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lucientelrunya · 3 years

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Like a lonely house pt 2

Chaotic me deciced to switch back to present tense (already edited part one) and I'm still quite clueless how to tag. But it gave me so much joy to see people enjoy my little idea.

Please feel free to point out any mistakes you spot, I'm always trying to improve my writing and stop myself from agonizing over every sentence and constantly rewrite everything...

I think Zhang Rishan might be a tad bit dramatic in this part, but I hope you enjoy this anyway :)

The blackness and cotton in his head only slowly recede, permeated by the sound of muffled voices Zhang Rishan knows. The voices carry an urgency, an impalpable sense of importance that drags him back to consciousness with a sudden harshness. Still it takes more effort than it should to blink his eyes open and for a moment he is confused why there is a stone ceiling above him and why little white flakes are clinging to his lashes. He rubs at his eyes, his movement sluggish and his arm feels heavy, a dull ache that causes the memories to come rushing back. The strange tomb, the force controlling him, the ritual, the pool - Ba Ye. It’s not a dream - nightmare? - or at least not all of it and he sits up way too quickly for his body to adjust. Thankfully someone grabs his shoulders - again - to keep him upright.

It takes Zhang Rishan another long moment to blink away the black spots and recognize Luo Que beside him, offering him an already open bottle of water, which is considerate and much appreciated. He really needs to drink something, at least to get the taste of copper and something he can’t even begin to describe out of his mouth. The strange pale liquid has dried all over his skin and clothes like some sort of clay, cracking and peeling off in flakes and powdery dust when he moves. He opts to ignore it for now, content with getting it off his lips and out of his eyes.

Luo Que doesn’t say anything and patiently waits for him to gulp down most of the bottle before he sits back again, letting go of Zhang Rishan’s shoulders and looking at him with a barely there question in his eyes. And, yeah, Zhang Rishan would like to know what’s going on here himself, thank you very much. With his vision mostly free of black spots and blurring edges he dares to look around him, having already spotted Zhang Qiling’s black clad legs next to him from the corner of his eye. He is lying on a sleeping bag right next to him, with Huo Daofu examining him quietly and unhurriedly.

And Zhang Rishan’s brain is still mushy enough to take a long moment to truly comprehend what he is looking at when he finds the source of the voices. Liu Sang and Pangzi arguing is not some rare occurrence (as he has learned in the last two days), although it's not really arguing and more of a friendly stage of bickering, but Liu Sang and Wang Pangzi arguing with Ba Ye is not normal, not in the least. So it really hasn’t been a dream or his imagination.

An illusion then, maybe? A hallucination, like the meteorite inside the tomb and Er Ye getting back his dead wife? Maybe he is still in the pool and all of this is just a hallucination? But back then the whole fake world had frozen once Ba Ye had started to doubt and Zhang Rishan is absolutely doubting the possibility of this being real. It feels too much like Er Ye’s illusion of getting Yatou back and Zhang Rishan has lived long enough to know that there is no way to truly bring a dead person back to life.

No one freezes and no one vanishes, not even when he puts his hand on his arm to push a thumb into the wound beneath the bandages and elicits a spark of pain that is absolutely and undeniably real. It quickly vanishes again, his body cataloguing it under ‘inconvenient but not life threatening’ and opting to ignore it like he had been trained. But it leaves Zhang Rishan fairly confident in his assumption that this is not an illusion.

He must have been staring, lost in his contemplation of what is real and what isn’t, because suddenly Ba Ye is turning towards him, a look of relief flashing over his face. “Lieutenant! You are awake! Please, please tell these people who I am!” He sounds worried but also a little irritated and whiny, and so much like the Ba Ye Zhang Rishan remembers. For a moment he allows himself to just watch Ba Ye come over and squat down in front of him. He had obviously tried to wipe his glasses off on his equally stained scarf resulting in smudged pale lines all over his glasses and his face.

And he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch, to convince himself that Ba Ye is real, because he has been dead and gone for almost 80 years. Even if they never found his body, even if he had been hidden somewhere by Qiu De Kao for whatever reason there is just no way for him to be alive right now, alive and the same, he is no Zhang, he has no qilin blood.

Wu Xie kneeling down beside him, half on Zhang Qiling’s sleeping bag, breaks the moment. “You know him” and although it’s not a question Zhang Rishan nods. He glances at Wu Xie, who looks worried but also curious and intrigued, always drawn to mysteries. Pangzi and Liu Sang come over, too, placing themselves behind Ba Ye like they are prepared to grab and restrain him if he tries anything, but they look at Zhang Rishan. With at least 5 pairs of expectant eyes on him, probably six, he has to squish the feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that wants to crawl out and drape itself all over him. Instead he consciously straightens his back, squares his shoulders and shifts to sit cross-legged.

He has no idea what’s going on here, no idea how to tell Ba Ye where or rather when he is now (because right now he can’t fight the acceptance that this is a living, breathing Ba Ye who just hasn’t aged a day) or what happened in the pool or if everything did really happen like he thinks. If that being had been there, in the pool and had granted him a wish he hadn’t ever put into words, had made a fleeting thought into a new reality. Each of them is looking at him like he has all the answers and he hates that he is sitting here on the floor of a dimly lit cave, on a sleeping bag someone else has rolled out for him, with bandages around his arms and feeling so utterly helpless. He can’t suppress the bitter thought that Fo Ye would have known what to do.

Taking a deep breath he decides to start with what he is sure of, which is the answer to Wu Xie’s “You know him”. “I do know this man, his name is Qi Tiezui, also known as Ba Ye”, and the name and the title should mean something to at least Wu Xie and maybe Huo Daofu, even if they obviously don’t recognize him from old photos. Maybe because they never paid attention to those pictures, which are faded and grainy compared to what even the simplest smartphone camera is able to capture nowadays or maybe because Ba Ye looks like he took a mud bath. Maybe both.

On to the second thing he is quite certain of: “As to what happened, I’m not really sure myself. As soon as I entered the tomb some force took over my body and I suppose Zhang Qiling's as well and we came to this cave to enact some kind of blood sacrifice ritual for whatever deity they are worshipping here.” No need to point out he had been meant to be the sacrifice, that bit is quite obvious, although he is not sure why Zhang Qiling is the one still unconscious then. “There was chanting, but I wasn’t able to understand it”, he adds, which makes Liu Sang nod at him. “Yeah, I heard you through the wall, but wasn’t able to identify the words either.”

Zhang Rishan considers asking why they hadn’t followed them into the cave and tried to stop the whole thing, if only to give him a little more time to try and find words for what happened after that, but he doesn’t have to voice his question. “Yeah, almost broke my damn nose trying to follow you two through that convenient little magic wall that suddenly turned into a real wall after you two went through, and we couldn’t find a mechanism or another entry or hear anything. Imagine our immense joy at hearing this idiot here say there’s ‘eerie chanting’!” Pangzi grumbles and there is no need for him to add that the use of some explosives had been on the table. Or had they used explosives?

“Did you blow a hole into the wall?” Zhang Rishan asks, eyeing a pile of broken stone in the vicinity of the wall, but Pangzi shakes his head. “Nah, I wanted to, but then the ground started to shake and - poof - the entrance was back and actually visible.” It takes Zhang Rishan another moment to realize the rubble is what’s left of the statue he had only glimpsed upon entering the cave. Had the earthquake destroyed it? Had it even been an earthquake?

Wu Xie humms beside him, following his line of sight for a moment before he points to the wall behind the rubble. “There are some murals depicting locals worshipping a deity that I have never seen before. But it seems to be for protection against droughts or bad harvests, your garden-variety-harvest-god to ensure plenty of food and the likes. Nothing that can bring dead people back to life.” Ah, right back to the burning question.

Ba Ye sputters quite helplessly at that. “Dead? What do you mean dead? Do I look dead to you? Lieutenant, what is going on here, who are these people?” Considering that Ba Ye’s face is still mostly covered in white it wouldn’t be that unreasonable to mistake him for a ghost. But beneath that he doesn’t look dead or like a walking corpse, he looks just like Zhang Rishan remembers him, just like the last time he had seen him before he had vanished. And he still has no idea how to tell Ba Ye that everyone he knows is dead. Well, everyone except Zhang Rishan.

“I’m Wu Xie, this is Wang Pangzi, Liu Sang, Luo Que and behind me are Huo Daofu and Zhang Qiling.” Wu Xie blindly pats Zhang Qiling’s lower leg when he says his name, his eyes never leaving Ba Ye’s face, gauging his reaction to two familiar family names. And Ba Ye doesn’t disappoint, confusion clearly written all over his face. He is mouthing ‘Wu’ and ‘Huo’ while his eyes scan Wu Xie’s face before he looks at Zhang Rishan with a mixture of confusion, incomprehension and helplessness.

“He is Wu Laogou’s grandson”, Zhang Rishan says softly, because their relation is the most obvious to emphasize how much time has passed and the most obvious in terms of resemblance, Ba Ye must have seen that. And Zhang Rishan holds his gaze until Ba Ye looks down, takes a deep breath, closes his mouth and lets himself plop back down to sit on the ground, his whole body curling inwards. This would be a lot to take in for everybody and Zhang Rishan would like to give Ba Ye a moment to compose himself without everyone else staring at him. There are things he hasn’t told them yet, but he is still not sure how to put any of that into words.

“Did the murals say anything about something being confined here?” Zhang Rishan asks Wu Xie, who just looks puzzled. “Confined? What do you mean?” And he really has to try and put it into words, there is no way around it, is there? He takes another deep breath through his nose. “For the ceremony I was kneeling in that pool and when the tremors started I fell into whatever liquid is in there, and it was like - like there was something in there with me. Like it was a living thing with a consciousness and whatever we did in that ceremony it set that thing free.” He can already feel some doubtful looks but nobody starts to interrupt him and Wu Xie actually nods thoughtfully like he can imagine that, so he continues: “It was communicating with me, not with words, more like with feelings and impressions,” and he just waits for Huo Daofu to interrupt him, to say something about blood loss and hallucinations, but he doesn’t, he just doesn’t - “It made very clear that it had been imprisoned here for whatever purpose and that it was just so very thankful that I set it free.”

Everyone is quiet, mulling over those words. There are still so many questions, like who or what had controlled them to enact this ceremony? Had it been the imprisoned being? Or something else? But why? And who had sealed the tomb? And why?

“So you set some ancient being free and someone from your past turns up. What if he is no human but that being in the shape of someone it saw while it was inside your mind?” Liu Sang questions, looking at Ba Ye thoughtfully who stops his calculations to stare back incredulously. “What? First I’m dead, now I’m some preternatural being? Let me tell you, I’m just a fortune teller!” He acts and sounds just like Ba Ye, but Liu Sang has a point, that being had looked into his mind, had probably had access to all his thoughts and memories. It makes his head hurt even thinking about it.

Pangzi and Liu Sang start bickering about how to test that theory, to find out if someone is human and it only gets more chaotic when Zhang Qiling wakes up and Wu Xie starts worrying over him, asking him how he feels and if he is alright while Huo Daofu tries to rule out a concussion. Zhang Rishan tries to ignore them for the moment, even though he would like to get Zhang Qiling’s version of the ceremony. He feels torn between the possible explanations for this situation, but why would some ancient being that had been trapped in a cave for centuries if not millenia take human form and stay with them? To play tricks on him? Or maybe-

“Lieutenant, if so much time has passed that the grandson of Wu Laogu is at least as old as I am, how come you haven’t aged a day?” Ba Ye’s question jolts him out of these thoughts. “It’s a Zhang-family-thing”, he answers, because Ba Ye already knows so much about their family that it should be enough. Ba Ye nods, visibly brightening at the answer, as if he had hoped for something along those lines. “So, why don’t we just ask Fo Ye for help to prove I’m just a normal human? I mean, if that being was in your head and knows what you know it doesn’t know everything about me.”

Of course he would think of Fo Ye as the answer to everything and of course Zhang Rishan has to say it now. He shakes his head slightly and forces himself to watch Ba Ye’s face and catalogue his reaction. “No. Fo Ye is not with us anymore.” It’s cruel, so cruel to tell him like this and Zhang Rishan hates it even more than he hates saying the words at all. Ba Ye’s whole face crumples but he visibly tries to hide his distress. “How on earth am I supposed to prove I’m just a normal human, then?” he bristles, obviously trying to distract himself with anger. “Tell me! What should I do!” Those last words are directed towards Pangzi and Liu Sang behind him who actually stop their bickering and have the grace to look embarrassed.

“Why would that being even want to stay here? What could be in it for... it?” Pangzi voices Zhang Rishan’s thoughts from before. “Maybe it needs help to leave the cave?” Wu Xie suggests, joining the conversation again after assuring himself that Zhang Qiling is fine aside from a cut on his forehead. “Or maybe it’s just lonely and looking for some company?” Huo Daofu throws in and Zhang Rishan isn’t sure if it’s meant to be a joke or a real suggestion. But if they are just casually throwing around theories he can add one, too.

“Maybe it’s an illusion.” Even if there is no meteorite around and even if he had set that theory aside before. Ba Ye inhales sharply at that suggestion and slaps Zhang Rishan’s knee a little harder than necessary. “Aiya! An Illusion? Does that feel like an illusion? Is there a meteorite around that you haven’t told me about? Shouldn’t you be able to tell the difference?” Ba Ye slaps him again and Zhang Rishan just lets him, flinching only a little. It makes Luo Que beside him tense noticeably, like he contemplates grabbing Ba Ye’s arm and stopping him from hitting his boss, but in the end he doesn’t move and just watches.

“Should I? I mean you were the one who realized it was an illusion back then, and you guided us out of it.” Ba Ye harrumphs at that, knitting his brows. “It’s not an illusion”, Wu Xie says and the certainty in his voice makes it easy to just accept it. After all Wu Xie had come with him and should be a real person, even if they stepped into some fake world at some point, just like Fo Ye, Ba Ye, Er Ye and Chen Pi had been real people who stepped into the meteorite.

“Thank you!” Ba Ye says, giving Wu Xie a small bow. “And if you let me, I can show you that I am perfectly capable of leaving this place all on my own.” Which leaves them with: a lonely godly being looking for company (or a bored godly being looking for some fun?) or the possibility that it is really Ba Ye.

For a moment everyone is quiet again and Zhang Rishan takes the chance to ask Zhang Qiling how he had experienced being possessed or remote controlled or whatever it had been. His answer is disappointingly simple and his experience almost the same as Zhang Rishan’s, except that he had not been in contact with another consciousness but had been knocked out really hard by something as soon as the cave had started to shake. Which confirms Zhang Rishan’s suspicion that there had been something with him in the pool.

He gets up, startling both Ba Ye and Luo Que with the sudden movement, making them stand up with him as if they are preparing to catch him again. It’s endearing and disconcerting at the same time and he opts to ignore the way it makes him feel for the moment, but tucks the feeling away to pick it apart later.

The pool is surprisingly dry and empty, but covered in the same white flaky residue both Zhang Rishan and Ba Ye are covered in, which is reassuring because it means there had been something before. For a moment Zhang Rishan just stares at the empty pool, trying and failing to find a hole or a crack in the stone through which the liquid could have vanished. Surely it did not just evaporate into thin air? His memory is not clear enough to dispel the thought that maybe the liquid had not vanished but changed its shape and made itself into a human being.

“Huh? Why is it empty?” Pangzi asks which makes Zhang Rishan release a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding. “It wasn’t empty when you could get in?” he reassures himself, looking at the other man. “Hah! Wish it had been, do you have any idea how hard it was to get you out of that stuff?” Pangzi snorts and points at the smudged edge of the pool, where a very visible track of white covers the ground all the way over to their sleeping bags. It also makes Zhang Rishan notice the white smudges all over Pangzis clothes only to find the man grinning at him when he looks up again. The corners of his mouth twitch involuntarily in quiet amusement and he nods his thanks, which makes Pangzi grin even more.

With the pool providing no answers at all Zhang Rishan walks over to the wall to look at the murals, soon joined by Wu Xie who points to the parts of the murals he had mentioned before. It shows a group of people in clothing Zhang Rishan has never seen building this tomb. Maybe some minority? They have no idea how old this tomb is, after all or how long it had been sealed. In the next part of the mural it almost looks like they are summoning the unknown god and not merely worshipping and some part of Zhang Rishan’s mind resonates with that thought. The ceremony looks just like what the two of them had enacted, one person in the pool and the other at the altar with a dagger. But it almost seems like the sacrifice on the mural dissolves into the pool, a thought he really doesn’t want to dwell on.

After that the mural gets quite confusing, depicting the statue that is broken now and people celebrating rich harvests, without any clear connection. He looks back at the picture of the god, tracing the faded lines with his fingers trying to recall everything the being in the pool had tried to tell him through thoughts and feelings and suddenly he understands. Or at least he thinks he does.

“They didn’t worship the god, they captured it and confined it in here because as long as it was here everything around it would be thriving, rich harvests, no sicknesses, people living long and full lives.” As soon as he says it he knows it’s true and he finds Wu Xie nodding next to him. “So, you set that god free and as a gesture of thanks it returned a dead person from your past?” And Zhang Rishan knows dead people don’t come back to life, but this is a god they are talking about and it had made everything else grow, had kept people healthy and strong. Maybe it could do this too?

“I’m still not dead and I was never dead!” Ba Ye protests from beside him and reminds Zhang Rishan that he still doesn’t know what happened when Ba Ye vanished back then, how or when he died. He looks at him and contemplates asking just that but somehow he is afraid of the answer. “Maybe you died and you just forgot.” Pangzi says, pushing at one of the larger rocks left over from the statue with his foot.

“How would someone forget his own death, this is ridiculous! An hour ago I was just in my room, enjoying a nice cup of tea and suddenly I find myself in this cave, almost drowning in that pool!” Ba Ye gestures wildly and angrily with his arm, almost slapping Zhang Rishan in the face in the process, but Pangzi is unimpressed. “How could you not forget your death? Or the fact that you died. Maybe you just dropped dead drinking your tea, things like that happen. Who knows.”

“He didn’t drop dead, he vanished without a trace, leaving everything behind”, Zhang Rishan interjects. If Ba Ye had just dropped dead there would have been a funeral and it would have been just as sad and hard, but there wouldn’t have been a mystery, no reason to wish to know what happened.

“Well, maybe he did drop dead and that god plucked his body from the past, brought him back to life and put him here”, Wu Xie shrugs, “I mean, my terminal lung cancer got healed by magic golden coffin water in thunder city, so it’s not that far-fetched.”

And - oh, oh - realisation hits him like a punch to the sternum, taking his breath away, almost making him double over and sink to his knees. It had been him. Ba Ye never just vanished, had never been kidnapped by the Japanese or Qiu De Kao. He had never died, he had been snatched away by this being - god - whatever - and placed here and now, with Zhang Rishan, because it had wanted to give him something he had lost. But Ba Ye had never been lost, he had been stolen, stolen because Zhang Rishan is selfish and thoughtless and cruel and - He has done this. He has done this to Ba Ye. And to Fo Ye. And -

He can’t breathe. How can he ever say this? How can he ever tell Ba Ye? He can never be forgiven for this, there is no way, absolutely no way. Look out for Ba Ye, that had been his order, the one most important to Fo Ye and thus the most important to Zhang Rishan. And he had failed, miserably - no, he had done the opposite! And for the first time in quite a while he wishes Fo Ye was the one with a long life and not him. Fo Ye would never have done something so stupid.

Unbidden he remembers the illusion he had fallen victim to below the Chen tree, Fo Ye with his gun pointed at him, disappointed, so disappointed and he wishes it had been real, that he had died that day so he would have never been able to come here today. But Ba Ye had been missing before, he had vanished before Zhang Rishan had ever been to this tomb and shared his memories with a god. There would have been no reason to wish to know what happened that day if nothing had happened. And that really makes his head hurt, how is it even possible? How does this work, today and the past linked like this? Like it had always been meant to be this way?

#I wrote this instead of sleeping #dmbj fic #mystic nine #zhang rishan #qi tiezui #fuba #wibbly wobbly timey wimey #ba ye

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adsosfraser · 3 years

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The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

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“We can’t stay here.”

“No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.”

“So we go to Leoch with Fergus?”

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.”

“Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…”

“What is it Sassenach?”

“I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.”

“A pardon?” He was shocked.

“Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.”

A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.”

“But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.”

“Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

“What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

“Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.”

“And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

“Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.”

“Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

“I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?”

Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.”

The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room.

“Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?”

“He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?”

“No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.”

“Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature.

Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply.

“A christening gift.”

Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son.

“How Claire?” Ian piped up.

“I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

“Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated.

“It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?”

“No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it.

“Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.”

“I have some idea.”

Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again.

“Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.”

“I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug.

“Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”

A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt.

“Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.”

Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

“If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.”

“Aye, we’ll go.”

He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare.

“Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him.

“Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.”

Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife.

“Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.”

They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below.

“I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.”

“How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders

“Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty.

“I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want to punch it too?”

“No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.”

She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift. Baby Fraser. Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.”

Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.”

Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth.

“Your family is with you always, my darling girl.”

With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle.

Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch.

It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been.

Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins, Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe.

In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes.

At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the Serendipity and waited.

Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

#jamie fraser #jamie x claire #craigh na dun #outlander fanfiction #fergus fraser #hamish mackenzie #castle leoch #stornoway #ullapool #adsofraser writing #canon divergence #jenny murray #ian murray #claire beauchamp #outlander fanfic

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jj-scottsbee · 4 years

Text

You Broke Me

Prompt: You were married to Loki when he let go of the staff, you thought he was dead, as did everyone. You refused to stay where your husband had died. Odin agreed to let you live on Asgard, as long as you kept to yourself. You had lived a peaceful life, until one day your brother-in-law comes knocking on your door.

Warnings: language, angst, death

You were Sόl, the Goddess of the Sun. You were not one for formal names and preferred to be called Y/N. You were the wife of Loki the God of Mischief. The day that Loki had died, was the day you had lost your entire world. You knew what he had done was wrong, but that didn't make your loss any easier. Loki may have been known as a snake throughout Asgard, but he was the most delightful husband. He had treated you like the goddess you were and he worshiped you, as you did him.

You could not bear living in Asgard by yourself. You did have Frigga and Thor, but it was not the same without your lover. It was not long after Loki's death that you had discussed leaving Asgard. You begged the All-Father to let you go, to let you live a life away from your husband's death bed. Odin had refused your request, so you disobeyed your king. You fled from Asgard, leaving your entire life behind you. You cut all ties, you hid from your King, using magic to shield yourself from his watchful gaze. Heimdall understood your pain, he was hesitant to let you go, but after seeing the look in your eye, he opened the Bifrost to Midgard. You left with no goodbye and no second thoughts.

~ ~

"So reindeer games was actually able to snag himself a wife?" Tony questioned, as he flew beside the Quinjet. The team of five made their way quickly, needing to find you as soon as possible. They had Loki detained but didn't know how to get through to him. You were Thor's last chance to save his little brother from his gruesome mistakes. "She is a beautiful and kind-hearted lady. But I warn you, she can have a temper bigger than Odin himself when angry. You mustn't cause her any distress or show her ill-will. She is sweet, but she is much more powerful than Loki and when angered she can unleash nothing, but dangerous fury." Thor warned his teammates as he stood behind Natasha and Steve, who sat flying the jet. "How dangerous is she exactly?" Nat asked over her shoulder concerned, but made sure to keep her eyes on the sky. Everyone listened intently waiting for Thor's answer. "I would not dare challenge her when she is in one of her moods." Thor shook his head in a matter-of-fact manner, memories of the consequences of your anger coming back to his mind. "She had once caused a drought so terrible, in both Asgard and Midgard, that my Father had to plead with her to calm down." "We're all dead. We should have just taken our chances with Loki," Bruce sighed putting his head in his hands. He sat behind Thor on one of the benches that lined the walls of the expensive jet. For the rest of the flight, the team traveled with an uneasy feeling. They landed the jet only a mile from your house, in a field just on the other side of the woods that surrounded your home. You had settled into a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods. You avoided the large cities and the chaos they held within. Instead, you sat a few miles just outside of a small town, only venturing into it for groceries. It wasn't often that you went into to town for groceries, as you grew most of your food, but sometimes you wanted some meat. You stood in the kitchen, the sun had been shining on your face through the window above your sink as you washed your dishes. It warmed your face, the sun being one of the things that kept you happy. When heavy, dark clouds moved in a little too quickly, you became suspicious. You were often able to nudge rain clouds along, so you could enjoy the sunlight, but these clouds were much heavier than the rest. Then the flash of lightning split through the sky, the roar of thunder followed soon after. You knew whose presence that storm had brought. Only four out of the five heroes reached the treeline, Bruce had stayed back in case they needed to make a quick escape. Thor stopped as he broke out of the woods, staring at the small cottage. He looked at the sky and realized his mistake, he had given himself up.

"She knows I am here. Remember, do not threaten her." He commanded. They nodded, but everyone still kept their guard up. Tony sat in his iron suit, Natasha held one of her guns close to her hip, and Steve held his shield in front of his chest.

Thor had immediately tried your front door, not bothering to knock as he pushed his way in. All of the lights in the house were dark, leaving the house unlit. Thor crept through the house looking for you, not knowing if you were home.

"Well, this is quite simple for an Asgardian Princess," Tony called from the kitchen as he studied the freshly cut carrots. A creak on the floor sent him whirling around, his hand flying out in front of him defensively as he aimed the repulsors in the direction of the sound. Before his suit was able to let any shots loose, you faced your palm towards the ceiling, throwing Tony on it. His back hit the ceiling hard, knocking the air out of him. You threw him through the wall, sending him flying into the now muddy ground.

"That fucking hurt," Tony grunted as he began to push himself off the ground. Steve and Natasha were quick to sprint into the kitchen, but you faced both of your palms at the duo. You shoved their backs against the wall without even touching them. You gave them a cold stare, your eyes glowing the golden color of fire.

"Sόl, stop this. We have only come to talk." Thor tried to reason with you. Surprise covered your face, but only for a second as you flicked both wrists toward the hole Tony's suited body had made in your house. The other two heroes flew right into Tony who had just caught his breath. "Sister, we mean no harm."

"The metal man took aim at me, I am defending myself." You growled, your demeanor was tense and your stare still cold. Thor gently let go of Mjölnir, letting it fall to the ground. He raised his hands, surrendering to you. You looked at the hammer on the floor and then back up to your brother-in-law’s face. You dropped your hands to your side but refused to move.

"Sόl, I have urgent news." He pleaded with you, as you finally began to relax a shield came flying at your head. With ease you stuck out your arm, catching it in your hand before it could catch you in the head. You carefully slipped your gaze from Thor and towards the culprit of the flying shield. You were quick to drop the shield, catching the fist of Captain America as he hurled it at your cheek. Using your free hand you clenched your hand around his throat. You lifted the super-soldier off his feet by his throat, watching as he clawed at your hand. You narrowed your eyes at the blonde man, an emotionless look on your face, as you cocked your head to the side. You ignored Thor's plea's to put his companion down, watching the soldier struggle a little longer.

"Throw that over sized frisbee at me again and I will force it down your throat, your growled pulling Steve closer to your face. “And You know better Thor, then to call me Sόl. My name is Y/N and you do not bring strangers into my house unannounced.”

"Are we good? Anyone else you'd like to share your kink with?" Tony asked, referring to you chocking Steve. You rolled your eyes in response.

"Hey, Thor maybe next time, tell us she has telekinetic abilities," Steve choked out, holding his throat as he stood up. You looked him up and down, unimpressed. How could such a man as himself, be so easily taken.

"Why have you come." You turned to Thor ignoring the rest of the team.

"We have much to discuss."

~ ~

"You speak not of my Loki. He is dead." You whispered hugging your arms around your torso. You and the other four sat around your living room, you hugged yourself as Thor told you of the monstrosities Loki had done.

"Y/N, I would not lie about such a thing. Loki is alive and he threatens the lives of millions of Midgardians. I beg you, you must show him the wrong of his ways." Thor sat on the edge of your coffee table across from you, grabbing your hands gently as he pleaded with you.

"Thor, I left Asgard to get be free from Loki. Whoever you talk of is not my dead husband." You sniffed, removing your hands from his. "I have no place in this war that you speak of. Now, leave."

"I will tell Odin of your location, I will show him here myself. I would not have bothered to find you if it was not an important matter. I have missed you dearly, but I understand your leaving. You must make things right sister, help me bring Loki home."

"You throw threats at me as if they mean anything to me! You may have been my brother-in-law, but I owe you NOTHING. THAT MAN THAT YOU HAVE DESCRIBED IS NOT MY HUSBAND, my husband is dead. If you wish to give me away to Odin, then so be it." You lashed out at Thor, not wanting to discuss Loki any longer. You refused to believe that your husband had left you, had let you mourn him, had let his death break you, only to still be alive.

"Please, you don't that it isn't Loki for sure. Please just come with us, we need you on our side."

"I WILL NOT TAKE ANY PART IN YOUR WAR. I do not want to see any more deaths take place. You are on your own. Leave before I crush the breath from the lungs of these mortals." Your eyes began to glow once again, little cracks showing in your face. The cracks gave off a glow that matched your eyes. Thor looked at you with sympathy, those cracks had formed after Loki had left.

The team gave you defeated looks, collecting themselves. Thor went to plead with you one last time, but you had disappeared before he could say anything more. With tears streaming down your face, you watched as Thor walked back into the woods.

~ ~

You sensed as the battle began, the guilt grew in your stomach. You watched as the fight was broadcasted all over the news. You scoffed at how stupid the mortals were, instead of running they wished to televise an invasion.

Just as you were about to turn the tv off you caught a glimpse of him. You hurried towards the tv, trying to find that horned helmet once again. Your heart sank as Thor had told you the truth, in seconds you stood straight. You closed your eyes, envisioning the now damaged streets of New York City. You felt your feet leave the ground for a split second and then they connected again. You opened your eyes, just in time to rip an alien ship in half. You sent the two soldiers flying to opposite sides.

Your eyes glowed as you briskly walked toward the Stark Tower, ripping apart any threats that stood in your way. Steve was quick to spot you, as you walked angrily through the damaged street. Your eyes held a deadly look, your teeth bared as you easily fought the foe.

"We've got some unexpected help," Steve said excitedly into his earpiece.

Thor was quick to find you as soon as Steve let the team know, the cavalry had arrived. You had shown up in jeans and a tank-top, they were ripped as you fought off several aliens at once. You had become cornered by too many and as you did your best to fight all of them off, you were losing. Just before they all reached you, an all too familiar hammer came flying to your rescue.

"Glad to see you decided to join us." Thor laughed, as you stood back to back fighting.

"Where is he." You growled you took no pleasure in being there. Thor gave you an uneasy look but quickly grabbed you by the waist. He flew the two of you in the direction of Loki, who sat on the balcony of Stark Tower. You dismissed Thor once he had dropped you off, telling him to go take care of the ones threatening the city.

Loki held an insane smile on his face, as he watched the destruction carry on. He laughed excitedly as he saw his army taking over. He took no notice as you walked up behind him, you stopped several feet behind him. You took in his figure, the laugh that sounded so much like him, but wasn't the 'him' that you had loved so dearly.

"Loki..." You trailed off. His body stiffened as he heard your voice, he contemplated with himself if it was truly you or just his imagination. He refused to turn around, he stared down at the destroyed cars that laid in the streets. He begged himself not to turn around and see you.

"Why are you here." He asked bitterly. He spoke over his shoulder, not wanting to look you in the eye. He hoped with every inch of his body, that you weren't there, that his mind was simply playing tricks on you.

"You live." You said, your tone holding a slight hint of anger. You were overjoyed, but hurt to see him. You wished to run into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and never letting him go again. Your heart shattered and soared at the same time. You held so many emotions inside of your body. "What have you done."

"I'm building a kingdom darling." He turned around, an evil smile stood on his face. Never in your long life had Loki scared you, but the look he held, sent fear coursing through your veins.

"You let me believe you were dead, only to begin a war?" You asked. "You let me mourn you, TO HAVE A KINGDOM OF YOUR OWN." You screamed the last part of your sentence.

"This was something I had to do, I knew you wouldn't understand." He scoffed, his chest now facing you completely. "You were never brightest."

You felt your energy surge throughout your body, your blood boiled and you felt your power wishing to be released. You stared daggers at him if looks could kill he would be dead. In one movement, you forced your hand out in front of you, dragging him to come towards you. You grabbed his collar, stopping him from colliding with your body. You brought his face as close together as you could, without touching each other.

"You are my equal. YOU WILL NOT speak down to me. You have taken so much from me and yet you keep taking and taking. The Loki I called my husband, is not the man that stands here now." You were hurt and angered by his actions. How could he have done such a thing to you? He had left you broken and alone, without a second thought. How could he have hurt you so?

"My, my haven't you been practicing." He smirked, referring to the powers that you held. You quickly shoved him away from you, disgusted by him.

"Loki you broke me. I had to flee Asgard, because of your death. You are the love of my life and you left me without a second thought. How could you do that to me?" You said softly, "I don't know what has happened to you or what you were wishing to accomplish, but you will not win. I promise you that."

"Are you going to be the one to kill me Y/N? Is that why you came? Because I hurt your heart? My god, you are just as bad as the mortal women I have fucked." He scoffed, he was hurting you purposely. He was pushing you away, the awful things he said were to protect you from what he had become. You slowly began to realize, he did not want you in the fight, he hoped you would flee the pain in your heart too much.

"You have broken my heart Loki Laufeyson. I will never forgive you." Small tears flowed down your face, "I have loved you since we were young, I will always love you, but you are no longer the man who captured my heart so long ago." You whispered hurt, your demeanor was tense and you began to ready yourself for a fight. Your eyes glowed and the cracks appeared on your face once again.

Loki said nothing, a pained look covering his face as he stalked towards you. He towered over you, but you did not back down. You held the eye contact, not daring to look away. You took in his face, the way he was beautifully carved. You admired his entrancing eyes, the eyes you had once loved to stare into. You now saw nothing of the man you once loved. Any trace of your Loki seemed to have vanished.

"I will love you always Y/N, but you were not made to be broken," Loki whispered into your ear, as he pulled you close. In a mere blink of an eye, Loki had conjured up a dagger without you noticing and plunged it into your stomach. "You will feel no more pain, my love."

You choked in disbelief, your eyes and the cracks that lined your face burning brightly once again. You stared at Loki a single tear falling as you slowly slipped to the ground, Loki holding you the whole way down. He stared at you in agony, he had hoped you were never to see him again. He had hoped that his brother would have kept you away from him. He ran his fingers over the cracks in your face, as he eyed the cracks he had caused you. You let out a couple of choked coughs, blood filling your mouth.

"Yo...you are not m-my Loki." You whispered with your dying breath. You let one last breath escape your lips before the light of your eyes went out. Just as your heart had broken so many years ago, Loki's shattered as you said your last words to him.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" came Thor's booming voice, as he stood in front of his younger brother. The sky turned almost pitch black, lightning flashed through the sky and thunder roared as it rolled through the sky.

Loki paid no attention to his brother's anger, his eyes never leaving you as you lie dead in his lap. He had taken his whole world away from himself and for what? A kingdom that he would never love without you as his queen.

#Loki Laufeyson #loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #the avengers #thor odinson #thor of asgard #loki!husband #goddess!reader #norse gods #norse goddesses #First Avengers #NYCBattle #loki imagine #Loki Angst #loki #sad imagines

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bakubitch-minusultra · 3 years

Text

Not Alone: Chapter Eleven

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P new character unlocked

-> Word Count: 2.1k

-> Warnings: none(?)

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

The sun set as they reached the top of a hill she never climbed. It was in the opposite mountain range from where she had been and she was nervous of it. She didn’t know what lied on the other side. Her feet hurt and she was tired.

He layed a bunch of bows on the ground and gave Y/n a very appealing look. It made her stomach hurt.

She walked to where he had chosen to sleep and smiled at it. There were branches on the ground which made a mat for sleeping. He had chosen a huge tree with great bows to protect them in case it rained. He was like her father, more than she expected him to be. Not that she ever expected to meet him.

“They think you’re dead.”

He put the last bow down and sat on it. He took the jacket he had brought with him and put it down, patting it for Y/n to sit beside him. Her steps hurt her feet now that they had stopped walking. She dropped onto the ground beside him and watched his eyes sparkle as darkness took over the night sky. She tucked her bow and quiver next to her, always close.

“I was taken to the work farms. We were hiding in this old house like your farmhouse. I wasn’t smart like you though. I never thought about bunkers or having a few different houses and traveling between them. I was an idiot. Anyway they came. I hid Mina and Kirishima and let them take me.”

His face was stoic. She wanted him to kiss her again. She started to wonder if he was going to.

“How did you get away from the farms?”

“I met some people while I was there. Doctors who were forced to work the breeder camps and other scientists. They convinced me I needed to start a revolution from the outside. I escaped with some of him.” He shook his head, as if his thoughts entertained him and brushed his hand through his hair again. He looked at Y/n and smiled, “You know a good spot to clean up around here?”

She shook her head, “Never been here before. You’re starting a revolution?”

He nodded, “The camp we were just at is one of our peace camps. It’s like a retreat. The children and young and old stay there. We have people coming and going constantly. Didn’t you notice how easily you were welcomed?”

“I guess. I just thought that’s what people were like when they live in a camp like that. Aside from the machine gun escort that is.”

He laughed again. She liked the sound of it but it reminded her of Kirishima.

“Well that was a big wolf Y/n. How’d you end up with him?”

“His mother gave birth and must’ve gotten sick shortly after. Hades was waiting for me at the door of the cabin one day. He was tiny then. I could hear his brothers and sisters in the woods. I found the mother dead and half eaten surrounded by the other cubs who were weak and sick. It was awful. I shot them and burned them. It’s the closest the infection ever got to my cabin. He was immune anyway so that’s helpful.”

“He’s immune? Naturally? Maybe he never ate any of the mom.”

Y/n shook her head, “Nah, she wasn’t the only sick thing Hades has eaten. He likes the infected.”

He grimaced, “That’s disgusting. Disgusting and lucky all at the same time.”

“It is.”

“What do you know about the start of the infection?”

Y/n shrugged, “People got sick and some died but others lived and went a little crazy.”

His eyes looked dark as his expression lost its humor and the sun set completely. “No Y/n, people didn’t just get sick. The infection was spread on purpose. Everything that’s happened has been a plan all along.”

“That can’t be true.”

“I wish it weren’t. There was something called the United Nations. They did all of this.”

Y/n felt sick, “They were evil?”

“Not evil, just detached. The world was running out of resources and everyone was constantly putting a hand out to them and asking for aid and food and money. The UN had been warning us forever about global warming and the ice melting and the ocean becoming acidic. Anyway in 2012 all of Greenland's ice and snow melted in a week. The earth started to enter a drought. We thought it was a cyclical event but it wasn’t. It was man made. We had pushed it too far. The same time all this was happening, a conference was held in Rio about the environment. Canada, the US and China pretty much pulled out and admitted they had no intention of slowing their pollution to the recommended level. It would be too hard on their economies. That was the final straw. Apparently the UN had a backup plan for a worst-case scenario such as that. They had a plague. It had a vaccine, which made it easy to spread and then control. The problem was it mutated. They spread the virus at the same time they had bombs placed deep in the ocean along the Japanese coastline. They bombed the shelf and pretty much wiped Japan off the face of the earth and made the west coast of North America a target for huge tidal waves.”

It felt like a movie to Y/n. It didn’t feel real. It felt like the ramblings of her father, before.

“How could you know all this?”

“The work farms. I met people who had been part of the initial plan. The plan was to reset everything. Instead the UN decided they wanted to start humanity over but set it up to succeed this time. The breeder farms were built where only the fit and healthy were allowed to reproduce."

She shivered just imagining it.

Bakugo laughed, “It isn’t what you think. I know what everyone thinks happens but it’s not. The girls only breed every three years and only up to three times. The pregnancy isn’t the result of rape, it’s done using science. The baby is made in a lab and then inserted into the woman’s womb.” Y/n gagged and Bakugo laughed. “The religious had the same reaction. The UN never mentioned this plan to anyone but the very high ups. It never went well.”

“The girls are still taken against their will and made to make babies against their will.”

She saw his head nod in the dark, “Yup and the babies are not God’s children to the Christians. Anyway the UN runs the military but again, they sit in their closed office and plan using numbers and facts and data. They don’t leave it to see what the world looks like or how corrupt the military is. They’ve built six cities world wide from the ashes and rubble of previous cities. They plan on cleaning every inch of the world.

Y/n’s head was spinning, “What about the borderlands?”

“They can’t use anymore bombs without affecting the weather and pollution again, so the plan stands at leaving us to our own devices until they have this part of the world cleaned up. Then they’ll come round us up.”

“Why?”

“They want the diseases and illnesses bred out. They won’t allow those people to live and breed.”

“Oh my god it’s like a nightmare.”

“It is. On that note, we need sleep. You sleep first and I’ll keep watch.”

“That’s some bedtime story.” She liked Kirishima’s better. He laughed and Y/n watched his silhouette in the dark for a moment. He didn’t lean in to kiss her. He was watching the hill they climbed. “How long have they been breeding science babies?”

