#he is DIRECTLY above five packed blunts....

[nexttothelamp]

...

[phantomwisestory]

The chapter six spread

It’s been a while since I did a reading, so I just sat with the cards for a bit, shuffling and turning, glimpsing them as I cut the pack over and over. I shuffled for a good long time - several uninterrupted minutes - cutting the pack and adding to the pile in my hand from the second pile until it dwindled and dwindled down to one card, and that was my first card.

The five of swords - the card which first introduced the man who now has the sword from the watcher. A character I did not think would be very significant, but here he is. That seemed a straightforward representation. And then I drew The Hanged Man after another good few minutes of shuffling, and thought instantly that this card was the second death of the glickerlocks. Not because the person is significant, or because someone else was found hanging - but because the first life taken by the glickerlocks was the man who was found hanged, and this card was placed down next to the first, in a distinct second position.

I hadn’t planned a shape for this spread. I drew the first card and decided then that maybe I wanted five, maybe all in a straight row. My brain is very tired at the moment so I wanted to keep it simple and quick. But then the next card, the chariot, made me smile, drawn after much more shuffling, and then I caught sight of the three of swords - a card I don’t believe I have drawn yet in this story - and really really wanted it to be in the draw. So I just took it from the bottom of the deck. And then took the one directly beneath it as well, which was the sun.

Because it felt significant somehow that I had made a choice, so the three of swords was the end of the row, and then I added as the fifth card the one immediately below it in obedience to the idea that we must sit with whatever our choices reveal. So the sun, the fifth card, was played in the position beneath the other four.

Which is reflected in the language of that card. This chapter was roughly three sentences per card again, but I didn’t sick to it much and not at all for the three of swords, which seems to be a card which is behaving entirely outside the bounds of my own strictures, employing my petulant fancy instead. It wanted to be described in great detail. It was stubbornly insistent on being included in the first place. It wanted to be the end of the row. It wanted more than three sentences, it wanted significance. And it wanted to be literal. Actually Im not sure literal is the right word, but it is fascinating to me that it kind of demanded its way into just being described as is as a vision that the watcher has - as if its imagery is so blunt that it does not in fact represent anything. Also interesting that I was feeling its imposition - the language used for that vision is visceral and uncomfortable - a vernacular of things taking up space they shouldn’t - tumours, engorged, swollen, huge, consumed.

And then I was going to start writing, considering ways in which the sun can be beneath everything. Except as I wrote “phantomwise chapter 6” in my trusty notes app I realised the draw wanted a sixth card, in the top positions above the row of four, complementing the posture of the sun - a position of holding the story, of being context, or scenery, or world-building. So I pulled the top card off the deck on a whim, and there was death.

I’m coming to love death. Which you can see, because it turns out she and the Queen might be a lot more familiar than I had anticipated.

I’ve missed this place.

Boogleboot

--Master-post of chapters here

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Under the Stars (Brick/Blossom)

Written for the inaugural challenge prompt on PPG Challenge Hub on AO3 for the prompt “things you said under the stars,” hosted by @kiebs, @carriedreamerx, and me. Also functions as a Part 3 to the Shooketh, Not Stirred series. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here on Tumblr or on my AO3. 

Summary: In which Blossom decides she is definitely girlfriend material, and so does everybody else.

***We are welcoming more submissions for this prompt for the month of July! If you want to participate, please check out the PPG Challenge Hub collection on AO3.***

xxx

Nothing short of witchcraft could have held Buttercup’s 1997 Ford F-Series pickup truck together as it ambled over rocky switchbacks and through dense, Redwood forest to the Vista Lakes campgrounds for the Townsville High Junior and Senior classes’ biannual end-of-semester party. Blossom kept a stranglehold on the passenger door and hissed her displeasure over every dip that lurched the old truck too close to the edge of the road. The drop to the bottom of the mountain was a good thousand feet, a death knell for the Normies riding along with them.

Mitch and Harry, however, did not seem to mind as much.

“Oh shit!” Mitch whooped when Buttercup went over a particularly deep crag in the road and rocked the whole truck.

“Buttercup, please slow down,” Blossom pleaded.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Mitch said through the sliding window that opened up onto the truck bed, where he and Harry rode with the sleeping bags, food, and extra blankets.

Harry laughed. “We’re cool Blossom, don’t worry.”

“Yeah Blossom, don’t worry,” Buttercup drawled. “Besides, it’s not like a fall from this height would kill us.”

“I’m sure Mitch and Harry feel super reassured to hear you say that,” Blossom said snidely.

“Super duper!” Mitch said. He flashed the rearview mirror a sign of the horns and winked.

Blossom forced herself to ignore his goading and kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead just in case. “I should never have agreed to this.”

“Well, tough shit, Leader Girl. You could’ve gotten a ride with Bubbles earlier if you’d left your Winter Break homework until the last day like everybody else, but noooooooo.”

“Not everybody waits until the last minute to get the homework done, for your information.”

“They totally do.”

“They totally don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t—ugh, no, I’m not arguing like this with you.”

Buttercup smirked like she’d won the argument (she definitely did not). “Whatever. We’re basically here and no one’s fallen to their death yet, so you can chill.”

The road emptied out onto a clearing overlooking the side of the mountain. Three deep, blue lakes sat still and tranquil, each surrounded by clusters of gnarled Redwoods and camp sites. A lot of people were already here considering the late hour, and a few campfires blazed bright along the shorelines. The gloaming crept over the horizon, casting the valley below in shadow and the skies in dusky, bleeding streaks of red like spilled wine. High above, blues deepened to blacks, but it was still early for stars.

Buttercup parked off the main campsite and the boys began unloading the truck bed. When they struggled with a cooler crammed full of ice, Blossom lifted it effortlessly and floated it over to join others that had already been packed with cheap beer and grill meat.

“Eyyyy there she is!” Boomer opened his arms and pulled Blossom into his letter jacket for a big hug. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

Blossom returned his hug with a smile. “Me too.”

“I told you she would,” said Bubbles, and she nudged Butch who was busy putting away a plate piled high with four hamburgers. He took one look at Blossom and grinned.

“Hey, Highness,” Butch drawled.

Blossom shot him a withering look. “Hi, Butch.” Ever since she’d beaten him in a not-so-friendly spar while Buttercup was out of commission, he’d mellowed out and taken to nicknaming and weirdly friendly ribbing.

“Comin’ down from that pretty throne to hang with the cool kids, huh?”

He stuffed an entire burger in his mouth, while Blossom threw up a little in hers.

“Shut up, Butch. You sound like a creepy old man.” Buttercup arrived carrying two twenty-four packs of beer that she dropped in Butch’s lap. He caught them with a grunt, and Bubbles caught his plate of uneaten burgers.

“Bitch, you love every glistening inch of this.” Butch stood up shouldering the enormous beer crates like they weighed nothing, because they did.

“I love cold beer, so move your glistening ass.” Buttercup snatched one of his uneaten burgers and stuffed it in her mouth.

Somehow, Buttercup got Butch up and helping, and when Mitch and Harry joined them, it was short work to unload everything from Buttercup’s truck. Blossom rolled out her sleeping bag on the grass amidst all the others, but no one would be sleeping tonight. It was merely a courtesy for the too high or the too passed out.

Around the campsite, Juniors and Seniors lounged with beers and blunts, enjoying their last night together before Winter Break. Among them, Wes had his arm around Kim as he flipped hot dogs on a standing grill and chatted up Mike and Robin. Blossom watched them a moment, debating whether to interrupt the conversation to say hi.

Bubbles slipped her arm around Blossom’s waist and squeezed affectionately. “You look a little lost.”

“No, just hanging out, you know.” She returned the half embrace, and they stood there a moment enjoying the cool night air.

“Hey, Blossom! You wanna sit with us?” Harry called. He and a few others had set up some lawn chairs by the shore and were passing beers.

Bubbles giggled. “You know he likes you,” she said.

“What—He does?!” Blossom sputtered.

“For sure. And, you know, since you’re totally not with anybody else, you could have some fun talking to him.”

“You mean, flirt with him.”

Bubbles was as innocent as a lamb. “I mean, be nice to him. That could be fun, right?”

Blossom had nothing to say to that. She was not, in fact, “with” anybody else. And she had every right to talk to whomever of her friends she wanted, so technically Bubbles had a point, but…

Blossom searched the faces gathered. In the encroaching darkness, it was getting harder to pick out profiles and bright colors to see who was here and who hadn’t yet arrived. “I don’t know.”

But Bubbles was already dragging her over to Harry’s circle and waving back to him. Seated in between Harry on one side and Kim on the other, Blossom was handed a burger and a beer and encouraged to participate in the conversation.

“My folks’re taking me to our cabin in Tahoe to go skiing over the break,” Harry was saying.

“That sounds fun,” Blossom said.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, if you count me eating snow every five feet when I can’t stop falling.”

“Come on, I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’d be a cake walk for you, Miss Snow Queen.” Harry grinned, and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled cutely.

“Just because I have ice powers doesn’t make me a Winter sports maven. I’ve never skied in my life.”

“Psh, can’t be that hard, right? You start at the top of the mountain, and you end up at the bottom.”

Blossom bit back a smile. “I mean, I think it’s a little more involved than that.”

Harry laughed and leaned over the armrest closer to her. “Well, consider us both noobs. Anyway, most of the time’s spent hanging out at the cabin drinking hot chocolate anyway, right? Best part.”

Blossom tugged on her long, red ponytail as Harry continued to smile at her. She imagined the scene: a cozy ski lodge surrounded by snow, and a smiling boy content to ignore the blunt their friends were passing just to talk to her some more. She would like that. It would be easy, simple, and soft. Normal.

“Um, you know, I was thinking of inviting a few friends for a weekend. Just, like, a small group, and uh, well, I was wondering…” Harry stumbled in the dark looking for the question he meant to ask.

She could say yes, and she could have fun. With him, with any nice boy, it could be fun. How silly that just a few months ago, she had let herself believe she wasn’t the desirable type just because some mean girls said so. It all seemed so absurd now, and yet Blossom could not bring herself to give Harry the easy, simple, soft “yes” he wanted.

“Oh hey! You can have my seat, I’m grabbing more food,” said Kim on Blossom’s other side.

“Thanks.”

Like a hand to the stove, that voice hit her with a searing demand to be acknowledged. Old habits perhaps, or new ones. He wasn’t one to be ignored, not by her at least. Not these days.

“Brick,” Blossom said, half a question, half a sigh. She pulled back from Harry to look at him properly.

He’d taken Kim’s vacated seat directly next to her and nursed a solo cup of beer. Like her, he was dressed for the December chill in long sleeves, and his trademark red cap sat backwards over his short hair, as always. Red eyes held hers in a look that lingered.

“Blossom.” He spoke her name like a secret.

He was late. Why was he late? It wasn’t like him. She hadn’t seen him since third period yesterday. Was it only yesterday, or years ago?

“Hey, Brick,” Harry said, leaning over so he could see around Blossom. “Butch said you might not make it tonight.”

Blossom worried her lip between her teeth, and Brick took a long sip of beer as he slowly averted his gaze to Harry on her other side. “Here I am.”

“Uh, yeah, so Blossom,” Harry said. “About Tahoe…”

xxx

Blossom tugged on her ponytail as she turned back to Harry. Brick watched her twist her anxious fingers through her hair and narrowed his eyes.

“Hm? Oh, right,” she said.

“Yeah, so like I was saying, my parents’ cabin has a few extra bedrooms, so we could make a whole weekend out of it. Skiing, hot chocolate, the works. It’d be cool if you came. What do you say?”

“You throwing a rager?” Brick interrupted.

Harry leaned forward to see Brick again like he’d forgotten he was sitting there at all. “Nah man, just a couple friends for a weekend trip.”

“Cool. Who’s going?”

“Uh, I mean, I don’t have a list or anything. Sorta just came up with it now, so…”

“So you still have space. Count me in,” Brick said.

Blossom and Harry both looked at him like he’d suggested they all go jump in the lake.

“You want to go skiing in Tahoe?” Blossom asked.

Brick shrugged. “Sure, if it means a weekend away from my idiot brothers. Thanks for the invite, Harry.”

Harry gaped, and Blossom ceased pulling at her ponytail to stare at Brick.

“I mean,” Harry said, and nodded super obviously towards Blossom while she wasn’t looking.

“How many others could we invite?” Blossom asked. “If it’s okay with your parents, I mean.”

Harry looked at Blossom, and then he looked at Brick, who sipped his beer like the oblivious, teenaged simpleton he one hundred percent was not. Giving up, Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his buzz cut. “There’s room for two more if you’re both going to be there.”

Blossom lit up. “How about Wes and Kim? Or Pablo and Hanout?”

Harry sat back in his chair and nursed his beer. “Yeah, fine, whatever you want.”

She was smiling now.

“Wes and Kim,” Brick said. “Pablo snores like a motherfucker.”

“That’s true,” Harry said forlornly.

“Well, either way,” Blossom said, clearly torn between telling them both off and the desire to finalize plans.

Brick got up. “Let us know what weekend. I’m free whenever.”

Pleasantly yet unsurprisingly, Blossom got up too. “Me too. Thanks Harry, this’ll be fun.” She smiled genuinely at him, and he returned it.

“Yeah, the best,” Harry said dejectedly.

Blossom followed Brick as he led her away from the main campsite along the shoreline in the direction of the drop-off.

“Okay, what was that?” she asked when they were away from the roar of the music and the campfires.

“What was what?” Brick asked. It was dark now, and the farther they wandered from the center of the party, the harder it was to see the shoreline as his eyes adjusted.

“You invited yourself to Harry’s. Are you even that close?”

He paused and looked at her. “Are you?”

Blossom clutched the ends of her jacket as she blinked up at him. “We’re friends,” she hedged. “He’s a nice guy.”

Brick smirked. “Uh-huh. Real nice.”

“What does that mean?”

“You tell me. Am I intruding?”

Blossom studied him through the gloom. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, silken and subtle. “No,” she said at length. “There’s nothing to intrude on.”

He watched her walk along ahead of him, her long ponytail a bloody lash under the cover of night. He chucked his beer and went after her.

“This way,” he said, breaking from the shore and heading into the trees.

“Where are we going?” Blossom drew close. “It’s so dark tonight.”

“I think it’s a new moon. Here.” Brick found her hand so they wouldn’t get separated in the pitch black of the canopy.

Blossom’s hand was cool in his, and she slipped the other one around his arm as he walked deeper into the forest. The walk wasn’t far, and soon the trees thinned as they emerged onto the shore of the lake nearest to the precipice overlooking the valley below. Brick had set up his sleeping bag in the grass far away from the rabble where he could have the best view undisturbed.

“Wow.” Blossom approached the black waters, so still they reflected the night sky back flawlessly. Flurries of stars as far as the eye could see scattered above and below like snowflakes frozen in flight. The Milky Way ripped through the firmament, bleeding more stars clustered so closely together they glimmered ice-bright. “I feel like I just stepped into another world.”

Brick jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and drew up next to her. “Consequence of being away from all the city lights for a change.”

“Mm.”

They lapsed into silence for a bit as they watched the nightscape unfold above and upon the water. Brick’s eyes fully adjusted to the lambent starlight, but it was a cold light, and he wore only a thin, red hoodie to stave off the chill. Blossom noticed him shuffle beside her.

“Do you want my jacket?” she teased.

“Ha ha,” Brick groused. But it was fucking cold out here, now that she mentioned it. He had always been particularly sensitive to it in a way she wasn’t. “My sleeping bag should do the trick.”

They retreated to his makeshift camp, where Brick shimmied into his sleeping bag and Blossom sat on the mat next to him, perfectly at ease in the cold. She leaned back on her hands to admire the stars, content like she could watch them all night. Their gossamer light draped her like a veil, softening her edges and igniting her colors. Brick had the sudden urge to touch her, to prove she was no pearlescent dream, that the cold cornering him now was hers and not just the darkness.

“Why were you late tonight?” she asked out of the blue.

Brick lay back on the mat and looked up at the jeweled sky. “Finished the homework.”

Her laugh was as soft as the starlight, and she grinned at him over her shoulder. “Me too.”

Obviously. He wouldn’t put it past her. It didn’t matter, only, he didn’t want to have one more thing to worry about over the break while also spending way more time than usual around his brothers with nothing to keep their focus for eight hours of the day. But the knowledge seemed to please her, which was just as well.

“I told you I was coming tonight,” he said.

And yet, Boomer had blown up his phone texting him all evening wondering where the hell he was, why wasn’t he here yet, and didn’t he realize people were waiting for him? The last text was one he received when he’d touched down at the edge of the campsite and it was already dark: a candid picture of Blossom talking with Harry by a campfire, and she looked happy. Brick had not responded to it or to any of the other annoying texts. Kim had been more than happy to give him her chair the minute she saw him approaching.

“Here you are,” Blossom said, hushed and half-lidded.

Here we are.

Brick curled an arm under his head. “View’s better from down here.”

She worried her lip—did she even realize she did that? That he noticed?—but ultimately lay down next to him on the mat. “Oh, wow…”

The starscape shimmered far and above, and Brick began to pick out patterns in the cosmos. “There, Cassiopeia.” He pointed to a cluster of stars.

“You know your constellations?” she asked.

“A few.”

He could practically feel the aura of challenge she exuded like a pheromone.

“All right. Perseus,” she said.

Brick pointed to a long line of stars near Cassiopeia. “Right next to Andromeda.”

“That was a freebie to test the waters.”

Brick chuckled. “Sure.”

