. It showed you were clever, someone not to be messed with. You’d meant to leave an impression. Looks like you succeeded.

“I’ve kept you safe here,” you say.

“And I want to know why. You never do anything if there isn’t something in it for you.”

You hug your knees. “Eridan asked the same thing.” Maybe that’ll put him off.

“I hate the bastard, but he’s got a point.”

“I want English to suffer,” you say, because it’s the truth. And to your surprise, the next bit is too. “And I want to be better than him.”

He scowls. “At least he’s impersonal about killing us.”

Did he come out here to insult you? Look at yourself from another perspective, Nepeta said, so you try. It’s tricky, but so is shuffling through a life and death’s worth of memories and dragging them out into the world. Mental acrobatics keep you safe these days. What memories would he have of you?

Vriska Serket, Mindfang wannabe and power gamer extraordinaire, always ready to leave her team without their strongest player in the middle of a melee if it meant netting more xp or the choicest treasure. One time you deliberately stepped on an alarmed panel to summon an emerald basilisk for its drops, even though no one else near you had the levels to deal with it. You’d only laughed when it plowed through them and nearly reduced Tavros’ gel viscosity to zero. Even on Alternia, land of a bunch of rowdy wigglers with no self-control, you’d built a reputation as someone who left broken people and broken things in her wake. Now you’re all trapped in a shrinking space with a killer who’s got your scent. You may be the expendable one, the distraction, but you have the power to kill them all just by sitting still. No wonder he’s worried.

“I’m not planning anything,” you say. “No scheme that’ll blow up in my face, no duplicitous double crosses. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you, just like that?”

“Tavros trusts me.”

He snorts. “He’s an optimist. But I’ll believe him more than anything you tell me.”

You look up at the cracking void, at all the damage English has left behind that the rest of you could never fix, not in a million sweeps. “That’s probably for the best.”

Time doesn’t pass the same way here. You’re old, so old, but you can’t age, and so you never grow out of ancient hurts or childish arguments. Those things keep most of the dead chained down reliving their petty problems until English blasts them to smithereens. That works in the gods’ favor. Maybe the dead are happier that way too; you don’t know.

You try to avoid Terezis. You’ve never seen the one from your timeline. She’d be older now; you don’t know by how much. You haven’t seen another you out here either. God Tiering so early, most of them probably faded in doomed timelines. The ones who died would have been easy prey for English’s rampage. You don’t want to talk to these fellow sisterless members of Team Scourge. You’re not looking for each other.

One does talk to you, though, when you’re shepherding people into a cave that turns into paneled meteor hallways that turn into a beach where Tavros’ ship is waiting. She’s lingering behind, and English nearly catches you. The first memory that springs to mind as a hiding place is your old clubhouse deep in the Alternian forest. You both squeeze inside the structure of fallen branches and propped up boards, and she runs her fingers over a curling Mindfang drawing. Sheesh, you were embarrassing. Can she see it? You don’t know if death has restored her eyesight. Her eyes are white now, just like yours.

“Sorry for the crummy accommodations,” you say. “I don’t want to lead him after the others, so we’ll lie low for a while and then jump somewhere else.”

“It’s fine,” she says, hunkering down on a locked treasure chest. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Brings back memories, huh?” You look up, where light filters through the cracking roof. The two of you share this part of your past, at least.

“Lots.”

“What happened to you?” you ask, cautiously. With the way timelines work, you’re not sure whether the Terezi who would’ve died if you’d gone after Jack exists as a dreamer or only as a possibility. One day you’re afraid you’ll run into one who’s here because of you.

She sighs, digging her fingers into the seams between the planks of the treasure chest. “Most of us died fighting the Black King. Feferi’s lusus getting prototyped was a big mistake. Aradia reversed, of course, but… a psychic blast isn’t Heroic or Just, and you must’ve come back before she doomed the timeline, so you didn’t show up here.”

“I’ve never met another me,” you say. “Probably for the best. We’d get into fights. Too many strong personalities; you know how it is. I’m always right, obviously, but what happens if I disagree?”

She snickers at that, like you’d hoped. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard her laugh. No one else has one like it. “I was worried about her. We’d never completely patched things over after FLARP, and she was always so reckless. We were supposed to be in charge of a whole world once we won. I didn’t know if you could handle that. I’m glad I met you, even if you’re not her. It’s nice to know you turned out alright.”

“That’s me,” you say. “Turned out great.” And then, to change the subject, you add, “We kind of won. But something happened, right at the end, so we never got to rule over the humans we made. You’re right, though. We would have messed it up.”

“So you won. How did you die?” she asks.

“I made a mistake,” you tell her. “That’s all.”

You could have kissed this one, maybe, a replay of the one time you’d bumped noses and clicked teeth in the real version of this clubhouse and then never spoken of it again. But you don’t. You want the Terezi who knows everything, the truly colossal magnitude of your mistakes, to look at you now and say she’s glad you turned out alright.

“They call me the Salvager?” Tavros asks.

You’re sitting on the edge of the flagship after a successful retrieval. You still ask before dropping by, even after all these sweeps. At first it was annoying. Did he want you to wear a collar with a bell? Now, after seeing the doubt in others’ eyes when you come to their aid, you understand a little better. Continuing to ask permission is a peace offering. He’s never said no.

“That’s right, boss.” It’s a joke, but you don’t load the term with irony like you used to. “Someone picking up the garbage.” You wave away his affronted expression. “Metaphorical garbage. Providing succor to lost souls, if you like that better.”

“So it’s a good thing, then.”

“Usually. Some people think you’re in league with English, since you show up with him right ahead of you or right behind. I straighten them out.”

“And they listen to you?”

You shrug. “I’m getting well known too.”

“Do they call you anything?”

“Not as far as I know. They say you must be lucky, and that’s all thanks to me, so maybe that should be my title. Fortun8.” You count. “Nope, only seven letters. We can’t go breaking long established patterns, not at our age.”

“Do you think you’re lucky?”

You flick a splinter of dream-wood off into the sand. “Luck is a tricky thing. It’s not always what you think it is. Maybe it’s unlucky to die, but… I don’t know what I’d be like if I hadn’t. I don’t know if I ever would’ve stopped running into trouble and getting people hurt. So maybe things worked out ok.”

He nods. “They did for me. I’m not saying what you did to me wasn’t bad, because it was, but. It could’ve ended worse.”

“Yeah,” you say, “it could’ve.”

The next time you serve as anything more than bait, you arrive in a bubble that mixes the spires of Prospit with the craggy cliffs you recognize from home. Most of the trolls you see are Beforan, a crew you mostly avoid to dodge the drama. And you thought your teammates were obnoxious. An Aranea looks your way, but you don’t meet her eyes. The last thing you need is her “learning” from you again. John has come and gone, bearing news of his session’s near-disaster. You know what your brief stint at role-modeling cost.

“Listen up, everyone,” you call. “This is important.”

“I remember you,” Karkat’s ancestor says. Great, are you in for one of his speeches? “You wanted us to listen before. You stole our minds.”

The army feels like a lifetime ago. That version of you died with Meenah and Aranea. So many versions of you have died. But he doesn’t know that. There’s a crowd of spirits looking at you with a mix of confusion and suspicion. There’s a killer Lord of Time on his way, and there are a few minutes for you to make this count. What will make them trust you? What will make you trust yourself?

You take a breath and look at yourself from the outside in.

Who is Vriska Serket? Your past is checkered like the Battlefield with versions of yourself created for survival or approval, emulation or redemption. What you neglected to ask Nepeta was how to tell which one was really you. You can imagine her laughing and pointing to herself again, saying “This one, silly. And all the others. I’m me.”

Maybe there’s something that’s truly you, a core to your soul that persists between timelines. Maybe you’re something you make, piece by piece and day by day. Maybe you’re made by other people, what they see and what they think. You can’t control that. All you can control is what you do.

So you don’t say it wasn’t your fault, or it’s all in the past, or it could’ve been a whole lot worse. You say, “I’m sorry.” You say, “This time, I’m here to help.”

And this time, they listen.

On your own again, you watch paradox space crack and shatter around you. The death of multiverses puts on a display to put anyone else’s light show to shame. English is like you, the ultimate power gamer, smashing his way to a high score, uncaring of everyone crushed along the way. You can only ever stay a step ahead of him, only barely keep the damage under control. Maybe you think that’s enough, repurposing your luck, making a billion wishes to undo the damage the first ones caused. One day you’ll have to stop running, turn around, and look him in the eye. But beating him won’t redeem you. Another you learns this, dueling Jack not in a blaze of glory but with corpses at your feet and hatred in your heart. A possibility, a lesson you never got to learn.

That’s your whole existence, teetering on the brink of revelation, balanced on a knife’s edge between hero and villain, afraid to drop off because you don’t know where you’ll land. Skaia tells you that narrow space in-between is how you stay alive, after all. Who would you be if you’d ever stopped running? Would you be you?

Behind you, Lord English tears his way through space, smashing reality into splinters and shards. The bubble you’re in breaks off at your feet to make a cliff opening out into nothingness. Far below you, you can see another bubble, pearly-white and almost as small.

One day you’ll turn around and face him. One day your past will catch up with your present, and both of them will be over. But not today.

“Catch me if you can,” you say, and jump.

#kat writes fic #homestuck//#tlcverse #tlc!vriska #plus a good chunk of team dreaming dead #note: i say came to love but pr v is still on my eternal shitlist make no mistake #tlc spoilers

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jaeminlore · 7 years

Text

All of Me // Moon Taeil

the prompt: can I request a soulmate!au Taeil? Like you and him can listen to each others’ minds and when he hums to some random melodies, you will harmonize with him and vice versa.

words: 1323

category: soulmate au + fluff

author note: taeil is lovely pls give him love. i’m doyoung lol

- destinee

Taeil hated his soulmate link.

Every friend he had received a cool soulmate link. Tattoos, colors, writings…anything subtle and romantic.

Taeil’s soulmate link, however, allowed him to hear your thoughts whenever he wanted. Which meant you could hear his as well.

As horrible as it seemed, Taeil got used to it eventually, although his loathing for the link never faded.

He was afraid he would think something weird or inappropriate, and you would reject him. Luckily, nothing of that sort had happened. In fact, it seemed that no thought of yours came through to him unless it was in the form of song.

There were days when he didn’t care to listen to you. For instance, sometimes in the middle of the night you would wake him up with songs like the spongebob theme song. Most days however, you sang songs more his style in your head.

Some days were weird and you would start to rap in your head, startling Taeil during his work. Other days you would make random guitar noises to classic rock songs. Taeil definitely couldn’t say he was bored with you in his head.

He wished he knew your name, or where you lived. Each day he became more intrigued and his want to see you grew even more.

It occurred to him one day that he didn’t sing much in his head. If he sang, it was usually out loud.

Thinking about this one day, he decided to try and sing in his mind and make a connection with you.

The only song he could think of was John Legend’s All of Me, so that is what he began to sing.

As he reached the prechorus, he heard your voice coming through. “My head’s under water, but I’m breathing fine. You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind…“

You were harmonizing with him. He kept singing, struggling to keep it in his head. He was so happy to be singing with you he thought he might explode.