His outline turned to her and she saw the shine of his eyes in the dark,”A long time.”

“Are the babies different than the rest of us?”

“Yeah.”

The broken branches led them to a camp in a valley on the opposite side of the mountain where her farmhouse sat. The size of the camp was disturbing. Bakugo smiled as he saw it and walked directly up to the man holding the gun amid the trees.

“Halt.”

“Oi dunce face!” Bakugo shouted.

The gunman smiled, “No shit, Bakugo you’re alive. I heard they caught you.”

Bakugo laughed, “They think they did. Is Monoma still in charge?”

The man Bakugo called dunce face pointed to the camp, “He’s still in the smallest tent, you know what he’s like. Still paranoid they’ll bomb us.”

Bakugo laughed and pointed towards Y/n, “This is my friend Y/n.” She felt hurt when he called her his friend. She didn’t know why but the word stung.

“I’m Denki,” He put a hand out and Y/n noticed he had a nice smile. She met his golden eyes and smiled back, “Nice to meet you.” His eyes flickered to Bakugo and an even bigger smile crossed his lips, “So where’d ya two meet?”

She looked at Bakugo.

“She walked up to the mountain retreat the other day with a huge wolf for a pet and an unruly teenager.”

Denki’s eyes grew wide, “You have a wolf?”

She nodded. She wanted to find Mina and Kirishima. She didn’t understand why Bakugo wasn’t busting inside to see them. She felt herself fidget in place,

“Well I’m gonna go see Monoma and see what’s new on this side of the hill.”

They walked toward the camp as the sound of birds squawking filled the forest. The gunmen lower their weapons as they hear the sound and they walk past them. The camp opened as the forest spread thin. It looked like the camp they were at before except that everyone was wearing a firearm or knife. At one point Y/n swore she saw a sword. There were no children here.

“Bakguo! You’re alive!”

A girl with long blonde hair and cut off shorts ran and jumped into his arms. Y/n’s heart stopped as she watched the girl kiss his lips. The lips that only just kissed Y/n the day before. She felt heat radiating from her cheeks. She heard about men who weren’t tied down in romance novels and felt sick thinking that she had fallen for one. All the years of reading the novels and judging the ladies who seemed strong and smart and then fell for a jerk. Reality hurts. She wanted Kirishima and Mina and her cabin and Hades and Jirou. She wanted to let the world kill itself and hide up in the mountains. She never wanted to kiss Bakugo again. She couldn’t believe she was so reckless.

“Camie what the hell. You know me better than that,” He twirled her around and looked sheepishly at Y/n, “This is Y/n.” Y.n nodded and gripped her bow.

Camie beamed at her, “Wow nice find Bakugo, He save you from the farms too?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need a hero.”

Camie looked at Bakugo, who was staring at Y/n. Y/n walked past him and started to look around. If he didn’t want to find his friends then that’s his problem. Y/n would be damned if she would let them live another moment without the knowledge that their asshole of a friend was alive and well.

“You pissed at me?” Y/n didn’t turn and continued along, eyes desperately searching the crowds of people.

“Bakugo.” He shook hands with a very tanned man with the whitest smile Y/n had ever seen. People continued to greet him, but she couldn’t hear them anymore. She saw what she was looking for. She saw a tall guy limping with shaggy red hair. She broke into a run and dived into his arms when she was close enough to him.

As she made contact he turned. His face was exactly as she remembered it. He had her in his arms before she could speak a word.

“Y/n oh my god. Y/n it’s you. Holy shit I thought they got you.” He was planting kisses everywhere across her face.

“Where’s Mina?”

Kirishima’s kisses stopped but his grip on her face was still strong, “They took her.” Y/n felt her heart drop and wanted to collapse into his arms and sub.

“Shitty hair.”

Kirishima dropped to his knees in front of Y/n. His hands left her face and fell onto the tops of his knees.

“Bakugo? Bakugo is that you?”

Bakugo rushed at him and lifted him up. He pulled him into his embrace. The friend’s hug was fierce but all she heard was the sentence ‘they took her’ repeating in her mind.

Kirishima looked back at her, “You found him?”

Y/n shook his head, she had no words. They hug and cry and laugh but she was stunned. Finally able to speak, she muttered, “Where’d they take her?”

Their reunion no longer meant anything to Y/n.

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kazuharem · 4 years

Text

"Forever and Always” ↠ [FLUFF]

Genre: Drabble, Fluff, tiniest bit of angst

Pairing: Lucien x MC (Female)

Description: Lucien’s wedding day. That’s it

Summary: The happiest day of Lucien’s life.

Word Count: 2,008

Author’s Note: You guys requested for me to make Lucien happy and-

Oops my fingers slipped. So here’s happy Lucien 😊

Also, happy birthday to the love of my life. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever loved a 2D man as much as I do him, but here I am... ʅ(́◡◝)ʃ *puts on clown makeup*

Happy Birthday Lucien! 💜

[DISCLAIMER] I do not own the pictures, characters, or song. The only thing I own is the plot.

You're the first face that I see And the last thing I think about You're the reason that I'm alive You're what I can't live without

You never give up When I'm falling apart Your arms are always open wide And you're quick to forgive When I make a mistake You love me in the blink of an eye

I don't deserve your love But you give it to me anyway Can't get enough You're everything I need And when I walk away You take off running and come right after me It's what you do And I don't deserve you

You're the light inside my eyes You give me a reason to keep trying You give me more than I could dream And you bring me to my knees You bring me to my knees

Your heart is gold and how am I the one That you've chosen to love I still can't believe that you're right next to me After all that I've done

I don't deserve a chance like this I don't deserve a love that gives me everything You're everything I want

“Don’t Deserve You” - Plumb

A figure in a light gray tuxedo examined his reflection silently as he adjusted his tie. He studied his fully dressed self in the mirror, making sure that not even a hair was out of place. When the man was finally satisfied, he met his reflection fully. Lavender met lavender. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Lucien exhaled. He had never seen such a myriad of expressions on his face before. Apprehension, nervousness, happiness, and perhaps just a touch of excitement. Lucien smiled wryly. He looked like a fool stupidly in love.

Love.

What a seemingly absurd concept. Something he had never believed in. Until now. Until her.

He gazed at himself, eyes glimmering with faint excitement and he chuckled. “What have you become?” He asked himself quietly. “Look at you…believing in some crazy concept.” The tone in his voice was deprecating.

He could never imagine it. A beautiful woman in a white dress walking down the aisle. A pair of rings. Vows that spoke of forever. A companion for a lifetime. The sort of things he had never dared to want for himself.

And why should he?

Lucien had always been alone and quite frankly; it was easier this way. Doing the things he wanted to accomplish by himself. No one to argue with him. No one to get in his way. The research that spoke of advancement for the human race. Ever since the tender age of seven, he has always done things on his own. It was something he was familiar with, loneliness accepted as his way of life, and he was content to live with that fact.

Until he met her.

What was supposed to be a mere task of awakening the Queen’s powers morphed into cozy movie nights on his couch. Running for shelter from a surprise rainstorm. Sunny afternoons filled with delighted laughter. The anticipation of having someone wait for him.

Before long, she had replaced the emptiness inside him with a warmth that spread throughout him, spouting feelings of blossoming love that she had carefully sowed within him.

Lucien had found himself opening up to her. He had found himself wanting to know every little detail that made her so unique in his world.

And then there were the colors.

He had been thoroughly dazzled when he could see the prismatic colors of a rainbow for the first time. She had brought color into his bleak black-and-white world, something he had previously thought impossible. But she had accomplished the impossible. She had shown him a brand new world. And it was absolutely beautiful.

She had gone against his expectations. Gone against his point of view that humans were weak and only the strongest got to evolve. She had stood up to him, while holding her own ground.

Even after he had betrayed her, even after all the things he had done as Ares, she was still willing to welcome him into her arms. She was still able to see his side of things and yet, still loved him.

He remembered the moment she had stood up to him, defiant and strong.

“I wouldn’t. If I had the gift of prophecy and knew all kinds of secrets and knowledge…if I had faith to move mountains, but didn’t have love… Then none of it would count for anything. Even if the light’s source is put out, I’d still try to keep my own shining. No matter how difficult, or how dark it gets. Or how foolish or ridiculous.”

He could hear those very words.

“Silly girl,” Lucien murmured as he recalled the memory.

They had gone through all sorts of trials and tribulations and now they were here, at the cusp of a future Lucien had never thought he would achieve in this lifetime. But she had made it all possible.

After Black Swan had no more, there was one evening she had fallen asleep in his arms. And as Lucien gazed at the peacefully slumbering girl, he was struck with a desperate need to keep her in his arms, to want her to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last thing he sees before going to sleep. The urge consumed him, until it was the only thing he could think of.

The next day, he had impulsively stepped into a jewelry shop. When he set his sights upon a pearlescent stone which scattered rainbows when met with light, he knew. That very night, he had knelt before her and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

Was he selfish?

Lucien frowned, and the face in the mirror mimicked him, brow scrunching up with distaste.

Don’t be foolish, Ares, look at all you have done. Do you think you deserve such happiness?

A voice, poisonous yet alluring, pricked at the back of his mind.

He watched himself as his hand curled slowly into a fist. Did he? Did he deserve to live this happy and loving life?

That is nothing but a distant pipedream, and you know it, the voice sneered. It taunted him, reminded him of all his faults.

His fist shook as his mouth parted, letting out a silent cry of pain.

Selfish. Foolish Ares. To think you are deserving of happiness-

A sudden knock at the door interrupted the drowning tirade.

And then-

“Lucien?”

Her voice, like a blessed rainstorm after a long drought, washed away the lingering traces of the poisonous voice.

“C-come in,” Lucien cleared his throat.

The door swung up open gently and all the toxic thoughts were immediately wiped from Lucien’s mind.

She walked into the room and the sight of her made Lucien’s entire being swell with a familiar warmth that he’s learned to associate with her.

She was breathtaking. And she looked the epitome of a dream Lucien didn’t dare dream. Didn’t dare hope for. But all the same, had desperately searched for.

“You-” Lucien exhaled and walked slowly towards her. “You are beautiful…” there was wonder laced in his voice. Her cheeks reddened prettily at his words. “You are so beautiful…” he whispered in awe.

He could feel the corners of his eyes prick.

He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve her.

But that did not stop him from wanting to.

“The photographer is waiting for us to take our pictures before the ceremony,” She fidgeted nervously as she smiled shyly, and Lucien’s heart nearly threw itself against his chest at the sight. She finally looked him in the eye and tilted her head curiously. “Are you ready?”

Lucien did not speak, couldn’t speak as he tugged her gently into his arms.

“Lucien?” She asked, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“Shhh…” he murmured, and his voice is raw, thick with unspoken emotion. He buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. “Let’s just-stay like this for a little bit…” His shoulders began to tremble, and she belatedly realized that Lucien was crying.

“Lucien-” she struggled to turn to look at him, but he firmly kept her head tucked under his chin.

The sight of her in the white wedding dress evoked faint memories that he thought he had long forgotten. The feeling of his mother’s hand as she petted him, calling him “My Little Prince.” The pooling of his father’s big lab coat around Lucien’s tiny frame as he read voraciously through a textbook, undoubtedly much too advanced for a five-year-old. Lucien remembered his father looking on proudly. He remembered the warm afternoons of relaxing in the park when his parents took the day off to spend with him.

Lucien remembered being loved.

He sucked in a shaky breath as he pressed soft kisses against the crown of her head. “Thank you,” he breathed, his words a gentle puff of air.

She didn’t question him and only wrapped her arms around him. Lucien felt warm all over.

The couple stayed in that position for several moments until Lucien broke away slightly, “Shall we?” He asked, “Isn’t the photographer waiting?”

She huffed at him and he smiled, tweaking her nose gently. Lucien pulled her close, his hands naturally finding purchase on her waist as he led her out the door. They walked down the path where weeping wisteria hung above their heads, creating a lilac, perfumed shelter.

Lucien could see their photographer waiting in the distance.

He suddenly stopped and grabbed her wrist, spinning her into his arms.

“Lucien! People are waiting for us!” She cried out with surprise.

“They can wait a little longer,” Lucien declared, a hint of mischievous creeping into his voice. “It’s our wedding, after all.”

She pouted at him and Lucien grinned broadly. “I have something I want to say. And I want only you to hear these words,” Lucien started quietly, the teasing tone easing into one that was more serious.

She nodded and Lucien could see the blind trust and unconditional love in those beautiful eyes.

He took a deep breath, “When it comes to you, I seem to have planned many beginnings, but I can never predict the endings,” Lucien began, and her eyes widened.

Somewhere, a photographer was holding his camera anxiously, as he looked around for any sign of the couple.

Somewhere, a group of guests were sitting in confusion, wondering when the ceremony was going to begin.

Somewhere, a certain CEO was looking at his watch impatiently, brows furrowed in annoyance.

Somewhere, a certain police officer was bouncing his leg in anxiety, secretly wondering if anything had happened to the bride.

Somewhere, a certain idol was waiting restlessly on stage, ready to give the happy couple a wedding performance.

But all these people did not matter to Lucien as he continued.

“I purposely tried to distance myself from you. It’s not that you did anything wrong. It was…safer. For you. Before I met you, I disliked the idea of having a companion. We all have our own destinations, and if I had to match my steps with anyone else’s, I’d walk much slower. But as I walked my path alone, every time I turned around…I’d always find that you had caught up with me. This time is no different. You’re the only one in the world whom I’d gladly turn around for. Or…you’re the only one who could catch up to me and remain by my side. You are the first person I want to see in the morning and the last at night. Thank you for bringing color into my world. Thank you for loving me. I promise to keep you safe, to keep you happy. I promise I will take your love to give me hope, give me joy, and make me a better man. So, from now on, I’ll never let go.”

Lucien paused, gazing into her now watery eyes. He leaned in closer until their noses touched and their breaths mingled.

“I love you, forever and always.”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The companion fic to his birthday karma “Cozy Day” will be coming soon!

I love this man so much, y’all don’t understand the amount of love I have for him, okay 😌 Paper Games, let my mans be happy for once pls

For more of my work: 📖

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 31

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

The Lan Sect camp is small. It is also a bit pitiful, with a distinct lack of tents, bedrolls, or any other necessary accommodations.

Still, Wei Ying is impressed by their diligence. Long before he is aware that there is a camp in the vicinity, a lookout has already spotted them and signaled their approach. The location had not been carelessly chosen either. The sight lines to the north, east, and south are clear, and to the west, a rugged hill rises sharply, hiding the camp from the Immortal Mountain watchtowers.

He does not have to ask how the site for the camp was chosen. He is already beginning to suspect that Lan QiRen has many more layers than he lets on, aside from the unexpected sense of humor.

Three other Nie Sect disciples have caught up with them on the outskirts of YiLing, providing a small escort. According to Nie XuanYu, another dozen are following a distance behind, ensuring that the Emperor’s presence remains a secret. Lan Zhan is walking by his side, his posture dignified and reserved. He does not speak.

Despite clearly intending to remain out of sight, the Lan Sect disciples have not gone as far as to trade in their white uniforms for something a little less obtrusive. Among them, it is easy to pick out Nie MingJue’s dark shape, which makes the figure next to him that of Lan XiChen. The two people across from them are unfamiliar. He takes one of them for a Lan Sect disciple precisely due to the color of robes, the white layers glowing brightly in the darkness. It is not until the figure turns, displaying an equally white blindfold, that Wei Ying stumbles a step.

“Uncle?”

The answering grin, visible even in the gloom, propels him forward.

“Uncle!”

Forgetting he is no longer twelve years old, he crosses the last bit of distance at a run, and nearly knocks Xiao XingChen over with his exuberance. XingChen laughs, his grip as tight as Wei Ying’s.

Oh, but when had uncle become so small?

Nearly four years have passed since their last parting. Is it possible that Wei Ying had grown so much, that he no longer has to lift his gaze to see XingChen smile? Unexpectedly, he feels his eyes prickle, and rubs his face with both hands, covering the sudden wistfulness with a laugh. He is happy to see that uncle’s faithful shadow had not grown smaller, still towering over them both.

The man attempts to bow, and Wei Ying latches on to his forearms, keeping him upright.

“Song Lan. Did I not say my uncles should never bow to me?”

A ripple of shock travels through the surrounding Lan disciples. The Empress’ brother is conspicuous enough, his sword and blindfold easily giving him away, but the man at his side had been taken for a simple bodyguard. To hear the Emperor address him as family raises more than one speculative whisper.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Song Lan says, “I had forgotten.”

“Ah, ah, now I am Your Majesty, but the last time you were at the Immortal Mountain, you called me a rotten little troublemaker. You threatened to kick my royal backside off the rooftop if I insisted on staying out past midnight. Do you remember that?”

The politely respectful expression on Song Lan’s face shifts into fond exasperation, “I am afraid my memory is especially poor lately, Your Majesty.”

Before he could think of a way to respond, Wei Ying suddenly realizes that Lan Zhan’s presence, which had been steady at his side since YiLing, is no longer there.

He turns to find him standing a few steps back with Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue, obviously attempting to remain invisible.

“Lan Zhan!”

Although he thinks he has never seen Lan Zhan look this alarmed, not even when he had mistaken Wei Ying for an assassin, he grabs the edge of the voluminous sleeve anyway, excited to introduce the man he means to marry.

“Come meet my uncle.”

Lan Zhan allows himself to be tugged forward, and offers a formal greeting, his posture rigid, his face unreadable.

Uncle is all gentle politeness, admitting that he had been the one to send the Lan Sect disciples into YiLing, unaware that his request had gone directly against the Sect Leader’s orders. He expresses regret for having placed them at risk, and from Lan XiChen’s expression, Wei Ying surmises that uncle had already apologized once.

XingChen inquires after a few of the Lan Sect members he had met on his travels, mentions that he dearly misses the excellent cuisine at CaiYi town, and compliments the Lan Sect efforts in LianYi during the drought.

In short, uncle is trying, to the best of his ability, to put Lan Zhan at ease. But although Lan Zhan is unfailingly courteous in return, his palpable discomfort does not wane.

Suddenly, Wei Ying feels guilty.

It occurs to him that he has done nothing but pull and push Lan Zhan in every possible direction for the past five days. Less than an hour ago, he had done a terrible job of confessing how he feels, managing to not give voice to any of his carefully planned out, honorable intentions. His fumbling is unlikely to have produced anything other than frustration and confusion, to which now, Lan Zhan must add a dose of casual banter with the Shan Empire’s notorious Rogue Prince.

The moment XingChen runs out of pleasantries, Wei Ying tugs on Lan Zhan’s sleeve again, but gently this time, trying to convey an apology, “Lan Zhan, we should go sit by the fire. The night is getting cold. Uncle, come sit down and tell me what brings you to YiLing.”

“Your Majesty,” Nie MingJue cuts in, “it is quite late. If you mean to enter by the Five Phoenix Gate instead of sneaking in the same way we had snuck out, I am afraid that delaying your return will only work to our disadvantage. We should start back the moment the rest of the Nie Sect arrives from YiLing.”

Wei Ying cringes. He had not even considered the mechanics of returning with the rest of the Lan Sect disciples, let alone with uncle in tow. Uncle Jiang will be upset, and Madam Yu-- he shudders. Best to not think of unpleasant things until they are upon him.

“Very well, please instruct the Lan Sect to break camp. Uncle, will you come with us?”

XingChen turns to Song Lan, and Wei Ying thinks that even after all these years, it is still eerie to see, how they seem to share a look of understanding.

“We are hunting,” XingChen says, “so our stay must be short.”

Wei Ying waves his hand, “I knew that much without being told. You are terrible uncles, both of you. I know you would not have come all the way to YiLing just for my birthday.”

The fond exasperation on their faces is now identical.

“Tell us what you are hunting,” Wei Ying grins, “Perhaps we can help.”

“Not what,” XingChen says, “but who.”

“A person?” Wei Ying exclaims in surprise, “an ordinary person?”

“There is nothing ordinary about this person,” Song Lan says, his expression turning hard, “So far, over three hundred people have been slaughtered by him. He has obliterated four villages and two small clans, leaving no one behind.”

Wei Ying feels a chill, “Who is he?”

“We do not know,” XingChen says, his calm edged with frustration, “He leaves no witnesses. One merchant, who had happened upon a village not long after everyone in it had been killed, spoke of seeing a young man, a boy, still alive. He could have been a lone survivor, or he could have been the perpetrator, but he was long gone by the time we arrived. So far, we have been following the trail of dead bodies across the Empire, but know little more than we did months ago.”

“You think he is here,” Lan Zhan asks, his discomfort seemingly forgotten, “In YiLing?”