“Okay Star Lord, show me Gemini.”

Brick swept his hand south and west of Perseus to a pair of star lines facing each other. “A couple of gossipy bitches.”

She shoved him playfully, and he caught her with his free arm, pulling her close. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m right. Next?”

“Let’s see… How about Leo?”

With one arm anchoring her to his side, Brick traced the patterns she called out with the other. Dead heroes and their monsters rose from glittering graves with every sweep of his fingers and kept them company in the dark.

She tugged at his sleeve as he searched for the elusive Pyxis constellation. “Hey, we should probably get back to the party.”

Brick let his hand drop. “Why?”

“Because we’ll be missed, obviously.”

He chuckled. “I bet someone’s missing you.”

Blossom rolled onto her side to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

He’d taken her to breakfast. It wasn’t a date; he hadn’t technically asked, and she only came because she was hungry and didn’t want to go home yet. It was the first time he’d ever seen her cry—no, sob because of what some dumb girls said to her at a party. Just the normal high school bullshit, and she’d fallen apart. Breakfast was the fucking least he could do after the ignominy of seeing her like that. It just turned out that it wasn’t the last.

Too many breakfasts and long hours spent prepping for finals turned into expectation, expectation turned into anticipation, and anticipation became the new normal. They weren’t together no matter what rumors Bubbles and Robin started and stopped. They weren’t not together either, considering they usually were, in fact, together. It had only been a few months since she’d handed Butch his balls wrapped up in a pretty pink bow and left Brick speechless to behold her, a few months since he’d found her insecure and vulnerable on that rooftop and called her beautiful because she was, holy fuck she was, and so much more.

Blossom was old wounds that should have healed long ago, that he should never have opened again, but she was still so new and he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

She slipped her hand over the cover of his sleeping bag and curled her fingers in his shirt. “Brick,” she said in a voice full of galaxies and longing.

He’d always liked the sound of his own name, after all.

When he kissed her, she tasted like starlight, cold fire. He pulled her closer, kissed her deeper, a step into the unknown, but the unknown was where she was and she was everything. Her breath hitched and she opened for him, just like that day on the rooftop, but he didn’t look away this time and she kissed him back like it had been her idea all along. Chemical X crackled on their flushed skin as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him, her weight on his chest a warmth and a fantasy.

Blossom’s long bangs fanned his cheeks as she hovered above him and he held on to her. He dreamed she might fall back into the sea of stars and he would dive in after her should he let her go. He didn’t let her go.

“I don’t actually want to go to Tahoe,” Brick said.

She laughed, light as a moonbeam. “Neither do I.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulled her down again. “Good.”

She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him.

xxx

No one took much notice when Blossom and Brick popped up at the campsite after a protracted absence. No one except Bubbles, who passed Butch her perfectly roasted marshmallow, which he wolfed down right off the stick without waiting for it to cool. She discreetly got out her phone and snapped a few pictures of Blossom leading Brick by the hand to a couple empty chairs near Wes and Kim. When Brick leaned back in his chair and put his arm around the back of Blossom’s so she could lean into him, Bubbles had to work very hard not to squeal.

Clearly, Boomer sending Brick that picture of Harry chatting up Blossom had had the intended outcome.

She fired off twenty pictures to Robin.

[Bubbles: Yearbook?? 👀]

Robin, who was on the other side of the large campfire with Buttercup, Julie, Mitch, and the Floyjoydson twins, spat out her beer when she saw the pictures.

Bubbles snickered to herself.

“What’re you so happy about?” Butch said halfway through a game of Chubby Bunny.

Bubbles poked his mallow-stuffed cheek and winked. “It’s a secret.”

He rolled his eyes and stuffed another marshmallow in his mouth. “Laaaaame.”

Bubbles stole another glance at Blossom and Brick. She was laughing at something Kim had said, and he turned to whisper something to her. Bubbles bit her lip to hide her smile.

“But not for long,” she sang to herself.

Boomer came up behind Blossom and Brick and threw his arms around them both, laughing and pulling them close. Brick didn’t even try to push him off.

Not for long at all.

xxx

Thanks for reading! If you enjoy my writing and are looking for more PPG/RRB content from me, please check out my ongoing multi-chapter over on AO3 called Beyond This Morning. 😊

[sebthesnipe]

Pencils

A prompt that myself and @gilby-the-geek-girl​ decided to do a ‘write this in your style’ involving Logicality roommates and Ticonderoga #2 Pencils

You can read her’s here.

Also check out her main AU that its based in on AO3 here.

If you’re interested here are some links to my work as well:

The Collection (My Oneshots)

My Dearest Procyon (My Multi-Chapter Magical!AU)

Other works by me

Now! Lets get this party started!!!!

Logan gave a small curse as another one of his pencils broke inside his cheap sharpener. He tilted the small plastic container to get a better look inside. Sure enough, a large piece of lead was stuck inside the small cone, pressing against the razor’s edge. He wouldn’t be able to resharpen his pencil until it was removed.

As he took the small pencil sharpener apart, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Perhaps, he could rearrange his budget to allow him to purchase some better writing utensils. Patton had already convinced him to spend some extra money on the ‘B2p’s. He had been right about them. The pens were 89% recycled water bottles, which was good for the environment, and they wrote very smoothly, which helped ease the pain that writing caused.

Carpal tunnel syndrome was far more unpleasant that Logan had expected it to be. Of course, he hadn’t expected to enjoy the tingling or numbness, but the sheer amount of pain it caused was staggering. The simple act of holding a pen longer than half an hour was something he could no longer do without the help of an anti inflammatory. His all night note taking sessions were now cut by more than half, and that was on a good night with a decent writing implement.

Surgery was possible, but it would pull him out of school for far too long, and cost more than he was willing to spend without the proper insurance. He was far too close to graduation and couldn’t afford the recovery time, mentally or financially. At least, not yet. For now, he would bide his time and push onwards towards his end goal.

He sighed as he pressed his pencil into the cleared sharpener and twisted. For now, he would make due. The pens Patton had recommended were more than satisfactory, but he only had a small budget for his supplies.

He removed the pencil and examined the now sharpened tip. The graphite was uneven, but pointed enough for his note taking, though the wood around it was rough and almost fuzz-like. It would smudge the graphite’s markings if he wasn’t careful. Luckily he was accustomed to such cheap craftsmanship and could make due with what he had.

He set the sharpener aside and took stock at the desk before him. Everything had its place. His box of untouched pencils sat perfectly parallel above his notebook, directly right of his lamp. His three subject college ruled spiral was open to a half written page, marked with a small blue tab indicating that it was on the topic of Mathematics (specifically Number Theory). Behind the blue tab, a number of tabs could be seen, neatly lined along the pages, each representing a different course. To the right of his spiral lay five sharpie brand highlights, each a different color, placed in a perfectly straight line. Every color had its purpose, just as every tab of his notebook did.

Logan could not compromise when it came to certain tools. He needed a brand of highlighter that would not bleed through his textbook pages or smudge his notes whether he wrote in pen or pencil. He needed pens that were a bit more pricey so as to ensure a smooth glide without bleeding or ink transfers. He needed index cards made of a decent caliber to avoid damage or creases. All of these things were important. Far more important than the way a pencil sharpened, or turned fuzzy or smudged when he tried to erase it.

There was no more room in the budget for any pencils better than the ones that he had and that was that. He would just have to live with the way the graphite would snap when he tried to underline something. He would have to deal with the way the lead would fall out of the faux wood, or the lines seemed muted unless he put more force behind it, which made his hands hurt even worse. It was all a sacrifice he must be willing to make. He couldn’t afford better.

He couldn’t help another small growl as he made a mistake on his graph and moved to erase it, the cheap eraser ripping through the paper. He stared at the spot for a long moment, willing himself to just leave it. It was just a small hole. He could work around it. He didn’t need to redo the entire page.

It was just a hole…

A tiny inconsequential hole…

Miniscule… infinitesimal….

UGH! Logan ripped the page from the spiral, crinkling it in his hands before tossing it into the bin next to him. Everything had its place! Everything was meant to be somewhere and a hole was not meant to be in the middle of his notes!

He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to push away the headache he could feel coming on just as his phone’s alarm began to sound. It seemed more time had passed than he had expected. Logan pushed to his feet, producing his phone and swiping away the alarm as he moved to pack up and head to his first class of the day.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Logan pushed open the door to their shared dorm, dark locks falling into his eyes as they dripped water onto the mat beneath his feet. He was silent as he kicked the door shut and began to shed his outer layers.

It was late. Far later than it should have been. Logan did not like when things didn’t go according to schedule. His second class ran long, which meant he was late to lunch, which didn’t give him the sufficient amount of time to go to the library as he had planned without skipping his meal. Which made him feel a bit lethargic during his third and fourth class, causing him to forget his bag, which had him missing his train. Which meant he had to wait forty-five minutes for the next one. Then the rain started, which was not in the forecast; which meant Logan’s ten minute walk home had him soaked through completely.

It had not been a good day.

He took stock of the small apartment. Patton must have already gone to bed. The poor man had four a.m. classes. Most culinary students started earlier than the rest of the students. It was no wonder the man was so early to bed. Well, ever since Logan provided him with the optimal schedule for his ideal personal time to study/class ratio that is. It seemed to be working out for him, though Logan didn’t get to see him much anymore, which was surprisingly disappointing. The man was far too chipper, but he certainly knew how to make Logan smile.

Logan headed for his room and the attached bathroom, dropping his bag next to his desk and trying not to drip too much on the carpet. He needed to get out of his sodding clothes before he caught a cold.

Fifteen minutes, a hot shower and some dry clean clothes later and Logan felt like a new man. He checked the time. There were still a few hours before bed. It wasn’t as much as he had hoped, but he could still manage some studying.

He moved to his desk, pulling out his chair and sinking down, thankful the day was beginning to wind down. He pulled his bag closer and dug out his spiral, opening it to the page he had been working on earlier that morning and laying it out neatly exactly where it belonged. He reached for his pencil and…

He froze. His usual box of 12ct #2b cheap off-brand pencils were buried. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at what lay atop them. He couldn’t believe it. Atop those horrid, demonic, sorry-excuse for pencils lay a box of 24ct Dixon Ticonderoga premium wood #2 pencils with latex free erasers.

Logan took a moment to calm his excited heart. Before he knew it, he was reaching out with a shaky hand, collecting the box for examination. The clear plastic had been unopened, each stick perfectly preserved within the transparent packaging. Logan turned the object over in his hands, admiring its beauty as he caught sight of thick black words scrawled in sharpie on the back.

‘To Logan, From Patton. I saw these and thought of you. So, I bought them. It just felt ‘WRITE’! XD’

Logan couldn’t help but give a snort at the joke before fumbling to open the box. It almost felt like Christmas had come early as he pulled one of the pencils from its place among the others and set the box aside. He took a moment to examine the utensil in all its glory before reaching for his sharpener.

He inserted the blunted wood and twisted. Once. Twice. Thrice. He heard the sound of the graphite against metal and pulled the pencil out, bringing it to eye level for inspection.

The sharply pointed lead was smooth and crackless, forming a seamless cone with the sleek pale wood that surrounded it. It had glided so perfectly against the razor’s edge and now stood regal and polished before him. It was perhaps one of the most stunning sights he had ever laid his eyes on.

His chest tightened as his smile widened, moving to redraw the graph he had damaged earlier. He drew the lead across the paper gently, the line coming out smooth and dark. Just as it should be. He flipped the pencil in one quick and fluid motion and erased a small portion, the graphite coming off cleanly and without much force. It was satisfying and rejuvenating.

How could he have ever thought a day like this could be bad?! He had everything he ever wanted! Warm clothes, a perfectly tempered room, his desk organized exactly as it should be, and a friend who cared enough to-

Realization hit, ‘The World’s Best Pencil’ falling from his fingers and clattering to his desk (without so much as chipping the perfectly pointed tip) as he brought his hand to cover his mouth in shock.

His heart pounded against his ribs almost painfully. His other hand tangled in his still damp locks. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts. Everything he did was purposefully calculated and scheduled. How could he… He wasn’t…. This wasn’t possible…. But the evidence was building against him.

Logan Sanders was falling in love with his best friend.

Taglist:

@nightashes

[in-tua-deep]

What animal do you think suits each of the umbrella kids the most?

okay what you don’t know is that i’m a sucker for a his dark materials au with daemons so i’m sorry if that’s not what you want but that’s what you’re getting lmao

forewarning: this is super self indulgent and i only have actual reasons for like maybe half of these 

Luther: a dog! If you want specifics probably an Anatolian Shepherd dog bc they’re big motherfuckers and muscular as fuck. I did toy with a big animal like a bear but ultimately I think a dog just because simply: Luther obeys Reginald without question and has incredibly loyalty to a man that never cared about his wellbeing. Plus, you know, the family would rib at him about being Reginald’s loyal dog and all that. Plus it’s a good set up for his rivalry with Diego that I’ll yell about in a minute. 

So yes, Luther’s daemon settles as a bigass dog. She’s pragmatic and can be cold and often tries to model herself after Reginald’s daemon. She can be somewhat self righteous and very blunt. She tends to say exactly what she’s thinking without sugar coating it and doesn’t care if Luther has to stumble to save face. “You think one of us killed dad.” Diego says. “No not ‘one of you’, specifically you, Diego. You have an alibi?” Luther’s daemon says in front of the family, god, and Five’s portrait on the mantle.

Diego: a wolf! This sets up a big rivalry between Diego and Luther as they have somewhat similar daemons except for the fact that Luther’s is a domesticated canine and Diego’s is a wild one. Luther often uses Diego’s daemon to say that Diego is too wild to lead the team and that’s why he’s in charge. It’s mainly because while Diego does his whole lone wolf act, he’s shown to be pretty protective of the people he considers his and really he does need a pack. Even though he tells Klaus no, he doesn’t bother enforcing it when Klaus insists on hopping in the car anyway. He wants to be leader of the pack, but is awkward when he tries to be in charge bless his heart.

Diego’s wolf daemon is a not-so-secret softie. She prompts Diego to interact more with his family and sends longing glances towards Detective Patch and her daemon. She doesn’t get along with Luther’s daemon and always bristles when she’s around, though Luther’s daemon tends to ignore Diego’s and act like she’s above it all which just makes the issue even worse tbh. Diego’s daemon doesn’t shy away from her instincts and refers to the family as her pack and is very vocal about both not killing Grace (though later she sits and whines when Diego does it) and letting Vanya out (Diego spits vitriol about Vanya but his daemon is suspiciously silent on the subject).

Allison: a burmese python! I will freely admit that i chose this 90% because of the feather boa in the beginning dance scene because I want Allison to have her daemon constantly draped around her neck and on her body, but snakes do tend to be associated with manipulation as well in some stories even though I can’t see it looking at their cute little faces?? But I mean Allison’s whole gig is manipulation so it fits even though I’m only justifying it after the fact lmao. 

Allison’s daemon is very laid back and rarely speaks up. Allison often accuses him of being lazy because she tends to carry him everywhere and he’s constantly on the hunt for warm places to curl up in. He used to ride on the back of Luther’s daemon a lot when Allison got fed up of carrying him. Uses the fact that he doesn’t have eyelids to stare people down when they’re being irritating. Generally does not appreciate the negative press that comes with being a snake daemon and secretly him and Allison both wonder if him being a snake was a factor in her not getting custody of Claire. (Allison didn’t appreciate what he settled as and they fought about it, there’s still some tension between them on occasion because of it)

Klaus: a black cat! I almost gave him a raven because reasons but I ended up with a cat for pretty simple reasons: Klaus is pretty much a stray cat in human form tbh just look at him. Also because cats stare off into corners like they can see the dead and damned so I thought it was somewhat appropriate, and black cats are considered both lucky and unlucky depending on where you like (which lemme tell you as a black cat owner who moved from a lucky to unlucky area was a wild thing to find out). 

Klaus’s daemon is very sarcastic and a lot less forgiving than Klaus himself is. They hold a grudge to say the least. While most daemons tend not to speak to people who aren’t their own, Klaus’s daemon doesn’t give a single shit and will talk to anyone they damn well please. Doesn’t get along with Luther’s daemon because they constantly talk shit about Reggie and Reggie’s daemon, but gets along very well with Diego’s daemon and has ridden on her shoulder more than once. Shares Klaus’s power in that they can see the dead but ignores them even harder than Klaus because they’re secretly freaked out that ghosts don’t have daemons. Klaus and his daemon also hang out with Ben’s daemon, who for reasons unknown didn’t burst into dust upon Ben’s death but she generally stays out of sight.

Five: one part of me says hare because of the cryptic value and eyes that look like they could kill you and also jumping jokes and another part of me says hummingbird for plenty of good reasons but an even larger part of me says that I don’t have to choose because I can just symbolically make his daemon unsettled. She wasn’t settled before the apocalypse and then he kind of… never really grew up. Part of a daemon settling is growing up and knowing yourself but Five didn’t have a chance to do that, he was too focused on his goal. They both dislike the fact that she’s unsettled because they think it’s childish, but it’s also very handy because it means she’s adaptable as fuck. Maybe she pretends she’s settled as a hare or something while they work for the Commission idk and it’s a little reveal when he’s back home. Maybe they’re also separated like a witch’s daemon due to the Commission?? unclear

Five’s daemon tends to fade into the background if you’ll let her. She tends to be standoffish but is exceptionally observant. She very rarely speaks to anyone outside of Five, even among the siblings, though she’s not above bluntly calling them out if Five isn’t around and she deems it necessary. She likes Vanya best, though she was also fond of Ben. She tends to be the voice of reason for Five and probably takes most of Dolores’s lines in telling him drinking is bad for him or that his equations are wrong. There’s probably a dramatic scene where she’s revealed to be unsettled where she turns into a big fuckoff animal and fucks up the Handler or something idk but otherwise she’s pretty content to remain a hare and do a good impression of the rabbit from monty python if people fuck with her.