It was one step closer to you.

The two of you sang the song through, and Taeil longed to compliment your beautiful voice through his mind, but nothing seemed to go through to you.

You really could only communicate through song.

Your number one goal in life was to annoy your soulmate. Fortunately, you knew plenty of annoying songs to do it with.

Your favorite thing, as a night owl, was staying up well into the night and waiting for the perfect moment. That perfect moment being when you were sure your soulmate was sound asleep.

Than you you would sing My Shiny Teeth and Me by Chip Skylark in your mind as loudly as you could.

You did this every three nights, switching up the song to something else just as strange from your childhood.

He never sang back to you, so you wondered if he was boring, or if he even heard your songs. That would suck, since you went through so much time memorizing the Danny Phantom theme song.

Until when day, when your night of studying was interrupted by a smooth voice singing John Legend. You were too shocked to register that the beautiful voice was you soulmate. Once you got over your initial shock, you began to sing along in your mind, finding that your voice harmonized well with his.

Your heart filled with love to think that you and your soulmate where connecting through song.

Music had always been a big part of your life, and the fact that you could share it with your soulmate made you the happiest person in the world.

So every day you started a song and waited for his voice to mesh with yours. Your daily duets went on for days, and you began to feel curious as to who was behind the voice.

If you could only connect through song, you were going to cheat the system and make up your own song.

“Hello, I am Y/n,“you sang inwardly, hoping it would be enough of a song for him to hear.

Sure enough, you heard his tenor voice sing back, “My name is Taeil..”

With a shout of joy, you hastily sang back, “Meet me at the coffee shop on Eight Street.”

Without waiting for his answer, you shrugged on your coat and left your house, eager to meet the man behind the voice.

It was nighttime, so you only had the lamppost to guide you. The coffee shop you recommended was special, because it offered an open mic night.

Your plan was to sing All of Me and wait for him to show himself.

Hopefully he would come. Otherwise you would feel stupid.

You entered the dim shop, hearing the familiar tinkle of the chimes as the door pushed against them. You greeted the barista and asked for a black coffee.

He seemed distracted for some reason. He made your coffee so quickly that forgot to ask you to pay, so you had to bring it up yourself. This resulted in a hurried apology from the boy.

He was cute. He looked flustered as he kept surveying the room. You stared at his hair color, a dark auburn that somehow fit his face.

You went to look at his name tag, but it was hidden behind the jacket he probably wasn’t supposed to be wearing inside.

Forgetting the barista, you sipped your coffee and waited for them to announce open mic night. You wondered where Taeil was. You wondered if he was even there.

Your plan would look stupid if he didn’t come. Even worse, what if he lived farther away from you? You had just assumed he lived in your town.

However, he didn’t tell you that he couldn’t make it, so you were still holding out on hope.

You were the first to sign up for the open mic, and you felt intimidated staring at everyone in the shop as they turned their heads towards you in interest. You wondered if any of the boys you saw were Taeil.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of any thoughts, you signaled the piano player and began to sing. “What would I do without your smart mouth?“

Taeil nearly dropped the coffee pot he had been filling with water. That would’ve been a disaster.

Still, he couldn’t believe it was you, the cute customer who had seen him earlier. He couldn’t believe he didn’t put the pieces together straightaway.

It didn’t matter, though. You had found him, and he couldn’t be happier.

He avoided the cheesy cliche of starting a duet with you, and instead waited patiently for you to finish your song.

When you ended the song, you hurried off the stage. Taeil ran in your direction, hoping to catch up with you in case you were trying to leave.

Just as you were about to exit the building, Taeil panicked and shouted rather loudly, “Y/n, turn around.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned around slowly, making eye contact with the cute barista from earlier.

“Hello,” Taeil said. “I believe we’re soulmates.”

Your face turned red as you got closer to him. “Hi.”

Taeil smiled widely and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re the girl who wouldn’t stop waking me up in the middle of the night. Tell me, you did that on purpose didn’t you?”

You looked up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “What about the night I rapped a soulmate diss track?”

Taeil rolled his eyes, “How could I forget the diss track stating how boring I am?”

You giggled. “Well, here’s your chance to prove to me that you aren’t boring.”

Taeil tapped his chin in thought. “There’s a pretty bridge a few blocks from here. It’s really magical at night.”

You grabbed his hand and began to drag him out of the store. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

~the end~

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a-panda-reads-act-omega · 7 years

Text

ACT OMEGA PART 22

THE 03/17/17 UPDATE

HERE WE GO, finally an update with a BUNCH of pages for me to comment about. Page 115-126, how exciting. God I need to get better with intro’s I’m sorry.

Heh, I like how everybody’s emotions are clear as day here. Anyways, nobody new’s here which makes me hope that this cast of characters will continue to interact and mingle.

W o ah there, calm yourself Vriska. She’s not lookin pleased with Tavvy over there. Also, I love how this is literally the exact same panel other than Vriska.

VRISKA: Wh8t?! VRISKA: The hell are all of you st8ring at???????? MEENAH: 38/

WHAT? IT’S PERFECTLY NORMAL TO PASS OUT DURING A LIFE-THREATENING BATTLE AGAINST AN UNKILLABLE GOD.

Fish gills changed a bit. This animation is also g re a t. I could literally watch Vriska just dust herself off for hours. God that sounded creepy. Fefefri is seeminnnn a lil taken aback here. And Meenah is real disappointed. Or just looking away to please Vriska, which would be cute but is probably not the case.

I love how not good Vriska is at recovering from embarrassing moments.

Oooohhh shit. Le’s behind the Juju im guessing, but that green hole is gettin closer and closer. They might need to start getting out of here soon.

VRISKA: What the hell just HAPPENED?

Homestuck happened. And you passed out.

Tavros raising his hand like a student. He would totally be the kind of student the teacher always has to pander to, even though the rest of the class is tired of hearing the same thing explained over and over.

TAVROS: dO YOU MEAN, tHE EXPLOSION,,,? TAVROS: oR,,, TAVROS: WAS IT AN ATTACK? TAVROS: iT WAS HARD TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE, TAVROS: sO MAYBE IT DOESN’T MATTER,,,

Was that explosion he’s talking about just the LE mouth blast? I think it’s an attack Tavros. Less of an explosion than it was a beam with boomy results.

VRISKA: Tavros, stop. VRISKA: Just, stop. Right now. I’m already twice over the limit of how much 8ullshit I can take in one day, and your irrit8ing voice is THIS close to giving me a head8che. TAVROS: uHHH,,,? VRISKA: Nope, too l8. Migr8ne city, popul8tion: me! Thanks a 8uttload, 8oy skylark. TAVROS: i,,,iM,,,sORRY,,,? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yeah sorry about your head vwhiskers but i gotta interject here DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < furst off your head hurts beclaws it got hit with a deadly fuckin laser pointer

Hahah. Get it? Laser pointer. Because. CAT. And also, holy shit Vriska got HIT with that?? Or was it just an explosion thingy FROM the laser pointer that knocked her out.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so blaming it on tavros f33ls purrty damn rude to me tbh DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but i dont really wanna get into a catfight with you right now DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < or maybe not ever cause thats just like NOPE no thanks

You’re the best Davepeta. Almost as great as Vriska.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < cranky vriska? ill pass on that DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < especially since there are like DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < way more important things to be dealing with! DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so ill let it slide fur now B33 DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < as you were saying tavros?

So can Davepeta just be Tavros’ wingman? Because holy shit that’d be great. Actually, could this be the beginning of a beautiful PALE ROMANCE?? Probably not because ARquius is totally their soulmate.

TAVROS: wELL,,, tHANK YOU, fOR SPEAKING ON MY BEHALF, eVEN IF IT WASN’T STRICTLY NECESSARY,

It was necessary tavros.

TAVROS: uHHHH,,,

My point exactly.

TAVROS: bIRD NEPETA? TAVROS: oR, wHOEVER YOU ARE, DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < youre half right! DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < its davepeta TAVROS: oH, TAVROS: oKAY, TAVROS: sO,,,dAVEPETA,,, TAVROS: dO YOU THINK IT WAS AN ATTACK OR AN EXPLOSION? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < tavros DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < are you holding onto your socks because im about to blow them the fuck off DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i think it was an attack DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < that was ALSO an explosion DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < >B33 TAVROS: }:o

:o MAN, Davepeta you need to chill! I have to go get dressed now, because you just blew my entire OUTFIT off! from shirt to shorts, nothing could withstan the sheer FORCE of your shocking observation.

VRISKA: UGH!!!!!!!!

Shut up Vriska.

Oh. We also got a Porrim back there. And, I guess that’s just Kankri? Maybe the same one, maybe a different? Vriska needs to chill though.

VRISKA: I don’t have TIME for this! VRISKA: Who gives a shit if it was an att8ck or WH8TEVER!!!!!!!! VRISKA: Am I the really only person who c8res about m8king sure the most evil fucker in all of paradox space is FINALLY DE8D FOR GOOD?!?!?!?! VRISKA: Isn’t that what we r8sed an entire army for?? VRISKA: The army that is NOWH8RE TO 8E FOUND, 8Y THE W8Y!!!!!!!!

I think they’re all d e a d Vriska. And you’re assuming way too much of this group of NINCOMPOOPS. They literally are just doing whatever.

MEENAH: vriska VRISKA: WH8T!!!!!!!! MEENAH: you need to krill out for a sec

Exactly. Krill out girl.

VRISKA: NO, *YOU* “KRILL OUT”!!!!!!!! VRISKA: I AM N8T GOING TO KRILL IN A SINGLE FUCKING DIRECTION UNTIL SOME8ODY DECIDES TO OPEN THEIR MOUTH AND FILL ME IN ON WH8T THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!!!!!!!! MEENAH: the armys gone

Yup. Everybody fucking died via death laser.

FFS CHILL Vriska.

VRISKA: GONE?! VRISKA: No SHIT, they’re GONE! VRISKA: Do YOU see a throng of expenda8le, huddled masses anywh8re near8y, Meenah?? 8ecause if so, NOW WOULD 8E A GR8 TIME TO LET ME KNOW! MEENAH: ...

Calm down Vriska, before you push away the people that AREN’T dead. I mean, who know’s if these guys even care enough to keep working for you anyways. I’d say Meenah’s the last person you should be yelling at.

VRISKA: No?? That’s what I fucking THOUGHT. VRISKA: Th8nk you SO much for that astute o8serv8tion! VRISKA: That sure clears up JACK SQU8T! VRISKA: Now how a8out we get 8ack to the LESS immedi8tly o8vious! VRISKA: Gone WHERE? And more importantly, WHY! MEENAH: listen serks i could really do without the attitide MEENAH: if you took two seconds to breathe you could prolly figure it out yourself MEENAH: but if itll help you clam down...

Exactly, Clam down Vriska. Because it doesn’t take a goddamn genius to figure out they’re all dead.

