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raccoons-inked-quill · 3 years

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Stroll to Ingloslaght

Desc:

After months of being rejected for his morbid countence,the creature seeks revenge for his woes,now proceeding to Ingloslaght, to end the one who had this disaster all begun.

On his way,however,he stops for directions from a man seemingly in a bit of a predictament, having lost his glasses,a perfect and treasured opportunity to converse sans considering his frightening appearance

Author notes:

My God i wrote this like. Months ago and then got stuck hdhdhd. I may continue as a second chapter later? But I left the ending a tad open ended since I got stuck on it so long.

For weeks I treaded amongst the depths of the woods ,my grotesque figure hidden from the likes of man's gaze by the fortunate shade. And for what reason must I so meticulously lurk in these dreaded woodlands, woven through thorns and branches,to preserve my sight from humanity? The very burning passion that has kept me on my feet ,who's written words regarding myself have sent me on this prolonged travels. It was this man himself,by the name of Victor Frankenstein, whom had so cruelly sculpted me into my detestable shape. And it was that very man I treaded onwards in hopes he will be sought out. That for being forsaken to dispose existence upon me in this wretched condition by his own hands,he will pay with the likes of his own life.

After such travels, my fruition drew closer. I arrived to the borders of Ingloslaght. What an enlightening concoction had ignited within me then. I was grappled and willingly overtaken by rage and euphoria,but yet a vaguely present melancholy festered despite my wishes for it to abstain.

Then proceeded a new realization within me. I knew the man by name,but not by his appearance. Only scarce remnants of the man I remember. Youth still very much blessed his visage, yet at the same time,he in no manner was remotely vigorous. The man held a starking contrast in the fact that he nonetheless appeared entirely unkempt and teetering on the brinks of life and death much too early if his youthful features stood true.

It was by these aspects alone I must go by,as all else in my mind I only recall as a blur,and that leaves me a far too broad description.

My conclusion, was that I must temporarily reveal myself in order to acquire where the fool resided. I had an inkling of an idea given by the brief details provided in his journal. He attended university, and his teachings he received was made up of atleast two professors. Krempe and Waldman. This aside,I knew I soon will be forced to inquire to someone amongst mankind,likely by force given I know well enough my looks will not provide me to any civil conversation.

It was by this thought my vehement dedication was temporarily stunted by dread.

I was moved to only scratch the brinks of the town,and could not bring myself to any confrontation even when opportunity seemed fit. Everytime,I found myself grow close to presenting myself,only to draw gingerly away. The only hope that spared my sense of confidence was that I came closer to enacting out this deed when I thought out my motivations, of avenging myself by the fated and horrid death of Victor Frankenstein .

For once life granted me a faithful advantage,one that had so fortunately removed the need to inquire upon a member of humanity with the complexities that came with force. Whilst making my typical rounds around the outer trails of Ingloslaghts nature,I stumbled upon a pair of glasses that had evidently not been there long,as there was a lack of dirt and cracks upon it that would not be possible if it were there for more then a day.

I glanced forwards,and immediately met whom I assumed to be their owner. I froze in my posture as the young man had glanced upon me,surely certain that he would remark in terror upon my ghastly form. Then enthrallingly,he only smiled politely. He spoke in a language I couldn't seem to make sense of,so I had quite discomfortedly added that I could not make sense of him in my native tongue. To yet more of my surprise,he seemed to light up upon hearing it,recognizing it as if it were his own.

"Sir! Hello,it seems I may have to request of you some help,if you don't take it as too much a grievance. I seem to have misplaced something gravely vital,my glasses,and I was wondering if you had caught sight of it."

I couldn't seem to place my finger on the particular origin of his accent, but I had assumed it to be to some form of a French speaking country. I picked up the glasses from where they lay perched in the ground,my grasp on them light.

"Afraid not." I responded.

"Do you think it will be much trouble to you on your own ? It seems that you've been rendered utterly blind without them,it will be of no trouble to my time to lend aid."

The man's eyes took a final glance at the ground below,as what I had considered to be his last resort. Of course, the poor soul had resigned his search and looking displeased but nonetheless unsurprised,he sheepishly nodded.

"I assume I'll be forced to manage,I have a spare somewhere at home." He concluded with a faint disappointment

"I think I may have caught sight of a glimmer not too far off the trail here,some sort of glass."

This statement had gotten his attention,as he ever so slightly had tilted his head in intrigue

"Oh! Would you mind to show me where you'd spotted it?"

I cheerfully obliged, indulging him in the lie I had swiftly constructed. It would be simple and quick, I reasoned, to quickly converse with this man about the whereabouts of my wretched creator. I had thought to myself that he hadn't appeared much older in comparison, a part of me took an unnerving familiarity in him,thus I assumed this reasoning to be a fair explanation.

He wobbled forwards,his balance faltering on more than one instance. If not already clear by his absent remarks acknowledging my form,the way he had stumbled forwards in absolute obliviousness to his surroundings had distinguished it well enough. Easily I took pity upon the fellow,as he unlike Delacey hadn't frequented the ability to navigate without the sense of sight.