“The trail had gone cold in LanLing,” Song Lan says, “but there was an incident between LanLing and YiLing, a group of bodies discovered in an old barn. The method by which they were killed was similar enough to bring us here.”

“I do not understand,” Wei Ying says slowly, “There are appropriate channels in place to deal with ordinary murders, even if they are beyond gruesome. What are you not telling me?”

Song Lan glances at XingChen again, but this time, XingChen ignores him, the twist of his mouth tight and unhappy.

“You know why the murders are occurring,” Lan Zhan says coldly, “There is a purpose to them.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is hard and determined, as if he means to shake them both until the information they are holding back flows forth. He looks grim, his spine straight, his fingers tightly wrapped around the sword. He looks dangerous. He looks regal.

Wei Ying feels his face tingle. There is an uncomfortable coil of heat building in his stomach at the sight, and he bites his tongue, hoping the flash of pain will stop the heat from spreading.

“Resentful energy,” Song Lan says.

XingChen looks even more unhappy now, but he does not make a move to stop Song Lan from speaking.

“We think he has found a way to harvest and store resentful energy.”

“Impossible,” Lan Zhan breathes, “even YanLing DaoRen himself could not--“ he cuts off abruptly, mouth snapping shut.

Wei Ying is still reeling from the information, not quite able to come up with the right words. But he immediately understands why Lan Zhan has fallen silent. YanLing DaoRen could not store resentful energy, but his failed attempts are the stuff of nightmares. Raving mad, he had threatened to shift rivers and level mountains once his experiments were complete. But in the end, the only place he had ever been able to store resentful energy was his own fragile human shell, which had rotted from inside out, unable to contain the power he craved.

Wei Ying clears his throat, “How can you be sure he has found a way to store it? Perhaps he is only following in YanLing DaoRen’s footsteps.”

Song Lan shakes his head, “Over three hundred people gruesomely slaughtered by him alone? Taking in that much resentful energy would have driven him mad. He could not have passed all this time unnoticed. The signs of his deterioration would be obvious to anyone who crosses his path. No,” he shakes his head, “I am afraid we must assume that he has succeeded where YanLing DaoRen has failed.”

“The greatest threat since YanLing DaoRen,” Lan Zhan says softly, “and you did not inform anyone. You did not send a word of warning to the Emperor.”

His voice is soft, but the grip on his sword is now so tight, that Wei Ying can see his fingers turning white from strain. He has seen Lan Zhan angry before, but never like this. This fury is cold, and devastating, and magnificent to behold.

“Did it not occur to you,” Lan Zhan says, “that he is heading towards YiLing for a reason? That the Emperor’s birthday festival in YiLing is precisely the sort of chaos in which he can be easily concealed? That hundreds of visitors are entering and exiting the Immortal Mountain City each day, being screened by ordinary guards who would never sense an object filled with resentful energy? Did it not occur to you that the Emperor is the most likely target of this creature, and that he should be warned?”

“WangJi,” XiChen’s voice comes from behind them, a gentle warning.

He moves to stand by Lan Zhan’s shoulder, a calming presence next to Lan Zhan’s cold fury.

“Please forgive my brother,” XiChen says, “he spoke in haste. He means no disrespect.”

Lan Zhan’s expression clearly states that he may have spoken in haste, but that the disrespect was meant and well deserved.

Wei Ying does not want Lan Zhan upset with uncle. He does not want Song Lan angry with Lan Zhan for disrespecting uncle. But he can do absolutely nothing about either of those things, because his mind is utterly preoccupied by the fact that Lan Zhan is dangerous, and beautiful, and incensed on his behalf.

Lan Zhan is afraid that this madman means to hurt Wei Ying. Lan Zhan is worried about him. Lan Zhan cares about him. Lan Zhan cares about him.

He feels his mouth trying to stretch into a smile, and curses himself six times over. Everyone around him is tense enough to draw swords, he should not be grinning like an idiot.

Lan Zhan cares about him!

“Your Majesty.”

XiChen is looking at him. There is something uncomfortably knowing in his gaze.

Wei Ying clears his throat, then does it again. He is afraid his voice will come out hoarse and obviously besotted.

“Lan Zhan is right,” he says, “I may be well protected, but every Sect Leader and Young Master in the Empire is currently residing at the Immortal Mountain. They may all be at risk. Why would you not send word?”

Song Lan has moved closer to XingChen, as if he means to protect him from Lan Zhan’s fierce gaze. He opens his mouth to speak, but XingChen silences him with a touch to the elbow.

“I believe the Young Master is correct,” XingChen sighs, “We were wrong to conceal it for so long. It has been a frequent subject of discord between us, this decision. But Song Lan does not understand the power dynamics at court. He does not understand the precarious balance involved in ruling all the Sects in the cultivation world. YanLing DaoRen’s name still invokes fear and mistrust. I was afraid-- I was afraid that the truth would sow panic. Worse, that it may give some of the Sects an opportunity they have long sought, to remove YanLing DaoRen’s bloodline from the seat of power, and take the throne for themselves.”

“We intended to catch him long before now,” Song Lan says roughly, “We could only be certain that he is heading in the direction of YiLing on the second day of the festival. The trail was days old by then.”

“I am sorry to have placed the Lan disciples at risk,” XingChen says softly, “but once we learned that you were wandering around YiLing on your own, unprotected, we used whatever means we had at our disposal.”

“I was not unprotected,” Wei Ying says absently, “Lan Zhan was with me.”

He spends a few moments preoccupied with the idea that the incidents at the Immortal Mountain and the man uncle is hunting must somehow be connected. But no matter how he turns the events over, he cannot see that they have anything in common. A man who had slaughtered over three hundred people in order to collect the resentful energy from their corpses does not seem like someone who would go through the trouble of coating Lan Zhan’s teacup with poison.

Still thinking so, he realizes that everyone else has fallen silent. Song Lan is frowning at Lan Zhan. Xiao XingChen is smiling softly, his head turned in the direction of the camp, as if privy to something amusing that only he can hear. XiChen is smiling softly too, his eyes trained in the opposite direction.

Lan Zhan is not smiling. He is staring at Wei Ying, his ears red, his expression somehow lost, as if Wei Ying had done something preposterous again.

Wei Ying is pretty sure he has not done anything to merit that expression.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head and looks away. Behind them, Nie MingJue clears his throat.

“Your Majesty, I do not mean to interrupt, but the Nie Sect is all accounted for, and the Lan Sect is ready as well. We should head back.”

Wei Ying nods. During all the fascinating revelations, he has managed to forget what waits for him at the Immortal Mountain.

He thinks he would rather face a mass-murdering madman than Madam Yu.

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crystallized-shadow · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1 Part: 6 of Forces of Natura Rating: T Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Senju Itama/Uchiha Izuna/Uchiha Kagami Word Count: 2059 Summary: As winter draws to an end, Tobirama knows it's only a matter of time before Hashirama shows up.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

“You know Hashirama will search for me,” Tobirama mutters towards the end of his season, “and with his control I won’t be able to hide our magic any longer.”

“I knew they would find us sooner or later,” Madara yawns, cuddling closer to his winter’s side, while he was back to full power now winter had always made him sleepy, “thank you for hiding us this long.”

“Anything for you my summer,” Tobirama chuckles, lightly digging his fingers into Madara’s scalp and getting a rumbling purr from the older god. “How do you want to break the news to them?”

“In the most dramatic way possible, duh.”

Tobirama can’t help but chuckle, it would seem all this time still hadn’t improved Madara’ sense of humor. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

“Let them think I’m some abusive asshole and see who tries to kill me first?” Madara suggests, shifting in Tobirama’s arms so he can stare into the ruby red eyes of his eternal partner.

“What is it with you fire related gods and trying to kill each other?” Tobirama huffs, the barest hint of a smile ghosting his lips when Madara laughs; it was good to hear his summer sound so free after all he’d been through.

“Battle burns in our blood.”

“Shall we take bets on who strikes first?” Tobirama asks instead of trying to refute that claim, it would be futile and he already knew he’d agree to anything Madara asked. “Hashirama is my choice.”

“Most likely,” Madara agrees before a devious smirk graces his devastatingly handsome face, “unless of course he rallies all the gods, then it will be Izuna the moment he sees the mark on my neck.”

Tobirama has to admit Madara has a valid point, all of the humans who possessed the stolen fire magic had borne Madara’s symbol until he had reclaimed his powers. “You realize they’re going to be pissed once they find out the truth.”

“And?” Madara challenges with a raised eyebrow, “they’re going to be pissed either way, so let’s have some fun!”

“I’m going to regret this, but let's hear it.”

“I’ll just need you to act like a meek little snowflake, scared of my obviously superior magic-”

“I’m going to smother you with a pillow.”

“-and cower in my presence. Maybe bloody you up a bit too, really set the scene.”

“And what’s in it for me if I go along with this ridiculous idea of yours?”

“That should be obvious,” Madara scoffs, ignoring the eyeroll that comment gets, “you’ll get to fuck me in our den until you’re sated.”

Now that was quite the offer, the transition into spring always caused a violent spike in his libido that had Madara limping for the first month of the new season. To offer up his body, without leading Tobirama on a frustrating chase first, was too tempting to pass up. “How can I say no to that offer?”