VRISKA: It DEFIN8TELY will. So spill!!!!!!!! MEENAH: they got blasted VRISKA: Are you serious? VRISKA: He took out EVERYONE? In one hit?! MEENAH: nah not all of em MEENAH: but a lotta double death happened yeah MEENAH: i mean the weapon didnt do flip of what it was SUPPOS-ED to do as far as i could tell MEENAH: it did a pretty good job of sheildin our asses MEENAH: (youre whalecome btw)

Meenah, you’re the true hero here. I mean a calm troll who’s powerful, smart, and only sometimes out of order? I’d say that’s the best kinda troll we can get.

MEENAH: but anybody who didnt get behind it MEENAH: definitely got fried VRISKA: So? Where’s Lord English now?? VRISKA: 8ecause if we need to track him down, we need to get on that like, yesterday!

He isn’t still there? I thought he’d just be doing some angry lord english stuff. Hopefully he isn’t causing too much trouble.......

MEENAH: uh MEENAH: dudes still havin a tantrum over there actually

Oh. I was r i g h t .

VRISKA: Then why the hell are we all the w8y out here?! MEENAH: look vriska MEENAH: the plan didnt work MEENAH: you got KOd or passed out or whatever the shell MEENAH: and the army got gutted MEENAH: so i figured the only sensible fin to do was a tactical retreat VRISKA: Okay, fine. That WAS pretty sensi8le. MEENAH: except MEENAH: most of everyone didnt STOP retreatin MEENAH: no matter what inspirational crab i threw at them VRISKA: .......

Oh.

so there WERE more survivors, but the most’ve them just bailed on the scene. Damn. Well, who can blame them? Double death isn’t for everyone I suppose.

Well ARADIA sure seems happy :D

MEENAH: sorry aboat your head by the way MEENAH: ill admit that was my bad MEENAH: aint easy to haul ass in sand with dead weight over your shoulder

To the people behind ACT OMEGA: You better get me a gif of Meenah dragging Vriska face down through the sand.

ARADIA: hey! ARADIA: at least theres a bright side to all this

Of COURSE there is AA.

Awe. This team charge hug is actually kinda precious. Tavros’ little smile, and Aradia’s “appreciate him!” look.

ARADIA: tavros convinced a few people to stay ARADIA: right? :D

Oh, well that’s good then! So far, I know we have... Tavros, Aradia, Sollux, Kankri, Porrim, Mituna, Feferi, Latula, Vriska, Meenah, Davepeta, and possibly more.

TAVROS: i DID, TAVROS: tHROUGH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP,

TAVROS: aND A LARGE QUANTITY OF WORDS, sPOKEN DIRECTLY FROM THE HEART, TAVROS: eVEN THOUGH IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF ALL OF THEM HAD STAYED, i THINK, TAVROS: tHERE IS A PART OF ME THAT ALSO THOUGHT LEAVING MIGHT HAVE BEEN A GOOD IDEA,,, TAVROS: cONSIDERING, hOW THINGS LOOK PRETTY HOPELESS NOW, TAVROS: bUT THAT PART OF ME IS THE ONE THAT MISSED OUT ON THE COMPLETION, oF MY SUCCESSFUL AND FULFILLING CHARACTER ARC,

He get’s so cocky sometimes, but it’s the kind of cocky where he’s nervous he’s not looking cocky in the right way. What the hell am I typing. I just love how self aware he is.

TAVROS: wHICH IS WHAT THE MAJORITY OF THE REST OF ME IS COMPRISED OF, TAVROS: eSPECIALLY THE PARTS THAT WERE KICKING LORD ENGLISH IN THE FACE, nOT TOO LONG AGO, TAVROS: aND TRUTHFULLY, i AM STILL PRETTY FIRED UP, fROM THAT, TAVROS: sO I IGNORED THE COWARDLY IMPULSE, aND INSTEAD STAYED TO HELP MY FRIENDS, sEE THIS UNDERTAKING THROUGH TO THE END, TAVROS: aND THERE WERE SOME PEOPLE, wHO AGREED WITH ME, TAVROS: wHICH ARE THE PEOPLE WHO ARE HERE, pRESENTLY,

Goddammit, these people aren’t the brightest. They had to have stayed with him out of pity. If all of your friends are running away, and the only person asking you to stay and fight an unkillable demon was T A V R O S .

You’d run.

Sollux doesn’t wanna be here.

ARADIA: see? sollux and i even stayed to help too ARADIA: in fact were all here to help ARADIA: well maybe some of us are here mostly out of curiosity SOLLUX: 0r b0red0m.

Or pity. Or self-hate. Or a deathwish.

ARADIA: or that too! or maybe even a mishmash of all sorts of motivations ARADIA: but whatever the reason we are on your side ARADIA: so i get the feeling if you dont lighten up a little ARADIA: some of us might suddenly have a lot more of a reason to join the others ARADIA: and find something else to do

Nice way of putting it Aradia. Vriska really needs to Clam down and Krill out, because she’s gonna lose the few she has with her still.

OH SHIT THAT’S THE END OF THE UPDATE. Well then, that’d be my cue to sleep. it’s 2:15 AM an I have summerschool in 5 hours. gnight folks.

#Homestuck #homestuck liveblog #Act Omega #hs act omega #act omega liveblog #hs act omega liveblog

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thecatleader · 8 years

Text

Cat Tsuna?(10/48): Adventures in the past part 1

'Damn it I didn't know that they had a time traveling bazooka in the Estraneo, they probably stole it from the Bovinos. Where am I going any way I don't think this is going to the future.' Tsuna thought before falling into a pit full of cats.

'Oh shit! This is Alaudes pit of cats I'm in the past!' Tsuna thought before a bunch of meows alerted him of oncoming doom. A bunch of female cats stared at him with desire in their eyes before Tsuna ran out of there screeching.

"ROWL(FAN GIRL CATS AAAAAHHH)!" He screeched as ran out of the pit and out the room. With determination the cats followed him, despite not being able to climb out before. (AN: Poor Tsuna he's being hoarded by fan girls)

Tsuna quickly rushed to the nearest person and climbed up their leg.

"Oya oya Alaude control your cats." Said the person who Tsuna was currently clinging to. That person pulled Tsuna off his leg and Tsuna saw his face.

"Meow(Uncle Melon-head)!" Tsuna meowed happily and Daemon gave him a dark look.

"Nufufufu What did you just call me?" He asked glaring at him.

Unfazed Tsuna gave him an evil smile and happily meowed. "Meow(Uncle Melon-head)!"

"Oya oya-" Daemon cut off as he felt faint and noticed that Tsuna was taking his flames. He tried to shake him off but Tsuna clung on until he collapsed.

Tsuna stopped and grew to full size and sat on top of Daemon. He burped out a small amount of flames and meowed contently.

Soon Giotto and the rest of the guardians came in and saw Tsuna sitting on top of Daemon washing his paws.

"Daemon what happened and who is he?" Giotto asked but before Daemon could respond Tsuna leaped on him and happily meowed. "Meow(Papa Giotto)!"

"I'll arrest you for illegally impregnating a female cat." Alaude stated taking out his handcuffs while Daemon laughed.

"What? Alaude I didn't impregnate a cat? Where did you get that from?" Giotto asked confused since he can't understand Tsuna.

"Meow(Papa Alaude! Don't start doing your fetishes on Papa Giotto in public)!" Tsuna meowed and Daemon burst into uncontrollable laughter as Alaude's jaw dropped and he blushed faintly.

"Alaude! Daemon! What did he say I can't understand him!?!" Giotto exclaimed and Alaude just ran away not wanting to say what had Tsuna said. While Daemon was still laughing uncontrollably unable to answer.

Tsuna just purred in Giotto's arms while laughing uproariously in his head. 'Hahahaha I made Alaude blush oh wait until Giotto hears what I said his reaction will be priceless Ahahahaha!' Tsuna thought before sneezing out the rest of the flames he absorbed from Daemon and turning small in Giotto's arms.

"Nufufufu he called you 'Papa Giotto' and said to the skylark 'Papa Alaude! Don't start doing your fetishes on Papa Giotto in public!' Which was the funniest thing I've heard." Daemon laughed once he finished his laughing attack. Giotto blushed while the other guardians tried not to laugh.

"Is that true?" Giotto asked looking down at Tsuna noticing the similarities in appearance.

"Is your hyper intuition working right? It's obviously a lie though I am your great great great great grandson. I just said that to get a funny reaction out of Alaude and Daemon which was hilarious." Tsuna said smiling at Giotto, who gaped at him.

"You could've just said that the whole time! Wait did you say that I'm your great great great great great grandfather?" He asked.

"Yep and I didn't say it in Italian because that would've ruined the joke." Tsuna said smiling as he curled up against his chest. "I forgot to mention that I come from 400 years in the future and I'm staying here until I go back. Ok? Goodnight I'm going to sleep." After he said that he fell fast asleep.

"..." Silence was around the room as everyone processed what was just said.

"So... We're stuck with him..." G said and the other's nodded in agreement.

"I hope this doesn't cause me more paperwork." Giotto stated groaning at the thought before remembering that Alaude ran away.

"I'm going to go talk to Alaude, Knuckle take care of him." He said putting Tsuna into Knuckles arms and going to Alaude's room.

Knuckles looked at Tsuna and pet Tsuna's cat ears which twitched as he started purring. "He is EXTREMELY cute!" He exclaimed and to the other's surprise Tsuna wasn't disturbed by his loud voice.

Meanwhile

"Alaude! Are you ok?" Giotto asked knocking on the door.

"Hn. Go Away." Alaude stated but Giotto detected a hint of sadness in his tone.

"I'm coming in." Giotto stated unlocking the door with the master key and going in. Inside he saw Alaude sitting on his bed his face showing his inner turmoil before returning to his normal scowl but Giotto already caught it.

"Alaude what's wrong?" Giotto asked sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around him.

Alaude stayed silent for a moment before with a stroke of courage he said what was on his mind. "The herbivore made me realize something, I didn't think it was possible until you came to me but, I..." He trailed off unsure if he should tell him before wiping the thought from his mind and whispering the rest.

"...I love you... I haven't realized it until now that feeling I've had ever since I've seen you... but it reacted when he said that." Alaude whispered as Giotto pulled him closer.

"I share the same feelings I just didn't think you shared them, that's why I never thought of talking to you about them, but when I saw you run away with a faint blush I knew you had the same feelings." Giotto said lifting Alaude's chin to look into his eyes as he shyly kissed him on the lips.

Alaude's heart raced in happiness as he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around Giotto as they continued their passionate kiss.

Meanwhile

'I just paired up my ancestors didn't I?' Tsuna thought as his hyper intuition alerted him that an important event in history was made and to not worry as it was supposed to happen.

'I have no idea how that was supposed to happen.' Tsuna thought which his snarky hyper intuition alerted him that his line is quite different from any other and that it allows males to get pregnant.

'Why doesn't anyone else know of this." Tsuna thought which his hyper intuition laughed at and alerted him that no one has unlocked the true form of hyper intuition and he's the only one to do so.

'So your like another entity in my head.' Tsuna thought and his hyper intuition spoke instead of alerting him.

'Yes I am like what other's call a conscious but I am quite different as well as I am more of an all seeing god in each of the Vongola members due to the fact the Vongola's are descended from a different type of human.' His hyper intuition said.

'Oh and there is a different type of hyper intuition in each Vongola.' Tsuna thought.