Ben: something smaller and easily hidden. My heart says rat because they’re so fucking good and smart so that’s what I’m going to run with, and also because they’re often viewed negatively and Ben has a power that he also views negatively rip. Also I’m gonna be real the idea of Klaus and Ben’s daemons being absolute bros as a cat and a rat also amuses me so there’s that and this is my au i do what i want. 

Ben’s daemon was withdrawn before his death and even more so after. No one knows why she didn’t turn to dust when Ben died, but she didn’t. None of the other siblings knew that she survived because she asked Klaus not to tell, worried that Reginald would experiment on her to try and figure out why she didn’t vanish. She spent most of their time before Klaus left hiding in his room, and after she hides in his clothes a lot and likes when he wears items with hoods (like Ben used to) because she likes to curl up in them. Like Five’s daemon, she doesn’t talk much. 

Vanya: a spotted owl! I wanted to give Vanya a winged daemon that can’t fly for most of the duration of the plot despite having wings because of general symbolism reasons regarding Reginald “clipping her wings” by suppressing her powers with medication and all that. Honestly I mostly picked a spotted owl on a whim because I like owls (I was a guardians of gahoole kid) and I think that the hints of white on a spotted owl would be a cool allusion to her powers and also there’s some sick imagery in her powers activating and her daemons colors reversing so that he’s primarily white soooo i do what i want is the answer

Like I said above, Vanya’s daemon is a bird daemon who… doesn’t fly. He mostly spends his time on a perch that Vanya bought for him in her apartment. He doesn’t actually spend a lot of time physically on Vanya outside of when they’re travelling somewhere, and she usually puts him down immediately when she arrives at her destination. He usually just walks about the house but like a chicken can do a sort of jump/flap combo to get up to surfaces so he’s alright for the most part. I want to say part of Leonard’s manipulations was that he also has a bird daemon and they try and teach Vanya’s daemon to fly as well as for her to access her powers.

and outside of the main kids (these aren’t nearly as well thought out and are liable to change probably - 

Reginald: a fox. Cunning and intelligent and adaptable, she’s regal and stone cold, never speaking directly to any of the children and she often acts as if they don’t exist or are so far beneath her they might as well not. Her coat is always pristine, her dark eyes are always watching, and her teeth are dazzling and sharp and threatening even though the kids see her far more rarely than they do their father. She’s a ruthless pragmatist and often served as an observer during their training, after which she would whisper in Reginald’s ear and oftentimes there was a new and inventive torture waiting for them. Sometimes the kids feared her more than they feared their father. She’s only ever shown anything even approaching affection to Luther’s daemon, and even that was just brushing herself past the other daemon and allowing a brief touch.

Hazel: a big grizzly bear. They often both complain about the lack of accommodations for large daemons when she has to squeeze her ass into their tiny motel rooms or in diner booths and restaurant tables in general. Tends to just stay in the hotel room and allow people to assume Hazel has a small daemon since they’re separated and her bulk is often cumbersome for missions. Has 100% charged in as the cavalry and fucked people up though don’t mistake her whining for her not being very dangerous.

Cha-Cha: my heart says a mountain lion and so that’s what i’m going with. Large and can do a lot of damage given the opportunity with those claws, pretty sneaky and damn good at his job. Is probably the one who scruffs Klaus’s daemon when they kidnap him from the house. He has a wicked sense of humor that Cha-Cha doesn’t always appreciate and always goes with for missions because he genuinely enjoys their work, doesn’t understand why Hazel’s daemon would rather stay behind.

Grace: yes I understand that Grace is a robot and no that’s not going to stop me from saying that Reginald gave her a mechanical clockwork butterfly daemon because I say so and because I think his daemon would have insisted that it’s far too creepy to look and see a human without a daemon and he’s trying to make her as realistic as possible, right? The butterfly is technically an extension of Grace, however Reginald never gave her daemon a voicebox because he deemed it unnecessary. He usually just sits on Grace’s shoulder slowly opening and closing his wings. A plot point is Grace finally naming her daemon for herself because Reginald never bothered with a name for him either.

The Handler: The Handler doesn’t have a daemon. Five asks her where her daemon is in the flashback scene where she recruits him and she laughs and tells him that that’s a rude question and never answers him. The daemon never shows up and other people and their daemons are noticeably unsettled by this. Five’s daemon genuinely is frightened by the Handler and tends to hide behind him, which the Handler comments upon with a saccharine smile. They never do figure out what happened to her daemon (though one of the office workers shares a rumor with Five that the Handler killed her own daemon for questioning the commission).

Patch: a terrier! My heart says border terrier so that’s what I’m going with. Dogged and unwilling to let go when she feels like she’s on the scent of something, she’s a good police officer even if she has torn loyalty to Diego as well. He’s a hardy little thing and he encourages her to bend the rules so much so that it used to be a running joke that her daemon might as well be Diego’s. Her daemon doesn’t bother with the hostilities and is always pleased to see Diego’s daemon. For the most part they just watch their idiot humans snipe at one another and are content to chill until Patch makes Diego leave. Their daemons always cheerfully say bye to each other and that they’ll see the other again soon even

Dave: my heart says also a dog. Probably a farm dog. Australian Cattle Dog, maybe? because my heart also says that Dave was probably raised as a good honest farm boy or at the VERY LEAST his grandparents had a farm he spent his summers on as a child. Very loyal. She absolutely adores Klaus and his daemon and Klaus’s daemon curled up with her constantly. Touching another person’s daemon is a social booboo but out there in Vietnam both daemons saved the other’s human at least once. Dave’s daemon pretends that she’s more sensible than him and often would complain at Klaus’s daemon that the sexual tension was genuinely killing her and if they kept gazing into one another’s eyes on the disco floor she was gonna barf. Klaus’s daemon would just roll their eyes because it’s not like they as daemons weren’t all touchy feely. Klaus’s daemon could be constantly seen grooming Dave’s with their little cat sandpaper tongue and Dave’s daemon constantly rested her head on Klaus’s to go to sleep sO. The scene where Dave dies is doubly sad because you see her turning into dust as Klaus’s daemon howls.

Agnes: almost forgot Agnes whoops. But I choose… a canary! Why? Because they’re bright and pretty and sing nicely and she would forever be explaining that yes, her daemon is a canary but it isn’t a domestic canary so that’s why he has brown on him and isn’t pure yellow. That and I think it would be sort of cute if Hazel’s attention was caught by pretty birdsong initially so a songbird it is. Agnes’s daemon, when her and Hazel are together, likes to snuggle down into Hazel’s daemon’s fur and make a small attempt to preen her even though she’s like a million times his size. He’s absolutely fearless and doesn’t hesitate at Hazel’s large daemon like a lot of small daemons do which endears him to the assassin duo. Like genuinely I picked canary on an absolute whim but that same goes for most of these and no one can stop me.

is that everyone?? i think that’s everyone

EDIT: I FORGOT LEONARD which goes to show how much i repress his existence

Leonard: a great skua. Am I basing this on the fact that I wanted his daemon to be a bird for plot reasons and the first mean bird I could think of was that one dude who wanted to eat baby Mumble in Happy Feet? maybe. But yeah a generally normal looking bird with the capacity for great violence there we go that’s my reasoning thank you and good night. His daemon is unsettling to literally everyone except Vanya probably tbh and Vanya calls Allison out on daemon stereotyping because Allison has a SNAKE she should be BETTER THAN THAT. But yeah that’s all I got for tonight thanks for reading lads.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[mininky]

Heavy Lies the Crown-10

Summary: (Y/N) has the fate of her people on her shoulders and according to a seer, the only way to save her kingdom from the bloodthirsty wolves is by giving herself to the god of the hunt.

Pairing: werewolf!Namjoon x reader

Warnings: angst. So much angst. Meantions of death, minor mentions of suicide

word count: 4.5K

Prologue Chapter one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

   Being a royal had been stifling, confining, painfully restrictive with its rigid rules. You hated how it had created a forced path for you, one that you knew straying from could bring possible public execution. Being a Luna was so totally different in almost every aspect. It had been liberating, new, a role that while supportive commanded respect. The village saw you as a person though, not some unspeakable figure who lived far above them. Communication within the community existed harmonically with the werewolves, it wasn't simply a self-serving monarchy. But there were some things that made you feel like a royal all over again. Being one of the few privileged people to attend this summit with all the other packs for instance. Or the way the others at said summit regarded you. Some with open disdain. Others with passive-aggressive taunting. Then some with curiosity and a select few with kindness.    The summit would last one week. It had just barely begun, and already you wanted it to end. You suppose that a good Luna would take every opportunity to learn and be diplomatic. You had been a rather shit royal though, at least in the realm of diplomacy. Blunt, brash, 'unfeminine' yeah you made a shit princess. Strong, stubborn, fiercely loyal. You made a damn good Luna in that aspect. But you weren't about to try to be nice to a bunch of jerks. And if these other wolves hated you simply because you were a human or witch or a woman then they could transform into a wolf and sniff you ass like the lowly dogs they behaved as.    You were also completely correct about your earlier prediction that reading minds would suck. It really really really sucked. One hour. You had been here just one hour, and already you were reaching anger to a bloodlust level. If these men were so sure that you were just a weak little thing then you would snap their necks to show them the error of their thinking. Weak. Pathetic. A slut. Human. Witch bitch (you actually thought that one was kind of funny.) You were getting really tired of hearing their thoughts. You had been trying hard to block everything out, but the problem is that the angrier you were the less you were able to control your powers. Maybe you should just light the wood table on fire to scare them all and to call today to an early end.    One of the decent ones, Jackson, was speaking at the moment. Their village was dealing with a massive drought. The animals were leaving and now not only could they not rely on the crops but soon they wouldn't even be able to hunt. Fishing for trout upstream already left them unstable when their stream dried out. Namjoon was listening intently, one of the few leaders who was. You could tell that he was terrified, his village would have to move soon if things didn't change. Their homes would be abandoned, but he was afraid that the older ones would be unable to make the move safely. And where would they even move to? Where could they possibly go? Peace might not sustain if they tried to integrate into another smaller pack, so that was off the table.    "I apologize for not knowing the geographical location, but how far away is your village from ours?"    Jackson stared at you with curiosity, unsure how to respond at first. "Relatively close. We're about a day's distance away. Past the twin rivers to the west." Everyone was thinking loudly, most wondering why you were butting in. A couple thinking that the luna should know her place, to only speak when spoken to. Yep. Some things don't change much from the restrictive misogynistic human world.    "Good. We are relatively close. As long as our village agrees we will pool together to bring food and water to you twice a month. We have had a good season. Not only do we have ample crops but it's about to be mating season for the deers. We will have plenty to share." Namjoon was smiling at you. Flashing his dimples in a look of pure adoration. One of the other lunas was wishing that she was you and her mate was scoffing internally at Namjoon.    "Thank you very much." Jackson almost shouted out his glee, the rest of the group was rolling their eyes at his antics.    "Don't thank me yet. I told you, this will only happen as long as the whole of our village agrees." You tried to sound stern, but you couldn't help but give a small smile of reassurance at him. He was willing to do anything for his village, and he was an earnest man. One of the few good ones.    "So how's the problem with the humans for you Namjoon?" The man who was internally scoffing was now speaking, and while he was technically addressing Namjoon he was staring directly at you with venom.    "It's been resolved. We are now at peace with them, thanks to (y/n)." How kind of him, also how humble. It had been a joint effort. Had he just allowed you to be eaten in the forest you wouldn't be here after all.    The man scoffed, muttering something about 'I'll bet she did.' Maybe he didn't actually mutter it, but you know for a fact he thought it. Loud and clear.    "Do you have something you'd like to say?" The words came out strongly from you, without a hint of wavering or backing down. You smirked at his internal dialogue. He hated you, hated that you thought that you could speak to him at all. He hated that he also knew he couldn't put you in 'your place.'    "I just think that if it were me I would have slaughtered them all. Especially after they murdered Yoongi's mate, Hoseok's sister to boot." You felt ice run through your veins. You had no clue. How could you not know this? How had you never found out? You fought the urge to turn around and see Yoongi and Hoseok behind you. How dare this man capitalize on their pain just to try to get a rise out of you? Who did he think he was? Being a jerk to you was one thing, but using the loss of a loved one just to try to put you in, as he said, your place was pathetic. Lowly. He was lucky there were witnesses or you would have ripped his heart right out of his chest.    "You would wager another war? We did that, and it just resulted in more deaths. You, of all people, should know what war can do to a village." Namjoon's words carried a threat to them. Back down, be at peace or you will lose. He spoke calmly, clearly but you could tell by the way he moved forward in his seat and the tick in his jaw that he was holding back the beast within him that was ready to strike.    Silence fell over the room, some were concerned about a fight breaking out. Others were hoping for one, bored enough that they wanted to see a little action and even possibly join in as well. Finally, after a few very tense minutes someone broke the silence. The rest of the day went by painfully slowly. By the time that all of you were back in the cabin, you were emotionally drained and physically exhausted. You wanted to be back at home and in your own bed and not in the eerie summit grounds that remained empty all year except for when every pack leader and their cabinet came together. A place created for only this purpose, neutral grounds far far away from the comfort of the place you had come to love and call home.    Most of the inner cabinet was with you and Namjoon. Jin and his mate had stayed behind at the village. Yoongi and Hoseok were the last to enter the cabin, and part of you wanted answers but when you saw their pained expressions you knew that the wound was too fresh. They hadn't kept the information from you on purpose, it was just a pain that would hurt too much to open back up. You respected that too much to pry. They would tell you some day. Until then you would just be there as a friend to support them. You hadn't been with Namjoon long, but even the thought of losing him left you in pain. The thought of losing a sibling bringing anxiety in a thick black cloud. They had been through so much. How had you not noticed it?    Silently you stood in front of the two of them. It was as if they could understand. No one in the room spoke. All eyes, however, were laying on the three of you. An odd trio. A human and the men, the werewolves, who lost everything because of one. You stepped forward and pulled both of them into a hug, an apology tried to come out but when a sob threatened you closed your mouth. You felt their arms tighten around you. Hoseok was crying on your shoulder, Yoongi was gripping you with so much force you almost couldn't breathe.    Sometimes words aren't necessary. This was one of those moments. The three of you didn't need to speak to convey that the pain was felt and shared. You didn't know her, didn't even know her name. But you knew them. You knew that they didn't deserve that. No one did, but especially not them. You hated that they had endured this pain, that it still laid heavily on their shoulders. Sobs filled the air as Yoongi crumpled to the ground.    You and Hoseok followed him down to the floor, arms laying over him at odd angles. Soon Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon were there as well. If anyone would have walked in they surely would have seen a strange sight. Men crying loudly, their souls broken and screaming out to no one in particular as they held each other. How much had they all seen? War. Murder. Death. From their own kind and from humans. You vowed silently that you would never let anything like this happen again. You hadn't really wanted to be a witch, hadn't cared much about the powers. Until now. If there was any way you could use them to keep them all safe you would. You vowed you would. You played a larger role in life now, you were a part of them of them now. A friend. A luna. A protector. If you had to become queen of the supernatural to ensure their safety then so be it. You would do whatever it took to ensure that something like this would never happen again. Not on your watch.    You weren't sure how long all of you stayed like this. It wasn't until Yoongi and Hoseok were standing up that all of you moved. Jimin was sniffling still, tears running down his thick cheeks as he pulled you into a hug. He gave a muffled thank you to you. You weren't sure why he was thanking you. Maybe this moment of grief had been long put off. You were sure all of them were in pain, had long been suffering silently. Of course they had been. They were a family after all. They might not have lost their sister, or their mate, but she was surely loved like their own family. They lost someone too. They all did.    Eventually, all of you trudged into your separate rooms. You heard Namjoon shut the door behind him, your site a blurry vision as it focused on the ground. His hand wiped away the tears still falling as he kneeled in front of you. He placed his head in your lap and you automatically started stroking his hair as his hands wound around your waist. You might not be home, but as long as he was with you you'd always feel like you were. Home was with him, and this small moment of affection had you finally feeling better. Until you remembered that Yoongi could no longer have this. His mate. Dead. Hoseok's sister...gone forever. Pain rippled through in a new fresh wave all over again, crushing you heavily and threatening to choke you. Guilt and sorrow. Your people did this. You could feel Namjoon's silent tears staining your pants.    "I can feel it. I can feel everything you go through. You aren't at fault. Please, don't blame yourself." You tried to say something, but nothing came out. He was right. You knew you weren't at fault, but it still didn't stop you from feeling agony. You couldn't believe that you had never noticed their pain before. How could you have not realized that this happened? Then you felt surges of anger. How dare that man just bring up that topic, knowing that Yoongi and Hoseok were in the same room. How dare he disregard their feelings just to anger you. It worked. You were angry. You wanted to murder him. Not that it would do any good, but really he was a piece of shit. At the very least he deserves to have his nose broken. Maybe his jaw too, just for good measure. Namjoon is stirring, his face peering up at you intently. You're sure that he can feel the anger that's now flowing from you.    "I just...I hate that guy. He brought it up just to piss me off. He was thinking about how I should be put in my place, he said that to make me feel hurt. To make me feel small. To make me feel like a lowly human. But that is nothing, nothing in comparison to what he did to Yoongi and Hoseok." Your voice is scratchy from crying, and words laced with tired bitterness. Namjoon is moving up and onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. His hands are soothingly rubbing your back and you feel yourself start to finally calm down as you hear a soft knock on your door.    "Come in." Namjoon doesn't move as he speaks and you keep your sight trained on the wall in front of you before Yoongi is suddenly in the way. You blink blearily at him, taking in his puffy red eyes and rounded shoulders. He looks so broken, just a shell of a person. Maybe he's always looked this broken, maybe he's just gotten good at masking it. But now he seems so battle worn and haggard, and you know the facade that he's okay can't be put up anymore. At least not tonight.    "Can I talk to you guys?" His voice is croaky and hoarse, it pains you to even hear him speak.    "Of course." Namjoon's words come out softly as if speaking too loudly might break Yoongi. They wouldn't of course. How can you break something that's already broken?    You don't speak, you just look up at Yoongi before quietly patting the spot on the bed next to you. He squints at the spot on the bed, clearly in an internal dilemma before he finally lets out a deep sigh and sits down next to you. He's rigid and awkward, clearly trying to keep a distance. As if being near you pains him. It's not you though, you know that just being around other people pains him. You're suddenly very aware of the fact that you and Namjoon are sitting tightly next to each other and you realize it's probably the fact that he's next to a couple. The very thing he no longer has. You shift slightly from Namjoon and look back at him, hoping he understands your movements before you're softly placing your hand over Yoongi's.    He seems so small, so tiny next to you right now. Like a lost child. You feel him finally relax before he starts to tremble as he speaks. "I just wanted to thank you (y/n). You would have really liked her. She was everything to me, she was amazing. Everyone loved her. I don't know how I got so lucky that I could have her in my life, even if it was so short. And then when I lost her I just got so angry. You have to understand she...she loved humans. Her favorite stories were all about kingdoms and palaces, and she used to wander out to the forest edge just to try to look inside the kingdom. She's the one who got Jimin so interested in it in the first place. I used to come home to see the two of them reading and laughing together, and they had all these plans. She...she wanted to meet a real-life princess. That was her life goal, she wanted to see what they were really like. If all the stories were right." You feel something break inside you at this admission. Gone too soon, gone before you could even know her.    "She never listened to me. She kept wandering out, even though we knew there were hunting parties and we knew that others had been slain. But she still kept going to the forest edge, and then one day she was gone. I knew she was gone, I could feel her die. I could feel the pain she went through, and I could feel her soul get ripped away from mine. I'm not even whole anymore, my soul has literally been ripped apart. And when we tried to find her body all we saw was blood and fur. They took her, of course, they took her. After all, they just wanted her fucking coat. I couldn't ever bury her, I couldn't even have a proper goodbye. And then I hated. I hated those humans, I wanted all of them dead. So I hunted them, I wanted revenge. But then I met you, and I wanted to hate you but I couldn't. How could I? How could I possibly hate the very thing that she always wanted to meet? How could I hate the thing she loved so much? I hated that I even wanted to hate you, I hated that I even hated humans because she would never have wanted that. But how could I not hate them? How?? Tell me how???? And now, I don't know what to do. She's gone. She's gone, and she's dead and I'm all alone. And when I hated everything it was easy, I could just live for hate. But now, now I'm just empty. And I'm so tired. God I'm just so fucking tired, I don't want to wake up. I don't want to wake up alone, I don't want to wake up expecting to see her face only to remember all over again that she's dead. She's fucking dead, all for some quick cash for some scum humans." He's sobbing now, his body shaking with force. His cries are straight from his soul, and the pain of it is infectious. Grieving has a way of leaving everything around you empty and hallow, and you know that there's not much you can do to fix that.    You take a moment to just allow him to cry. When was the last time he talked to someone about this? Had he ever? Knowing how private he is you're sure that he hasn't. For a year all this pain has been a festering wound, the infection toxically spreading to point of near nonfunctioning. When he finally starts to even out his breathing you speak to him quietly. "It's okay to hate Yoongi. It's okay to hate them. It's okay to even hate me. It's okay to be lost, and scared and confused. But it's not okay to want to die. It's not. I get why, but I need you to understand something. It's more than just about your friends. We would never get over your death, we would always wonder where we went wrong but even then there's still more to it. She left, far too early. She couldn't live out her life, she couldn't see much of it. So you have to do it for her. You have to live for her, you have to experience and do all the things that she would have wanted to. That's what you do now. Because I'm sure she's watching over you, I'm sure she's here with us. So do it for her. Live for her. It's okay to live. It's okay to be happy. It's okay to be sad even. Just please, please Yoongi. Please choose life, I know she wants you to."    Yoongi is just nodding at your words for a moment. Small hiccups bubbling up from him as he clutches to your hand. "Live...for her..." His word is a distant whisper, and you can tell he's not really speaking to anyone other than himself. The three of you remain silent as you watch the sun finally ebb away from the sky and darkness starts to fill the room.    "Yoongi, please talk to us. It's okay to not talk if you don't want to, but sometimes you should at least let us know. We're here for you. We're your family, and your ours. We love you." Namjoon sounds like he's on the verge of crying, just barely holding it together. Yoongi's grip on your hand tightens almost painfully for a moment before he's suddenly standing up.    "Thank you." He's looking over at the two of you with a tear-stained face before he's slowly making his way out of the room.    When you hear the sound of Yoongi's door closing down the hall you finally speak, sure to keep your voice down to just a whisper. After all, werewolves do have sensitive hearing and you don't want anyone to hear this. "Namjoon...what happens when your mate dies?"    Namjoon pulls you back into his chest, his head resting on top of yours. "It just depends. When they die very young, especially if it's before there's been a child then usually you'll find another mate. The universe has a way of making sure that everything balances out."    Something pulls deep within you, and you know you have to ask. "He has another mate now, doesn't he?"    "Yes...but I don't know who. I think I'm the only one that knows he does. The elder came by last month to tell me that Yoongi was very distraught and that he found out that there's another mate. But he wouldn't tell the elder who it was, he just kept saying that it wasn't possible. That he wouldn't be with anyone else. That he'd rather..." He never finishes the sentence, but you know what he's implying. Yoongi would rather die than have another mate. A part of you understands. While you haven't been with Namjoon anywhere near as long as Yoongi was with his mate, you're sure that if Namjoon died you wouldn't ever move on. Not really. How could you?    "I love you." The words come out choked, and even though you thought it was impossible to still shed more tears they're threatening to fall once more.    "I love you. So much. You're everything to me." Namjoon is crying freely now, and the two of you fall asleep that night clutching to each other in the darkness. Afraid that if the two of you aren't touching that somehow you'll be forced away from each other. At first, you dream of a world where you could have met Hoseok's sister and Yoongi's mate. A world where everything is whole and right and perfect but then the dream morphs and you see rivers of blood and clumps of fur all around you and you hear screams of pain and howls of death before you're waking up covered in cold sweat. You try to settle next to Namjoon, but you can't go back to sleep. Fear is crippling you, you can't shut your eyes and possibly see those same visions.    Carefully you extract yourself from Namjoon's tight hold. When you're sure that he's not awake you dress slowly and quietly. Dawn hasn't even arrived yet, but you can tell that it's approaching soon enough. You're not sure where you're going, but you know you need to get out of the cabin. Maybe take a walk, just enjoy fresh air because you still feel as if that nightmare is suffocating you.    You walk down the hallways as silently as possible, setting your way out the door when you realize that Hoseok and Yoongi are sitting in front of the fireplace. You freeze as you look at them. Dark circles and heavy bags under their eyes, their skin dry and sallow and somehow they look like they've aged in just a few hours. Hoseok gives you a small smile, but you can tell by the way it doesn't reach his eyes that it's an empty one. "Couldn't sleep either?" His voice cracks from not being used in so long. You shake your head no and look over at the door. You could leave, but now you don't really want to. So instead you make your way over to one of the empty chairs and silently stare into the fire. Even though it's crackling and blazing the heat doesn't reach you. It doesn't reach any of you. Sorrow has this strange way of making everything so cold, so bitterly cold.    You're not sure how long you stare into the orange flames. The room starts to become hazy with the morning light slowly pouring in, and somehow as you start to relax your realize that you can hear their thoughts. You're trying desperately not to pry, but they're thinking far too loudly. Hoseok is seeing a memory, and the flashes of a girl smiling up at him is suddenly in your mind's eye. She was so beautiful, so happy. It was easier when you didn't know her face, but now she feels all too real. Agony washes over you in new waves before suddenly the fuzzy thoughts of Yoongi are prominent and stubborn and no matter how much you try to run you can't get away from his thoughts. They aren't words or images. It's just pure pain. It's almost as though your skin is being stripped off of you as if a hot poker is searing you from the inside out. It's the pain of his broken soul that has you releasing a gut-wrenching, blood-curdling scream of pure agony before everything falls black.    You're not sure how you got here, but you know exactly where you are as you look around. It's a void of nothingness, and while before it had been calming now you feel your skin prickle with unease. You're in the same place that you went to when the seal on your powers was released. But this time there was no spell. This time there were no powers to unleash. This time it's different. This time you know you're not alone in the void.