“You can’t.”

~~~

Tobirama senses his brother approaching long before the spring god makes it to the mortal plane; he’s not surprised to feel the other gods with Hashirama either, obviously Mother Nature wanted to make his feelings known. Poking his lip, just to make sure the cut is still bleeding, Tobirama settles more comfortably against his restraints. Madara could claim whatever bullshit reason he wanted, Tobirama knew the summer god just wanted an excuse to chain him up.

“Tobirama!” Hashirama exclaims, bursting into the living room without much grace, making the winter god roll his eyes; Hashirama was going to get hurt one of these days if he kept doing that.

“What are you doing here!?” Tobirama hisses instead, making sure his eyes are wide with fear and his voice trembles just enough that the others will notice.

“We came to rescue you Tobi-nii!” Itama declares, frowning at his brother’s battered form; it was clear the winter god had been suffering and whatever human had dared do this would pay dearly.

“You have to go!” Tobirama shoots back, his eyes darting around like he’s looking for something, “hurry! Before he gets back!”

“Tobira…” Hashirama mutters, his heart breaking at the sight of his precious otouto so broken down.

“What’s all the racket pet?” A voice mutters from further in the house, and none of the gods miss the way Tobirama goes absolutely rigid in terror as a human walks through the door beside him.

“Nothing Master,” Tobirama mutters in a meek voice, biting the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing at the spike of anger in Hashirama’s magic; his anija was still too gullible. He can’t help but mentally roll his eyes at Madara’s outfit of choice, the yukata is draped just loosely enough that his ‘stolen’ mark is clearly visible. Predictably Izuna’s eyes hone in on it instantly.

“Where did you get that!?” He demands, stepping forward and the air around him shimmers, “answer me you bastard!!”

“This thing?” Madara asks, a careless gesture to the bright red sigil on the base of his neck, “it’s proof of my clan's blessing from some ancient god; supposedly my ancestor earned an elemental god’s favor.”

Why don’t you just bluntly declare you killed his brother? Tobirama thinks, ducking his head in apparent fear to hide the unimpressed look he knows is on his face. It was hardly a fair bet when Madara goaded Izuna like that. Sure enough, Izuna’s screech of unadulterated rage shatters the windows as he lunges for Madara.

Madara can’t help but laugh as he dodges the sloppy swipe of fiery claws; it would seem Izuna still let his rage get the better of him. The summer god makes sure to keep his moves within a human’s ability, finally allowing Izuna to grab him by the throat and slam him into the wall.

“You will pay for what your family did to my brother!” Izuna snarls, plunging a fire coated hand into Madara’s stomach so the bastard would die slowly.

Madara just chuckles as he calmly places his hand over Izuna’s core and pushes a hint of his magic into his brother. The effect is instant and Izuna drops to his knees with a startled cry, a hand clutching uselessly at his chest as his system filters out the incompatible magic. While Madara and Izuna drew their power from the sun, the greatest fire source, Madara's had always been more potent and potentially dangerous to Izuna if he did like he’d just done. “I see you haven’t changed Izuna.” Madara comments, smirking as the drought god glares up at him, only for his eyes to widen in shock.

“How do you know my name?” He demands in barely more than a whisper, shock washing away his anger.

Madara just chuckles as the sigil on his neck glows brightly, spreading out into very familiar runes as he lets his human facade fade away.

“Aniki!!” Izuna sobs, tears evaporating as quickly as they fall from his eyes. Madara’s usually hard eyes soften and Izuna can’t stop himself from lunging into his brother’s waiting arms. “You came back!!”

“Of course I did,” Madara scoffs, holding Izuna close as the younger god trembles in his arms, sobs still wracking through his body.

“Oh thank the sage,” Tobirama mutters, easily shattering his supposed bonds as he stands up, his injuries melting away.

“Tobira…?” Hashirama mutters, looking between the two gods, his brain struggling to process the sight of Madara alive and well. “I don’t understand…”

“Madara reincarnated,” Tobirama explains with a shrug, walking over to his brother in an effort not to invade Izuna's reunion with Madara. “I found him before it was time and forced the reawakening sooner.”

“I didn’t realize that was possible,” Mito states, watching Madara sharply as Hashirama yanks his brother into a hug, “but it does appear he’s completely back.”

“Madara?” Kagami mutters, finally venturing forward to his mentor’s side, “you’re back.”

“Of course I am Spitfire,” Madara chuckles, pulling Kagami into the hug as well, “did you really think I would stay away?”

“You died,” Kagami sobs, burying his face in Madara’s chest, “and everything changed!”

“I’m sorry little one,” Madara mutters, running his fingers through Kagami’s hair reassuringly, “I won’t do it again.”

“You better not,” Izuna huffs, clinging closer to his aniki, happy to have the older god back, “I’d have to hurt the snowflake if you did.”

“Be nice Izu,” Kagami scolds, his tone watery, “Tobirama has been training me.”

“Oh?” Madara hums with a raised eyebrow, looking over the young god’s head to meet Tobirama’s eyes.

“He couldn’t control his magic,” Tobirama shrugs, dislodging Hashirama, “and that desert you call a brother was useless, so I took over.”

“Why you-!” Izuna snarls, only to be cut off when Hashirama barrels into them, crushing all three fire gods to his chest.

“Madara!” Hashirama sobs, burying his face in Madara’s wispy hair, “I thought I’d never see you again!!”

“Let go of me you oaf,” Madara grunts, struggling to breath through a face-full of hair and flowers.

“No!” Hashirama protests, clinging harder as Izuna and Kagami manage to slip free of his grasp, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again!”

“Knock it off you plant-brained mother hen!” Madara growls, flaring his magic when vines suddenly start wrapping around him in response to Hashirama’s distress. The vines instantly catch fire, along with the ones in Hashirama’s hair, causing the Spring God to jump back with a yelp.

“Hashi-nii,” Itama sighs, quickly dousing his older brother with a downpour.

“Lets all just calm down,” Mito suggests, “as this is Hashirama’s equinox and I doubt any of us want to deal with that mess.”

Everyone shudders at the thought of what an overly emotional Hashirama could do with perfect control over his powers.

“So, Summer, Winter, care to explain?” Hashirama asks with a frown, not liking that his best friend and his brother have been keeping secrets from him.

“Like I said, Madara reincarnated and I forced the reawakening sooner than it should have happened.”

“You owe us more of an explanation than that Snowflake,” Izuna growls, glaring at the older god.

“Izuna,” Madara sighs, catching Tobirama’s hand in his before his eternal partner can try and attack the drought god. Madara shakes his head before he glances over the gods that had come to ‘rescue’ Tobirama. “The family I was born into, the Uchihas, were the ones that originally trapped me and stole my powers. On Tobirama’s solstice they tried to sacrifice me again, but he ended them.”

“How did you know some random human was Madara?” Kagami asks, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to recognize his shishou as a human.

“I’ve always been very attuned to Madara’s presence, when he came of age for a human, I sensed a spark of his original magic. Knowing it shouldn’t be possible for Madara to have reincarnated yet, I kept an eye on the human and when I found him trying to summon a familiar I made sure he summoned me instead.”

“You changed that sigil!?” Madara demands, glaring at his partner, “and when did you plan on telling me that!?”

“Hush,” Tobirama chuckles, kissing the irate summer god, before he looks at his brother, “you actually tried to kill him not so long ago.”

“I did?” Hashirama mutters, before his eyes widen slightly. He had thought that human looked familiar, but he only just now realized it was the one he’d tried to kill while searching for his brother. “But that was some time ago, why haven’t you two come home?”

“I had to wait for the winter solstice to reclaim my lost powers,” Madara says, glancing away from his oldest friend.

“I nearly lost Madara again,” Tobirama practically growls, “and I didn’t feel like sharing him with you yet.”

“I can see how such an event would drive you to isolate your mate to protect him,” Mito comments, knowing she would have reacted the same way if someone had killed her Spring.

“You just wanted to fuck with us,” Izuna guess, glaring at his brother when Madara smirks.

“It wouldn’t have been any fun to just show up.”

“You’re a bastard Shishou,” Kagami states and the sincerity of the comment makes everyone laugh.

“Let’s go home,” Hashirama says, dragging Madara and Tobirama with him before they can protest.

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kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 16: A Confession

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

In which Rumple leaves the jail, but is not free

Read on AO3

He waits in the darkness. In this prison, his magic is useless and there is nothing to do but wait. Has he been here for weeks or for months? When his wife fretted over his future, did she worry about him being so bored?

His cell is at the end of a long tunnel. The only torches are at the mouth of the corridor, where the guards are stationed. His captors are quiet tonight, but sometimes he hears them talking to each other. They tell tales of him, warning each other against his power, his evil, his devious tricks. They speak as though they are in danger just by being in his presence.

They are not wrong.

If he wanted to, he could kill them with his bare hands. He wouldn’t need magic or a weapon. His own strength and viciousness would be enough to rip through their armor and tear out their throats with his teeth.

It is fortunate for the guards that he has no intention of harming them, or of escaping. He is exactly where he wants to be. This cell is insulated from magic, it is both a prison and a fortress. If there is any place in this world where the effects of the Queen’s curse might be mitigated, even a little, it is here. In this black hell, that faint spark of hope shines like the sun.

Movement.

At the end of the tunnel, lights grow brighter. Another torch has been added to their number. Footsteps echo in the stone cave. Alerted, he sits up. He pounces away from the wall. He crouches on the dank ground like an animal, claws raised, teeth bared.

“Come closer, dearie.” His words are sweet as treacle, but he laces them with poison. “How kind of you to visit me in my loneliness!”

There is a gasp at the end of the hallway, half-stifled. The visitor is afraid, but is trying not to show it. The footsteps hurry forward, soft and quick. The torchlight grows brighter as it comes closer.

It is a hooded figure, he cannot see its face. The body is small, and the cloak is patterned with green and yellow leaves.

He knows that cloak. He made it himself.

He cannot get his hopes up. He is imprisoned in the stronghold of his enemies. No illusion is beyond the grasp of the Evil Queen or the Blue Fairy. Either one of them could be trying to deceive him. Trying to exploit his weakness for their own gain.

Or madness could be taking over his mind. His own hope could be twisting around on itself, creating a vision of what he wants. The one thing he wants to see more than anything else in the world.

“Come closer, I said!” His voice is rough with disuse, with emotion. In this pit of despair, he does not dare hope. He doesn’t want to believe that it could be…

“You cannot order me about, Rumpelstiltskin. Not anymore.” The voice is clear and beautiful, like clean water in the middle of a drought. The light stops moving when it fills his vision. The figure sets a torch in a sconce. Finally, he can see her. Her face. Her furrowed brow, her shaky smile. “You must at least say please.”

“Please,” he breathes.

It is a short fall, to go from crouching to kneeling, but being near Belle again requires nothing less. He must get on his knees to her--his wife, his love, his dearest wish.

Trembling, he reaches through the pointed bars of his cell. Without hesitation, her hand clutches around his. She is on her knees as well. Her flesh is warm and soft.

“You’re real.” This is no trick. He knows it as surely as he knows anything. “You’re alive.”

She bites her lip as she looks at him. He must be filthy, haggard, even more hideous than usual. But she is not repulsed. Only full of pity.

“What have they done to you?” she whispers.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” He cannot think of his own troubles, not while she is in front of him. “How did you come to be here, my darling?”

“The guard tonight is a dwarf called Sleepy.” She puts on a brave face, tries to make a joke. “He lives up to his name.”

He cannot tear his eyes from her. “And you have made yourself at home in this castle?”

She nods. “Our plan worked. The Prince ‘rescued’ me. And the side of goodness proclaimed me as one of their own.”

“You are,” he sighs. He has never seen a sight more beautiful than the woman who loves him. “You are goodness, my love. The royals should count themselves lucky that they get to be on your side, let alone that you want to be on theirs.”

Her hand clenches around his. “I’m on your side,” she promises. “We are working together, even when we are apart.”

“Yes.” He holds her hand in both of his and brings it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I miss you.”

She reaches into his cage. She grasps at his clothes, pulling him closer. Their mouths meet between the iron bars. Her kiss is honey and sunshine and the breath of life. It is meat and blood and peace. He cannot get enough of her. He will never have enough of her. Not until they are truly together, when all the curses are broken and they can live the rest of their lives without fear.

They break apart at the same time, both of them gasping for breath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers. “If they find you with me, they will lock you up as well. They will think you are evil. They will try to purify you with scourges and flaying.”

“I know,” she agrees. “But I couldn’t stay away. If only I could be with you always. I would stay with you, even in this terrible place.”

“I know.” He rests his forehead against hers. They breathe together, an act of unity just as important as a kiss.

After a moment, he steps back. There is space between their bodies now, though their hands still touch against the bars. He rubs his thumb over the smooth gold of her wedding ring.

“How are they, up in the outside world?”

“Everyone is panicking over Regina’s curse. They’re trying to stop it, but they don’t know how.”

“If only they had the most powerful user of dark magic in the world trapped somewhere nearby with nothing to do but offer advice to anyone who asks.”

Belle’s pink lips quirk into a half-grin. “Perhaps they need a reminder of that fact.”

“And how is Snow White bearing her firstborn?”

“I haven’t spoken to her much. But I’ve heard that she is often brought low with melancholy. The Prince insists that there is a way to fight the curse, but she is losing hope.”

“Is she desperate?”

“She will be.”

“Good.”

The Dark One trades in desperation. Much of his power comes from fear--not only the fear that people have of him, but of the things they fear so much that they are willing to pay him whatever he asks for.

“The child,” he whispers. “Have they given it a name yet?”

Belle shakes her head. “In this land a prince or princess is not named until after it is born. There is a grand ceremony when the name is spoken for the first time and proclaimed to the whole kingdom.”

“We won’t have time for that,” he snarls. “The curse is coming! The name of the Savior has power. I must know what it is!”

“You will.” She soothes him. She presses her palm against his own. Their scars match up, at the place where they mingled their blood on their wedding day. “I believe in you. We will find a way.”

His breathing slows as her nearness cools his rage. “Together,” he agrees.

His wife looks over her shoulder. “They will change the guard soon.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.”

“You shouldn’t come back.” He forces the words out. “You shouldn’t be here now.”

“Well you can take me over your knee when we see each other again.”

He snorts his surprise and amusement. She is too good, too perfect.

She looks over her shoulder again. “Before I go,” she says, “I have something to ask of you.”

“Anything, my love. Though I have little to give as I am now.”

“It is something from your mind. Something to occupy your thoughts until we meet again.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to think of a name for our baby.”

His eyes widen. He blinks, several times.

“Something you want to tell me, sweetheart?”

She smiles. “No, my love. Only that there is a future for us. Snow White is not the only person who can have an important child. We will be together again. And when we are, we will be a family. All of us.”

He nods. Already his mind is racing with every name he can think of. Names have power. The name of Belle’s child must be perfect. Meaningful. The enormity of the task is enough to fell him. What a brilliant woman his wife is! What a wonderful gift she has given him!

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for reminding me that all of this is temporary.”

Her face breaks, but she keeps herself from weeping. “I love you so much, Rumple.”

She presses in to kiss him again. It lasts for an eternity. It is over too soon.

Before she leaves, she offers him one last assurance: “I will see you again.”

****

Rumpelstiltskin spent the better part of a day in the jail cell of the Storybrooke sheriff station. Apparently Sheriff Swan was the only officer with the authority to release detainees, and her presence was required outside the station until later in the afternoon.

She sent her heartfelt regrets.

He didn’t mind much. The Dark One had learned long ago that there was power in appearing to be at the mercy of his enemies. Captivity in particular had its advantages. No distractions, for one thing. There was nothing he could do now except think, and plan.

Another advantage was that people would have to come to him. Someone had taken the cup that had belonged to Belle. Someone knew what that cup was, and what it meant to him. Someone had tried to draw him out. And someone would be thinking that their scheme had worked.

So someone would be stopping by to gloat.

There was no doubt that the culprit knew what had happened by now. Even if Mrs. Gold’s drunken outburst hadn’t drawn a crowd, news spread fast in a small town. Enough people had heard her shout at him in Granny’s. And enough people had seen Emma helping Mrs. Gold walk to the station. And by mid-morning enough people had noticed him in the holding cell.

For a few hours, Rumpelstiltskin entertained himself by imagining how wild and salacious the rumors could get. Any fool would know that Gold and his wife had participated in a public shouting match, but what else could they think of? That he had used violence? That Mrs. Gold had fought back using her high heeled shoes as a weapon? That her father had rushed in to defend her and Gold had beaten him bloody with his cane? Gold’s reputation was as the most feared man in Storybrooke. Nothing was too outrageous to believe.

That reputation had saved Rumpelstiltskin a lot of trouble in his dealings with the people of Storybrooke. Even now, at the piddling mercy of uniformed police officers, a glare and a sneer were enough to keep them away from him. Every one of them paid rent to him, or owed him something, and they were all keenly aware of it. He was in a cage, but they were the ones who were terrified.

So they made themselves scarce. The station was practically empty by the time Emma waltzed in with a bag from Granny’s. Walking along the central office area, she pulled wrapped sandwiches out of the paper bag and set them on all the desks. Presumably, she knew her workers well enough to know what each would want for lunch. And she cared enough to get it for them, an act that would certainly endear herself to her subordinates.

Emma pulled out the last sandwich from the bag and held it out as she walked over to the cell. “I figured you for a pastrami guy.”

Rumpelstiltskin let himself reach out and take the food. He held the oil-soaked paper bundle in both hands and didn’t open it. “Corned beef, actually.”

“I’ll remember that for next time you’re in here.” It was a joke, but it was also a threat. Emma leaned against one of the desks in front of the cell, facing him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I believe you mean the first time I actually commit a crime,” he countered. Getting her to put him in jail had been nothing but a bit of theater, a convenient way to keep Mrs. Gold from the same fate. They both knew he wasn’t being charged.

“The next time I catch you trying to get a drunk woman to go home with you against her will.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, playing his part. “Given Mrs. Gold’s impulse control, I can’t make many promises on that topic.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that any part of this is her fault, that is not going to happen.”

He let her have that one without further argument. Emma Swan was smarter than most people in this town. She had the rare gift of First Sight--the ability to see things as they really were, and not how everyone knew they were supposed to be. Outside Storybrooke, it had probably been an advantageous skill. But here, in a place where reality itself was subject to the most powerful curse ever made, she was wrong even when she was right.

Nothing Mrs. Gold’s life was her fault, that was true. But it wasn’t Rumpelstiltskin’s fault either. Gold had preyed upon a young woman. Regina had cursed them all. Emma was the only one who could fix everything, but not in the way she thought. Not in any way even someone as smart as her could imagine.

He held up the sandwich. “Thanks for picking up lunch,” he said. “Do my tax dollars include dessert?”

Emma stood up straight, arms swinging with deliberate casualness. “You sit tight, Gold. I’ve gotta go find some paperwork before I can release you.”

She went out into the hallway, and Rumpelstiltskin knew he was in for at least another two hours of incarceration.

It didn’t matter. Emma thought she was punishing Gold, but really she was keeping Rumpelstiltskin free for a little while longer.

He didn’t want to face Mrs. Gold. Interacting with her was torturous under regular circumstances. After last night--and the night before that, and the day in between--living with her would be nearly impossible.

It had finally broken apart. The facade of a marriage that he had spent five months hiding behind had cracked and shattered. She had heard him call out to Belle. She accused him of infidelity. Even Mrs. Gold’s unwavering obedience to her husband had finally bent under the strain of Rumpelstiltskin’s neglect.

Part of him was relieved. It was one thing to wear a mask in front of his enemies, but it was something altogether different to constantly deflect the attentions of a woman who only ever wanted to please him. She lived in his house, she was with him all the time. Until last night, they had slept in the same bed. It had worn on him, to have Belle’s body so near, so willing--and have to reject her again and again. Perhaps now Mrs. Gold would get it into her head to reject him.

Would she leave him?

Long ago in their cursed life, Mrs. Gold had burned bridges with everyone she had known before her marriage. She had no support structure, no money of her own. Her job skills would be enough to get her part-time work at minimum wage--if anyone wanted to hire her. The woman’s reputation around town would scare away most respectable employers. Without Gold, she would have to go begging back to her already impoverished family. Or she could try to ingratiate herself with some other wealthy man in Storybrooke. Gold had often insulted his wife by calling her a whore, but what other option had he given her?

If nothing else, Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t let Mrs. Gold make any more reckless decisions with Belle’s body. Though the illusion of the marriage had dissolved, he would have to maintain control over Mrs. Gold somehow.

Probably through money, or comfort. At her core, Mrs. Gold was a practical woman. She knew that her relationship with Gold was a simple deal. If Rumpelstiltskin altered the deal, perhaps she wouldn’t make a fuss.

An image from the night before floated through Rumpelstiltskin’s memory: Mrs. Gold, drunk and heartbroken, fighting against Emma in her need to lash out at him. “You’re supposed to love me, you bastard!”

Where had she gotten that idea? Gold had never allowed his wife to entertain notions of love between them. How could the way Rumpelstiltskin had been treating her possibly lead her to that conclusion? Mrs. Gold had said she loved him, when he had been dreaming of Belle. Had she been dreaming as well?

Had Mrs. Gold been dreaming of her husband? Or had Belle been dreaming of Rumpelstiltskin? What was happening to the curse?

Emma came back with a manila file folder in her hand. She strode purposefully through the station, perfectly comfortable wielding her authority. She was truly the combination of her parents--a born princess and a seasoned war leader. She was the Savior, the curse-breaker. All he had to do was hold on until she started saving everyone.

There was a clear line of sight between the Sheriff’s office and the holding cell. Rumpelstiltskin watched as Emma put the folder she had just brought in at the bottom of a stack of similar files. He took that to be all the paperwork she would have to get through before she would deign to release him.

****

After twenty minutes of industrious silence, the sound of running feet broke through the hallway outside. To Rumpelstiltskin’s ear, the running sounded happy, excited, young. A child with boundless energy, finally free to burst toward something they want.

Following the running was the methodical click of high heeled shoes. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin thought that Mrs. Gold had come to the station. But no, these footsteps were more authoritative, businesslike.

He wasn’t surprised at all to see Henry Mills come bounding in to the station and make a beeline for Emma’s office. And of course Regina would be slinking right behind him.

“Sheriff Swan, I’m going to permit you half an hour with my son.” Regina announced this piddling allowance of time like it was a gift. “Take him out for ice cream.”

Rumpelstiltskin watched Emma’s eyes flit from Regina, to Henry, to the empty station, to himself, and then back to Regina. “You’re expecting me to leave you alone with a prisoner?”

Regina lifted her chin and looked straight ahead at the cell. “Twenty-nine minutes.”

This time, Emma’s look went only from Henry to Rumpelstiltskin. “Are you okay with this?”

He shrugged. “Bring me back a cone?”

Emma nodded to him, then spoke to Regina. “We will be right back.”

“Yes, you’ll have to be,” the Queen said smoothly. She stood still as Emma and Henry bustled around her, jabbering excitedly as they left. It really was remarkable how much both mother and son lit up when they were together.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move. He stayed seated on the cell bench and let Regina come to him. She perched on the arm of the sofa in front of the holding cell. She had a large, black leather purse slung over one shoulder.

“Madame Mayor,” he said in tones low with menace. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Mr. Gold, I think we might be able to help each other.”

The audacity of this woman. Under any other circumstance, she would have nothing to offer him. And yet…

“When two people each have something the other wants, a deal can always be struck.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I hoped you’d see it that way.”

“But do you have something I want?”

Instead of answering, Regina crossed her legs and pushed back the blazer of her smart business suit. “You know, all day I’ve been hearing the most terrible rumors about you and Mrs. Gold. I do hope everything is alright between you two.”