'Yes you are quite a different Vongola to actually go back to the roots, though it's due to the fact that you now have a curse of immortality.' His hyper intuition said.

'Did the root of Vongola come from immortals?' Tsuna thought.

'No the root of Vongola came from a special human that gained the power of the Tri-ni-sette and created the first hyper intuition.' His hyper intuition said.

'Do you have a name? I'm tired as referring to you as hyper intuition.' Tsuna thought.

'My name Arthanis.' His hyper intuition, Arthanis, said and Tsuna felt him smile.

'Why didn't you tell me this earlier?' Tsuna thought.

'You were busy in our time, now we are just waiting to go back but I sense we are here for a special purpose.' Arthanis said.

'Well thank you for telling me.' Tsuna thought.

'Your welcome though the times you don't listen are quite annoying I am here to protect you and your family please listen.' Arthanis said and Tsuna smiled.

'I will.' Tsuna promised before fading into unconsciousness.

#khr fanfic #fanfiction #sawada tsunayoshi #khr

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celtfather · 5 years

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Amazing Celtic Women #429

Amazing Celtic women are on this week’s Irish & Celtic Music Podcast

Beth Patterson, Cady Finlayson, Catherine Koehler, Na Skylark, Judith Weikle, Anne Roos, Gwendolyn Snowdon, Kathy Barwick, Fionnuala Sherry, Merry Wives of Windsor, Christine Weir, Joni Minstrel, Mary Knickle, Cynthia Bennett, Jacie McConnell, Laura McGhee, Chrissy Crowley, Bernadette Morris

I hope you enjoyed this week's show. If you did, please share the show with ONE friend.

The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast is dedicated to growing our community and helping the incredible artists who so generously share their music. If you find music you love, buy their albums, shirts, and songbooks, follow them on Spotify, see their shows, and drop them an email to let them know you heard them on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast.

Remember also to Subscribe to the Celtic Music Magazine. Every week, I'll send you a few cool bits of Celtic music news. It's a quick and easy way to plug yourself into more great Celtic culture. Plus, you'll get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free, just for signing up today. Thank you again for being a Celt of Kindness.

THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC

0:05 - "Heather on the Moor" by Beth Patterson from Hybrid Vigor

4:23 - "When the Battle Is Over" by Cady Finlayson from Celtic Purple

6:30 - "Briar and Rose" by Catherine Koehler from upcoming album

9:37 - "The March Of The High King Of Laois-Osullivans March" by Na Skylark from Old Ceol

13:50 - "Wine of the Gauls" by Judith Weikle from Pirates, Poets and Patriots

16:57 - “Manx Courting Song” by Anne Roos from Haste to the Wedding

19:33 - CELTIC FEEDBACK

24:17 - "Little Duke Arthur's Nurse" by Gwendolyn Snowdon from Three Strand Braid

28:17 - "Red Haired Boy" by Kathy Barwick from In My Life

30:38 - "An Cuilfhionn" by Fionnuala Sherry from Songs from Before

33:56 - "Lannigan's Ball" by Merry Wives of Windsor from Bottoms Up

37:28 - "Horo Haradala" by Christine Weir from Weir Celts

39:15 - "Black Is the Color" by Joni Minstrel from Joni Minstrel Kicks the King

42:02 - CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

44:39 - "Wild Irish Man" by Mary Knickle from Weave

48:24 - "Out with the Rubbish" by Cynthia Bennett from Cauldron of Life

52:04 - "My Piece of Gratitude Re-Mix" by Jacie McConnell from Mystical Moments A Sign Of Things To Come

56:01 - "Tell It Tae the Love" by Laura McGhee from Green Eyes

58:46 - "Trundle's" by Chrissy Crowley from Last Night's Fun

1:03:20 - TIME FOR PARTING

1:04:25 - "Until We Meet Again" by Bernadette Morris from Where the Heart Is

The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather. To subscribe, go to Apple Podcasts or to our website where you can become a Patron of the Podcast for as little as $1 per episode. Promote Celtic culture through music at http://celticmusicpodcast.com/.

CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

* Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. My name is Marc Gunn. I am a Celtic musician and podcaster. This show is dedicated to the indie Celtic musicians. I want to ask you to support these artists. Share the show with your friends. And find more episodes at celticmusicpodcast.com. You can also support this podcast on Patreon. Get our free Celtic music app right here.

TRAVEL WITH CELTIC INVASION VACATIONS Every year, I take a small group of Celtic music fans on the relaxing adventure of a lifetime. We don't see everything. Instead, we stay in one area. We get to know the region through its culture, history, and legends. You can join us with an auditory and visual adventure through podcasts and videos. Join the invasion at http://celticinvasion.com/

VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 With the new year comes a new votes in the Celtic Top 20. This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. Just list the show number, and the name of as many bands in the episode as you like. Your vote helps me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2019 episode. Vote Now!

THANK YOU PATRONS OF THE PODCAST! Because of Your kind and generous support, this show comes out every week and has done so since 2014. You can pledge a dollar or more per episode and cap how much you want to spend each month over on Patreon.

Your generosity funds the creation, promotion and production of the show. It allows us to attract new listeners and to help our community grow. Plus, you get to hear episodes before regular listeners. When we hit a milestone, you get an extra-long episode. We are super close to getting a two-hour instrumental special.

Thanks to our newest patrons: Barbara B S., Julie M.

You can become a generous Patron of the Podcast at http://patreon.com/celticpodcast.

I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK

What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? You can send a written comment along with a picture of what you're doing while listening. Email a voicemail message to [email protected]

Jacob Kenner emailed a photo: "Marc, I was listening to #427 while cleaning up the donkey pen when you asked us to share what we do while listening. I realized I almost always save the podcast for when I have a farm chore or a building project. I think it helps me relax and keep going.

This is Violet (left) and Franklin (right), rescued donkeys we have in north central Washington State in the Okanogan highlands. Thanks for letting me share Celtic music with my donkey friends."

Bryan MacAvoy emailed: "I was teleworking, recovering from ACL surgery, and listening to the pod (from 9/12), and practically dropped my laptop on the floor and re-injured myself jumping to see what that sound was: BassPipes, Orchestral Pipestep, that’s what. LOVE IT.

I quickly went over to Amazon music to find what they had there (a few more), and am listening. I would not have thought myself a fan of Celtic Trad/ Dubstep Fusion, but here we are!

Would love an episode dedicated to Gaelic Trad sounds in modern dance/ hip hop/ pop. I know that’s a tight niche, but if anyone is up to it, it’s you!"

Beth Hlabse emailed photos: “Hi, Marc,I just wanted to drop you a line to thank you for another wonderful podcast (412). Thanks to you, I discovered Heather Dale and I was very happy to hear her once again on you ‘cast.

I’ve attached some photos of what I do while listening to the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast. I’ve been cross-stitching since I was 12 (more years ago than I want to say) and I’ve found that listening to your podcast has kept me going on my more difficult projects. Keep up the good work and much joy, peace and happiness in your new home!"

Aaron Adair emailed: "Hi, Marc--I've been a LONG time listener and recent supporter through Patreon and have loved the music you've played over the years. It has made me yearn for my home country although until now I've never been. Thanks to you and your terrific podcast, I'm currently waiting to take off for Dublin, Adare, Galway, and points in between for my very first trip home. Listening to the Ramblin' Irishman episode is the perfect episode to prepare me for my adventure.

Thanks for all you do to encourage, educate, and support artists and listeners about the greatness of Celtic music. Blessings to you and your family. "

Robyn emailed: "Hi Marc, I, of course, love your podcast. Recently the love of my life, my husband, died. And I wanted to share with you how we listened to your podcast. I would come home from work and my dogs (3) and my husband would jump in the car and we'd go for a ride. It was a time with no phone, no distractions, just connecting with each other and see how each other's day went.

Often we'd be listening to your podcast, singing along or just enjoying the music. Okay so not so unusual - one of our favorites is Loch Lomand. And now that he's gone ughhh brings me to tears each time I hear it but I can't stop playing it. I had missed some podcasts due to his illness, but when I listened to #407 oh my. Sobbing in my car, and remembering loving, great times. Thank-you for adding to the connection to life and love you have brought me. And now I have become a patron in honor of my husband, John. Slainte."

#celticwomen #irishmusic #celticmusic

Check out this episode!

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useyourrwords · 5 years

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Month in Review // The Month From Hell – March

This month has given me more breakdowns than I can count.

So maybe it’s not the single worst month I’ve ever lived but honestly, it’s pretty high up there!

Between a car accident, still going through the mess of changing names, pain, oh so much fucking pain, a new doctor who doesn’t know how to help me, and an altercation I wish to just forget, I’m just about ready to hide under my blankets and never leave my room.

Unfortunately, that’s not an option and so I am sitting at me desk at work writing this instead.

If you would like to buy any of the following books please consider using my Book Depository Affliate link!

Month’s TBR

│The Dream Thieves││

│Skylarks││

│The Surface Breaks││

│The Female of the Species│││

│Sharp Objects││

│Blue Lily, Lily Blue││

│Truly Devious││

│Khutulun│tatterhood│Agnodice│Te Puea Herangi│Moremi Ajasoro│Sybil Ludington│Kurmanjan Datka│Andamana│Mary Seacole│Florence Nightingale│Gráinne “Grace O’Malley” Ni Mháille│Rejected Princesses││

│Empress Xi Ling Shi│Hatsheput│Agnodice│Trung Trӑc & Trung Nhi│Fatima Al-Fihri│Bygone Badass Broads││

Read

│The Surface Breaks│Lousie O’Neill│││││★★★★│Read Mar 13│

This book was so unapologetically feminist, I loved it.

│The Dream Thieves│The Raven Cycle #2│Maggie Stiefvater│││││★★★★★│Read Mar 25│

I think I jumped into this book too quickly after finishing the first so it took me a while to get through it but I got there eventually.

│Truly Devious│Truly Devious #1│Maureen Johnson│││││DNF Mar 22│

I don’t think fiction audiobooks are for me! at least not ones I haven’t already read. I’m switching to Non-Fic/memoirs and I’ll try rereading a fave eventually to see how I go with that.

│I’ve Got This Round│Mamrie hart││││

After realising ficiton audiobooks weren’t for me I needed a win so I returned Truly Devious for this because i love Mamrie and there’s no way I wouldn’t love this. I was right.

│Skylarks│Karen Gregory│││││

I’ve just been super invested in this one. I don’t know if it’s because i wasn’t reading it regularly since I normally read ARCs while I’m exercising…and I’ve not been exercising like at all this month. I don’t know. I’ll give it another go next month if I have time but otherwise it’ll probably be pushed back to May.

│Rad Girls Can│Kate Schatz│││││

I switched to this ARC since it’s only 112 pages and I figured SURELY I can finish this before the month is up. Nope. So April it is!

│Empress Xi Ling Shi│Hatsheput│Agnodice│Trung Trӑc & Trung Nhi│Fatima Al-Fihri│Bygone Badass Broads│Mackenzi Lee│││││

I didn’t do much but at least I got my entries read for both of these!