[taegilibrary]

'i didn't intend to kiss you'

student/teacher short series: part one

taehyung had never been the type of person to make it on time in the morning. that’s why he had set his alarm fifteen minutes earlier than he would normally(not to include the next three to follow because he oversleeps a lot lets be honest.) the only sane reason taehyung would ever give up his extra fifteen minutes of sleep is to buy pancakes from his favorite diner. as a seventeen year old boy, working part time jobs and making not as much money as he should, obviously he’s going to blow thirteen thousand won worth of eight pancakes in one sitting.

taehyung also had gotten ready amazingly fast this morning. he styled his light brown hair to feather over his forehead and accessorized his uniform with rings all over his body. he managed to actually catch a bus too rather than walking three blocks and by the time he sits near a window in the small diner and is served his pancakes he has twenty minutes left until school begins. he’s only eaten four of the eight pancakes and lets be real, he’s not going to finish the rest. the bell chimes above the hunter green door frame and a familiar face walks in, mr.min.

mr.min was the geometry teacher and assistant basketball coach at taehyung’s high school. he was incredibly smart and many of the girls fawned over him considering his rough age of twenty-five. he had jet black hair that was always tousled and big brown frames for glasses. taehyung had only had him for one class his first year of high school, when he was a pubescent young boy and looked unbearably ridiculous. so much that he probably seems to be unrecognizable now. the teacher orders something quick and sits at a table beside of taehyung. he picks up a newspaper that had been lying around and taps his fingers against hard wooden table.

taehyung gives himself a mental pep talk before he’s able to stand from the wooden chair he had been sitting in and approaches the teacher.

“hi mr.min.” taehyung greets him with a boxy smile and a quick bow.

“hello.. are you one of my students?” mr. min asks warily, unsure of who he even is. just as taehyung had figured.

“i’m not sure if you remember me..” taehyung awkwardly laughs, “i was in your class three years ago during your first year at our school…”

mr.min’s eyes almost bulge out of his socket, no way this was kim taehyung. he remembers him by the unique mole placed on his nose that gave him that charm. kim taehyung three years ago had a justin bieber fringe, wore thick black glasses, and was seven inches shorter. this kim taehyung wore his school uniform to fit his body nicely, was taller than himself now, looked like he had the softest light brown hair and at least six ear piercings. but all that he replied with was “ah, yes of course. kim taehyung am i right?”

“yes! that would be me. i really ordered too many pancakes this morning and it would be a shame for them to go to waste. i saw that you haven’t ordered any food so would you mind?” taehyung pleaded, eyelashes uncontrollably fluttering and head turned afraid to look at the teacher.

mr.min sat there stunned, left hand gripping his iced americano and right hand fidgeting with his glasses. “i couldn’t possibly take your food, taehyung.”

“please, i really cannot let it go to waste. there’s only one of me and i can’t finish the rest.” taehyung motioned over to his plate, which clearly had uneaten pancakes. taehyung sat down in the chair facing from mr.min and looked at the table, pretending to admire the wooden details.

“only one or two then, i really shouldn’t be eating pancakes in the first place.” mr min said with a soft sigh. taehyung looked up, mouth gaping and hurriedly rushing to grab the food and sit with mr min.

yoongi manages to eat two pancakes before he checks his watch and sees that there’s ten minutes until school begins and he’s very late. taehyung has been very quietly observing the elder, subtly admiring the fingers that wrap around the fork. yoongi has to peel his eyes away from his former student as the younger looks at him with big eyes as if he’s been caught.

“i’m sorry taehyung but i have to be on my way now. thanks for sharing your meal with me today. have a good day.” mr.min grabs his bag and leaves the tip on the table.

taehyung and mr min say a brief goodbye and taehyung as well heads off to their school. neither can stop the moments that just previously happened from replaying in their mind. taehyung calls his friend baekhyun before entering the gate like he always does. he goes straight to his locker as the phone continues to ring before baekhyun has finally answered.

“y-es? ngh stop.” baekhyun says out of breath.

“uh, you realize we have three minutes until the bell rings right?” taehyung says a bit worried for his friend.

“oh fuck. fuu-ck. hurry up oh my fu-” baekhyun is still on the phone fucking around with his girl, or whatever label they have.

taehyung hangs up and rolls his eyes. it’s 7:58 when he walks into his classroom and the next six classes go by like a dream. taehyung is amazingly well at school and excels in many of his core classes. he’s never gotten below a B+ on any assignment and honestly, he doesn’t really study. he just enjoys learning and takes good notes in class.

baekhyun is only in two of the seven classes he has during the day(and honestly that’s enough because baekhyun is the worst distraction)and taehyung keeps his schedule heavily packed. he wakes up usually at seven in the morning and will walk to school considering he lives a couple blocks away, goes to his classes, piano practice is after school, sometimes a movie or a game he’ll go watch with baekhyun, goes to work at the animal shelter until nine thirty, then goes back to his home. hints to why he loves those extra minutes of sleep in the morning.

as taehyung is approaching the music room after the last bell, he can hear someone playing piano already. there’s not very many that stay after school for piano, instead they hire their own tutors and pay. the white door is already slightly open and the white and black keys of claire de lune are being played by none other than mr.min himself.

taehyung falters for a moment and gathers his courage to say the words “mr min?”

mr. min halts from playing the piano and stands from the bench to be polite. “sorry i didn’t realize it was already that time. the old piano teacher is very ill right now so i volunteered to take her position for now.” mr min removes his glasses to gently wipe the lenses on his white button up and taehyung has his breath caught in his lungs from staring at the bony, long fingers.

“oh, do you know what happened to her?” he shakily replies.

“afraid not, no information is to be disclosed with us teachers.” mr. min gives a sad smile towards the younger and begins walking to the window to unlatch it and raises it. their conversation isn’t heated but the temperature in the room feels like a sauna.

taehyung watches him curiously, his mind full of unanswered questions but all he can manage out is an “oh.” he sits on the leathered bench and wanders his eyes over the keys.

“play for me” mr. min tells taehyung, finally standing beside the piano.

“what?” taehyung asks, taken aback.

mr. min blushes at this moment as he realizes how blunt he has said that, “i mean let me listen to what you’re up to so i know where to start. i’m assuming you’ve taken lessons for years now.”

“just three but yeah, i’ll play something.” thin, tanned fingers move across the white keys trying to find a spot to start and they contrast with each other amazingly. taehyung finally decides on something simple, ‘a thousand years’

“you’re really good taehyung.” yoongi praises the younger who’s ending the song.

“i’m not that good.” taehyung hesitates before saying,“ besides, your playing is so mesmerizing, i’ve never felt something like that just by listening to claire de lune.” he turns around from the piano to look up and see that mr.min is still behind him.

he looks at taehyung directly in the eyes and asks “felt something like what?”

taehyung blushes because the feelings were referring to mr min. a teacher and not to mention a guy. mr.min has noticed that taehyung blushes a lot and he’s kind of thinking it the most adorable thing he’s seen. “just like if i hadn’t spoken up i would’ve become immersed/entranced by your playing.”

“that’s not a bad thing taehyung. i was thinking we could do hour long practices if you want to continue lessons.” mr.min says, going back to his business voice. he really doesn’t want to scare taehyung away or make him uncomfortable.

“i would love that but i just got a job at the animal shelter and they work me usually from 5-9:30 on school days. my house isn’t close so i have to take the bus.” taehyung says with a frown, he wants to be taught by mr. min.

“i’m not sure if this would make you uncomfortable or not but my house is just around the corner from the shelter and i have a piano. if you would want, after school we could drive there and you wouldn’t have to worry about being late for work.” mr. min says scratching lightly at the back of his neck, he doesn’t know if it’s fabric or just his nervousness causing triggers as if he was fifteen again.

taehyung’s face glows at the idea although the blush in his cheeks is still faintly there. “really?? that sounds great! you’re not mad at me?” the younger one mutters the latter consciously.

“no of course not, i remember being a teenager. after all it was only 5 years ago.” he says trying to shake the feeling he’s getting.

he’s just invited his student over to his home, but it’s not inappropriate. no, they’re practicing piano and making agreements that will work into their schedule. taehyung knows mr. min didn’t have to make that arrangement if he didn’t want to, but he wanted to know more and see more of the kim taehyung he subtly ignored his first year.

taehyung just silently agrees in his head. yes it was only five years ago. but five minutes later he has witnessed the greatest thing to come to him that day. while playing the piano he vaguely forgot a key and mr. min had taken his hand to guide taehyung’s long index finger to B. the sensation of a fire igniting and electricity bubbling corrupted his entire body and he will not ever shake that feeling. neither of them can, no matter how wrong it should be.