“My wife,” he said slowly, “has not been herself lately.”

“Or is it you who haven’t been yourself, Mr. Gold?”

He looked at her, impassive. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do.” The Queen took her purse off her shoulder and set it on her knees.

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to stare at the bag. He looked instead at Regina’s face. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, to help you. And to receive some help in return.”

“What do you have to offer me, dearie?”

“Not much,” she smirked. Without looking down, Regina reached into her purse and pulled it out. The chipped cup. “Just a… sentimental little keepsake.”

It took all of Rumpelstiltskin’s resolve not to leap to his feet and demand the cup. He wanted to break these steel bars and rip the cup from Regina’s hands--and rip her hands from her arms if she wouldn’t surrender it. That was Belle’s cup. This witch had no right to touch it!

Instead, he stayed still. All his energy, all his rage, focused on the cup. He focused on Regina, who dangled it by the handle.

“How?” he rasped. How had she known about the cup? How had he let his cover slip? How had she broken into Gold’s house?

“Flimsy locks,” she quipped. Then the Queen turned more serious. “I have power in this world, more power than you know.”

“But not enough,” he hissed. “You will never have enough power to beat me.”

She shook her head. A faint chuckle entered her voice. “I already have. I know what your weakness is.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed and made himself shrug. “It’s just a cup.”

“But you want it,” Regina purred. “And you’ll give me what I want in order to get it back.”

“What is it that you want, dearie?”

“I want you to answer one question. And answer it simply.” She squared her shoulders before she asked: “What is your name?”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hesitate. “It’s Mr. Gold.”

The Queen glowered at him. “Your real name.”

“Every moment I’ve spent in this world, that has been my name.”

Regina leaned forward, closer to the bars. “What about moments spent elsewhere?”

He locked his eyes on hers. “What are you asking me?”

“I think you know.” Clearly her patience was running thin. “Tell me your name.”

And with a sly grin, he confessed: “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The deal done, he took the cup from Regina’s unresisting hands and cradled it in his own. He looked it over, making sure there was only one chip. Belle’s cup. Their cup. It was safe.

When he looked at Regina, she was fairly glowing with triumph.

“What gave me away?”

“Belle did,” Regina said smugly. “I’ve been watching Mr. and Mrs. Gold for, well, a very long time now. I could see that something was wrong with her. But you seemed perfectly normal. Suspiciously normal.”

His own caution--his own commitment to playing the role of Gold--that was what had exposed him. Still holding the cup in both hands, Rumpelstiltskin sat back against the wall. “So,” he said, “as long as we’re being honest with each other, let’s remember how things used to be.”

“We used to work together,” Regina said, incorrectly. “You used to help me without so much… hostility.”

“That was before you ever came after what was mine, Your Majesty.” He shook his head and tutted. “You really should be more careful about who you make your enemy.”

“You mean my victim,” she sneered.

“And how much longer do you think that will last? Haven’t you noticed the curse getting weaker?”

“But I am just as strong as ever!” The Queen rose to her feet. She looked down on him with regal disdain. “You’re the one who’s letting your biggest weakness galavant all over town!”

Clutching the bars of the cell, Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself up to stand “For your sake, I hope that isn’t a threat.”

“Of course not.” Regina closed her purse and began to leave. “I’ve barely spoken to Mrs. Gold. I’m certainly not the one who brought her so much pain she got drunk in public and started crying in the street.”

With a satisfied smirk, Regina turned on her heel and left.

****

Darkness had fallen by the time Emma officially let him out. Winter nights came early in Maine. If the sheriff noticed the teacup in his hands, she didn’t mention it.

His first thought was to walk back to Granny’s where he had parked Gold’s car the night before. But then he remembered that he had given the keys to Mrs. Gold so she could take herself home. So he would have to walk to the house.

He only hoped that she would still be there when he arrived.

The house was dark and the door was unlocked. Gold’s heavy ring of keys hung in plain sight on the first hook by the door. Rumpelstiltskin took the keys and put them in his pocket. Flimsy locks, Regina had said. She had broken into his house and stolen one of the things he valued most in the world--and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. The cup could have been missing for days before he went into Gold’s study and saw that it wasn’t where he’d left it.

Would she attack his home again? Should he arrange to put double bolts on all the doors? Or was she just trying to toy with him? This was a world the Queen had made. It shouldn’t surprise him that she had her own ways to take anything she wanted from anyone.

Noise came from one of the inner rooms. It took Rumpelstiltskin a moment to recognize the sound of the television in the living room. Gold had never cared much for the “idiot box,” so it had been an easy device for Rumpelstiltskin to ignore.

He went toward the noise, turning on lights as he went through the house. In the living room off the kitchen, the only light came from the flashing bluish glare of the television. Mrs. Gold was sitting on the couch, curled in on herself under a blanket. She was staring vacantly at the screen, letting the sounds and images wash over her.

Was it just the blue light, or was she paler than normal? The shadows of this dark room brought out the hollows in her cheeks and under her eyes. He could see the sheen of tear tracks on her skin. Unwashed hair hung limply around her face. Her lower lip was dark and swollen from where she had been biting it.

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move or speak. Mrs. Gold hadn’t noticed his arrival. Briefly, he wondered if she was drunk again. If she was trying to deaden the pain of her existence by deadening every other sense. But no, there were no bottles anywhere nearby. Mrs. Gold’s pain by itself was enough to deaden her senses.

He turned on a lamp and let a soft golden glow invade the harsh blue. Mrs. Gold jumped out of her daze. Unlike other times when Rumpelstiltskin had surprised Mrs. Gold, she didn’t hop to attention like a trained animal. She didn’t stand up and present her body for his approval, she didn’t kneel before him like a slave. Instead, Mrs. Gold sank back into the corner of the couch. She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him in silence.

She was afraid.

When she had looked at him like this before, Mrs. Gold had been afraid of what she knew was coming. She knew how cruel her husband was, what the consequences were of displeasing him. But now it seemed she was afraid of the unknown. She had said it herself: All that matters is that I don’t know who you are. Whether she knew it or not, Mrs. Gold was afraid of Rumpelstiltskin.

“Hi,” he said softly. He tried not to alarm her any further.

“Hi,” she answered, still staring at him. She didn’t let her guard down. She muted the television and turned to face him.

“I… I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She broke their eye contact and looked down. “I didn’t know if yo u would let me come back if I left.”

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his fist around his cane. Was her uncertainty a reflection of Gold, or of himself? Gold had done so much to hurt his wife, but Rumpelstiltskin was the one who had hurt her most recently. He was the one who had made her like this.

“Mrs. Gold,” he said. “Please, I know things are… confusing right now. But please know that this is always your home, and I will always provide for you.”

“Why?” The word was a whisper in a silent house, but it carried all the weight of the world. “You’re not fucking me. You don’t even like me. Why do you bother with me?”

The chipped cup was still in his hand. He set it down on an end table and moved to sit in one of the high-backed chairs across from the couch. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward, his arms on his knees as he spoke to Mrs. Gold.

“Because I have a duty to you,” he answered. “I have a responsibility to care for you.”

She snorted and shook her head.

“To take care of you,” Rumpelstiltskin amended. “I owe you that much, Mrs. Gold. It is the absolute least I can do.”

“How nice of you.” Her voice shook with bitterness. “How super fucking charitable! How long will that last, do you think? How long until you get tired of doing the least you can do?”

Mrs. Gold’s hands twisted in the blanket. Her face screwed up into the picture of unspoken agony. She let her hair hang over her face and took a few ragged, sobbing breaths.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to comfort her. Belle or not, she was a woman in pain and he knew that he could soothe her. That was the least he could do.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stayed in the chair, shoulders slumped, and waited for her to calm herself.

“Mrs. Gold,” he tried, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the man you married.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Is that it?” On the couch, Mrs. Gold was shaking. “Are we… Is it over? Us? Our marriage?”

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin spoke before he could think. “No, I want you with me, dear. I don’t… I don’t want us to be separated.”

“But you don’t want us to be together.” She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Not like we were before.”

“I know it’s complicated,” he said. “I wish I could tell you more. Truly I do. But right now let’s just say that I have enemies and you are better off under my protection. All I’m asking is for you to trust me.”

She let out a shaking breath that could have been a laugh or a sob. “Does Belle trust you?”

It was a strange thing to hear Mrs. Gold say. Belle’s voice, saying her own name with so much suspicion and loathing.

“Yes,” he answered. “Belle trusts me with her life, though I’m not always worthy of it.”

For a long time, Mrs. Gold didn’t say anything. She shook her head, rocking slightly on the couch as tears streamed silently down her face.

And Rumpelstiltskin sat there. Doing nothing.

When Mrs. Gold was able to speak, she asked him: “Why aren’t you with her now?”

“With Belle?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I mean, you’re still a man who can get whatever he wants. If she’s so important to you, why aren’t the two of you together?”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, trying to think of something plausible to say. “We want to be,” he started. “But, well, Belle is very far away from me right now.”

“What, does she live in fucking Australia or something? Or is she married too?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a tone he knew would make Mrs. Gold drop the topic. “What matters is that I have a responsibility to you, and I’m not going to shirk that just because I’m in love with someone else.”

Mrs. Gold winced, but then it turned into a grim smile. “Never thought I’d hear you say that you loved anyone, Mr. Gold. That’s why I never took it personally that you didn’t love me.” Abruptly, she stood up. “I’ll move my clothes over to the guest bedroom.”

“You can have the master--”

“No,” she cut him off. She seemed to have run out of emotions, and was now running on brutal practicality. “You need the bathroom in the master suite because of your leg. I won’t have as hard a time with the tub in the hall bathroom.”

“That’s… very thoughtful of you.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She sighed and turned off the muted television. Now her half of the room was in darkness. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the worst deal you could have offered me.”

“What deal?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. He had been trying to be honest with her. He wasn’t aware that they had been negotiating.

“A loveless marriage for a life of comfort.” She kept herself busy by folding her blanket and putting it away in a cedar chest. She didn’t look at him. “It is mostly the same as what we had before.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her as she walked out of the living room.

“Good night, Mr. Gold,” she said formally. “I’m glad you found your teacup.”

By the time he gathered himself enough to speak, she was already upstairs. A door slammed, and Rumpelstiltskin hung his head.

So this was the future he was going to have with his wife.

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle angst

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mukuaruuze · 4 years

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African Myths and Creation stories

According to many African myths, the creation of heaven precedes the creation of earth and man was created before the animals. The sun and the moon are given high status, even seen as gods in some cultures and because all African societies depend on rain, it is also held in high regard.

The earth is a very important element in the many myths. It is regarded by many as a mother goddess who rules all people and gives birth to new generations of all beings. It is believed that earth conceals life, protecting it from drought and reviving it when the rains come.

All creatures are earth and none can live without her. Even the elements come from the earth, yet the earth itself is seldom worshipped. She is regarded as a powerful spirit, ruling over life and death, moving mountains, forests and all when angered. It is said that animals understand and obey the earth but that man does not.

Some African peoples believe that the spirits live in the sky and control the rain, while others believe in water spirits that control the rivers, lakes and oceans. There also exist African myths of spirits that inhabit rocks, mountains and trees, such places are considered sacred.

It can be good or evil....

In African mythology, Jok is the concept of the divine; it can be good or evil, one or many. Unlike Europeans, who believe spiritual beings must be separated, African mythology believes Jok is the unified spirit of all supernatural beings: God and the spirits, the gods, the holy ghost and beings from the otherworld.

African Religion believes in the existence of good and evil spirits and rituals play a very important part in African culture. Bad spirits are believed to cause misfortune and illness and many societies have spiritual professionals who communicate with ancestral spirits to protect against evil. Mediums enter into trance-like states, allowing a spirit to possess their body and use them to communicate or prophesy.

African religious practitioners undergo intense training and there are different roles of spiritual professionals including priests, rainmakers and healers, also known as diviners or herbalists.

Some African Religions even distinguish more than one spiritual essence residing within a person. In Nigeria, the Yoruba people believe that a person has at least three spiritual beings. Emi (meaning "breath"), is a vital force that keeps man alive. It resides in the heart and lungs and is fed by the wind. Ojiji is a shadow that follows its owner and awaits his return in heaven when he dies. The third being is Eleda, or spirit, which must be fed by sacrifices. These spiritual beings flee the body at the time of death and all await his return in heaven.

African Myths on Destiny

The Yoruba people also believe that a man's success or failure in life depends on the choices he made in heaven before his birth. Ori is the Yoruba god in heaven who supervises people's choices. Ori means "head" or "mind".

Even the gods themselves depend on Ori to direct their personal lives. Gods and men alike consult their sacred divination palm nuts daily in order to receive direction from Ori.

African Creation Stories

These stories are adapted from The Origin of Life and Death: African Creation Myths. London: Heinemann, 1966.

A Fulani story (Mali)

HOW THE WORLD WAS CREATED FROM A DROP OF MILK

At the beginning there was a huge drop of milk

Then Doondari (God) came and he created the stone.

Then the stone created iron;

And iron created fire;

And fire created water;

And water created air.

The Doondari descended a second time. And he took the five elements

And he shaped them into man.

But man was proud.

Then Doondari created blindness and blindness defeated man.

But when blindness became too proud,

Doondari created sleep, and sleep defeated blindness;

But when sleep became too proud,

Doondari created worry, and worry defeated sleep;

But when worry became too proud,

Doondari created death, and death defeated worry.

But when death became too proud,

Doondari descended for the third time,

And he came as Gueno, the eternal one

And Gueno defeated death.

A Nupe story (Nigeria)

God created the tortoise (turtle), men and stones. Of each he created male and female. God gave life to the tortoises and men, but not to the stones. Noen could have children, and when they became old they did not die but became young again!

The tortoise, however, wished to have children, and went to God. But God said: “I have given you life, but I have not given you permTortoiseission to have children.”

But the tortoise came to God again to make the request, and finally God said:

“You always come to ask for children. Do you realize that when the living have had several children they must die?”

But the tortoise said: “Let me see my children and then die.” Then God granted the wish.

When man saw that the tortoise had children, he too wanted children. God warned man, as he had the tortoise, that he must die. But man also said: “Let me see my children and then die.”

That is how death and children came into the world.

Only the stones didn’t want to have children, so they never die!

An Efe story (D.R. Congo) :The Forbidden Fruit

God created the first human being with the help of the moon. God kneaded the body out of clay. Then God covered it with skin and the end God poured blood into it. God called the first human Baatsi.

Then God whispered into his ear telling him to beget many children, but to impress upon the children the following rule: from all trees you may eat, but not from the Tahu tree.

Baatsi had many children and he made them obey the rule. When he became old he retired to heaven. His children obeyed the rule and when they grew old they too retired to heaven.

But one day a pregnant woman was seized with an irresistible desire to eat the fruit of the Tahu tree. She asked her husband to break some for her, but he refused. But when she persisted, the husband gave in. He crept into the forest at night, picked the Tahu fruit, peeled it, and hid the peel in the bush. But moon had seen him, and she told God what she had seen.

God was so angry with humans that he sent death as a punishment to men.

A Nyamwezi story (Tanzania) :The Plant of Life

Shida Matunda created all things. After making the earth and water and plants and animals, he created two women and took them as his wives.

His favorite wife, however, died. Then Shida Matunda buried her in her house and remained at her grave watering it every day. After some time, a little plant began to grow from the grave. Then he was glad, because he knew that the dead woman would rise again. He did not allow his other wife to come near the grave.

But one day when Shida Matunda had gone out, the wife was overcome with curiosity and she stole into the house. When she saw the plant, she was jealous and cut it down with a hoe. The blood of the dead woman poured out of the grave and filled the house.

When Shida Matunda returned and saw the blood, he was much afraid and said: “You have killed your co-wife and thereby caused all men, animals, and plants to die.”

From Shida Matunda and the surviving woman descended all other humans.

An African-Cuban Creation Story:How Truth and Falsehood Got So Confused.

Olofi created the Earth and all things in it. He created beautiful things and ugly things. He created Truth and he created Falsehood. He made Truth big and powerful, but he made Falsehood skinny and weak. And God made them enemies. He gave Falsehood a cutlass [large knife], unbeknownst to Truth. One day, the two met and started fighting. Truth, being so big and powerful felt confident, and also very complacent since he didn’t know that Falsehood had a cutlass. So Falsehood cunningly cut off Truth’s head. This jolted and enraged Truth, and he started scrambling around on the ground for his head. In his scrambling, Truth stumbled unto Falsehood, and knocking him down Truth, felt the head of Falsehood, which he took to be his own head. His strength being truly awesome, a mere pull from Truth yanked off the head of Falsehood. Truth then put the head on his own neck. And from that day what we have had is a horrible mismatch: the body of Truth and the head of Falsehood.

African Bushmen Creation Myth

People did not always live on the surface of the earth. At one time people and animals lived underneath the earth with Kaang (Käng), the Great Master and Lord of All Life. In this place people and animals lived together peacefully. They understood each other. No one ever wanted for anything and it was always light even though there wasn't any sun. During this time of bliss Kaang began to plan the wonders he would put in the world above.

First Kaang created a wondrous tree, with branches stretching over the entire country. At the base of the tree he dug a hole that reached all the way down into the world where the people and animals lived. After he had finished furnishing the world as he pleased he led the first man up the hole. He sat down on the edge of the hole and soon the first woman came up out of it. Soon all the people were gathered at the foot of the tree, awed by the world they had just entered. Next, Kaang began helping the animals climb out of the hole. In their eagerness some of the animals found a way to climb up through the tree's roots and come out of the branches. They continued racing out of the world beneath until all of the animals were out.

Kaang gathered all the people and animals about him. He instructed them to live together peacefully. Then he turned to the men and women and warned them not to build any fires or a great evil would befall them. They gave their word and Kaang left to where he could watch his world secretly.

As evening approached the sun began to sink beneath the horizon. The people and animals stood watching this phenomenon, but when the sun disappeared fear entered the hearts of the people. They could no longer see each other as they lacked the eyes of the animals which were capable of seeing in the dark. They lacked the warm fur of the animals also and soon grew cold. In desperation one man suggested that they build a fire to keep warm. Forgetting Kaang's warning they disobeyed him. They soon grew warm and were once again able to see each other.

However the fire frightened the animals. They fled to the caves and mountains and ever since the people broke Kaang's command people have not been able to communicate with animals. Now fear has replaced the seat friendship once held between the two groups.

The Bushmen of Africa believe that not only are plants and animals alive, but also rain, thunder, the wind, spring, etc. They claim:

What we see is only the outside form or body. Inside is a living spirit that we cannot see. These spirits can fly out of one body into another. For example, a woman's spirit might sometime fly into a leopard; or a man's spirit fly into a lion's body. (Fahs and Spoerl 6)

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limeblood-exe · 4 years

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A Singular, Bloody Mattress (part 2)

So much fluff, you guys, it’s tooth-rutting. And a lil bit of Raph angst, too because why not. Ok, but it’s also mainly fluff. Enjoy!

He can’t sleep. It’s three in the morning, and Raph lies completely awake, staring at the cracks in his bedroom ceiling.

Out of all of his brothers, Raph has no problem sleeping. Mikey might have the occasional bad dream or he might stay awake playing video games or doing art, but for the most part Mikey has taken to heart Raph’s lectures about needing to get a good amount of sleep each night. “It’s important for a growing, young turtle,” he had explained. However, he wishes that his other younger brothers would have taken that advice.

Donnie and Leo are Raph’s headaches when it comes to making sure all of his brothers are taking care of themselves. Donnie has an even worse habit of staying up too late, but it’s mostly because he gets so absorbed with a new project that time passes without his knowing. It’s common for Raph to find Donnie either passed out on his worktable in his lab, or stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. But while his younger brother does stay up late occasionally, he enjoys sleep probably the most out of any of them, so it’s easy for Raph to convince his brother to sleep (convincing, as in Raph mentions the time to Donnie, who replies with “Wow, would you look at that,” and then promptly sleeps for the next twelve hours).

And Leo just doesn’t sleep sometimes. Honestly, just even knowing the fact that Leo has insomnia was actually discovered from pure luck. Raph didn’t even know his brother was having problems with sleep until he accidentally came across him on his way to the bathroom just hanging out in the family room, binging some Jupiter Jim films.

He tried to talk to Leo about it, but every instance he brought it up his brother had an annoying ability of dodging the topic. Finally, with Raph having to resort to the “I’m gonna tell Splinter” card, he had admitted that sometimes he has issues falling asleep, but that it wasn’t anything to worry about, and he would let them know if it got worse. So Raph had agreed to let it go with that promise in mind. That didn’t stop him from staying up a couple of nights spying on his brother just to make sure the problem didn’t, in fact, get worse. He never saw Leo leave his room those nights, so he either must have gotten through his sleep drought or knew Raph was watching him and used his portals to secretly escape his big brother’s view.

He doesn’t know which one it was, to be honest.

And he feels he should have done more, Raph comes to realize, because this whole “not being able to sleep” thing is just awful. The stinging sensation in his eyes, the restlessness of both mind and body. He can’t understand how Leo would try to hide this instead of just asking them for help. He has no idea how long Leo might have been suffering from insomnia, but one night and already Raph feels like splitting his bed in half, despairing that sleep has slipped from his clutches.

But he's no fool, he knows the cause of why he is not currently sleeping.

It's because of the fact that his aforementioned brother is currently holed up in their infirmary.

No matter what he tries, Raph can’t stop thinking about what had happened just a couple days prior. They had come so close, too close, to losing their brother. Not just when they were cornered by their enemies; as soon as they got back home, it was a fight to keep their brother alive, restoring his lost blood with blood donations from Mikey, who argued that he wanted to do it, he wanted to feel helpful, and stitching together torn skin and shell.

He was fine, though. Damned lucky, their father had said, but he managed to pull through.

And yeah, they cried when he opened his eyes for the first time since they got back home, but that doesn’t matter. What mattered was that their team had not been reduced to three.

Leo is gonna be fine, things are heading back to normal; so how come Raph can't stop thinking about how useless he felt during the entire ordeal?

Sitting up abruptly, Raph decides that staring at the ceiling isn't gonna help him get any sleep.

He leaves his room quietly so as to not disturb any of his brothers, who desperately need the rest just as much as he does, and departs for the kitchen. He's thirsty, so it seems like a reasonable first destination.

He walks mindlessly, his mind swallowed by too many thoughts.