Book of the Month

│The Female of the Species│Mindy McGinnis││││││★★★★★│Read Mar 31│

Once I realised just how little I read this month and made myself power through this one and omg it was soooo good and worth it. I needed this book this month.

│Average Rating: 4.5★’s│ 5│

Structured TBR Pass or Fail?

│Must Read: 3/5│ 0/1│ 0/0│ 2/2│ 3/3│ 10/10│ 5/5│

│Allowances: 1/1│ 1/1│ 0/0│ 0/0│ 0/1│

Clearly this was a terrible reading month. I got hardly any reading done. I started off relatively strong but then I stopped exercising (for reasons I’ll go into further later in this post) so that was less time spent reading. And then I spent far more time watching TV when I should have been reading because Depression. And the audiobook wasn’t really working out for me so I didn’t get that read either. FUN.

Haul

│Barbed Wire Heart│Tess Sharpe│││

I loved Far From You so when I saw this was available on Netgalley I knew I needed it! And it wasn’t even a request, just one you could immediately download and my international blogger heart is v. v. thankful.

│Vicious│Villains #1│V.E. Schwab││

│Vengeful│Villains #1│V.E. Schwab│││

If you’ve been paying attention to my hauls sections you’re probably thinking “doesn’t Grey already have both of these books and the answer to that is yes absolutely but listen.

I have the paperback copy of Vicious in the old cover art because i bought it years ago…Well my mum bought it for me years ago but same same.

Then it was announced that with the long-awaited release of Vengeful we’d get all new cover art so I knew I’d be re-buying the first no matter what.

And then the collector’s edition came out for Vicious.

So I bought that and then Book Depository listed the hardback for Vengeful as a collector’s edition and so I ordered that as a birthday present to myself.

Only I don’t actually think it is a collector’s edition because it doesn’t say so on the cover or anything but oh well.

So I finally have both books with new covers only I don’t want to read them because if I do, I’ll want to annotate them and I don’t annotate collector’s edition as a rule for myself.

So I had to buy the paperbacks. I just had to. My hands were tied. Did I really have the money to? No, but I’ve had a hard month so fuck it.

Past Grey Reads

Book Review // Girl Made of Stars – I Am Broken

Grey Reads // Everything’s On Fire and I Couldn’t Be Happier – Girls of Paper and Fire

Grey Reads // Bloody Moors & Candy Castles – The Wayward Children 2 & 3

Film & TV

Honestly I barely remember what I did actually watch.

Month’s TBW

│The Bold Type│Season 2││

│Brooklyn Nine-Nine│Season 6││

│RuPaul’s Drag Race│Season 11││

│I Am The Night│Season 1││

│The Umbrella Academy│Season 1││

│Russian Doll│Season 1││

│Sex Education│Season 1││

Watched

│The Bold Type│Season 2││2017│ Sarah Watson│ Katie Stevens, Aisha Dee, Meghann Fahy│★★★★★│

This show is so fucking good, I’m not not so patiently waiting for the third season to come out next month!

│Brooklyn Nine-Nine│Season 6││2013│ Daniel J. Goor, Michael Schur│ Andre Braugher, Andy Samberg, Stephanie Beatriz│Watching weekly episodes│★★★★★│

The episode with the murder in the apartment and the making stupid promises to the mum and Jake slowly going crazy and Rosa with a different hair style every scene??? Iconic!

│RuPaul’s Drag Race│Season 11││2009│ RuPaul│RuPaul, Michelle Visage│Watching weekly episodes│★★★★★│

Between Miss Vanjie being the narrator of the season (and maybe my fave of all time), her hoemance with Brooke Lyn Heights, Yvie’s take no shit, own your shit attitude and Plastique’s fish???? I am in love with this season.

I could do without Silky’s obnoxious everything and R. Kelly style Untucked breakdowns but whatever.

│Russian Doll│Season 1││2019│ Leslye Headland, Natasha Lyonne, Amy Poehler│ Natasha Lyonne, Charlie Barnett, Greta Lee│★★★★★│

I am in love with Russian Doll and everything about it. It’s short, it’s smart, it’s quality TV and it’s fucking funny.

│Sex Education│Season 1││2019│ Laurie Nunn│ Asa Butterfield, Gillian Anderson, Emma Mackey│★★★★★│

This show is stupid funny but it’s also super intelligent and important. This is such a good show for teens to have easy access to and I can’t wait for the new season.

│Queer Eye│Season 3││2018│ Bobby Berk, Karamo Brown, Tan France │★★★★★│

This season had me crying my eyes out and I loved every second of it.

But my favourite moment is when Jody, on the first episode, comes out for the big reveal and the guys all lose their fucking minds! Especially Karamo’s and Antoni’s reactions. They were absolutely fucking gold.

│Game of Thrones│Season 1││2011│ David Benioff, D.B. Weiss│ Emilia Clarke, Peter Dinklage, Kit Harington│★★★★│

I mean, yes I am well aware of the problems Game of Thrones have and I am trash for it anyway. Is it as amazing as I initially thought?? Not at all but I’m in too deep now I can’t just not watch the final season.

So here I am re-watching the entire show with my mum to drag it out just a little longer and hopefully by the time we’re all caught up the final season, in it’s entirety, will be well and truly out.

I just have to try and avoid spoilers until then…which should actually be very easy because of something I’ll announce in my Month Ahead post.

Me after this month.

Music

│YUNGBLUD│11 Minutes + Halsey│Loner│Falling Skies + Charlotte Lawrence│

│Dodie│Burned Out│

│Troye Sivan + Lauv│i’m so tired…│

│Noah Cyrus│Sadness│Good Cry│

│Julia Michaels│Anxiety + Selena Gomez│Happy│

│Steve Aoki│Waste It on Me + BTS│

Past Grey Watches

Grey Watches // I Hate It So Much I Love It – A Christmas Prince

Grey Watches // It Has To Be A Shit Show – A Christmas Prince: The Royal Wedding

Grey Watches // I Wanna Bone Jude Law and Kate Winslet – The Holiday

Use Your Words Highlights

Grey Reads // Bloody Moors & Candy Castles – The Wayward Children 2 & 3

Top Ten Tuesday // Audible and Overdrive Are My Lords & Saviors – My Audiobook TBR

Blogosphere Highlights

│Laura @ The Book Corps│#UNSOLVEDATHON: A BUZZFEED UNSOLVED READATHON — ANNOUNCEMENT AND SIGN UP!│#UNSOLVEDATHON BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS!│

│Elise @ The Bookish Actress│Why I’m Not Honestly That Excited for Game of Thrones: Season Eight│Eighteen Things I’ve Learned In My First Eighteen Years│

│Krystin @ Here’s The Fucking Twist│True Crime Tuesday: The Moors Murders│

│Jamieson @ Jamishelves│IF YOU LIKE THIS BOOK YOU’LL LIKE THIS TV SHOW !│

│Vicky @ Vicky Who Reads│Stressed About College? These Book Recs Are For You!│

│Ellyn @ Allonsythornraxxbooks│5 TIPS ON ANNOTATING YOUR BOOKS!│

│Marie @ Drizzle & Hurricane Books│10 YA BOOKS DEALING WITH ANXIETY│

│Avery @ Red Rocket Panda│DOWN THE TBR HOLE | USING THE #KONMARIE METHOD FOR MY PHYSICAL SHELVES│

│Fadwa @ Word Wonders│#DIVERSEBOOKBLOGGERSDISCUSS: THE FANTASY OF HISTORICAL ROMANCE│(SOME) BOOK BLOGGING PRESSURES & HOW TO FIGHT THEM│WORD WONDERS’ TBR EXPANSION: BOOKS WITH EAST AND SOUTH EAST ASIAN MAIN CHARACTERS│MY PRODUCTIVITY TOOLS – OR HOW TO BE A MASTER ORGANIZER!│

│Aurora @ Aurora Librialis│5 Book Quotes for International Women’s Day│

│Swetlana @ The Caffeinated Bookworm Life│6 Reasons To Watch On My Block│

│Qui @ The Black Lit Queen│Diversity vs. Representation|BLQ Quick Guide│

│Madeline @ Caffeine & Writing Dreams│How to Write Scenes that Balance Plot & Character // Scene and Sequel Sequences│

Past Month In Review

Month in Review // Christmas is Over Thank Fuck – December

January in Review // I Cried, Laughed, Ate Pasta, Celebrated My Birthday & Completed TWO Read-A-Thons/Challenges

Month in Review // I FINALLY CHANGED MY NAME – February

Month’s Goals

Get my mental health plan

Book a therapy session I have to wait until April ahhhhhhhh

Get a massage from mum —I just always forget okay

Try and take a mental health day

Try and take a mental health day later in the month

Keep my shit together —HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Start journaling —I will get to this eventually…

Quit soft drink

Start floor exercises—I keep adding this and never get around to it. —I couldn’t even go for my walks for most of the month so…

Try and read 5 books —I can’t even say I tried.

Don’t waste all my time on The Sims

Go to Writers Week

Considering how shit this month was I count 7/12 goals reached a fucking accomplishment!

My Nightmare Month

So it started well enough. I went to Writers Week on two different days and thoroughly enjoyed myself! but then i got into a car accident on the way to my third day.

Which was stressful and anxiety inducing. It’s been a nightmare to work through all the aftermath. I didn’t know if the accident would be covered by insurance or if I would even hear from the person who hit me. And then when I did get the good news of being covered I basically had to micromanage the insurance company because they did everything slow and I couldn’t afford slow. So that was loads of phone calls which is something that causes me anxiety so YAY.

It’s mostly all sorted out. I still need to take my plates in and get a refund on my rego which I tried to do a couple days ago and got frustrated so that’s a task for another day.

I did get to go to the Fringe Festival and see Daniel Sloss’s new comedy special which was absolutely brilliant! He talked about rape culture and really put the onus on men and how they need to work and go out of their way to think critically of themselves and society and what they can do to dismantle rape culture. I laughed and sobbed. My mum nearly pissed herself laughing and it was a great night out with to die for Sri-Lankan food hot buttered squid will blow your fucking mind! and I discovered that I like to drink Pimms.

Throughout the month I’ve still been sorting out my name change because that is a long and drawn out process of changing my name everywhere and hitting road blocks constantly has be incredibly frustrating but I’m nearly finished!

I have also been doing all of this while in incredible pain because chronic illness.

My March mood

Basically my feet have been very painful, I knew the solution, doctor refused me, mum took me to a doctor who knows our history and I got the solution so I can actually start walking regularly again which will help my mental health loads.

My mum also took me to replace all of my shoes which was both expensive and needed so I have the best shoes for walking and working and running around doing errands and going out!

I was ready to end the month on a positive. Sure the start had rattled me a lot, and I was big depressed because of pain for most of it but I did have a few great experiences and I’d resolved almost all the long running issues.

And then while I was waiting for mum to finish work a couple of days ago, I sat and read in the foodcourt.

A man approached me and invaded my personal space and stared at me, knowing it would make me uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that it distracted me from the fact he was trying to steal my purse.

Thankfully I noticed at the last minute and grabbed it back because I would have been a fucking mess if I had gone to all the trouble replacing everything in my purse with my new name on it, only to have to do it all over again because someone stole my it all.