[netherwar-rpg-blog]

Welcome to the Wardens, Nikki! Your application for a THE SEEKER has been accepted with a Caitlin Stasey FC.

The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!

O O C - I N F O

Name: Nikki

Age: 20

Timezone: PT (Soon to change, will be traveling during the summer but this is my ‘main’ one!)

Activity Level: In the coming week or two, things will be a bit hectic because I’ll be traveling to visit relatives overseas but I will most likely be on every few days. If any longer absences come up, I will definitely notify the masterlist or the OOC chat.

Extra: – (Sorry if the app is a mess, I got excited when I started thinking of things and now here we are.)

S K E L E T O N - I N F O

T H E - B A S I C S

Skeleton Title: THE SEEKER

Name: Tuilelaith Rinne

Gender: Female

Age: 25

Class: Ranger

Faceclaim: Caitlin Stasey

C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S

Nationality: Crywrenian

Appearance: Her brown hair falls in thick waves to her mid-back. Often, it is let down, allowed to spill over her shoulders, though sometimes it is pulled back or adorned with a simple band of flowers. With a height of 5'1" and features, star-touched eyes and restless lips, hinting at naivety and youthfulness, Tuilelaith is often brushed aside. She is summed up as a pretty thing of pleasant presence. Riling at her unearned dismissal, she tries to command attention by emulating a confidence and courage that she does not feel she possesses. She may stand as a tree or a rock, noble and immovable, but on occasion she may waver. The times she wilts are not too apparent. One may notice a flash of uncertainty, a shameful timidness before she excuses herself or squares her shoulders and lifts her head again.

Personality:

(-) Single-Minded;; With the pained cries of the Balance sounding so clear to her, Tuilelaith can not help but doggedly chase after any hint of a cure. Her inability to fix it pains her. There are spans of time when all she does is hunt for a solution, disappearing from others and submerging herself in research. She can only work on one problem at a time, or rather this problem has haunted her for far too long that she can no longer ignore it.

(-) Stubborn;; Tuilelaith feels as if she must prove herself. She needs others to believe that she is capable and strong. To do this, she stays her ground on things and in competitions that she would be better of letting go. Once she has made up her mind, it is nearly impossible to get her to change it.

(-) Judgmental;; She is wary of others and this wariness causes her to draw quick conclusions about the people around her. She has strong feelings about both crooks and people who show off their fortune. Having history with both, however, her opinions are rather muddled. Depending on her judgement of someone’s character, she may try to avoid them.

(+) Appreciative;; Though cautious of others, Tuilelaith can be won over by shows of sincerity. She is grateful to any act of kindness and isn’t one to let herself stay indebted to someone. She remembers what others have done to and for her.

(+) Brave;; She has learned how to wear confidence through imitation and so courage almost seems easy. Tuilelaith can be shaken. She is not one for fights but feels a duty to aid in combat. She is aware of death and of how quickly her mission could end if she falls. She is scared but her mother urged her to be brave. It is a command that echoes during times of weakness.

(+) Earnest;; There is too much happening, too much chaos, to worry about someone else’s feelings about her. Her words will be sincere, perhaps not too blunt, but should she dislike someone it’ll show. She will not hide her feelings and, if she can help it, her thoughts.

C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D

History:

   Tuilelaith had lived, for a short time, in a town. At most, she can recall the looming mountains and the shadows of surrounding woods but that is all. The only faces she can remember are those of the shopkeeps her mother and her visited but their names escape her. Most of her childhood was spent in a cottage in a small valley hugged by the mountains of the Fydheim Highlands. Her mother, Muirgen, and her older brother, Fintan, would hunt for their meals and for hides and furs to sell. Her father, after they had gathered and prepared enough for a cart, would journey for days to a distant town to sell them. Tuilelaith, being only five then, did not think of their living as anything other than normal. It was lonely. There were days when she would only have herself to fill the silence. She would go out to walk among the flowers, raise her voice in song or hold imaginary conversations with the animals around her. Fintan later told her, when their mother had gone to gather wood, that their father had been run out of town.

    Lachtna, Tuilelaith’s father, did not know how to fight but he knew how to talk. He knew how to weedle his way to higher profit and he knew how to cheat customers for small amounts of money. When one of his regular customers found out, the word spread. He was to be brought to trial and then to justice. Muirgen, having known some of her husband’s tendencies, had prepared an old family cottage of hers for them to run to, to live in. They became a family that not only cheated but refused to face justice. Theirs was a family without honor. She did not know what to think of this.

    When she was seven, she dreamt of a tree. And it sang to her.

   Tuilelaith woke to the murmurs of life. She could feel the nature around her, the Balance, singing. It was a song that she could not replicate but she tried. When her family left her alone and she could walk out into the valley, she tried to join the singing. She would talk to flowers, ask if she was doing her part correctly, then listen to see if they would reply. They did not answer her, not directly, but she did learn from them. Coming across a flower stem broken in half, Tuilelaith felt the weakening hum of it, and willed it to get better. Putting her hands gently around the stem, the two halves connected once again. She ran to tell her family.

    Becoming a Ranger was a difficult task. As she grew, Tuilelaith experimented with her gift to the best of her ability but she lacked experience and training. She needed knowledge. The Balance was like an ever-present friend to her, a guardian, and, over the years, she could hear it weakening. She did not know what to do but she knew that something had to be done. She needed to leave and to learn. Her family would not let her.

    Lachtna warned her of his enemies and told her how dangerous others were. He, himself, was a person who lied and cheated and those who weren’t called for blood far too eagerly for his liking. Stay where you are safe, he said because they would not follow her. Their home was here and if she was leaving the nest she would be doing it on her own. He was angry, not so much at her, but of the people outside and of his own mistakes. He had lost his fortune and lost the home he had claimed for himself. The Rifting will come, Lachtna knew that, but he was a bitter man that did not want to see his family raise a hand to help those that didn’t deserve it.

    What can you do? He asked her, telling her to leave adventures and fighting to people who were more capable and more suited to die.

   Fintan raged then sulked. He was a fire that would blaze then cool to ash. He was older by six years and, still, he hadn’t left their family for any longer than a journey to town. You don’t do anything. He had been the one to care for their mother when she had gotten sick. He had been the one hunting for their family, travelling and trading for their family. She was young and he was burdened. And their family was something to be held above all because of how they lived and how they had run. They only had each other and she was leaving. It was a betrayal.

    You know nothing but your own needs. He said nothing else.

   Muirgen was quiet and still. After Tuilelaith announced her decision to leave, Muirgen had simply turned to silence. This lasted for days and broke only when Lachtna and Fintan left to sell their goods and to escape the tension. She packed Tuilelaith’s things and spoke to her softly about how to be brave. She told her of how stars are small but burning things and of how she, too, could be that. How she, too, must be that.

    And, love, pursue good and believe you are strong enough to grasp it.

Reason for joining the Wardens:

 After arriving in Siften, Tuilelaith searched for the Druids of the Fenarious Faith to learn from them. There was a rising urgency in her development as a Ranger. Everyday, she took notice of the dwindling magic, the disturbances in the Balance’s song. But she did not know how else to help. She could help nurture plants and animals back to health but the progress was slow and the effect unnoticeable. Her efforts did nothing. When she heard of the Wardens, Tuilelaith found that she could finally breathe. This was something. They had to be something.

    For all her will and fire, she knew nothing. The Wardens, however, might.

R O L E P L A Y - S A M P L E

(Please provide a sample of your writing to one of the prompts below or use another setting which fits with your character’s background and story.)

   Three hours down the Spine Mountains, the chilling winds cut less at one’s skin in favor of taking ice-brushed nibbles. The path through the mountains and into the Targun Forest was marked with rocks frosted over white from dropped temperatures and storms turned to cold. Tuilelaith strode in expert silence, shoulders dusted with snow, in a thick fur-lined dress that seemed warm enough but unusual wear for a mountain traveler. She had no horse or any weapons that one could see. If it were not for the backpack she carried, almost bursting with its burden, she would have seemed to be a ghost, a lady of the mountain that was all but a dream.

    But she was real and her dress seemed a fine thing and she, herself, appeared as if a doll. To the shadows around her, the grinning squinting gloom, she was a target of opportunity. A lady alone, seemingly rich. It was luck.

    Tuilelaith walked to the side of the road and rested her hand on a tree trunk. To the bandits laying in wait, she seemed nothing more than tired. But, she had heard them. They were clumsy fellows, loud fellows. Their footfalls, rushed in their hunger and carelessness, had been like distant thunderclaps beneath the nipping winds. As she concentrated on the nature around her, the tree roots in her mind extending in pulsating green, she caught glimpses of where the bandits were. She pressed her forehead to the bark and whispered her thanks.

    Turning, she put her back to the tree and lifted her dress by a few inches. Tuilelaith bent down and took off her slippers, placing them neatly beside her. After shrugging off her pack, she stretched her hands in front of her. She stood still, relaxed. Closed her eyes. Felt the sharp air frost over her lungs. Then she lifted her chin, eyes open and challenging.

    "You’ll be given five seconds to leave. After that, I will try not to kill you but I will also be trying not to die. Please consider this, I do not like fighting.“

    Four cloaked figures broke from their cover. One, a lanky fellow that seemed all elongated bones beneath a darkened face, grinned. His eyes were the black beads of crows but without the bird’s innate wisdom, only the glazed brightness of malice. "Tell ya what, lass,” The voice that came from him was the scratching of stone against stone.He shrugged, the movement traveling up his spine to his shoulders. “we like gifts. Leave yer gold-”

    With one quick stamp of her foot, four tree roots shot out of the earth to knock the bandits down. The man, surprised at the interruption, was shoved prone to the ground, the root then snaked over him and dug back into the earth. One root clamped around one bandit’s leg while another wrapped around one’s torso. There was a single bandit that managed to leap back. With a flick of his hands, two knives sliced towards her.

    Tuilelaith moved with a nimble grace that appeared almost as if she were dancing. The knives hit the tree behind her, embedding themselves deep into the wood. As Tuile finished her spin towards the bandit, she traced the tips of her toes in an arc on the earth. Dirt kicked up as another root broke the surface, jetting towards the bandit in a smooth curve. It curled around the bandit’s chest, immobilizing him.

    Without a glance towards any of the other bandits, she hurried to dig out the daggers from the tree’s bark. “Thank you for the aid.” With a pat, Tuile healed the tree’s wounds. “As for all of you…” She turned to the bandits and looked over the one who had spoken to her. “Fighting is a mess and I do hope you stop this because if I do see you a next time attempting thievery I will have to hurt you.” Then, with a hefty kick (sometimes multiple), she knocked each of the bandits out.

    She left them with their clothes and their rations, hiding away all their weapons save for a single knife they could use to hunt. The roots sank back into the earth when she walked off carrying, still, her pack, her gold, and her shoes.

[loveinpanem-blog]

Love is...Unconditional

Banner by the brilliant, amazing and perfectly talented @akai-echo

Parts 1 and 2 are available on AO3/ffnet! 

Epilogue will post on Valentine’s Day. 

A million thanks to my lovely friend, @eala-musings for betaing this, the incomparable @akai-echo for the prereading, making the gorgeous set of banners and for talking me through some plot points. And finally, to the wonderful @thegirlfromoverthepond , my other partner in crime with @loveinpanem for inspiring this fic. Thank you all!

Part 3 - Release

“I’m fine, I promise,” I said, holding the cellphone in the crook between my neck and shoulder as I spoke to Prim and packed at the same time.

“I know, I know, but I just worry. I’ve never gone a month without seeing you. When are you coming home?”

“Soon, Little Duck,” I said, using my most soothing voice. Peeta quietly took my bag from my hands and checked the room one last time before we shut the door behind us.

“Okay. I just need to know you’re okay and I’ll quit worrying.” Her voice was plaintive, sounding like it did when we were children.

I sighed and watched Peeta pull on his shoes and tie them, knots double-laced, as always. “This trip has been one of the most important ones I’ve ever taken.” He looked up at me, one eyebrow raised as if in skepticism. I held his gaze defiantly as I continued. “I wish it would never end.”

His face softened, becoming thoughtful, then sad, before he let his eyes drop down to his shoes where his fingers still rested on the laces. I wished my sister goodnight and retreated to the restroom to brush my hair and keep myself from falling all over Peeta once again.

XXXXX

We stayed in Haymitch’s house just long enough to notify the proper individuals regarding Haymitch’s possessions so that they would be properly disposed of before we took the next train out. With him being legally dead and yet having been so visible and active in the matters of that small town, we were in no position to allow ourselves to be caught up in the confusion that would likely ensue with Haymitch’s abrupt disappearance.

The train took us further southwest, to the coastline of Panem, where District 4’s seaside towns were located. The trip lasted nearly three days, as we were unable to secure a ticket on an express train. Dread, heavy like the stone I’d cast into the lake, sat in my belly as we neared the place where Peeta was last alive. I suggested several times that we make a detour, stop in District 7, or even make a clandestine visit to District 12. It was, after all, our home and wouldn’t it be nice to see it one last time? But Peeta demurred, insisting that we go to the sea.

“There’s one more stop we need to make,” he kept repeating.

“But why the sudden hurry?” I insisted, cloaking myself in a naive hope that I could prolong all of this, pretending that I didn’t know why he was now racing to get to District 4.  To Peeta’s credit, he didn’t indulge my fantasies, but he wasn’t cruel or blunt either. He simply smiled, running his hands along my hair and down my braid before releasing it with a small tug.

Those days on the train with him existed beyond all reality. I wasn’t sure how things could get any stranger than my traveling with the corporeal ghost of my deceased husband, but it did. No one existed except for us, even though the train was full of people going about their business each day.

No one seemed to notice that Peeta was different, except for a small toddler with curly blond hair who waddled up to him when we were visiting the dining cabin. The child could have passed for Peeta’s son as he stared at him, not with fear, but with confusion as to the nature of the kind, blond-haired man he’d been instinctively drawn to.

“He’s beautiful,” I whispered as his mother tugged him away. I felt a memory barrelling upwards, a memory I pushed violently away for fear it would make me bleed.

Peeta’s face went through a quick series of changes, first frowning, then smoothing out to impassivity. “Some people are more attuned to ghosts than others,” he said, turning the pages of the magazine next to his sandwich.  “Kids, especially.”

We fell into a tense silence, which persisted until the little boy finally left the car with his mother.

XXXXX

“Do you know I have a secret?” I said one night, sprawled out on our cabin bunk.

Peeta, who had been placidly reading at his side of the bed, looked up. “Really? Do tell.”

“Yes. Something I’ve never told you.” I took up most of the space on the bed as I spread out dramatically. “I had a girlfriend the very first year we went to college.”

Peeta closed the book, watching me as I smiled at the memory. “I had no idea.”

“Well, you and I weren’t actually dating yet. It was weird, really, how it all happened. I’m not exactly a people magnet, but she liked me and pursued me. She was very pretty - astonishingly so given what a social idiot I was.”

“I’m not surprised she pursued you. I’d been pining for you since I was five. How long did it last?”

I shrugged. “Four months. But it was...intense. We saw each other every day. She was the first person I’d ever had sex with and I admit - we couldn’t get enough of each other. But then it just fizzled out. We never talked about the future, never mentioned marriage. It was just...what it was. So when she left, I let it go. She had marked an important period of my life, but I wasn't as devastated as I would have expected.” I turned my head up towards him. “I learned a lot from her but she didn’t break me when she left.” I rolled over and rested my head on his lap, looking up into his blue eyes, which danced with amusement and a certain amount of awe.  “It’s strange, the things that connect people.”

“Maybe it’s because you and I are married?” he whispered, playing with my hair.

I shook my head. “Marriage is a formality, nothing more. No, it’s because when I decided to love you, I gave it all to you - I made my existence completely enthralled to yours, and if you'd have stuck around, it would have been good. I gambled on the fact of you living, but I lost.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his expression pained.

I shrugged. “Don’t be. Maybe the odds weren’t in my favor. But you were worth all of it, even with the pain of losing you. Knowing what I know now, I'd still do it all over again, because simply being with you was a gift.” I ran my hands along his leg, reveling in the hard muscle beneath his pants.  “I'm learning to accept that I will live my entire life and never love anyone the way I love you.”

“It’s not true,” he said, helping me onto his lap. “You can love someone else one day.”

I shook my head. “Hey, I just admitted to surviving beyond you. That’s all the progress you’re going to get out of me today.”

Peeta snorted in disbelief, but he didn’t argue with me. Instead, he kissed me, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear before asking, “So, do you have any more secrets?”

I snaked my arms around his shoulders, realizing how many things we still had to learn about each other, and wondering if there would ever be enough time. “Yes, but for now, I think I’ll keep them to myself.”  

XXXXX

When we descended from the train, we walked out onto a two-lane road. One side was lined with shops and restaurants, while the oceanside featured a long boardwalk that went on for miles in either direction, punctuated by public beaches, quaint motels and wide stretches of sawgrass and mangroves. The sea was not masked behind even the tallest structures but made itself known by the deafening roar of its call and the overpowering smell of salt. It beckoned from the open spaces of beach and between the alleyways of buildings.