Water sounds nice, maybe that’s what I need. A glass of cool water, and I’ll head back to bed, Raph thought to himself.

Entering the room, he turns on the light, looking for the fridge hoping to find-

This is not the kitchen. An easy discovery, what with the lack of kitchen essentials and instead he sees humming machines, a curtain, an occupied bed-

Ah, he’s in the infirmary. Without thinking, his feet had unconsciously brought him here.

He immediately slaps the light switch off, worried he woke his brother from his needed rest. He hadn’t meant to come in here; he didn't want to be in here. Not right now. He’s supposed to be trying to keep his mind off things.

He can just go back, he didn’t hear his brother wake up; didn’t hear a groan or even a peep, so there would be no harm in him just walking away.

But he might as well check that Leo is asleep as he’s already here and all; he does have a track record of hiding any of his sleep issues.

Raph pads to the side of the bed, spotting his brother cocooned in a hill of blankets. The only parts of him he clearly can see are his head and his arm that sticks out, dangling over the edge of the bed. Raph lays his hand on Leo’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his steady and constant breathing. Raph can't see them right now, but he's painfully aware of the large swath of bandages that cover his middle.

Content that his brother is indeed asleep, he grasps Leo's dangling arm (noting he has one of Donnie’s techy bracelets strapped to his wrist, most likely monitoring his vitals) in his gentle hold, and positions it back in his warm bundle. Tucking his brother in, he smiles softly before he makes his way to the kitchen to grab something to drink.

"Raph?" a soft voice mumbles before he even takes a single step, and he definitely did not give a little yell of surprise, no matter what Leo says.

"Leo! Sorry," Raph u-turns instantly and puts a hand on his brother's head, patting it gently like a parent would to a kid. "I didn’t wake you, did I?"

"You did," Leo gives a jaw-cracking yawn before he continues, talking into his pillow, Raph straining his ears to hear him, "but it’s fine. I feel like I’ve been asleep for too long anyway."

"That’s pretty normal, and you’re gonna have to get used to it. It’s going to be awhile before you’re back to normal, buddy," And the events of that night once again rush to the forefront of Raph's mind. He looks to the ground, unable to look his brother in the eye, afraid that Leo will see through his eyes and read his thoughts.

"Huh? What is it?" Leo looks more alert due to the seriousness his face had suddenly morphed to, struggling weakly in his blankets to lean up against his pillow.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Leo squints up at him with a disapproving look. Like he’s gonna believe that for a second.

“Now, why don’t I believe that? Are you lying to me, bro?”

"No-it’s just-I’m not lying to you,” Deflating under Leo’s sharp glare, Raph nervously rubs his hand together, gathering the courage to speak.

“…Back then, I couldn't do anything. I'm supposed to be the leader, Leo, and I did nothing." His face scrunches, and his hands clenching together in a show of anger. "And I'm… I'm sorry, Leo. I’m sorry that I couldn't protect you."

Raph would expect his brother to do many things after his revelation; make a joke to lighten the mood, ignore the apology altogether, saying something along the lines of “please don’t embarrass yourself by talking any longer”, etc. He did not expect for his brother to grab his wrist suddenly and pull him close to the edge of the bed, and with one large motion, wraps his arms around Raph’s neck. If he wasn’t too shocked, he would have admonished Leo for moving around so much, since he just got mortally wounded, but the hug feels so good at the moment that all he can do, all he wants to do, is hug his brother back.

“I don’t blame you Raph, you don’t have to ever apologize for something like this,” Leo comforts. His voice is gentle and kind and so unlike Leo’s usual carefree tone that Raph lays one of his hands on the back of Leo’s head checking for a fever.

Not finding one, he buries his face in his younger brother’s shoulder, and Raph has to choke down the sudden lump in his throat to softly mutter, “But I should’ve done, you know, more. I’m the eldest, it’s my job to protect you guys. And at that moment, I failed. And it’s not just that, I couldn’t come up with a plan. My mind felt so gooey and slow and I just-because of that I put you at serious risk, Leo. If you couldn’t-if you didn’t-”

“But I did. And stop putting all the blame on yourself,” Leo adds. “If you wanna play the blame-game, then I think I gotchu beat.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. We wouldn’t have even been in that situation in the first place had I never gotten hurt. I let my guard down, Raph, and I paid the price for it. And so did all of you.”

“That’s not fair, Leo. You couldn’t have known that those paper guys would have been any more dangerous than the ones we’ve already fought before,” Raph pulls apart their hug, going into his lecturing mode. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened.”

“But that’s what I’m saying. It was a sucky situation, so you can’t blame yourself as our leader when things go bad, because it’s not just on you. We’re a team, and we’ll fail together as a team.”

While bleak sounding, it sparks an understanding in Raph.

We’ll fail together as a team.

He understands where Leo is coming from. He always thought that the pressure of failing would be on his shoulders alone; he’s the leader, and a good leader takes responsibility. A good leader would know better than to lead their team to their deaths.

But a good leader would also know that you can’t win every fight. Raph doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility, he might never be able to, but he can know where he stands when it does.

He’s lost this argument, so Raph just slowly nods. He still feels like he could’ve done better, and he knows it might take awhile before he accepts what Leo had to say, but he feels relieved, the burden of feeling so alone lifted from his shoulders.

Raph, thickly says, "Thank you, Leo."

"Anytime, brother." Leo replies. As Raph rubs at his eyes, clearing away beading tears, Leo adds, "Now, pay up."

"What? What do you mean?" Raph asks, confused. Leo sticks out his quivering lips, his eyes pouting upwards. Leo raises his arms towards Raph, his hands making a grabby motion in the air.

"Carry me."

"What? No! Why would I do that?"

“Because I’m bored! I’ve been lying here for, what has it been, three days?”

“Just two, actually.”

“My point being! I need a change of scenery.”

“Uhh, but you’ve been sleeping for the past couple of days? How can the scenery bother you when you're not awake to see it. Besides, you’re still recovering.”

"Oh, come on! That's not fair, and you know it. I'm healing just fine," Leo doesn't give up and increases his efforts to be held, mimicking a petulant child demanding attention. "Please, Raphie, I don't like the infirmary."

"No."

"Pleaaaase-"

"Alright, fine!"

Leo laughs victoriously as Raph leans down to pick up his brother. Leo wraps his arms around Raph's broad neck, and his big brother puts his arms behind Leo's back and beneath his knees, making sure to do so around his blanket as well. He doesn’t want his brother getting cold, after all.

Straightening his back, Raph glares disapprovingly at Leo, who just smiles happily in return, snuggling his cheek against the dip between Raph's plastron and his neck.

"Where am I going exactly?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"Uh-huh."

Raph is convinced that Leo made a big fuss just to be held, but who is he to deny his brothers want they want. After all, it wasn’t just Raph that went through a tough ordeal. If Leo wants to be held, it's the least Raph can do.

With the choice being left to Raph, he decides that the family room is the perfect spot and makes his way there.

Leo begins to doze in his hold, snuggling close to the heat of his brother.

Why would he need a change of scenery if he was just gonna fall asleep anyway.

Raph doesn't have it in him to wake him back up, so he sits cross-legged on the floor as soon as he arrives and holds his breathing brother close.

This was not how Raph thought his night was gonna go, with Leo asleep in his lap and the night continuing to tick by. Content regardless, Raph rests his chin on top Leo's head, appreciating the living movements of his brother: his breaths, his sleepy snorts, his leg twitches, they're all proof that he's alive.

Being up so late and having the comfort of his younger sibling close, Raph feels himself starting to doze off as well, imagining the swell of sleep that would finally overcome him. Ready for the bliss of sleep to take him, the thundering of distant footsteps startles him to full alert mode. With the frantic, but familiar, steps coming closer Raph looks to see none other than Donnie rounding the doorway, whipping his head around in search of something. Spotting the two of them on the floor, Donnie rushes forward.

"Is Leo ok?!" Donnie asks.

Taken aback by the urgency in Donnie’s voice, he says, "Uhh, yeah. He’s fine.” Looking down at his dozing brother as if to confirm his own statement, he looks back to Donnie as Leo sleepily mutters into his chest. “He's sleeping right now, so if you could be quiet, Donald." Raph slightly scolds Donnie for his loud shout.

"Wha-excuse me!" Donnie, offended by his brother's admonishment, stares incredulously at his only older brother. "I just thought, you know, that something must've happened, Raphael, with my tech informing me that one of Leo's stats changed. I had gone to check on him when, to my surprise, he is nowhere to be found."

Oh. That would explain Donnie’s panic. The tech bracelet on Leo’s wrist was meant to monitor his well-being, so of course Donnie would have had any sort of change being directly messaged to his own wrist-band, alerting him if anything were to happen. That must have included his sleep cycle, and with Leo awake long enough to have a conversation with Raph, he was awake long enough for Donnie to be alerted.

"Oh, my bad... Sorry, Donnie, I didn't know."

Donnie breathes a deep sigh, the act calming himself and he regains a more collected composure.

"It's fine, I was just worried that he did something stupid again, like trying to use the bathroom on his own when he can't even stand properly." He takes in the sight of his two brothers cuddling on the floor together, fully registering what's before him. "Um, but might I ask what you two are doing?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I think Leo was getting bored of the infirmary." He slightly shrugs his shoulders. "So, here we are."

"Bored of the infirmary? Does he not understand the whole concept of 'I nearly died and I should take it easy?'" Donnie crosses his arms, "I swear, sometimes I wonder where his head can be. He be just as bad as Mikey sometimes-"

Donnie pauses, leering suspiciously at Raph.

"Wait, what did you mean you couldn't sleep?"

"It means that I couldn't sleep, Donnie." That was before his talk with Leo, and as much as he loves his heart-to-hearts with his brothers, he doesn't feel it in him to do one more for tonight. "And besides, that was way earlier. I'm better now."

His brother just mm-hm's to himself. Donnie then joins Raph on the floor, sitting next to his side with his legs sprawled out in front of him. A moment passes as Raph waits patiently for Donnie to speak first.

"Do you still want to talk about it? I'm up now, you might as well take advantage of having me all to yourself. Not many get the privilege of that, dear Raphael."

Raph gives a good natured eye-roll, but before he can give his own snarky response, someone beats him to the chase.

"Wow, conceited much?"

"Shut up. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Donnie asks at the same time Raph mumbles to himself, "Are you ever asleep?"

Leo slowly morphs his face into a smirk, then replies simply with a cheery "Nope."

He continues to say, "And how can I? You guys keep waking me up. For once I have the chance to get a full night's rest, and you guys are ruining it."

His brothers have no argument to counter him with, so Leo counts that as a small victory.

“Well, speaking of sleep, I’m gonna go back to bed now that I know Leo's not gonna crack his head open on the toilet or something,” Donnie stands, stretching his arms above his head. “What are you gonna do?”

“Me and Leo are good here,” Raph says.

“You’re gonna stay like that? On the floor? Call me crazy, but that doesn't sound very comfortable, Raph.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re already here, sooo.”

Donnie gives a thoughtful hmm, hand to his chin in a contemplating manner. After sometime, he raises a pointed finger to the ceiling, eyes bright with newfound determination.

“You know what, I actually have a brilliant idea. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

Curious as to what Donnie has planned, Raph complies with Donnie's order. He watches the descending back of his brother and wonders just what he has gotten himself into tonight. He grows impatient when minutes tick by, and even Leo starts to huff in annoyance, the waiting anticipation keeping him up.

Ten minutes later, Donnie reappears with a sleepy Mikey in tow, both loaded with pillows and blankets, which are so stacked it's nearly blocking their view.

"You didn't have to wake him up, Donnie."

Mikey just shakes his head, setting down his load by Raph’s feet.

"It's fine, Raph, no biggie. Dee told me we were gonna have a sleepover in the family room," Mikey smiles through an obnoxious yawn, laying out the blankets (some, Raph notices, are from his own room) to form a giant pile on the floor. "And I thought, ‘Oh, man! We haven’t had one in so long!’ It sounded nice, especially after everything that’s happened."

Now that Mikey mentioned it, they haven’t done this for a long time. They’ve been so busy dealing with the whole mutant outbreak that sleepovers kind of took a back-burner to their list of priorities.

Raph, with Leo in his arms, mumbling something he can't quite make out, moves to stand a distance away, making space for Donnie and Mikey as they prepare the rest of the room.

Donnie and Mikey make quick work, busying themselves with preparing a blanket fort by using nearby objects to hold up the blankets, ranging from Splinter's recliner to using the projector as a tether for the fort's ceiling. And since this just so happens to be the genius and artist of the family, the fort they create is a mix of both their technical and artistic skills.

The fort, while not only being huge, would put most other blanket forts to shame in just style alone.

Mikey suspends numerous low-lit strings of light on the ceiling, giving the fort a warm glow while Donnie works to construct the cushions and blankets on the floor to maximize their comfort. Throwing in a couple of stuffed animals along with some glow sticks they found in Raph's room, their blanket fort is complete.

Donnie grabs one end of a blanket, acting as a curtain for the entryway, while Mikey grabs the other and simultaneously they pull them back to reveal the inside of their new masterpiece with a bow. Raph “aah’s” at their display, entranced with the sight.

Raph lays Leo in the middle of the fort, who sinks delightfully into the cottony bliss, exhaustion overtaking his body which has reached its limits for staying awake for so long. Mikey leaps into the fort and lands next to Leo, giving a mirthful shout as he immediately grabs one of the blankets covering his sleeping brother and bundles himself next to Leo, snuggling into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around one of his big brother’s.

“Be careful, Mikey,” Raph warns. Mikey would never intentionally hurt one of them, but Raph thinks it safe to at least warn his brother that Leo is still recovering from an injury.

“I know!"

Leo gives a little huff, turning his face towards Mikey and blowing a quick gust of air into his face. Mikey makes a face, grunting, "Ew, your breath stinks," while Leo replies with, "Some of us are trying to sleep, Miguel."

Mikey giggles into Leo's shoulder as he says, "Sorry," but he doesn't sound all that reproachful.

Raph is next to settle down, laying on Leo's other side, grabbing Donnie's wrist, who was distracted admiring his and Mikey’s handiwork, and pulling him down with him. Having lost his own snuggle buddy to Mikey, Donnie has become his next victim, squashed between Raph's massive arms. But he only gives minor complaints, so Raph doesn't feel all that bad.

The combination of soothing lights from the ceiling and the glow sticks and the cushions beneath them lull the turtles into a comfortable daze. Next to him, Raph can hear the sleeping forms of his youngest brothers, cuddled together with their limbs entangled.

"You know, next time you have problems with sleeping, you can always come to one of us. You always help us when we can't sleep; of course, we'd want to do the same for you," Donnie gently mentions. Patting Raph on the arm, he adds for good measure, "You're our big brother, but we can still help you."

We're a team.

Surrounded by the warmth of his family, knowing that everything has finally gone back to normal, Raph smiles.

"Yeah, I know, Donnie."

Donnie hums, accepting his answer, and in a couple of minutes his own breathes become slow and even, deep in sleep.

His brothers, all of them, are right here, safe and sound. Raph still might have self-doubts as a leader and as a brother, but for now, he'll let go of his troubles and join his brothers in the blissful land of slumber.

In no time at all, Raph feels the dregs of sleep consume his mind, falling asleep with a peaceful smiling gracing his lips.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #so much fluff #some angst #my writing

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bunnieresources · 4 years

Text

killing eve season 3 sentence starters part 1.

“ i am so much happier now that ____’s dead. “

“ this is my special day. “

“ ____ doesn’t joke. she’s/he’s too... constricted. “

“ divorces are easy. it’s marriages that are impossibly hard. “

“ we’ve been watching you since what happened. you know that, don’t you? “

“ you’re not easy to replace. “

“ what’s in it for you? “

“ whatever you want, i will do it. i will get you anything. “

“ power is there for the taking, ____. you just have to be smart about how. “

“ you can hide from it, but it won’t hide from you. “

“ nothing good comes fast, you know that. “

“ your work was always so inventive and fresh. almost as good as mine. “

“ i prefer things... buried. “

“ i’m totally done with ____. done with that. “

“ ____, i am serious. i am not going down that road again. it almost killed me. “

“ life is just a series of trade-offs, ____. for all of us. “

“ you might disagree with my decisions, but i will never be able to apologize for them. “

“ we are going to get through this. you have to know that. “

“ this isn’t something you can fix, ____. “

“ if we’re being honest, we’d both admit that i deserve more. and more than you. “

“ are you always this much of a dick? “

“ when a bullet goes through you, it leaves something behind. “

“ you know if you’d quit smoking, you’d look, like, ten years younger. “

“ winners win alone. you can’t go down that path anymore. “

“ i’m fully capable of doing my job without any approval from you. “

“ i know you think i’m a self-serving prick. “

“ some things are bigger than the job and this is one of them. “

“ you have to start taking care of yourself right now, or it’s going to catch up with you. “

“ i need you to keep an eye on things. “

“ i have to be discreet. i can’t let people know i’m looking into things. “

“ i think i have something that might interest you. “

“ management is not easy. it’s watching someone do the job worse than you. that’s why it sucks. “

“ i don’t tell people what to investigate. “

“ what’s important to you? “

“ just so you know, i’m kind of a big deal in this industry. “

“ you do everything i say, exactly when i say it. “

“ if you make me look bad, i will kill you. “

“ when you love somebody, and they don’t love you back it’s... shit. “

“ life’s shit. get used to it. “

“ this is everything i could find right now. the rest is going to take more time. “

“ this is never gonna be solved without you, right? “

“ i can’t solve it, ____. i can’t investigate it. my hands are tied. “

“ you do not get to come here without an invitation anymore! “

“ haven’t you heard? i’m moving up in the world. “

“ you always said you were going to kill ____. “

“ if i killed everybody who betrayed me, there would be nobody left. “

“ ____ is alive. “

“ you really like that, huh? it’s not even yours. “

“ oh, get over it, ____. i have all my best thoughts in the bath. “

“ so, you thought this was a good idea? “

“ i’m practicing my characters, like you told me. “

“ if you want to amuse yourself, go crazy. but i will not have you put both of our futures at risk. “

“ you have to understand that once i tell you about this, your life is in danger. “

“ did you take this job thinking it would be easier? if you did, quit now. because it’s only getting tougher. “

“ you know what’s scary, ____, is how much i regret telling you its a date. “

“ if it makes you feel better, i’ve just had the novel experience of being stood up. “

“ it’s not fun, ____, using people you once loved. “

“ i should have shot you in the head. “

“ i can’t stop thinking about you. “

“ i’m not here for you! “

“ don’t wait for me in the dark like that. “

“ god, you’re boring. “

“ well, now you’re just looking for a reaction. “

“ i want to find my family. “

“ i’m wearing power. and to keep power, you need knowledge. “

“ admit it, ____. you wish i was here. “

“ ____’s a crook. like you. “

“ you’re so not over me. so not over me. “

“ you don’t deserve nice things if you don’t look after them. “

“ you’re so close to getting what you want. but you have to play by the rules. “

“ you are so annoying today. “

“ i am just trying to save you from yourself! “

“ you know, you really don’t have to be so dramatic. “

“ this would be a really bad way to go! “

“ are you upset because soon i’m going to be your boss? “

“ i got what you asked for. “

“ you know where my family is? “

“ just make it done, okay? “

“ you’re free now. you can be whoever you want. “

“ so, ____ was framed? “

“ if something happened to you, i would’ve only been partly responsible. that’s something i take very seriously. “

“ i do understand loss. “

“ you barely even look at me. “

“ i’m trying to tell you that i’m worried about you! “

“ you said you had everything under control. “

“ they told me you died. “

“ oh look, ____, it’s you punching me in the face. “

“ i know a killer when i see a killer, and you are a killer. “

“ ____, you are too naive. “

“ i missed you. “

“ just beat the crap out of people. it will make you feel a lot better. “

“ did you think i was dead, too? “

“ don’t you want to get out? “

“ i’m not like you. you’re always strong. “

“ don’t stay here for ___. she wants to control you. “

“ how many times have you been married? “

“ you don’t want to dance? “

“ you are freaking me out. “

“ am i supposed to be impressed by that. “

“ you always laugh at things that aren't funny. “

“ i don’t want you to be here anymore. “

“ this is my home. “

“ you’re not a part of this family. you do not belong here. “

“ don’t pretend that you were an angel. “

“ don’t pretend that you were a mother. “

“ you are the darkness. you have always been the darkness. “

“ i’ve killed a lot of people. “

“ you were bad from the beginning. “

“ you ruined me. you took everything from me. “

“ oh, i think i need to kill you, ____. “

“ i am my mother’s daughter/son. “

“ you’re not a child. “

“ i want to feel like a child. “

“ ____ must avoid all stress. you’re stress. “

“ it’s so good to see your eyes. “

“ i am going to find out why this happened to you. “

“ i’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. i’ve been watching you. “

“ you’re remarkable. “

“ are you trying to seduce me? “

“ ____. is that your real name? “

“ do you know why i wanted to meet you in-person? “

“ your first assignment in your new role is very exciting. a big job that will cause a great stir. “

“ i was told i’d be giving orders. “

“ this is the same stuff i was doing before. this is bullshit. “

“ you bargained for what you wanted, and we’re giving it to you. “

“ you know you can’t touch ____. “

“ maybe ____’s trying to torture you. “

“ why won’t you give me a break? “

“ sometimes you need to let it win. “

“ i’m afraid you’ve interrupted a rather delicate operation. “

“ drought can be endured, but rot is an instant killer. “

“ someone tried to kill you, i intend to find out who. “

“ just be very careful of ____. “

“ i’m coming with you. “

“ your plan to get out, i’m in. “

“ ____ deserved it. “

“ of course ____ deserved it, but you’re not supposed to do it. “

“ you are supposed to grow up and realize ____ isn’t actually evil. “

“ it’s too dangerous for us all to go together. “

“ we can’t go together. “

“ once i’m safe, you’ll come. i promise. but that’s the only way we’ll make it. “

“ you haven’t told anyone about this, have you? “

“ i don’t think you really want this. “

“ you know what it means? it means you have to leave everything, and ____. “

“ the plan only works if nobody knows there is one. “

“ are you... working for them, ____? “

“ i’m asking you for the same reason you asked me. because we don’t trust each other. “

“ should i... trust you? “

“ none of us are to be trusted, that’s why we work here. “

“ do you think i’m dumb? i’m not going anywhere with you. “

“ come on! it’ll be fun. “

“ you can do anything you want. anything. “

“ i know what you’re trying to do. you’re not coming with me. “

“ do you know how annoying it is when you have to be around two people in love? “

“ if it’s that bad, kill ____. “

“ you’re a real role model, you know that? “

“ you are totally delusional. “

“ i’m not in a rush, i’m just impatient. “

“ what did you want with my child? “

“ i’m going to ask you again, ____, and you’re going to answer correctly. “

“ get out. “

“ i know you don’t like me very much, and now you have to put up with me because you and i are all that’s left of this family. “

#rp memes #rp prompts #roleplaying memes #roleplaying prompts #roleplaying resources #ask memes #ask prompts #inbox prompts #inbox memes #rp resources #sentence starters

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sloppy-butcher · 4 years

Text

Lost in the Woods

Dwight Fairfield X Killer!Reader

Notes: i’ve been meaning to write my first survivor x reader fanfic and i wanted it to be specifically for dwight, so when @highdwightofmylife posted an April calendar thing i knew that i couldn’t resist. i won’t be partaking of the whole event but i will be doing the days/ characters that i love. call me bais, idc >:) as always, the reader will remain gender-neutral with their killer-specific abilities also remaining as ambiguous as possible. the only thing that will be known about the reader is that they are much taller than dwight. much

may dwight bring you hope and comfort in the darkness <3

word count: 3273

TW: mentions of death

The overpowering whispering of the black hole that lay before your feet sang loudly through your head. Its words unintelligible, its existence unexplainable. And yet there it was. The Hatch was what the others called it but to you, it was the coward's way out. Not in the sense that it allowed those who didn’t work, through sweat, blood, and terror, for their lives to escape scot-free but because it always left someone behind. And right now, you knew exactly who that unlucky, forgotten soul was.

You could have closed it, slammed your foot to the floor and seal the lid of the underground tunnel for the remainder of the trial until you found your last victim. An easy win on your half. But something stopped you. Something always stopped you. And that something was always that last survivor. You sigh and begin to step away from the hatch, taking long, confident strides to a certain location where you knew he would be hiding. He was predictable, stubborn in this mundane and stupid ways. The grass of the Macmillan Estate crunched under your feet but other than that, the world around you was silent, still and empty of watchful eyes. No one would see what you were about to do, no one would know, save for yourself and the man still desperately hiding away in a red locker.