The man walked off but I would be lying if I said it didn’t terrify me. The way he stared at me was so unnerving and I don’t handle people being in my personal space…like at all. Even people I know and trust have to always ask permission first. I don’t let men I know in my personal space at all because I know what men are capable of. But to have a man I don’t know get in my face with the purpose to make me uncomfortable, especially after the month I’ve had, was enough for me to completely come undone.

I’m thankful for the cleaner for checking up on me, even though I burst into tears, and I’m thankful for the girl who approached me after as well to try and be supportive.

She had fire in her eyes and in that moment I had wished that that was what I looked like instead of the girl I was, not being able to hold back tears and trying to keep calm in the middle of an anxiety attack.

More than anything, I’m thankful for my mum for being so supportive and understanding and being exactly what I needed her to be and for calling out the men who made things worse, while trying to help, when I didn’t have the strength to.

I’ve argued with myself on whether to share this and maybe I might delete it all before it gets published, but I think it’s important for women to share their experiences with how men have preyed upon them, whether sexually or not, and how men continue to use their power to get what they want from us, regardless of the negative impact it has on us.

I just—girls, women, know that if something like this happens to you, if something worse happens to you, it’s not your fault, it’s never your fault. The way you react to it is right because it’s your experience and your emotions. I’m trying to remind myself of that.

And men, know that if you’re not actively trying to stop this shit from happening, aren’t pulling your friends up for those gross comments they make, then you’re part of the fucking problem. I don’t want to hear that you personally would never do this. That shit isn’t enough. It’s never been enough. This all lies at your feet and fuck you for helping to hold up a society that makes us think any of it is our own fault.

And if something like this happens to a girl or woman you know then ask her what she needs, ask her the best way for you to help. Because nine times out of ten the way you react naturally is going to be the complete fucking opposite of what she needs and you might make things worse. And that’s on you, not her.

Past Month Ahead

Month Ahead // Happy Birthday To Me + Hiatus Announcement – January

February Ahead // I’m Finally Going To Read The Raven Cycle Series & It’s Black History Month + A Great Resource for Education!!!!!

Month Ahead // Writers Week, Comedy & Too Much To Do – March

Thank fuck March is over.

What did you do this month? What did you read? What did you watch? What posts did you write that you’re super proud of?

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readbookywooks · 8 years

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Martha

She thought of the robin and of the way he seemed to sing his song at her, and as she remembered the tree-top he perched on she stopped rather suddenly on the path."I believe that tree was in the secret garden--I feel sure it was," she said. "There was a wall round the place and there was no door."She walked back into the first kitchen-garden she had entered and found the old man digging there. She went and stood beside him and watched him a few moments in her cold little way. He took no notice of her and so at last she spoke to him."I have been into the other gardens," she said."There was nothin' to prevent thee," he answered crustily."I went into the orchard.""There was no dog at th' door to bite thee," he answered."There was no door there into the other garden," said Mary."What garden?" he said in a rough voice, stopping his digging for a moment."The one on the other side of the wall," answered Mistress Mary. "There are trees there--I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting on one of them and he sang."To her surprise the surly old weather-beaten face actually changed its expression. A slow smile spread over it and the gardener looked quite different. It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before. Page 7 of 10When she opened her eyes in the morning it was because a young housemaid had come into her room to light the fire and was kneeling on the hearth-rug raking out the cinders noisily. Mary lay and watched her for a few moments and then began to look about the room. She had never seen a room at all like it and thought it curious and gloomy. The walls were covered with tapestry with a forest scene embroidered on it. There were fantastically dressed people under the trees and in the distance there was a glimpse of the turrets of a castle. There were hunters and horses and dogs and ladies. Mary felt as if she were in the forest with them. Out of a deep window she could see a great climbing stretch of land which seemed to have no trees on it, and to look rather like an endless, dull, purplish sea.

"What is that?" she said, pointing out of the window.

Martha, the young housemaid, who had just risen to her feet, looked and pointed also. "That there?" she said.

"Yes."

"That's th' moor," with a good-natured grin. "Does tha' like it?"

"No," answered Mary. "I hate it."

"That's because tha'rt not used to it," Martha said, going back to her hearth. "Tha' thinks it's too big an' bare now. But tha' will like it."

"Do you?" inquired Mary.

"Aye, that I do," answered Martha, cheerfully polishing away at the grate. "I just love it. It's none bare. It's covered wi' growin' things as smells sweet. It's fair lovely in spring an' summer when th' gorse an' broom an' heather's in flower. It smells o' honey an' there's such a lot o' fresh air--an' th' sky looks so high an' th' bees an' skylarks makes such a nice noise hummin' an' singin'. Eh! I wouldn't live away from th' moor for anythin'."

Mary listened to her with a grave, puzzled expression. The native servants she had been used to in India were not in the least like this. They were obsequious and servile and did not presume to talk to their masters as if they were their equals. They made salaams and called them "protector of the poor" and names of that sort. Indian servants were commanded to do things, not asked. It was not the custom to say "please" and "thank you" and Mary had always slapped her Ayah in the face when she was angry. She wondered a little what this girl would do if one slapped her in the face. She was a round, rosy, good-natured-looking creature, but she had a sturdy way which made Mistress Mary wonder if she might not even slap back--if the person who slapped her was only a little girl.

"You are a strange servant," she said from her pillows, rather haughtily.

Martha sat up on her heels, with her blackingbrush in her hand, and laughed, without seeming the least out of temper.

"Eh! I know that," she said. "If there was a grand Missus at Misselthwaite I should never have been even one of th' under house-maids. I might have been let to be scullerymaid but I'd never have been let upstairs. I'm too common an' I talk too much Yorkshire. But this is a funny house for all it's so grand. Seems like there's neither Master nor Mistress except Mr. Pitcher an' Mrs. Medlock. Mr. Craven, he won't be troubled about anythin' when he's here, an' he's nearly always away. Mrs. Medlock gave me th' place out o' kindness. She told me she could never have done it if Misselthwaite had been like other big houses." "Are you going to be my servant?" Mary asked, still in her imperious little Indian way.

Martha began to rub her grate again.

"I'm Mrs. Medlock's servant," she said stoutly. "An' she's Mr. Craven's--but I'm to do the housemaid's work up here an' wait on you a bit. But you won't need much waitin' on."

"Who is going to dress me?" demanded Mary.

Martha sat up on her heels again and stared. She spoke in broad Yorkshire in her amazement.

"Canna' tha' dress thysen!" she said.

"What do you mean? I don't understand your language," said Mary.

"Eh! I forgot," Martha said. "Mrs. Medlock told me I'd have to be careful or you wouldn't know what I was sayin'. I mean can't you put on your own clothes?"

"No," answered Mary, quite indignantly. "I never did in my life. My Ayah dressed me, of course."

"Well," said Martha, evidently not in the least aware that she was impudent, "it's time tha' should learn. Tha' cannot begin younger. It'll do thee good to wait on thysen a bit. My mother always said she couldn't see why grand people's children didn't turn out fair fools--what with nurses an' bein' washed an' dressed an' took out to walk as if they was puppies!"

"It is different in India," said Mistress Mary disdainfully. She could scarcely stand this.

But Martha was not at all crushed.

"Eh! I can see it's different," she answered almost sympathetically. "I dare say it's because there's such a lot o' blacks there instead o' respectable white people. When I heard you was comin' from India I thought you was a black too."

Mary sat up in bed furious.

"What!" she said. "What! You thought I was a native. You--you daughter of a pig!"

Martha stared and looked hot.

"Who are you callin' names?" she said. "You needn't be so vexed. That's not th' way for a young lady to talk. I've nothin' against th' blacks. When you read about 'em in tracts they're always very religious. You always read as a black's a man an' a brother. I've never seen a black an' I was fair pleased to think I was goin' to see one close. When I come in to light your fire this mornin' I crep' up to your bed an' pulled th' cover back careful to look at you. An' there you was," disappointedly, "no more black than me--for all you're so yeller."

Mary did not even try to control her rage and humiliation. "You thought I was a native! You dared! You don't know anything about natives! They are not people--they're servants who must salaam to you. You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything!"

She was in such a rage and felt so helpless before the girl's simple stare, and somehow she suddenly felt so horribly lonely and far away from everything she understood and which understood her, that she threw herself face downward on the pillows and burst into passionate sobbing. She sobbed so unrestrainedly that good-natured Yorkshire Martha was a little frightened and quite sorry for her. She went to the bed and bent over her.

"Eh! you mustn't cry like that there!" she begged. "You mustn't for sure. I didn't know you'd be vexed. I don't know anythin' about anythin'--just like you said. I beg your pardon, Miss. Do stop cryin'."

There was something comforting and really friendly in her queer Yorkshire speech and sturdy way which had a good effect on Mary. She gradually ceased crying and became quiet. Martha looked relieved.

"It's time for thee to get up now," she said. "Mrs. Medlock said I was to carry tha' breakfast an' tea an' dinner into th' room next to this. It's been made into a nursery for thee. I'll help thee on with thy clothes if tha'll get out o' bed. If th' buttons are at th' back tha' cannot button them up tha'self."

When Mary at last decided to get up, the clothes Martha took from the wardrobe were not the ones she had worn when she arrived the night before with Mrs. Medlock.

"Those are not mine," she said. "Mine are black."

She looked the thick white wool coat and dress over, and added with cool approval:

"Those are nicer than mine."

"These are th' ones tha' must put on," Martha answered. "Mr. Craven ordered Mrs. Medlock to get 'em in London. He said `I won't have a child dressed in black wanderin' about like a lost soul,' he said. `It'd make the place sadder than it is. Put color on her.' Mother she said she knew what he meant. Mother always knows what a body means. She doesn't hold with black hersel'."

"I hate black things," said Mary.

The dressing process was one which taught them both something. Martha had "buttoned up" her little sisters and brothers but she had never seen a child who stood still and waited for another person to do things for her as if she had neither hands nor feet of her own.

"Why doesn't tha' put on tha' own shoes?" she said when Mary quietly held out her foot.

"My Ayah did it," answered Mary, staring. "It was the custom."

She said that very often--"It was the custom." The native servants were always saying it. If one told them to do a thing their ancestors had not done for a thousand years they gazed at one mildly and said, "It is not the custom" and one knew that was the end of the matter.

It had not been the custom that Mistress Mary should do anything but stand and allow herself to be dressed like a doll, but before she was ready for breakfast she began to suspect that her life at Misselthwaite Manor would end by teaching her a number of things quite new to her--things such as putting on her own shoes and stockings, and picking up things she let fall. If Martha had been a well-trained fine young lady's maid she would have been more subservient and respectful and would have known that it was her business to brush hair, and button boots, and pick things up and lay them away. She was, however, only an untrained Yorkshire rustic who had been brought up in a moorland cottage with a swarm of little brothers and sisters who had never dreamed of doing anything but waiting on themselves and on the younger ones who were either babies in arms or just learning to totter about and tumble over things.

If Mary Lennox had been a child who was ready to be amused she would perhaps have laughed at Martha's readiness to talk, but Mary only listened to her coldly and wondered at her freedom of manner. At first she was not at all interested, but gradually, as the girl rattled on in her good-tempered, homely way, Mary began to notice what she was saying.