We searched the strip, or rather, I followed as Peeta wandered from one motel to another until we arrived at a small establishment with adjoining restaurant, buried under overgrown vines and trees, hanging thick with bougainvillea and jasmine. A sign with the handpainted name, The Seacomber, was posted proudly at the entrance and above the building.The smell intoxicated me, and I knew we’d arrived even before he’d stopped to consider the building.

“Here,” was all he said as he took my bag and stepped inside a tiny office with a faux-marble countertop that served as the front desk.  We were greeted by a middle aged woman with a face that smiled easily. A handsome young man, not much younger than me, with an unmistakeable resemblance to the woman, emptied the trash bins in the small office, pausing only to welcome us before exiting through a door in the back.

“I can offer you a poolside room on the first floor,” the woman suggested, showing us a map of the U-shaped property. A large pool area sat in the middle, surrounded by lounge chairs. The opening of the configuration faced out to the sea. I examined the layout more closely.

“Is that one available?” I asked, pointing at the leg of the U, at the end of which appeared to be a room that faced directly onto the ocean.

“That’s our honeymoon suite complete with a full kitchen, separate bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, and a lounge area that opens onto the balcony overlooking the beach. It’s...pricier...than this one.” The woman, who wore a name badge identifying her as Cecilia, pointed at the room she had originally assigned us.  

“I’ll take it,” I said, glancing at Peeta. He made to protest, but I silenced him.

“I want this. Please.”

He nodded and watched as I signed the credit card slip and gave it to her in exchange for a large room key with the number 11 hanging on it.

I was satisfied when we made it to the room. It was one of the loveliest rooms I’d ever seen - white-painted, wooden furniture adorned the open space. The sofas were dressed in homey prints of yellow and blue with matching pillows and a throw blanket. Sheer white curtains rustled in the breeze of the open window and the current created by the ceiling fans circling above. I set my bag down and crossed to the large balcony that, from the door, appeared suspended directly above the ocean. The shore only became visible when I approached the rail.

The smell arrested me - the aroma of flowers we’d encountered wafting up to our room, mingled with the sea, the sand, even the pungent odor of chlorine from the nearby pool. The squall of seagulls in the distance was the only sound we heard and I was grateful for the sparsely populated beach that spread for miles in each direction.

But it was the ocean that drew my interest. Rolling in on gentle waves under a partially-clouded sky, it did not give a hint of its menace. Rocks piled over each other to the south and the north beach curved into a bay that drew most of the sea-goers’ attention, for the water was smooth, almost mirror-like to swim in. But this savage beauty enticed me, nearly making me believe that it’s invitation into its depths was benevolent and sincere.

“I never thought I’d come to the sea again,” I said. Peeta came up behind me, wrapping his powerful arms around my waist. “I don’t know that I can go in it.”

He squeezed, pulling me flush against him. “Then don’t. I’d never force you to do a thing.”

“But what about you?  Doesn’t it…?”

“Does it disturb me? In the beginning, I was terrified of everything. I didn’t understand what was happening. But I came to grips with this,” he spread his hands out to indicate the treacherous water that lay before us. “It was one of the first obstacles I had to overcome so I could go where I needed to go, which was to you.”

I crossed my arms over his. “I’ll never forgive it.”

Peeta sighed, turning me to look at him. “It’s useless to hate a mindless thing.”

“Well, then who else do I complain to about this?” He fell silent on this point. He’d died but he knew as little about everything after as I did. “Well, then, since no one is listening, you’ll have to forgive me for hating that thing for taking you away.”

He shook his head but didn’t protest anymore. It was useless to argue over such things, anyway.

XXXXX

The family who owned the establishment where we stayed was a small one. There was Cecilia and her husband, Caleb, a jolly man somewhat older than her but who still preserved a certain air of humor about him that rendered him youthful. They spoke of two boys - Jayden, who was studying in a residential engineering program in District 2, and Thresh, who also studied in north Panem but stayed back in the summers to help his parents run the motel.

“Thresh sure does love the seaside,” Cecilia said fondly of her son, who at that moment was wiping down the machinery in the back of the restaurant. “His older brother had more of an itch to go away, do something different. But Thresh will probably inherit the place, since he loves working here so much.”

Peeta and I sipped our coffee as she chatted. We were consistently the last customers to make it down to the dining room before the breakfast bar closed.

“Now, don’t you worry,” she said as I apologized for the third morning in a row when we arrived only ten minutes before breakfast stopped being served. “We keep those hours for the business folk who come in and have to eat early so they can get on to their meetings and things. You both are obviously on vacation. We can relax the rules some.” She winked as Caleb brought hot water for our tea. “I’m on the ins with the owner.”  

We spent the days walking along the beach, exploring the national park north of our location. There was a reef off the coast that was only a small boat trip from the motel but after two weeks, I still refused to go in the water.

On one of our walks, after I’d turned down yet another invitation by Peeta to go in the water, he paused, considering me before taking off his t-shirt, leaving him in his swim shorts.

“What are you doing?” I said, panicking as he exposed his fair skin to the sun. “You barely put on any sun block!”

“Worry wort,” he teased as he gave me a brief, lopsided grin before turning and plunging, head-first, into the ocean.

“No!” I shouted, scrambling to take off my dress and race in after him. When I reached him, I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him towards me.

“Get out! GET! OUT!” I screamed, pulling frantically at him.

“I’m fine, I’m not going out there, Katniss. Please!” he begged as I continued to shout at him until I had managed to drag him out onto the sand.

“How dare you do that to me!” I screamed, hitting him on the chest, not once, but several times, tears now streaming down my face. “You promised you wouldn’t force me!”

“I’m sorry!” Peeta said. “I just really wanted to go in, so you could realize that I’m okay. I can take a swim and nothing will happen to me.”

I leaned my cheek against his wet shoulder, trying to regain my composure. I remembered the ambulances, the police cars, the National Guard boats out on the open water, combing the rocks, the reef islands, the mangrove fields and not finding anything, leaving me on this very beach, just north of where they were now, kneeling and begging for the courage to throw myself into the sea too.

“It’s physical. I…” I looked up at him, calmer but still upset. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, scraping my cheek with the fine grains of sand. “I just can’t let it touch me. It’s taken too much from me.”

“Hey,” he said, holding me firmly to him. “I understand. I felt the same way when I first, well, after…”

“You’ve had more time to deal with it. This is the first time I’ve been in front of the ocean in three years.” I looked out at it, so warm and beautiful, calling to me, presenting itself as it is, without will or volition. It just was and could no more help itself than the wind could stop itself from blowing.

I turned to look at Peeta, who was staring at me with those confounding blue eyes filled with worry. The water dripped from his hair, down his chest - making his hair sparkle again. I ran my fingers through the damp hair, curling them before I released them. Taking a decision, I stood and helped him to his feet and. With his hand firmly in mine, I waded into the warm, lapping waves, shivering despite the temperature.

Terror raced over me but I swallowed it back, breathing deeply in time with the music of the seagulls in the distance. I squeezed Peeta’s hand, swaying slightly as we reached the break line, where the sea was most insistent, waves crashing with mindless force against us. Finally, the foamy, roiling water became gentle undulations that spread and caressed us, a contained fury that enticed us to let down our guard, to trust it, but never too much.

Peeta pulled me up so that he was holding me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. The water came to our mid chest, so we let it carry us, each anchored to the other. Despite my terror of earlier, I felt safe and protected, the way I could only feel with Peeta. I still eyed the sea in anger and no small amount of hatred, but I could also admit its beauty and serenity into my consciousness. My arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and I heard his murmurs in my ear, dampened by the low roar of the surf.

“Hmmm?” I asked, unable to capture his words with any clarity.

“Oh,” he said, as if he hadn’t been aware that he’d been speaking. “It’s a silly thing really,”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

He looked sheepish but he spoke again, this time so I could hear:

We the mortals touch the metals,

the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,

knowing they will go on, inert or burning,

and I was discovering, naming all these things:

it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

 I kissed him then pulled back. “That’s beautiful...and so sad…”

Peeta shrugged, pulling me back to my place, head on his shoulders, arms and legs wrapped around him. “It is, isn’t it?”

XXXXX

We spent so many days that way, where the goal was not where we were going or what we were doing, but that these things were done together. Peeta had always had a gift for sketching and I sat next to him for hours as he indulged himself, making drawings of me, of himself, the birds and oceans. And he gifted each creation to me, amongst the most precious things he ever gave me.

We took long naps in the afternoon, retreating to our room to talk, read or make love - whatever and whenever the mood struck us. In the quiet rhythms of our time together, we learned more about each other than in the ten years we’d been married, punctuated as they were by the constant freneticism of work, obligations and an ever present to-do list. I imagined myself doing this forever but my imagination would not reach that far. It was funny how people were made - we could get used to almost anything and I eventually became accustomed to the uncertainty, living as fully as possible in the moments I spent with him.

Some days, when Peeta napped and sleep eluded me, I wandered the premises or the beach, though I refrained from going in the water without him.  There were small, secret places in that motel, and I wandered into one of them after nearly a month, drawn by the lonely chords of a beautiful piano piece I nearly recognized. I followed it, searching for its source until I reached a conference room, its door closed but not locked. I opened and walked through.

The music drew me in, a gentle melody that was executed with a practiced, if hesitant tempo, as if the player did not fully trust their ability to play. I followed the music, which I recognized as Comptine d’un Autre. It took me back to my youth in District 12, and to, Madge, who would invite me to her house nearly every day. Each time, at some point in the visit, she would sit me down next to her as she played this melody and others, all the while pausing between songs to chat. Sometimes we said nothing at all and she just played song after song, which suited me fine because I loved listening to her play.  My visits always smelled of tea and cookies, sometimes homemade, mostly bought from Mellark’s Family Baker.

The thought brought Peeta to my mind, causing me to nearly turn back. I missed him when I wasn’t with him, but he’d had been sleeping so peacefully, I was loathe to disturb him.

I forced the door open and stepped inside. A young girl of about 12 sat at a fairly old and well-worn piano. She wore a blueberry-colored dress with a crisp collar, the color of whipped cream. Her slender fingers danced, occasionally missing a key, which she corrected with a smooth shift of her hand. Her skin glowed smooth and brown, her tight curls fastened into two fluff buns on either side of her head, held in place with ribbons the color of her dress.

Drawn by the music and the nearly picture-like perfection of the girl, I stepped up to the piano, capturing the expression of surprise on the sweetest face I’d ever seen.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, noticing that she wore the same look of being on the verge of a smile that Cecilia and Thresh possessed. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

The girl, who had paused in her playing, spoke with the voice that reminded me of trilling birds.  “Oh, you’re not. I’m just keeping myself busy, like my brother always says.

I was confused. Cecilia had only mentioned two boys, but I kept it to myself. “My best friend used to play that piece. When I was young, it was my favorite and I always made her play it.”  I smiled as she giggled. “I’m Katniss.”

“I’m Rue,” she said, resuming her playing. “I want to practice so I can play at the school assembly. But I have to learn it perfectly first.”

“It sounds perfect to me,” I said, taking a chair next to her. She took up humming the tune under her breath. I watched the soft undulations of her shoulders as she brought her arms to her side, chasing the tune with child-like persistence. A sound, harsh and short, caught my attention and I turned. It jarred, not because it was loud but because it reminded me of a wound being torn audibly open.

I saw that Thresh had taken a seat at a long table behind me, watching with an expression of agony as the girl played on.

“You can see her?” he asked, the sound barely audible over the tinkling of piano keys.

“Yes,” I answered. “She’s a very good player, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a paper napkin from his pocket and gripping it in his fist. “She comes and goes, always playing that song. I’m the only one who ever sees her. At least others can see your husband.”

“You noticed that,” I said, more calmly than I should have. But it was clear that Thresh and I were two of a kind. “Why is she here?”  My proximity to this world taught me that there was always a reason that the dead lingered, always a knot that they were seeking to untie before they could be free.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice sounding more tired than anyone should sound at his age. “When she was born, I was so jealous of her. My parents paid so much attention to her, and my older brother - he was too busy with his own things.” His face clenched as if he had been struck. “I only learned later that she had been born sickly and my parents were just trying to...keep her comfortable. Alive. By the time I figured it out, I’d wished her dead so many times that I was sure I was the one who made her sick.”

“It doesn’t really work that way,” I whispered, though who was I to lecture anyone on regret?

“When she turned 11, she died.” He rubbed his face, as if trying to keep all that he felt by physically shoving those feelings away. “She won’t leave because she knows my evil wishes killed her.”

Rue stopped playing and turned to look at him, staring without saying a word.

“She does that too,” he says. “Just stops and stares at me, like she’s accusing me.”

My heart ached for him and Rue. For Haymitch and Maysilee.  For myself and Peeta. For all the spirits torn away too soon and the broken souls they left behind.

“I don’t think she’s here because she’s angry. They never come to us out of anger.” I closed my eyes and thought of my husband, how I could describe in every way his presence in my life but never as a haunting. The living were haunted, not by ghosts, but by their own regrets.

“I think she’s just waiting for you to forgive yourself. You were just a child. No amount of wishing in the world could have made her stay or leave.”

Thresh stared back at his sister, who held his gaze with innocent purity. “I didn’t know, Rue,” he said, his voice now broken. “I didn’t know.”

Rue stood and walked towards him, her small dress swishing about her knees. When she reached him, she touched his hand and smiled, provoking a hiccup of sobs from him as he took the little girl’s hand and pressed it to his lips. He held it there as if it would keep all the grief in the world from spilling out of him and blotting the bright sunlight beyond the windows. With her other hand, Rue cupped his cheek and, like a blueberry tinted rainbow, shimmered and dissolved into mist.

XXXXX

I quietly left Thresh in the dignity of his solitude, knowing those moments belonged only to him. I couldn’t get a handle on how I felt after that. I stumbled out of the room and down the hall, my memory attempting to betray me again, reminding me that I, too, had an account to settle, a ledger on my balance.

I thought if I walked quickly enough, I could escape it. But it had become another spirit, one less benevolent than all the ones I’d met. It was vengeful, insistent and emanated purely from my guilt. As I pushed the door that opened onto the sparsely populated pool and I wound my way to the stairs that would take me to our suite, the spirit of that memory overcame me, and I had no choice but to stop under its power.

I was back in District 4, the night before Peeta died. We’d return from a walk with Finnick and Annie, both aglow with joy from the good news. They were expecting their first child in the fall, and they had infected both Peeta and I with their excitement. In particular, Peeta was as ecstatic as if the good news had been his own.

When we returned to our guest room, Peeta had acted immediately under that borrowed happiness. He’d taken me and kissed me, his hand sliding over my belly to grip my waist, his intent clear. No matter what happened between us, how angry the fights or how deep the disappointments,we always had this way of connecting, through the physical rhythms of our bodies, moving in synchronicity - a dance that always brought us back together.  Our unity of motion coaxed the same in our hearts.

When it was over, Peeta had whispered, “What about us?”

I had known what he was asking for he had asked for it often in the years of our marriage. There had always been a way for me to put him off - first our need to finish school, then the more pressing need to save money - all to hide the real reason I didn’t want to have children. I was terrified to death of having them, ruining them and, most compelling and ironic of all, of losing them.

“Maybe when we move back to District 12,” I had answered lamely. I knew Peeta had hoped for something more enthusiastic and committed from me but that night, I had failed. And it had been a critical failure.

Peeta was far too sensitive to me. He perceived the hesitation, and, soon, all I felt was ice from his side of the bed. I reached out to touch him, to try to find that connection to him again, the one I had severed with my answer. But he sat up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and dressed quickly.

I sat up also, gathering the bed sheets around me.

“Where are you going?”

He paused, his rigid features visible only in profile, but it was enough to capture to depth of his hurt and anger.

“The thing I’ve always looked most forward to in our life together was the possibility of having a child with you. To have someone who carried a piece of you together with a piece of me.” He inhaled loudly, as if it would steady him.

“I want that too, some day…” I said, hearing the emptiness in my words as I said them and knowing that I was continuing to fail miserably.

“One day?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “I don’t understand why you would marry someone you don’t want to have child with.”

“That’s not true!” I said, anger now spewing out of my chest, at him and at me. “That’s such an unfair thing to say!”

“Why the hesitation then, Katniss? Why else but because I just don’t inspire that in you? Maybe someone else would be better able to do that.”

“Hey, hold on,” I said, oblivious to the fact that my blankets had fallen away and my voice was rising. “You don’t have to say things like that to me!”

Peeta stood and whirled around, hands balled into tight fists. “Oh, come on!  You keep putting up every fucking obstacle that you can find to actually settling down and starting a family. You keep postponing our move back to 12, you’re completely unenthusiastic about me taking over the baker…”

“I just want to make sure we have enough money, that’s all! You’re just turning everything around so that you don’t have to take responsibility for your own unhappiness!”

Peeta grabbed his hoodie and threw it haphazardly over his head. “You know what? My happiness depends as much on you as yours does on me. I take responsibility for that. You’re the one who keeps pursuing goals that take no account of how I feel!” He shoved his feet into his shoes. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I’m taking a walk.”

“Don’t...don’t go,” I said, suddenly horrified by the argument, by our words. “Please, let’s talk it out. Maybe I can…”

“You can what?  Keep putting me off? I’ll pass on that, thanks.” He turned, opened the door and left the room. I was so stupid. I should have gotten dressed. I should have gone after him. Instead, I kept thinking that if I gave him time, he’d come around, become the Peeta that I loved, the Peeta I’d taken for granted - the patient one, the one who was always willing to apologize first, and make amends.