You made your way to the building near the edge of the realm and approached the only place he could be hiding in. Your eyes locked on to the object and even as you made the clear indication that you knew exactly where he was, the man remained inside. You halted outside the large cabinet and you could hear his muffled breathing, he was in there and he was still clinging to the fleeting and hopeless belief that you hadn’t found him. You waited a moment longer, giving him one last chance to jump out and accept his fate but after he showed no sign of budging you reached out and yanked the door open.

Before you cowered a man clad in a dirty, bloody shirt and black pants. His glasses slipped ever so slightly to the side of his face and his tie hung limp and defeated around his neck. He was a poor sight indeed. He let out a surprised and terrified shriek as you revealed him to the cast of the moonlight and he instinctively raised his hands to weakly defend himself against you. But you made no move to grab him. You let your arms fall to your sides and you slowly let your breath exit your mouth in a deep and low sigh. He was still tense and wary, eyeing you with orbs of complete animalistic fear and unease. You relented and stepped back, allowing him space to try and relax, or at least attempt to regain some composure. You forcibly released the tension in your shoulders and tried to make yourself look somehow smaller and less threatening to the shivering man.

It took a few moments but after looking you up and down, watching your hands for the slightest hint of aggression and taking note of your lack of interest to attack him, he slowly dropped his hands and tried his best to calm his racing heart. You allowed him a few more minutes of silence to take in your form and your intentions to not hurt him before you flicked your head to the side as an indication for him to follow you. You turned and began to lead him to the Hatch. He hesitantly followed you, walking behind you in your imposing shadow. You were so much bigger than him, powerful and terrifying. He had seen you rip apart human bodies like tissue-paper, drinking in their blood as if it was water after a drought. You were the thing in the night which he should fear, the monster of legend and the face he has grown to instinctively run from. Yet here you were, soft and quiet leading him as if he was a friend, most probably, to his escape. Just like all the times before.

“They all left me again, didn’t they?” Dwight’s voice was quiet but carried across the desolate area to your ears perfectly. You could hear the brokenness in his tone. You nodded your head gently without saying a word. Casting an eye over your shoulder you could see Dwight’s demeanor somehow shrink to be even smaller than it was already was. He was always the one left behind by the others. How pathetic. How sad. It was strange to watch him interact with the other survivors, him always trying so hard to protect them, guide them, be their leader, their rock to lean on in their dire times. If you weren’t already so destroyed and devoid of emotion you would have been swayed by his motivational speeches and inspirational gestures but in your current state, all you could see was a tired and despairing man. He had his moments of greatness, instances when he would be the man he tried beyond anything to portray. However, most of the time he was the timid and scared boy he truly was.

You had watched him crumble to the floor many times, delving into a hysteric state of horror and dread, no longer a man but an unthinking animal on the precipice of slaughter. And each time he would be alone. He always stood by the others, risking life and limb for them and in return they leave him in the dust, locked in a room with a killer and no way out. It was pathetic, they were pathetic and he was pathetic for always letting them use him as a doormat.

“Why do you always try so hard Dwight?” You made sure to keep your voice low, afraid that by raising it, it would frighten the man away. He jumped slightly at the sound and began to fidget with his fingers, unsure of how to answer your question. “The others,” you continued eyes forward and stride small, allowing for the shorter one to keep pace with you. “I’ve seen how you try to protect them. You guide them and yet they always leave you behind. Do you learn anything? Or are you just stupid?” You were way harsher than you intended to be, your lack of everyday human interaction leaving your conversation skills with something to be desired. You internally cringed and quickly passed him a glance to see if he had taken offense to your words. The man’s eyes were downward and everything about him sagged with bleakness. You normally weren’t one to be so emotional but something about the man always made you buckle.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like-”‘

“I can’t stop,” Dwight interjected, his voice louder than you had expected, “I-I won’t stop. I like helping others. I know what it is like to be forgotten and abandoned. Even if they don’t reciprocate it, I will always help them because if I don’t then I’m no better than...” There was a pause.

“Then someone like me?” You stopped and turned to face him. He froze and stared up at you in terror. But there was something else in his eyes. Not just fear. Not just worry or anxiety. But also mild conviction. It was as if a sudden flame was lit inside him like he had been preparing and waiting for this exact moment to happen. He looked alive and some part of you wanted to keep him that way.

“But you’re not like the others!” You were taken aback by his loud and explosive outburst but you were intrigued. You raised an eyebrow signaling him to continue and explain himself. You expected him to avoid your gaze but instead, he rose up to meet you with a surge of strength and confidence. “You’re not like the others. You... I can’t explain it but you’re different. Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries but I've seen how you operate. The look in your eyes and your expression. There's something there I just don’t know... what it is.” Dwight quietened down and lowered his eyes to the floor at your feet.

“I still get terrified of you. Paralyzed by fear and all the adrenaline in the moment makes me lose my mind but when I stop and really look at you, I see something I don’t see in the others.” The fog swirled around and drifted in the space between the two of you. If there were crickets in this realm of shadow and nightmares, then they would have been the only creatures making noise.

“You don’t even know me, Dwight”. There was a sadness in your tone, your shell unwillingly crumbling under the gaze of the nervous man before you. He had some kind of spell over you and you had no control over it. Maybe it was subconscious pity or maybe he reminded you of someone you knew in your previous life. Whatever it was, Dwight was the one with all the power right now and for a brief second, it scared you. It wasn’t his job to care for you or pity you or see you as a person or…

“I’m not someone you can save Dwight.” Your voice was now only above a whisper, breathless and surprisingly gentle. What was he doing to you? Why were you always so nice to him? So lenient with your rules and merciful with your torture. He always made you hesitate and that hesitation is going to come back and bite you in the ass one of these days. Maybe today was one of those days. “Don’t try to save me Dwight. Because I will treat you the same way everyone else does.” You took a step closer to him and he quickly raised his brown eyes up to yours. You were so much bigger than him, he felt a twinge of fear as you loomed him but it fizzled out when Dwight caught the look in your eyes. There it was. That unexplainable thing he always sees in you. Was is sympathy? Remorse? No. Neither. But…

“I will treat you like everyone else.” You said again, deeper and with a hint of forced malice in your words. “Except I will leave you bleeding or dead.” There was another long stretch of silence between you two, so thick that it could be cut with a knife. For once Dwight didn’t shy away from the situation, he stood tall and faced you head-on. You had to give it to him, he was strong when he needed to be. In a very unexpected move, Dwight took a step closer to you and held your stare firm in his own.

“I don’t care. You have… done this for me so many times before. Spared me and guided me to the hatch. I’ve told you my name and you’ve told me yours. You’re nothing like the other killers. There’s something to you, and I…I…” Suddenly he faded. His confidence seeped out of him in an instant and for a second you feared he wouldn’t finish his thought. You wanted to press him to continue, a desperate pleading part of your once-human self begging for the man to rescue some part of you, to look inside and find a sliver of goodness and of something worthwhile. But the rest of you didn’t move, didn’t make a noise and didn’t show any sign of your internal struggle. Dwight took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so as if trying to mentally prepare himself for a grueling task. He let out the air through his mouth and in one swift sentence proclaimed, “I want to get to know you better. I want to see you outside!” Dwight’s face flushed while yours remained shocked and stone-like. Why on Earth would he want to meet you outside a trial? You were so cruel to him? So vile and twisted. A monster. And he was so good and kind and he had the gentlest eyes and the softest hands and… You were brought out of your thoughts when Dwight began to babble with embarrassment and throw his hands up.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean anything by that! I just… I was-” Dwight’s rambling was cut off by your loud and booming laughter. He looked up at you and felt the ground rumble as you closed your eyes and laughed at the utter ridiculousness of the whole situation. For a moment Dwight forgot what you were, your ability to kill and maim people pushed out of his mind as he saw before him a person double over with laughter. You were a person to him, misguided but still able to be salvaged. Dwight watched as you straightened yourself and, with a smile on your lips, you turned to him. Suddenly Dwight felt very hot and he felt weak in his knees. But it wasn’t fear that was making him feel this powerless, it was something else. Something thus far unexplainable.

“Dwight.” You said through pants of giggles, taking a hand and brushing away a tear from your eye. “Are you asking me on a date?” Dwight’s eyes widened but after realizing you were joking with him decided to play along.

“I mean,” he put a hand behind his head and the other on his hip, trying to look cool in a posture that portrayed his debonair personality. “I don’t know the area very well but I’m sure we can find ourselves a nice restaurant or something.” You couldn’t help but grin at the idiot.

“Very well.” You finally stood back up to your full height and brought back your composure. Dwight dropped his arms, afraid he might have said something wrong. You passed him one last cheeky look. “As long as you are paying for dinner.”

You waited on the edge of your realm, the cold wind of the forest sweeping through the trees and bringing with scent of the wood. You had been waiting for a while now, and you were starting to get worried. There was still no sign of Dwight, you couldn’t smell him or sense his approach. For a fleeting moment, you feared you might have been stood up when suddenly you had the urge to go into the forest. Something beyond the darkness called to you and you knew you had to follow it. Your instincts have yet to fail you so in an instant you bolted into the mist and moonlight.

There was an unknown urgency in your running. Whatever was calling to you was in dire need and you knew you hadn’t a moment to waste. Your feet moved on their own, taking you down pathways and through trees seemingly without direction until eventually, you found him. Dwight. You halted, your eyes taking in his shaking form hiding in a bush with his handclasp tightly over his mouth. He barely turned to look at you before you were already by his side. Your hands hovered over his trembling shoulders, wary to touch him and hurt him any further. Your mouth opened to ask him if he was alright when there was a crunch in the grass in front of you.

You snapped your head towards the noise and was greeted by the killer known as The Ghost face. His shoulders seemed to shake as he chuckled and edged closer to Dwight’s position. The smaller man stalked towards you, like a smaller wolf would approach the bigger one, eager for the kill yet cautious of the other killer. He knew Dwight was there but stayed away because now you were here. You straightened up, standing to your fullest and glared at the other. He froze, unsure. Nothing was spoken but he got the message. Back off lest he die. Ghost face’s gaze seemed to linger between you and the bush before slowly slinking off to whatever hole he crawled out of. You made sure he left before lowering yourself to Dwight’s level. He had tears in his eyes and his hands were white with fear. You felt something swell within your chest.

“I-I’m sorry.” He managed to wheeze out in-between gasps of breaths. “H-He followed me. And I-I panicked. I didn’t mean to…” You couldn’t handle it anymore and very hesitantly placed your large hand on his shoulder

“No. No.” You tried your best to soothe him, your voice uncharacteristically soft and tender. He had you under his control again and you were once again helpless to stop it. “No Dwight. I should apologize. I asked you to come out here to meet me. If anything it’s my fault, I shouldn’t of - “. You were abruptly cut off when two arms wrapped themselves around your neck. You froze under his touch but Dwight didn’t let go. All he wanted to do was hold onto you, show his appreciation for you through his actions. He was also so scared and you were so solid, warm and big. He had never touched you before and he hoped it wasn’t the last time. His mind finally caught up with his body and he quickly retreated back.

Dwight’s face burned red with embarrassment and he was glad for the darkness to hide his flushed cheeks. But when he caught sight of your face he stopped. You were still yet there was this sort of pleading to you. Your eyes were wide, not from disgust or disrespect, but from shock. Your mouth hung open like a fish and Dwight was afraid he had somehow broken you when very quietly you whispered, “Again. Hold me… Again.” He didn’t need to be told twice. His arms snaked their way around your neck and he happily buried his head under your chin. He felt you breathing and although no words were exchange he knew what you were thinking.

“You’re not all bad,” Dwight mumbled into your skin making you shiver. “You deserve to try again.” He felt you shake around him and he held you tighter. Our own hands finally began to wind themselves around him in return until you were both wrapped in each other embrace.

“You are too kind Dwight.” Your chest rumbled as you spoke making Dwight unconsciously hum along with you. The heat from your body was making his glasses fog up. “This can only end badly. For the both of us.” He waited a moment before slowly nodding. He had accepted his fate the moment he decided to ask for your name. You felt his hands twitch as they waited for your answer. After a second you sighed and closed your eyes, leaning into his dirty brown hair.

“Hold me tighter Dwight.” Dwight realized then what that something was that made you special. He saw your humanity, even as you massacred and broke the bones of the innocent, Dwight saw you; a scared, lost person afraid in the dark never to be saved. Dwight saw himself in you, alone in the woods abandoned by everyone. But he had the power now. He had the power to make you feel not so alone and he was going to try his damndest to be there for you. That is if you would have him. By the way, you clung to him, your nails tearing small holes into his shirt, Dwight already knew your answer.

He wasn’t a strong man by any means, by in moments of need he pulls through and proves to everyone that he is worth attention and you are worth saving.

#dbd #dbd dwight fairfield #dbd x reader #gryffs april event #this took forever #and is really shit #but i vibe

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grumpygreenwitch · 4 years

Text

Summer Gardening.

So it’s been a while, and for that I apologize to the... 200+ people who follow me. I’m sure y’all are here for the cat pics and the nekked men, but TOO BAD. Today you get to suffer through pics of my green children. Also, I do share seed. My seed list link will be up later in the year. To begin with, the summer flowers are out en force:

Echinacea Purpurea, the original echinacea. I do save yearly seed from these guys, although it’s an incredibly pointy, stabby and bleed-y job.

Mountain Phlox. Unfortunately, all of it around the house is afflicted with powdery mildew, so I will not share seed. But it’s still pretty to look at, and the clearwings (hummingbird moths) love it. Not pictured is the white variant, who grows on the other side of the house. Look, it was hot and I was already melting.

Peppermint Balsam. This thing is basically indestructible, for an annual. It will reseed freely (to truly Lovecraftian levels) and blooms continuously from late spring until mid-fall, when the seed-pods set. There is a dormant genetic in it for double flowers, but when it pops up it’s always been sterile. It just pops up occasionally from the peppermint seed.

I may give the roommate hell over the hostas (I hate them. They’re so useful to protect toads and control weeds, but I hate them), but they do put out pretty flowers. There are several variants around the house - white-edged, blue and green, but hostas in general are very, very hard to start from seed. I will save it on request, only. We were also incredibly lucky to have a Moth Mullein sprout in our porch bed, along with some Variegated Solomon’s Seal.The SS doesn’t put out seeds, and I don’t have enough to share bulbs (yet), but the mullein has been exceptionally generous with seed pods, and it repels bugs. It repels ROACHES. It’s going everywhere. And I may be convinced to part with some seed.

Onward!

A view from a hill. Can you see the garden? That’s OK, I can’t either. Those are peach trees, on the side of the orchard closest to the house. Unfortunately a freak storm during early spring killed all the blossoms. Also, don’t mistake ‘orchard’ for ‘organized’. There’s a pear, some apples, a plum, some nectarines? And front and center are two walnuts. I’ll probably be plunking my laurel there to see if it survives winter. And someday when I have a job and money again, I would like to drop a few Chicago Hardy figs, and maybe a kiwi trellis.

This is the big garden (and fortunately not my responsibility, or I would cry). The guys are ‘handling’ it. The weeds say otherwise.

The jasmine tree and the roommate’s garden. Because of a bad back injury that refuses to heal, I’ve been helping them on and off with it. And if you thought jasmine was supposed to stay a delightful little bush, AHAHAHAHAH. Yes, that’s a light-post next to it. For size comparison.

MY CHILDREN. Please ignore the dead soccer ball. That’d be a dog toy.

Lemon balm, amaranth, and a new bed that I’ll be finishing off during fall, for use next year. The lemon balm is a permanent row - it will overwinter just fine, and it will even keep growing through the mildest part of December. Mine didn’t die back until a few solid days of sleet in January. Unfortunately the weed fabric under the amaranth turned out to be an old roll, and fell apart on me (no big, the whole point is for it to fall apart eventually), so the weeds have kinda eaten it alive.

Unfortunately, both cucumber beetles and blister beetles love the amaranth. Fortunately, it does not seem to give a damn. It’s an incredibly resilient plant, not minding weeds, bugs, flood or drought. We’ll see what the grain actually tastes like, but so far it’s looking like a good candidate for continuous growing.

The lemon balm is lemon-balming. Planted on a lark, it’s proven to be a fantastic wind-breaker - because it grows so early and so quick, it keeps the colder winds that come down through the hollow from my more fragile seedlings, like the lettuce, dill and cilantro. You can see here where the spent flower-heads are dying but there’s new growth underneath; I really have to get in there and behead it. It makes nice hot tea, meh cold tea, and hanging fresh bunches of it around the balcony keeps the skeeters off. It also seems to be a decoy for cabbage moths.

Canary Zinnia. The seed was sent to me as a gift with one of my seed orders, and this is my first year growing it. -If- I can save some, I’ll definitely be sharing and growing again. It’s a lovely plant, very sturdy, and the bees love it.

Dwarf Castor Oil. I don’t think there’s anything dwarf about it, but then I’m a short green witch myself, so maybe it’s all about perspective. Don’t let the pods lie to you, until they dry the spikes are relatively soft. However, it being castor oil, I don’t recommend it to anyone with ducks, chickens, goats, or anything that might accidentally try talking a nibble or pecking at the beans. I do, however, recommend them from jewelry if you know how to pierce things and so on. They are a gorgeous tiger-stripe pattern.

Say hello to the chard! Say goodbye to the chard! Nothing else, absolutely nothing else since the limas, has given me so much trouble. The deer love getting into my chard bed and destroying it (ergo all the forks). And once I managed to chase those off, the blister beetles showed up in force. This will be the last year I grow it - we just don’t eat enough of it to make it worth my while, and it only occasionally sold at the Farmers’ Market.

Red lettuce - Merlot and Lollo Vino, a combination of bought and saved seed. I planted a red romaine of some sort, too, but unsurprisingly it bolted in the heat. The darker reds of my favorites, though, keep bugs off them, keep deer from noticing them, and keep them from bolting. It’s just now threatening to, and at this point its kind of allowed. I need more seed for next year. Seed for this will likely be shared by the teaspoon-ful.

Calendula! I searched for a long time to find the plain ol’ calendula officinalis ancestor, rather than a cultivar where I would have no way of knowing if the medicinal principles would have been sacrificed for looks. It’s supposed to work well as poor man’s saffron (color, no taste), and I’m going to be soaking the heck outta my feet on it during winter. The plant is... not pretty. It gets leggy and the leaves get grotty very quickly. But it’s very sturdy and as long as you cut the flowerheads off as fast as you can, it’ll keep blooming until well into winter. I usually leave it to go to seed around late September.

Green cilantro seeds. You pick ‘em when they’re brown, but before they drop off the plant. Or you pick ‘em when they’re brown-ing, and put them in a paper bag so they’ll finish ripening there and you don’t end up with fifty wild cilantro plants in your garden >_> Most of the row is already gone, and I’ll be putting in a late dill crop in its place. No such thing as too much dill!

Don’t let lemongrass lie to you. Unless you tie it up, it will not grow up neat and tidy, as most grass does. Instead it will sprawl like a dramatic wilting Elizabethan lady and do its best to end up under your feet so you’ll feel bad about it. I just tie it up with a half-blade of grass; it dries up and withers away before it can hurt the plant.

I ordered pennyroyal seed because... Well, because it’s something one should have on hand, considering the way the world is going. What I got was Creeping Pennyroyal, which doesn’t care if you step on it (mint family), smells absolutely delightful, and has the most adorable, tiny purple flowers. I plan on harvesting, drying and sprinkling it everywhere in the crawlspace under the house. Making war on cave crickets, wood roaches, and other such sundries, me.

The thyme and Spicy Oregano took a beating in the heat, but they’re slowly bouncing back. The bed behind them is more pennyroyal, desperately in need of weeding, but there’s only one of me, y’know.

SIGH. Just. You absolute, ill-mannered monster of a creature. That would be horseradish, gloriously happy to be alive, as horseradish should be. Also, NOT IN ITS BASKET. Because never mind the rules, I guess.

I don’t even know how I’m gonna dig that up come winter. With some construction equipment, I GUESS.

Decorative gourd! It’s the only one producing so far, but being the seed was 10+ years old, I’m very pleased.

And an apple gourd (I think?), from a mixture of drying gourds that was only slightly less ancient. Snake, apple and birdhouse gourds. There’s a bunch of them competing in the basket at this point, we’ll see what we will see.

And this, I think, is a great use of a dead canopy frame (the dogs ate the canopy. No, I’m not making it up.) I hope to coax the gourds to grow me a lil’ roof so I can sit in shade, surrounded by pennyroyal anti-skeeter barriers, eating my maters.

My Peter Peppers (nrehehehehe) aren’t producing yet - it takes them a while. But my Chinese 5-Color are getting started. It’s a lovely pepper, both edible and ornamental, with (so I’m told) about four times the heat of a Jalapeno. They’re tiny, with deep purple undertones to the plant. They’ll go purple-white-yellow-orange-red.

The bullhorns, on the other hand, are fairly sizable SWEET peppers on very tiny plants, and I honestly suggest staking them while they’re young so they grow a sturdy trunk, else you might end up with all of them growing at a slant.They’re just now beginning to turn colors. Keeping in mind I’m virulently allergic to peppers (less so sweet than hot, but allergic to all of them), the roommate loves ‘em.

It’s a small pepper bed - mainly to refresh my seed on the hots, and to grow sweets for the roommate. Pardon the nekked bed, the autumn lettuce hasn’t sprouted yet. And yes, that’s a mixed basil/dill bed next to it. My basil grew in patchy holes (NEVER buying from those seed people again), so I filled the holes with dill. Unfortunately, dill seed heads are so fine that they’re hard to photograph well.

The tomato row. After arguing with them for this long, I went the extra mile. Every plant has a metal stake. There’s also a double line growing at the top supporting the stakes so they don’t fall over. And they still fell over. Because why not, you unruly children, why not.

Green, white, pink and brown cherry tomatoes. Delicious!

Two kinds of cucumbers, some of the only decent shots of the dill seed-heads, and a special guest hiding in the shade. I usually plant dill as soon as the cucumber sprouts, to keep cucumber beetles off it. Otherwise I’d have no cucumbers and a lot of fat beetles.

The Muncher is a small cucumber, somewhat delicate. It’s very sensitive to temperature changes, and it’s candy to cucumber beetles - basically, it’s impossible to grow it without a heavy curtain of dill, or a heavy duty decoy. This year I got lucky enough to have both. It’s also delicious pickled, keeping its crunch and getting a good ooomph in flavor.

The Japanese Long is, as the name implies, long. It’s also incredibly bitey, and absolutely scrumptious. It’s sweet! And unlike the average cucumber, it does not go metallic when salted.

And now for the SPECIAL CHILD OF MY HEART. Seriously. I have been lusting after Blue Tea Peas since I first saw them offered, and every single time they’d be sold out pretty much the day of. This year I finally got some and... remember me mentioning that freak freeze that killed the peach blossoms? Yeah. Guess what it also killed. But two plants soldiered on. I have them heavily shielded by the cucumbers, dill and chamomile, and really I have no words for the blue. Pics don’t do it justice. I won’t have the tea this year, I’m saving as much seed as I can, but I am so pleased to have it at all!

Last, but not least, and it’s a poor shot of it, the chamomile. I cannot drink chamomile to sleep - it does put me to sleep, but it also gives me bad dreams. I plan on using it as a skin wash for all the bug bites, along with the calendula, and to give me some respite from dry skin during winter.

Stay green! See you in fall! Now back to our normal schedule of frogs, cats and nekked men!

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