"Eh! you should see 'em all," she said. "There's twelve of us an' my father only gets sixteen shilling a week. I can tell you my mother's put to it to get porridge for 'em all. They tumble about on th' moor an' play there all day an' mother says th' air of th' moor fattens 'em. She says she believes they eat th' grass same as th' wild ponies do. Our Dickon, he's twelve years old and he's got a young pony he calls his own."

"Where did he get it?" asked Mary.

"He found it on th' moor with its mother when it was a little one an' he began to make friends with it an' give it bits o' bread an' pluck young grass for it. And it got to like him so it follows him about an' it lets him get on its back. Dickon's a kind lad an' animals likes him."

Mary had never possessed an animal pet of her own and had always thought she should like one. So she began to feel a slight interest in Dickon, and as she had never before been interested in any one but herself, it was the dawning of a healthy sentiment. When she went into the room which had been made into a nursery for her, she found that it was rather like the one she had slept in. It was not a child's room, but a grown-up person's room, with gloomy old pictures on the walls and heavy old oak chairs. A table in the center was set with a good substantial breakfast. But she had always had a very small appetite, and she looked with something more than indifference at the first plate Martha set before her.

"I don't want it," she said.

"Tha' doesn't want thy porridge!" Martha exclaimed incredulously.

"No."

"Tha' doesn't know how good it is. Put a bit o' treacle on it or a bit o' sugar."

"I don't want it," repeated Mary.

"Eh!" said Martha. "I can't abide to see good victuals go to waste. If our children was at this table they'd clean it bare in five minutes."

"Why?" said Mary coldly. "Why!" echoed Martha. "Because they scarce ever had their stomachs full in their lives. They're as hungry as young hawks an' foxes."

"I don't know what it is to be hungry," said Mary, with the indifference of ignorance.

Martha looked indignant.

"Well, it would do thee good to try it. I can see that plain enough," she said outspokenly. "I've no patience with folk as sits an' just stares at good bread an' meat. My word! don't I wish Dickon and Phil an' Jane an' th' rest of 'em had what's here under their pinafores."

"Why don't you take it to them?" suggested Mary.

"It's not mine," answered Martha stoutly. "An' this isn't my day out. I get my day out once a month same as th' rest. Then I go home an' clean up for mother an' give her a day's rest."

Mary drank some tea and ate a little toast and some marmalade.

"You wrap up warm an' run out an' play you," said Martha. "It'll do you good and give you some stomach for your meat."

Mary went to the window. There were gardens and paths and big trees, but everything looked dull and wintry.

"Out? Why should I go out on a day like this?" "Well, if tha' doesn't go out tha'lt have to stay in, an' what has tha' got to do?"

Mary glanced about her. There was nothing to do. When Mrs. Medlock had prepared the nursery she had not thought of amusement. Perhaps it would be better to go and see what the gardens were like.

"Who will go with me?" she inquired.

Martha stared.

"You'll go by yourself," she answered. "You'll have to learn to play like other children does when they haven't got sisters and brothers. Our Dickon goes off on th' moor by himself an' plays for hours. That's how he made friends with th' pony. He's got sheep on th' moor that knows him, an' birds as comes an' eats out of his hand. However little there is to eat, he always saves a bit o' his bread to coax his pets."

It was really this mention of Dickon which made Mary decide to go out, though she was not aware of it. There would be, birds outside though there would not be ponies or sheep. They would be different from the birds in India and it might amuse her to look at them.

Martha found her coat and hat for her and a pair of stout little boots and she showed her her way downstairs.

"If tha' goes round that way tha'll come to th' gardens," she said, pointing to a gate in a wall of shrubbery. "There's lots o' flowers in summer-time, but there's nothin' bloomin' now." She seemed to hesitate a second before she added, "One of th' gardens is locked up. No one has been in it for ten years."

"Why?" asked Mary in spite of herself. Here was another locked door added to the hundred in the strange house.

"Mr. Craven had it shut when his wife died so sudden. He won't let no one go inside. It was her garden. He locked th' door an' dug a hole and buried th' key. There's Mrs. Medlock's bell ringing--I must run."

After she was gone Mary turned down the walk which led to the door in the shrubbery. She could not help thinking about the garden which no one had been into for ten years. She wondered what it would look like and whether there were any flowers still alive in it. When she had passed through the shrubbery gate she found herself in great gardens, with wide lawns and winding walks with clipped borders. There were trees, and flower-beds, and evergreens clipped into strange shapes, and a large pool with an old gray fountain in its midst. But the flower-beds were bare and wintry and the fountain was not playing. This was not the garden which was shut up. How could a garden be shut up? You could always walk into a garden.

She was just thinking this when she saw that, at the end of the path she was following, there seemed to be a long wall, with ivy growing over it. She was not familiar enough with England to know that she was coming upon the kitchen-gardens where the vegetables and fruit were growing. She went toward the wall and found that there was a green door in the ivy, and that it stood open. This was not the closed garden, evidently, and she could go into it.

She went through the door and found that it was a garden with walls all round it and that it was only one of several walled gardens which seemed to open into one another. She saw another open green door, revealing bushes and pathways between beds containing winter vegetables. Fruit-trees were trained flat against the wall, and over some of the beds there were glass frames. The place was bare and ugly enough, Mary thought, as she stood and stared about her. It might be nicer in summer when things were green, but there was nothing pretty about it now.

Presently an old man with a spade over his shoulder walked through the door leading from the second garden. He looked startled when he saw Mary, and then touched his cap. He had a surly old face, and did not seem at all pleased to see her--but then she was displeased with his garden and wore her "quite contrary" expression, and certainly did not seem at all pleased to see him.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"One o' th' kitchen-gardens," he answered.

"What is that?" said Mary, pointing through the other green door.

"Another of 'em," shortly. "There's another on t'other side o' th' wall an' there's th' orchard t'other side o' that."

"Can I go in them?" asked Mary.

"If tha' likes. But there's nowt to see."

Mary made no response. She went down the path and through the second green door. There, she found more walls and winter vegetables and glass frames, but in the second wall there was another green door and it was not open. Perhaps it led into the garden which no one had seen for ten years. As she was not at all a timid child and always did what she wanted to do, Mary went to the green door and turned the handle. She hoped the door would not open because she wanted to be sure she had found the mysterious garden--but it did open quite easily and she walked through it and found herself in an orchard. There were walls all round it also and trees trained against them, and there were bare fruit-trees growing in the winter-browned grass--but there was no green door to be seen anywhere. Mary looked for it, and yet when she had entered the upper end of the garden she had noticed that the wall did not seem to end with the orchard but to extend beyond it as if it enclosed a place at the other side. She could see the tops of trees above the wall, and when she stood still she saw a bird with a bright red breast sitting on the topmost branch of one of them, and suddenly he burst into his winter song--almost as if he had caught sight of her and was calling to her.

She stopped and listened to him and somehow his cheerful, friendly little whistle gave her a pleased feeling--even a disagreeable little girl may be lonely, and the big closed house and big bare moor and big bare gardens had made this one feel as if there was no one left in the world but herself. If she had been an affectionate child, who had been used to being loved, she would have broken her heart, but even though she was "Mistress Mary Quite Contrary" she was desolate, and the bright-breasted little bird brought a look into her sour little face which was almost a smile. She listened to him until he flew away. He was not like an Indian bird and she liked him and wondered if she should ever see him again. Perhaps he lived in the mysterious garden and knew all about it.

Perhaps it was because she had nothing whatever to do that she thought so much of the deserted garden. She was curious about it and wanted to see what it was like. Why had Mr. Archibald Craven buried the key? If he had liked his wife so much why did he hate her garden? She wondered if she should ever see him, but she knew that if she did she should not like him, and he would not like her, and that she should only stand and stare at him and say nothing, though she should be wanting dreadfully to ask him why he had done such a queer thing.

"People never like me and I never like people," she thought. "And I never can talk as the Crawford children could. They were always talking and laughing and making noises."

She thought of the robin and of the way he seemed to sing his song at her, and as she remembered the tree-top he perched on she stopped rather suddenly on the path.

"I believe that tree was in the secret garden--I feel sure it was," she said. "There was a wall round the place and there was no door."

She walked back into the first kitchen-garden she had entered and found the old man digging there. She went and stood beside him and watched him a few moments in her cold little way. He took no notice of her and so at last she spoke to him.

"I have been into the other gardens," she said.

"There was nothin' to prevent thee," he answered crustily.

"I went into the orchard."

"There was no dog at th' door to bite thee," he answered.

"There was no door there into the other garden," said Mary.

"What garden?" he said in a rough voice, stopping his digging for a moment.

"The one on the other side of the wall," answered Mistress Mary. "There are trees there--I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting on one of them and he sang."

To her surprise the surly old weather-beaten face actually changed its expression. A slow smile spread over it and the gardener looked quite different. It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before.

He turned about to the orchard side of his garden and began to whistle--a low soft whistle. She could not understand how such a surly man could make such a coaxing sound. Almost the next moment a wonderful thing happened. She heard a soft little rushing flight through the air--and it was the bird with the red breast flying to them, and he actually alighted on the big clod of earth quite near to the gardener's foot.

"Here he is," chuckled the old man, and then he spoke to the bird as if he were speaking to a child.

"Where has tha' been, tha' cheeky little beggar?" he said. "I've not seen thee before today. Has tha, begun tha' courtin' this early in th' season? Tha'rt too forrad."

The bird put his tiny head on one side and looked up at him with his soft bright eye which was like a black dewdrop. He seemed quite familiar and not the least afraid. He hopped about and pecked the earth briskly, looking for seeds and insects. It actually gave Mary a queer feeling in her heart, because he was so pretty and cheerful and seemed so like a person. He had a tiny plump body and a delicate beak, and slender delicate legs.

"Will he always come when you call him?" she asked almost in a whisper.

"Aye, that he will. I've knowed him ever since he was a fledgling. He come out of th' nest in th' other garden an' when first he flew over th' wall he was too weak to fly back for a few days an' we got friendly. When he went over th' wall again th' rest of th' brood was gone an' he was lonely an' he come back to me."

"What kind of a bird is he?" Mary asked.

"Doesn't tha' know? He's a robin redbreast an' they're th' friendliest, curiousest birds alive. They're almost as friendly as dogs--if you know how to get on with 'em. Watch him peckin' about there an' lookin' round at us now an' again. He knows we're talkin' about him."

It was the queerest thing in the world to see the old fellow. He looked at the plump little scarlet-waistcoated bird as if he were both proud and fond of him.

"He's a conceited one," he chuckled. "He likes to hear folk talk about him. An' curious--bless me, there never was his like for curiosity an' meddlin'. He's always comin' to see what I'm plantin'. He knows all th' things Mester Craven never troubles hissel' to find out. He's th' head gardener, he is."

The robin hopped about busily pecking the soil and now and then stopped and looked at them a little. Mary thought his black dewdrop eyes gazed at her with great curiosity. It really seemed as if he were finding out all about her. The queer feeling in her heart increased. "Where did the rest of the brood fly to?" she asked.