I chose to sit on that bed and wait in my self-righteous anger.

It was the last time I saw him alive.

XXXXX

Tears blinded me as I finally arrived in our suite. Peeta was awake and making coffee in the kitchen. I tried to calm down, tried to find a stable place. We had so very little, precious time.

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked as I paced the room. Memories had become feelings that rose up to swallow me and God knows I didn’t want them. I didn’t want them to make their appearance. I pressed my temples as if I could push them back behind the wall of darkness where they could haunt me without my awareness. But it was futile. The time had come, and I could no more keep them back than I could hold back the waves that had taken my husband’s life.

“You have no idea what these last three years have been like for me,” I said between clenched teeth.

“No,” Peeta said softly. “I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

I wiped my cheeks, trying to take in air. “No one has ever hated themselves more. You have to understand,” I leaned against the window, gazing at the sea, at once so calm and beckoning, yet full of treachery and death. “I let you die with that stupid argument between us. I didn’t realize how...how badly you wanted them.  And I was too proud to tell you how afraid I was.”  I turned to him. “Why did we let it go so long?”

“Because I never pushed you,” Peeta said, suddenly next to me, flexing and unflexing his hands in that confounding habit he’d come to have. “I didn’t want to force you and have you hate me if you weren’t happy with the decision.”

“You should have forced me!” I shouted, all of my self-hatred and regret rising out of me in one enormous wave of feeling, powerful enough to pull me under. I was forced to take a seat on the divan. “You don’t know how many...how many times...I...cursed myself for saying no to you. For not going after you and telling you, once and for all, that I would give you everything you wanted.” I balled my fists against my eyes to keep the tears from escaping again. “If I’d have just done that, you would still be here, with me and not dead...and fading…”

“Katniss, please! I told you not to play this game!”

“I should have had your baby!” There it was, the truth. I would have had someone to comfort me, to make my life worth something in the event he left me and took my heart, my soul, my will to exist with him. “I should have just said yes.”

“Katniss…” he whispered, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades while I sobbed. “You weren’t ready. I...I made the mistake. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

His words still stung, even with the distance of memory. “I was...haunted...obsessed...by the thought that if I had only just said yes...if I had only just given in.” I sobbed between my words, forcing them to make sense. “And this...thing...this regret...it nearly killed me. And now it traps you here.” I look up at him, feeling so unworthy of him, of everything he had given me and continued to give me. “Why did you even bother to come back?”

Peeta sank down onto the divan next to me, flexing his right hand again. “I have a confession to make.”

I stopped blubbering enough to listen to him. “I thought I was the only one with secrets.”

“That’s not entirely true. I...I owe you an apology.”

“And apology? Why?” I look down at his hand and notice the subtle phase shifting like Haymitch, noticed his hands as they curled into a fist and opened again. “You’re fading, aren’t you?” I gripped his arm in a panic. “You’re beginning to fade!”

He shrugged, capturing my hand in his and squeezing. “I’m always coming and going. That...that’s not...Katniss, I’m not just here for you.”

“Not here just for me?” I repeat, never having posed the question of his current state of existence, even to myself before today.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, why I’d held on, why, when other spirits were moving on, I was stuck and couldn’t leave. I needed to make it right with you. I needed...I shouldn’t have left you that way. I should have never said those things to you.”  His ragged breath prefigured the tears that now fell.

“Shhhh….” I whispered, pulling him towards me.  “People say things…”

“You were alone for so long,” he continued.  “I could hear your grief, Katniss. It was like a lonely chord rising above a symphony of existence, a note that only I could hear. I followed it because if you suffered, it was because of me. I’m the one who left you alone after that argument without making amends. I had no choice but to come to you. I had to fix that.”

I gripped him to me, revelling in the feel of him, a feeling I never wanted to duplicate with anyone else ever again. “You have nothing to apologize for. We got a little lost, that’s all. But it never changed anything for me. I love you. I loved you then.” I looked up at him. “The only thing that could fix everything is if you stayed. We could live here, if you like, or in the mountains. Any place would do.”

Peeta shook his head. “I’m not in the right place.”

He stood, stepping toward the large window I had just vacated, beyond which lay the sea. He had no fear of it - he’d demonstrated that to me already when we swam in it. But he leaned towards it, as if it beckoned to him, and I knew, I knew I wasn’t ready. I could be - I could make myself strong, but just not at that moment.

“No, not yet!” I shouted, hurling myself at him, gripping his arm, not realizing that his edges had been blurring until my hand landed on him and he became solid. “Please, I’m not ready.”

He shook his head. “Neither am I,” he said, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’ll never be ready to be without you.”

We held on to each other for a long while before he spoke again, his words rumbling in the depth of his chest, radiating in my ear.

“Please? Stay?” I begged, but weakly, because I knew it was only a delusion.

“I’m fighting everything to be here, but I only have so much strength until the tide turns and takes me away again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Peeta!” I shouted. “That’s such a horrible metaphor!”

He froze, perhaps not expecting such a reaction from me, before chuckling into my shoulder. “You’re right. That was downright lurid.”

XXXXX

After we exchanged more reassurances, more words, the exactness of which I can no longer remember, but there was healing in them. We cleaned up and took a walk down to the small shack of a restaurant that served fresh seafood. We ordered several plates and a bottle of astonishing good, local white wine. We sampled everything on the menu, stuffing ourselves until my belly felt sloshy and full.

I told him all my secrets then. About the time I’d caught a deer after my father died and let it go because I couldn’t stand to kill it, even though the meat would have been welcomed. The only time I’d cheated on a test. How much I first envied my sister when she was born. How desolate I was when my father died and my mother couldn’t pull herself from the depression that followed.

And he told me his. The crush he’d had on our fourth-grade teacher. The time he nicked gumballs from the sweet shop, so proud he’d gotten away with it that he’d saved those round, shiny treats until they became brittle and nearly disintegrated to powder in his desk drawer. The night his mother had gotten piss drunk and woke him up in the middle of the night to confess that she did love him, with all her heart, but she was a right piece of shit and didn’t know how to show anyone how much.

“I can’t believe your mother would say that,” I said, feeling drunk in my own right.

“That’s mom for you - she isn't afraid to drop a surprise drunk confession on you in the middle of the night.” He looked up at me, his face suddenly serious. “Does it make me a horrible person that I didn’t once think of going to look in on my family?”

I thought about it. “Well, I never once mentioned it so that makes us both lousy human beings.”

He lifted his glass in a mock toast, before downing the glass of white wine in one gulp. “Come on, woman. Let’s pay this bill. I”ve always wanted to make love to you on the beach.”

I smiled as I paid the bill and we strolled for a long way along the beach. It felt terribly like something on a bucket list, which I indulged him. We did make love on the sand, the gritty grains getting everywhere, invading places where they shouldn't be. But when he poured salt water over me with his hands, cupping the warm water and letting it fall over my arms, my shoulders, the warm liquid racing in rivulets over my belly, I forgave all the discomforts. We melted into the gentle waves, clinging in the unfathomable darkness to one another. The waves pushed us gently together and I thought how ironic that, on our second last night together, the sea would conspire to unite what it had so violently torn apart.

XXXXX

Peeta fell asleep as soon as we returned to the suite.  I barely closed my eyes, opening them every few minutes to check that he was still next to me. But he was. In the silence of the room, and the depth of his exhaustion, I watched him sleep, memorizing him, cursing my inability to generate even the most rudimentary picture. While at Haymitch’s, I had tried to capture him with my cellphone but he simply refused to appear.  

“You can’t break every single law of physics,” he had said as I showed him the shot I’d taken. There was only an outline, like capturing the scattering of light, which only hinted that a person was standing there.

“It’s like those ghost pictures that you see in magazines sometimes,” I said.

“I guess you’re not the first person who’s thought about taking a picture of a ghost.”

Now, I had only my eyes, my memory, which would fade and leave only the impression of the man I loved, a poor duplicate for someone I had come to need for my very survival. But feast I did, until I was bleary-eyed from exhaustion. It was an exercise in futility, for no amount of staring would ever be enough. And he hid, in the sweetness of his slumber, the most striking thing that made Peeta Mellark who he was - his deep blue eyes, full of the texture of his kind heart and gentle soul.

When he woke at dawn, I was exhausted and he was struggling. His edges blurred and he compulsively flexed his hands into white-knuckled fists. I put my hand over his. “It’s how you focus, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his face strained. I would never truly grasp how much strength he’d needed to hold himself together until now. He was suffering and I knew that there was nothing to be gained by letting someone I love suffer, even for my sake.

“I wish I could beg you to stay. I wish I knew the formula that would keep you with me forever. But I know now that I can’t,” I said, holding on to his fists more strongly, my breath threatening to escape my lungs and leave me without speech. Everything in my body rebelled against it, but the time was near, and I had to cut the strings and let him go in peace. I had no idea how I would survive, but I knew, for his sake, that I had to try.

“Do you know that we are only aware of .04% of the universe?” he said suddenly.

“I...okay…” I said in confusion, wondering if his sanity would be the first thing to go.

“It’s so immense. It’s been around for so long and it’s expanding, always expanding, and will do so possibly for all of eternity. And our lives are like a flash in the middle of stars blazing their finite light in an infinite darkness - blink and you miss it.” He looked at me with eyes melting into the very stars he described. “I was so privileged to live in that infinitesimal moment in time, to have been alive when you were, and to have had, for that incredibly tiny interval, the gift of your love.”

“Peeta...don’t…” I was sobbing. Leave it to Peeta and his silver tongue to magnify the pain of his leaving a thousand times by simply opening his mouth.

“But I did what I had to do.” He released my hand and place his palm over my belly.  

I looked down at the deceptively flat expanse, warmed by the heat of his palm, and suddenly felt something, perceived in one, fierce vision of illumination the tiny life stirring beneath. My mind struggled to accept what my body had already known, had been preparing for since possibly the first moment the universe was cleaved into a billion pieces, setting in motion the timeline that would bring us to this moment.

“How...how could it happen...how can you possibly know?” I babbled in awe as I put my hand over his and held it.

“I told you...I know things.”

“But you’re a ghost!” I shouted.

Peeta shook his head. “We’re the same,” he raised his hand, shimmering like a collection of constellations. “We are both light and energy, mass and heat. And love. So much love. Einstein got some of it right, at least.”

I held his hand, the solid one, like a captive over the place where our child was taking shape. I had no words for this moment. It was too much for one person, so I just clung to the part of him that was still solid, still here.

After a time, Peeta said, “You’ll never be alone again.”

I smiled, despite the immense pain of my heart breaking in two. I smiled. I cried. I wailed. And finally, I laughed. I flung my arms around him and laughed and cried into his shoulders. “God help me, Peeta. All I can think about is I’m going to have one helluva story to tell when I get home.”

Peeta gripped me and held me close to his him. “Just be sure to leave the good stuff out.”

XXXXX

It happened like a star falling out of the sky. At sunset, I helped him down to the sand, where we both stumbled, falling in a pile on top of each other. We laughed like idiots because we were idiots. Who the hell did stuff like this happen to?

But when we sat in the sand and he became nearly transparent, I beckoned him to me one more time and his eyes became filled once again with the color of the dying sun. “We’ll see each other again, won’t we?”

Peeta became solid as he answered. “We will. Not for a while yet. But we will.”

“Okay,” I said, running my fingers over his face one more time.

“Can you do me one last favor?” he said, flickering now like a candle.

“Anything.”

“Call her Amada. Tell her she was given that name because she is beloved.”

And with that, he was gone.

Epilogue will post on Valentine’s Day.

[bountyofbeads]

A Divided House Endorses Impeachment Inquiry Into Trump https://nyti.ms/34fSPJy

A Divided House Endorses Impeachment Inquiry Into Trump

House Democrats rallied behind a measure setting out rules for the public phase of their impeachment inquiry into President Trump, endorsing the process.

By Nicholas Fandos and Sheryl Gay Solberg | Published October 31, 2019 Updated 12:49 PM ET | New York Times | Posted October 31, 2019 |

WASHINGTON — A bitterly divided House of Representatives voted Thursday to endorse the Democratic-led impeachment inquiry into President Trump, in a historic action that set up a critical new public phase of the process and underscored the toxic political polarization that serves as its backdrop.

The vote was 232-196 to approve a resolution that sets out rules for an impeachment process for which there are few precedents, and which promises to consume the country a little more than a year before the 2020 elections. It was only the third time in modern history that the House had taken a vote on an impeachment inquiry into a sitting president.

Two Democrats broke with their party to vote against the measure, while Republicans — under immense pressure from Mr. Trump to shut down the impeachment inquiry altogether — unanimously opposed it.

Minutes after the vote, the White House press secretary denounced the process as “a sham impeachment” and “a blatantly partisan attempt to destroy the president.”

Practically speaking, the resolution outlines the rights and procedures that will guide the process from here on out, including the public presentation of evidence and how Mr. Trump and his legal team will be able to eventually mount a defense.

But its significance was more profound: After five weeks of private fact-finding, an almost completely unified Democratic caucus signaled that, despite Republican opposition, they now have enough confidence in the severity of the underlying facts about Mr. Trump’s dealings with Ukraine to start making their case for impeachment in public.

The vote removed almost any doubt that Democrats would bring a full-fledged impeachment case against Mr. Trump for his apparent efforts to pressure a foreign power into investigating his domestic political rivals. Less clear is how quickly Democrats can move to formalize their charges and whether, through public hearings and the presentation of new evidence, they can win over any Republicans.

To that end, the resolution appeared to be designed to challenge Republican criticisms that Democrats had spent the last few weeks shredding important precedents in their zeal to remove a president from office under the cover of secretive depositions. Democrats urged Republicans to view Thursday’s vote as a turning point in the process, the moment when every House member must begin engaging with the evidence itself.

The dramatic vote, with Speaker Nancy Pelosi presiding from the wooden rostrum in an unusually packed House chamber, came after an impassioned 45-minute debate that was fraught with the weight of the moment.

Ms. Pelosi read from the Constitution. Representative Kevin McCarthy, Republican of California and the minority leader, quoted Alexander Hamilton. Lawmakers listened from their seats, stone-faced and somber, while members of the public watched from the crowded gallery above.

“This is not any cause for any glee or comfort,” Ms. Pelosi said, as she stood beside a large placard of an American flag. “What is at stake in all of this is nothing less than our democracy.”

Representative Jim McGovern, Democrat of Massachusetts and the chairman of the Rules Committee, said lawmakers were “not here in some partisan exercise.

“There is serious evidence that President Trump may have violated the Constitution,” he said.

Republicans worked feverishly to hold their ranks together in opposition, with Mr. Trump rallying support at the White House ahead of the roll call. Though many of the rules are nearly identical to those Republicans adopted in 1998 when they impeached President Bill Clinton, party leaders insisted that supporting the resolution amounted to legitimizing what they view as an indefensible three-year campaign to undo the results of the 2016 election.

“Democrats are trying to impeach the president because they are scared they cannot defeat him at the ballot box,” Mr. McCarthy said. “Why do you not trust the people?”

Representative Devin Nunes of California, the top Republican on the Intelligence Committee, said the panel had turned into “a cult,” adding angrily: “We now have a full-fledged impeachment committee in the basement of the Capitol. Think about that, America.”

Once the voting began, the House chamber buzzed with activity. Ms. Pelosi could be seen on the floor counting the votes as they came in and tracking Democrats until the very last minute, leaving nothing to chance.

In a statement just after the resolution was adopted, Stephanie Grisham, the White House press secretary, said that the House had approved a process that was “unfair, unconstitutional and fundamentally un-American.”

“The president has done nothing wrong,” she said, “and the Democrats know it.”

Though it is not a perfect comparison to votes taken to authorize impeachment inquiries into Mr. Clinton and President Richard M. Nixon, Thursday’s outcome underscored the depth of partisan polarization now gripping American politics. Democrats delivered a show of unity that just weeks ago seemed improbable, with even many moderate lawmakers who are facing difficult re-election races in conservative-leaning districts voting in favor of moving forward.

Whereas the vote against Mr. Nixon registered only four objections and 31 members of the president’s party endorsed the inquiry into Mr. Clinton, this time, not a single Republican defected.

Two Democrats, Representatives Collin C. Peterson of Minnesota and Jeff Van Drew of New Jersey, voted against the measure, while Representative Justin Amash of Michigan, the House’s lone independent, supported it.

The inquiry remains a high-stakes gamble for Democrats just over a year from the 2020 balloting, as their presidential contenders — some of whom would act as jurors in a Senate trial should the House vote to impeach — are already deep into their campaigns to try to defeat Mr. Trump. Public polls in recent weeks have suggested a narrow majority of the nation backs the inquiry and believes Mr. Trump’s actions warrant scrutiny. But support for Mr. Trump being impeached and removed appears weaker, and there has been no sign that the president’s narrow but durable base of supporters has been troubled by the accusations.

Though Mr. Trump and White House aides are increasingly resigned to the fact that the House will ultimately impeach him, for now, few lawmakers in either party believe there is a real threat that he would be convicted by the two-thirds majority needed in the Senate.

The president and his allies have mounted a forceful, if at times chaotic, defense. But they are likely to have to shift course in the coming weeks as the inquiry moves into open view. After intensely criticizing the investigative process as secretive and unfairly denying Mr. Trump a say in the proceedings, they will be forced to engage more directly in the substance of Democrats’ mounting allegations.

Even without the benefit of a Justice Department investigation to build on, the House inquiry has moved with remarkable speed since Ms. Pelosi told the country last month that she would launch a formal impeachment inquiry into whether Mr. Trump had betrayed his oath of office by seeking to enlist a foreign power to tarnish a rival for his own political gain.

Within days, their case was bolstered by the release of an anonymous whistle-blower complaint accusing Mr. Trump of a scheme to shake down Ukraine for assistance and a reconstructed transcript of a July phone call between Mr. Trump and President Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine. During the call, Mr. Trump pressed Mr. Zelensky to investigate former Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr. and his younger son, Hunter Biden, as well as an unsubstantiated theory that Democrats colluded with Ukraine to undermine the 2016 election.

Over a dozen interviews, and 70-plus hours of private testimony since then, investigators for the House Intelligence, Foreign Affairs and Oversight and Reform committees have begun to fill out a narrative of a president using critical leverage points at his disposal to push Ukraine. Career diplomats and foreign policy experts from within the administration have defied White House orders not to cooperate with the inquiry in order to testify to how the normal channels of foreign policy toward Ukraine were scrambled in the spring and fall as Rudolph W. Giuliani, the president’s personal lawyer, and officials loyal to Mr. Trump tried to bend the relationship between the two nations for Mr. Trump’s political benefit.

Several witnesses, including the top American diplomat in Ukraine, have testified that they were led to believe that Mr. Trump went further, withholding a coveted White House meeting with Mr. Zelensky and $391 million in security aid approved by Congress to help Ukraine fight off Russia until he got a public commitment to investigate his political adversaries.

On Thursday, even as the House took its vote, four floors below in the bowels of the Capitol, investigators questioned Timothy Morrison, the top Russia expert on the National Security Council, about assertions by others that he had witnessed Mr. Trump and his ambassador to the European Union, Gordon D. Sondland, make clear within the American government and to the Ukrainians that they expected a public pledge for investigations before the security assistance would be released.

Republicans have participated in the questioning throughout, and argue that there has been no firsthand evidence of a quid pro quo. Mr. Trump’s defense has been more blunt force, describing the inquiry as a “coup,” branding veteran officials who have cooperated “Never Trumpers,” and accusing Democrats of lying about what took place as he insists over and over again that his call with Mr. Zelensky was “perfect.”

Democrats have indicated that the next phase could move just as swiftly, if they are not derailed. With Thursday’s Halloween vote behind them, party leaders are aiming to conclude public fact-finding hearings in the Intelligence Committee by around Thanksgiving. The Judiciary Committee would then have several weeks to draft and debate articles of impeachment before a possible House vote on impeachment before Christmas.

The House is scheduled to recess for one week beginning Friday. Lawmakers leading the impeachment inquiry intend to use that time to begin to wrap up closed-door witness depositions with government officials. Their targets remain ambitious, if perhaps unattainable, including John R. Bolton, Mr. Trump’s former national security adviser, and top White House lawyers who helped lock down a summary of the July phone call with Mr. Zelensky.

They want to waste little time once they return, convening public hearings in the Intelligence Committee the week of November 11 with key witnesses who have already provided testimony out of public view.

The resolution adopted on Thursday lays out rules for those hearings, directs the Intelligence committee to produce a public report of its findings and authorizes it to share all evidence collected with the Judiciary Committee. It is in that panel that lawmakers from both parties will weigh the strength of the evidence and debate whether it amounts to high crimes and misdemeanors.

As in past impeachment inquiries, the procedures grant Republicans on the Intelligence and Judiciary committees the ability to recommend subpoenas and witnesses, though they can be overruled by a vote of the full committees. And they allow Mr. Trump’s legal team to propose witnesses to the Judiciary Committee, cross-examine witnesses the panel calls and publicly present a defense. Those rights may be abridged, however, if Democrats determine that Mr. Trump’s legal team is obstructing the inquiry — a charge they have repeatedly leveled so far.

Emily Cochrane contributed reporting.

*********

Trump Has Received a Formal Invitation to Be Impeached

The House resolution confirms the developments that will almost definitely end in the president’s impeachment.

By Joshua C. Huder | Published October 31, 2019 | New York Times | Posted October 31, 2019 |

Mr. Huder is a senior fellow at the Government Affairs Institute at Georgetown.

On Thursday, five weeks after Speaker Nancy Pelosi announced a formal impeachment inquiry into President Trump, the House adopted a resolution confirming that inquiry. The timing is somewhat confusing: The House has had success in several recent court cases, and there’s nothing in the Constitution or in House rules that requires it to adopt a resolution  to  conduct an impeachment inquiry. So why now?

So far, the impeachment investigation has developed in mostly the same way as previous congressional investigations and impeachments. The recent depositions and testimonies taken by the Intelligence, Foreign Affairs, and Oversight Committees are similar to the discovery process done by the Senate’s Select Committee on Watergate. It, too, was an investigative arm; a formal impeachment inquiry wasn’t initiated in the House until a year later, in February 1974.

The depositions and evidence fundamental to Richard Nixon’s impeachment occurred through Congress’s normal oversight authority and capacity. It also eroded both his political support on Capitol Hill and his public approval, which plummeted 41 points between January of 1973 and January of 1974.

So for now, given the House’s support from the courts and ability to obtain critical information in the Ukraine scandal, you would think that passing a resolution is unnecessary, or at least bad timing.

But the opposite is true: In cases like this, formalizing procedures establishes an unmistakable political and institutional intent. It is unlike political theater — press hits, speeches,  storming a “sensitive compartmented information facility” at the Capitol — which politicians use to sway public opinion.

Procedures are where the rubber meets the road. Formalizing the impeachment investigation represents a significant shift from preliminary and largely behind-the-scenes work to much more public legal and political steps toward impeachment. It puts a spotlight on the elephant in the room: The political decisions have been made, and the House will impeach President Trump.

The resolution accomplishes several things. First, it undercuts the White House’s legal defense against impeachment. President Trump’s lawyers argued that House subpoenas lacked a “legitimate legislative purpose” because the House had not adopted a formal impeachment resolution. That defense runs counter to more than 90 years of legal interpretation establishing Congress’s authority to seek and obtain information based only on a “potential legislative purpose” with no predictable end. The president’s defense also carries major separation of powers implications, potentially limiting the scope of Congress’s oversight authority.

Nevertheless, the House resolution undercuts the president’s thin legal arguments and will expedite other  House cases against the president, which — with the Ways and Means and Financial Services Committees included in the impeachment authorization — will clearly continue to be pursued.

Second, the resolution undermines the president’s political defense. Republicans argued the House’s inquiry is a “sham process.” Absent an impeachment resolution, they say, the investigation lacked transparency, due process rights for the president and the validity of a House vote.

They had a point. Until now, the impeachment inquiry had essentially been based on Speaker Pelosi’s  statement at a Sept. 24 news conference. The distinction between the House and the speaker should not be overlooked. The speaker has lots of power, but it is not unilateral. It rests upon the support of the House majority. Without a majority, a speaker’s procedural authority amounts to very little, and that includes impeachment inquiries.

Passing a resolution throws the weight of the House of Representatives behind Speaker Pelosi’s words, clarifying the House’s purpose for judges who have, until now, been forced to interpret whether the House investigations amounted to an impeachment inquiry. It also undercuts Republicans’ process arguments by outlining investigation and hearing procedures and the rights afforded to the president throughout the proceedings.

But perhaps most important, the resolution details the specific roles of committees and members. The impeachment inquiry had raised a lot of questions. Why, for example, was Adam Schiff’s Intelligence Committee spearheading depositions and testimonies from State Department officials and not Eliot Engel’s Foreign Affairs Committee, whose jurisdiction covers diplomatic matters? Given the Intelligence Committee’s central role, would it report articles of impeachment rather than Judiciary, which has historically retained that power?

Politically, the answers appear obvious, but this overlooks the very real tensions behind the scenes. Several committees and chairmen can, and surely have, made legitimate arguments to be central participants in the impeachment inquiry. This resolution, like any offensive strategy, clearly delineates the role various powerful members and committees will play. A dysfunctional team running aimlessly around a field is doomed to lose. The House is no different.

Undercutting the president’s legal and political defenses is an important, but ultimately tangential, purpose of the House’s impeachment resolution. The resolution is most significant to the House Democrats’ game plan.

It anticipates a shift from scouting opponents to devising ways to beat them. It instructs House committee chairmen about their strategy and the scope of their inquiries. It provides a road map for how processes leading to articles of impeachment will unfold. And it ominously signals the first formal procedures that could, and almost definitely will, end in the president’s impeachment.

*********

3 takeaways from the House’s impeachment inquiry vote

By Amber Phillips | Published October 31 at 2:05 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 31, 2019 |

Thursday’s vote in the House of Representatives formalizing the rules for the rest of the impeachment inquiry didn’t change much. When there are public hearings in the next few weeks, Republicans will have some leverage to call and cross-examine witnesses. But this is still a Democrat-driven process.

It also didn’t reveal any interesting partisan splits. Almost all House Democrats and one former Republican who has been open to impeachment, Justin Amash (I-Mich.), voted for it. All Republicans voted against it.

What we did learn Thursday is how both sides might argue for or against President Trump’s impeachment.

This wasn’t quite a proxy vote for impeachment, since we don’t yet know all the evidence or what articles of impeachment will be written up against the president. But it’s the closest thing we’ve got. So here are some takeaways from both sides’ talking points about whether to continue the House’s impeachment inquiry.

REPUBLICANS ’ PROCESS ARGUMENT IS FADING

Now that Republicans technically got what they wanted, a vote on whether to continue the impeachment inquiry, even Trump has tacitly acknowledged it becomes much more difficult to argue the inquiry is illegitimate by these standards. Here he is a day before the vote urging Republicans to argue he’s innocent of the allegations against him, rather than attack the impeachment process.

It was already a somewhat thin argument that the impeachment inquiry is illegitimate because House Democrats are holding closed-door depositions (which are normal for such a sensitive investigation) and because they didn’t hold a vote (they just did — and Republicans voted against it).

There is some merit to the GOP argument that House Democrats are selectively leaking damaging testimony about Trump. “We’re already scarred because they’ve done all these things in a shady manner and then put them out to the press the way they wanted,” White House spokesman Hogan Gidley said on Fox Business on Thursday.

But Republicans on the three committees in these depositions could do the reverse, by leaking information that exonerates Trump. It seems likely that isn’t happening not because of their profound respect for the testimony, but because to date there hasn’t been information exonerating Trump.

Rather, people in Trump’s administration are alleging at a minimum that they were uncomfortable with his politicization of Ukrainian foreign policy, and at worst thought it threatened national security.

In its place: An overreach argument leveled at Democrats

“Democrats are trying to impeach the president because they are scared they can’t defeat him at the ballot box,” said House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) in a speech before the vote.

“Every American can see this for what it is: an attempt to remove a duly-elected president for strictly political reasons by a strictly partisan, illegitimate process,” said Brad Parscale, Trump’s campaign manager, in a statement.

Compared to the process argument, this feels a little more politically resonant. It plays off voters’ hesitancy to impeach a president at any time, let alone now. It is unprecedented in modern times to have an impeachment inquiry abut a presidential election.

Even though polls have consistently shown a majority of Americans support the impeachment inquiry, a New York Times-Siena College poll out this week showed that in six states that narrowly voted for Trump in 2016, voters don’t support impeachment. It’s possible that impeaching Trump especially before an election is a step too far for swing voters.

But to make this argument, Trump’s Republican defenders in Congress also need to demonize Democrats. And they risk taking it too far.

On Thursday, the No. 2 House Republican, Steve Scalise (La.), brought with him to the House floor a printout “37 days of Soviet-Style impeachment proceedings,” with a picture of the Kremlin in the background and the hammer and sickle superimposed.

It’s no secret Democrats in Congress don’t like Trump, but are voters really going to think they have undermined the Constitution and turned America into an authoritarian state with this impeachment inquiry?

But when the president is saying stuff like “Greatest Witch Hunt in American History,” his supporters in Congress probably feel like they have to match his hyperbole.

DEMOCRATS ARE USING ABSOLUTIST LANGUAGE, TOO

This impeachment inquiry crystallizes the problem for Democrats ever since Trump got elected: They do think he’s bad for democracy. Not all of them supported starting up the process for impeachment — that came after these Ukraine allegations, where some people in Trump’s own administration thought his ideas were a threat to America’s interests.

But with Republicans in Congress and Republican voters so firmly in line with Trump, this becomes a largely one-party effort to investigate the president. How do they convince the American public they’re doing the right thing, rather than the politically obvious thing? On Thursday we got a look at their strategy: They’re trying to frame this impeachment in somber, existential terms.

“What is at stake in all of this? It’s nothing less than our democracy,” House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) said before the vote.

That’s a pretty intense thing to say, even abstractly, about the fairly elected, sitting president of the United States. But as Democrats move forward to the next phase of the impeachment inquiry, they’re saying it.

*********

The Worst Trump Cabinet Member? You Picked a Real Winner

The vote wasn’t even close.

By Gail Collins, Opinion Columnist | Published October 30, 2019 | New York Times | Posted October 31, 2019 |

The results are in, people, and it’s a landslide. Your choice for Worst Trump Cabinet Member is …

Attorney General William Barr! Barr was cited for multiple non-achievements. There was his misrepresentation of the findings of the Mueller report. And the decision to respond to Robert Mueller’s warning about Russian intervention in American elections by — as one voter put it — “opening investigations into the investigators.”

The bottom line was a quaint conviction that the attorney general is supposed to work for the public, not the president.

“I cannot believe I am stating this, but Jeff Sessions had more respect for the law,” wrote Diana from Centennial.

Second place went to Secretary of State Mike Pompeo. “Silence on Ukraine, sycophant to Trump, continues to demoralize the State Department, lack of support for his ambassadors,” wrote Isabelle Stillger, launching off in a very long list of complaints about Pompeo’s failure to … pretty much everything.

“First in his class at West Point and he ends up polishing Trump’s boots,” added Phyliss Dalmatian.

Still, the results weren’t even close. Besides his dedication to protecting the president from, um, criminal justice, Barr unnerved readers with his war against secularism. “The chief enforcer of the Constitution recently gave a speech decrying those who would interfere with Christian religious control of our government,” noted Sharon from Montana, who predicted Barr “will go down in history as the worst attorney general.”

Maybe it was partly the name. So many possible Barr rhymes.

“The new star — By far — Is Billy Barr,” announced Stephen Glynn. “Where’s the tar and feathers?”

We can skip tar and feathers. Our goal is not physical torture. Just humiliation.

As usual, we got a lot of complaints about the Worst Cabinet Member contest from people who said it was impossible to pick just one. (“There is a dead heat with all of them tied at the bottom.”)

Nobody, however, claimed there was a problem of shortage of possibilities.

Perpetual contender Betsy DeVos finished third. Readers pointed out that the secretary of education was recently held in contempt of court for refusing to support students victimized by crooked for-profit schools. But the bottom line was that Donald Trump’s top education official doesn’t like public schools. End of story.

On the plus side, DeVos has always gotten a bit of a slide from those who argue she’s too incompetent to be a major threat. There are several cabineteers in that category. “I’ve been thinking that Ben Carson must be in the Witness Protection Program,” wrote a voter from Nashua, N.H., about our secretary of housing and urban development. “Really, has anyone seen him in the last several months?”

The last Worst winner, Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross, dropped down to the middle of the pack despite his heroic bid for attention by threatening to fire officials at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, who had the temerity to reassure the public that Trump’s do-it-yourself weather map threatening Alabama with a hurricane was fictional.

“The meteorology thing was awesome,” wrote John Merrill.

Perhaps our respondents have decided that Ross, for all his awfulness, also is too inept to pose much trouble. Nearly three years into the job, “he appears to be perpetually stuck on Level One of the learning curve,” theorized John Evans.

Still, there were a few whimpers about lack of achievement by officials like Elaine Chao, secretary of transportation and wife of Mitch McConnell. “The secretary, who would have never gotten a cabinet job without her spouse, has made Infrastructure Week into a punch line,” wrote a voter who gets extra credit for bringing infrastructure into the conversation.

A number of people suggested a Worst shout-out to Mick Mulvaney, the director of the Office of Management and Budget, plus acting White House chief of staff. (Mulvaney is also winner of Longest Title award.) You’ll remember that famous interview in which Mick announced that Trump wanted to host the G7 summit at his hotel because “he still considers himself to be in the hospitality business.”

Rick Perry may be departing as energy secretary, but he’ll be hard to forget. His role as one of “the three amigos,” federal officials allegedly charged with handling Ukraine, would be enough. But Perry voters also seemed bathed in nostalgia for ineptitudes past. “Who are the three amigos? If he says ‘me, Volker and oops,’ he’s my guy,” wrote LJR from South Bay.

The cabinet members regarded as truly terrible were the non-inept ones. “He’s both energetic and fiendishly clever,” complained Edith Frick, casting her vote for Barr. Frick added, however, that if Worst had the “normal meaning of incompetency, clear winner is Ben Carson.” It’s amazing how familiar you readers are with Trump’s top officials. Especially since they come and go so quickly. William Barr has only been attorney general since February, and you’re thinking about him all the time.

A lot of our correspondents seemed torn between Barr and the duo of Secretary of the Interior David Bernhardt and Andrew Wheeler, head of the Environmental Protection Agency. Penny White wavered back and forth, then finally decided she had to go with Bernhardt/Wheeler “from a sheer survival viewpoint.” She also wondered if anyone had contemplated cabinet-level Halloween masks.

Prize to the first person who goes trick-or-treating as the attorney general.

*********