"There's no knowin'. The old ones turn 'em out o' their nest an' make 'em fly an' they're scattered before you know it. This one was a knowin' one an, he knew he was lonely."

Mistress Mary went a step nearer to the robin and looked at him very hard.

"I'm lonely," she said.

She had not known before that this was one of the things which made her feel sour and cross. She seemed to find it out when the robin looked at her and she looked at the robin.

The old gardener pushed his cap back on his bald head and stared at her a minute.

"Art tha' th' little wench from India?" he asked.

Mary nodded.

"Then no wonder tha'rt lonely. Tha'lt be lonlier before tha's done," he said.

He began to dig again, driving his spade deep into the rich black garden soil while the robin hopped about very busily employed.

"What is your name?" Mary inquired.

He stood up to answer her.

"Ben Weatherstaff," he answered, and then he added with a surly chuckle, "I'm lonely mysel' except when he's with me," and he jerked his thumb toward the robin. "He's th' only friend I've got."

"I have no friends at all," said Mary. "I never had. My Ayah didn't like me and I never played with any one."

It is a Yorkshire habit to say what you think with blunt frankness, and old Ben Weatherstaff was a Yorkshire moor man.

"Tha' an' me are a good bit alike," he said. "We was wove out of th' same cloth. We're neither of us good lookin' an' we're both of us as sour as we look. We've got the same nasty tempers, both of us, I'll warrant."

This was plain speaking, and Mary Lennox had never heard the truth about herself in her life. Native servants always salaamed and submitted to you, whatever you did. She had never thought much about her looks, but she wondered if she was as unattractive as Ben Weatherstaff and she also wondered if she looked as sour as he had looked before the robin came. She actually began to wonder also if she was "nasty tempered." She felt uncomfortable.

Suddenly a clear rippling little sound broke out near her and she turned round. She was standing a few feet from a young apple-tree and the robin had flown on to one of its branches and had burst out into a scrap of a song. Ben Weatherstaff laughed outright.

"What did he do that for?" asked Mary.

"He's made up his mind to make friends with thee," replied Ben. "Dang me if he hasn't took a fancy to thee."

"To me?" said Mary, and she moved toward the little tree softly and looked up.

"Would you make friends with me?" she said to the robin just as if she was speaking to a person. "Would you?" And she did not say it either in her hard little voice or in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so soft and eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprised as she had been when she heard him whistle.

"Why," he cried out, "tha' said that as nice an' human as if tha' was a real child instead of a sharp old woman. Tha' said it almost like Dickon talks to his wild things on th' moor."

"Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round rather in a hurry.

"Everybody knows him. Dickon's wanderin' about everywhere. Th' very blackberries an' heather-bells knows him. I warrant th' foxes shows him where their cubs lies an' th' skylarks doesn't hide their nests from him."

Mary would have liked to ask some more questions. She was almost as curious about Dickon as she was about the deserted garden. But just that moment the robin, who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings, spread them and flew away. He had made his visit and had other things to do.

"He has flown over the wall!" Mary cried out, watching him. "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across the other wall--into the garden where there is no door!"

"He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there. If he's courtin', he's makin' up to some young madam of a robin that lives among th' old rose-trees there."

"Rose-trees," said Mary. "Are there rose-trees?"

Ben Weatherstaff took up his spade again and began to dig.

"There was ten year' ago," he mumbled.

"I should like to see them," said Mary. "Where is the green door? There must be a door somewhere."

Ben drove his spade deep and looked as uncompanionable as he had looked when she first saw him.

"There was ten year' ago, but there isn't now," he said.

"No door!" cried Mary. "There must be." "None as any one can find, an' none as is any one's business. Don't you be a meddlesome wench an' poke your nose where it's no cause to go. Here, I must go on with my work. Get you gone an' play you. I've no more time."

And he actually stopped digging, threw his spade over his shoulder and walked off, without even glancing at her or saying good-by.

#SecretGarden

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celtfather · 7 years

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St Patrick's Day Music Party

Happy St Patrick's Day with 17 Free Celtic MP3s for the holiday on show #350. You'll enjoy Celtic music from Runa, Alasdair White, Jodee James, Bridgid's Cross, Sarah Copus, McDerry, Na Skylark, Jil Chambless, John Taylor, Scooter Muse, Melanie Gruben, The Gatehouse Well, Jesse Ferguson, Kilmaine Saints, Brynmor, Templars of Doom, Kilrush, Claymore, Tuatha Dea. http://celticmusicpodcast.com/

Listen and share this podcast. Download 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. Subscribe to the Celtic Music Magazine. This is our free newsletter and your guide to the latest Celtic music and podcast news. Remember to support the artists who support this podcast: buy their CDs, download their MP3s, see their shows, and drop them an email to let them know you heard them on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast.

TODAY'S SHOW IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY CELTIC INVASION VACATIONS

Don't just see the world. Go on a relaxing adventure with a small group of Celtic music fans, just like you. We won't see everything. Instead, we will stay in one area. We will get to know the region through it's culture, history, and legends. You can help me decide where we should go into 2019. Subscribe to the mailing list to join the invasion at http://celticinvasion.com/

THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC

0:08 "The Hunter Set" by Runa from Live

6:49 "The Cockerel in the Creel" by Alasdair White from An Clar Geal (The White Album)

10:36 "Titrwm Tatrwm/Hiraeth" by Jodee James from Lady of the Fountain

14:48 "Off She Goes" by Bridgid's Cross from Live without an Audience

17:52 "Gleanntain Ghlas Ghaoth Dobhair" by Sarah Copus from Moorland Winds

20:39 "Pirate Dan" by McDerry from Chandler

23:47 CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

25:53 "The Irish Marche" by Na Skylark from Old Ceol

28:23 "Mary and the Soldier" by Chambless, Taylor and Muse from Live at NTIF

31:31 "The Leprechaun" by Melanie Gruben from A Faery Song

32:49 "Calliope House Set" by The Gatehouse Well from And the Sparks Did Fly

37:41 "Rare Old Mountain Dew" by Jesse Ferguson from Folk Favourites

40:01 CELTIC FEEDBACK

41:53 "Pennsylvania's Finest" by Kilmaine Saints from Whiskey Blues & Faded Tattoos

44:44 "Musical Priest" by Brynmor from The Great Hill

46:55 "Saint Patrick Saved Ireland" by Templars of Doom from Bring Me the Head of John the Baptist

50:38 "Wild As the Heather" by Kilrush from The Basement Sessions

55:39 "Will Ye Nae Back Again" by Claymore from Claymore

"Aeilin Duinn" by Tuatha Dea from Kilts and Corsets

THANK YOU PATRONS OF THE PODCAST!

Imagine a world with no Celtic music. Sounds pretty horrible, right? All you have is boring music being shoved down your throats by big record labels. You wouldn't get to experience the incredible music shared each and every week in the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast. Our incredibly generous people bring you hours of great Celtic music. You can help celebrate Celtic music and culture and keep this show running every week. Become a Patron of the Podcast at http://patreon.com/celticpodcast

Thanks to our Celtic Legends: Bryan Brake, Nancie, Hunter Melville ,John Bilderback, Kevin Long, Annie Lorkowski, Lynda MacNeil, John Sharkey White II, Theresa Sullivan, Shawn Cali. These generous people pledge $10 per episode to keep this show running.

CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

* Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. My name is Marc Gunn. I am a Celtic and Geek musician and podcaster. This podcast is dedicated to the indie Celtic musicians. I want to ask you to support these artists. Share the show with your friends. And find more episodes at celticmusicpodcast.com. You can also support this podcast on Patreon.

Happy St Patrick's Day my friends. This is an extra-special episode of the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast. Every year since 2005, I release an article titled "17 Free Celtic MP3s for St Patrick's Day". I follow it up with a podcast that highlights all of the music that you can download for FREE! This is that podcast.

I want you to listen to this show. Then head over to the shownotes at celticmusicpodcast.com, and follow the link to download all 17 tracks in this show with no strings attached. It's a simple ZIP file that you can download to your computer, unzip, and start playing. It's super easy.

And this is sort of what you get every month when you become a Patron of the Podcast as a Song Henger, pledging at least $5 per month. You get a full album of Celtic songs and tunes from many of the artists featured in this show.

Follow the link in the shownotes.

Of course, if you enjoy any of these artists, then I hope you will find a way to support them. Start by signing up to their mailing list and learning more.

I want to send out a big thanks to Apple Podcasts. They gave us a big feature this week in the app, just in time for St. Patrick's Day. Welcome to all the new Apple Podcast subscribers. I hope you enjoy the show.

If you're not following us on Facebook, I don't know what's up with you. Every time I see a band share a St Patrick's Day show, I share it on the feed. And of course if you're in a band, use the hashtag #CelticMusicNews if you want me to see it.

Last week, I release a new CD inspired by the TV show Firefly. While I play a lot Sci Fi Drinking Songs, I got my start playing Celtic music. That's why I released Celtic Music 6-Pack. You can now own six of my most-Celtic albums packed full of Irish and Scottish Songs. You can even get them at 50% off. Go to CelticMusic.org/6pack for details.

You can read more of my own St Patrick's Day 2018 news on my blog or check out St Patrick's Day Music Party.

Have you ordered your Irish & Celtic Music Podcast sticker or t-shirt? Visit our podcast store at bestcelticmusic.net/shop to see all of the great merch we offer. Your generous purchases keep this show running.

VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20

It's easier than ever to do. Just list the show number, and the name of one or two bands. That's it. You can vote once for each episode help me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2018 episode. http://bestcelticmusic.net/vote/

I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK

What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? You can send a written comment along with a picture of what you're doing while listening. Email a voicemail message to [email protected]

Karl emailed a photo: "Hey, Celtfather, I'm moving into a new house in a week. Your podcast's upbeat rhythms are keeping me going while packing boxes and boxes of papers from my office. At least my photographs from Ireland and Scotland are digital--zeros and ones are so much lighter than prints."

I hope the move went well Karl!

John Thompson emailed: "Hey Marc, I was listening to episode 338 (Christmas show) of the Irish & Celtic Music podcast and was blown away by the song "Glasgow Christmas Rain" by Highland Reign. I went on Youtube and watched just about every Highland Reign video I could find. Then I went to CD Baby, bought 3 of their CDs and downloaded a fourth. I'm going to post a message to their website to say how amazing they sound and that I heard them on YOUR show. They're from the midwest so I probably never would have discovered them without the Irish & Celtic music podcast. (I'm in Philly and the only other Celtic group from the midwest I've run into in this neck of the woods is The Elders -- another fantastic band!). You ABSOLUTELY make a difference! I've been a Celtic music fan for a long time but have only been a listener and patron of the Irish & Celtic Music podcast for the last few years. I wish I had found it sooner. Your podcast never disappoints!"

Thank you SO MUCH, John! I love hearing about which bands and songs inspire you. And that you're actually buying music.

Musicians have it tough in this day and age. I'm extremely pleased that the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast can connect Celtic bands with Celtic music fans. It's a challenge. But that's why I am here.

So keep listening. Keeping telling your friends about the show. And when this episode is over, go thank one of these bands for being awesome!

Check out this episode!

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