Evidently he was mildly displeased with the aid,more in resent towards having come off needy. He made certain it wasn't in direction towards myself,as the faint polite smile had returned to his face when he had looked upon me.

"I apologize,you must find yourself vexed to be so suddenly tied to these tasks. I hope I haven't burdened your walks,or whatever finds you out here in these trails."

"I reside not far off from here,in not much more then a humble hut,but it is a temporary abode. There is no place i find myself long."

"Ah,a traveler,I presume?"

I analyzed this title placed onto me,and found it a fair summary. Since the Delacey's,there is truly no place shall I find myself confined,I must always be in travel,to preserve myself from the likes of man. A tinge of frustration had emerged within me,and once more i was reminded of what I was in need of doing.

"I suppose so. But there is.."

I had struggled to put to proper words,a fair description to my enemy without revealing suspicion in such open malice.

"Someone,in which I plan to visit."

He nodded once more,that grin still on his face,strangly its formal politeness presented as if it were something he had long rehearsed,as if he found the intricacies of small talk alike to following the script of a play.

Although I found my task to be in dire need of proceeding too,I felt the desire to converse further. As it is with no other since Delacey I had experience to even a brief casual exchange as this. I took graciously to not waste the rarity of the moment,where I would not be taken in my grotesque glory,but as if I were no more revoltingly significant then any other human individual.

"I must ask myself,it is rare that I am to witness any other walk amongst these parts. What is it that has lead you here?"

He trailed down to look upon his hands, which rested a leathered notebook in one and a twirling quill in another,spinning with a repetitive motion.

"It is these parts that my dearest friend Henry has frequently visited and discussed fondly of. He is a man who partakes immensely in the pleasures of its nature.

I cannot repay the abundance of compassion he has recently displaced upon me. I am not too well in demonstrating my care,as passionate as it comes. However, I reckoned it would please him if I had sketched out these places,as a souvenir."

"I may confess,that I often am lead to consider my life nothing more then wretched,but it is in nature in which none are spared of its serenity that I find peace. I am certain he will find much appreciation in it permanently preserved. Do you mind if I see it?"

He chuckled then,clearly happy i had taken interest ,and he had shifted from his rehearsed nature to something that appeared to be more geniune.

"Certainly! Though I haven't quite finished nor fixed its mistakes,and I can't seem to do so in my current condition"

I took the notebook from my remaining free hand,my other still enveloped around his glasses to prevent revealing their shape,which I reckoned he would distinguish in the blur.

Haphazardly, I had found myself on his stated works. Of course,there on the page remained an illustration that had captured the epitome of our surroundings embodied by a diverse array of ink strokes. I smiled on it fondly,taking much fascination in its dedication. In this admiration I found a sense of tragedy. What anomaly had I befallen then!

Mankind had possesed the likes to bring into reality the upmost wonderous of creations,how fascinating do I find this feeble man's illustrations,of which intricately demonstrate the scenery before us embodied with its own sense of beauty. More on this I reminisced,beyond that of this particular man. How oft had I become to being moved by the words of Milton and Goethe,which they had just alike he before me, in their own manner intimately captured the complexities of the world accompanied by their own beauty. It was by mankind's creations had built the backs of my own character, and made a good expanse to my knowledge. How cruel is it,then,that just as capable of bestowing this lovely artistry,that one outlier had fabricated the wretch that is myself, exempt from the beloved due to how morbidly I was devised.

"Im more than certain your friend will find themselves pleased,you have an immense talent. I hope you dont find this rude, may I request on you a favor?"

The man grinned still ,pleased by the praise,but had once again paused to construct a response to what had followed.

"You may,i suppose i do owe you one for the troubles. Though I am not sure if I am in position to do what you request."

"Its simply no more then a nagging question"

I had looked towards him to say this,and again I had been struck with a surreal distant familiarity to this man's features. Infesting my mind with an entourage of haunting explanation. The frail face of the man,in the same nature of distant memory evidently young yet prematurely frail and worn. "Have i irked you?"

The man interupted

"It is not thus,no manner have I been disturbed,rather simply I am lost in a rather unrelated contemplation"

"What must that be?"

I found it proper then to ask,as much I had appreciated the time spent in engaging conversation, I must not let the topic at hand i had brought myself forth in confronting this man to be forgotten so wrecklessly. It would be soon enough that one would tire of this conversation and he may request of a continued search in his spectacles that I held within my hand to his lacking knowledge.

"Do you know of a Victor Frankenstein?"

"Know of?"

Theres a bewilderment in his voice.

"I am Victor Frankenstein."

In this abhorrent revelation, the glasses, once held quietly in my grasps, cracked from the palms of my despicably putrid hands,piercing skin. A putrid nature only given to me by the young man before me. This wretched boy's countence,by no surprise to his timid nature,shifted to a cowardly form. A realization,though not yet of my identity.

"Were those my glasses?"

He remarked,distressed.

In this flurry of a moment,I came to a response. An excuse no less,the boy would continue to live in obliviousness.

"Id stepped on them,it seems,I'm dreadfully sorry to that."

"Oh,thats-thats-uh..rather unfortunate."

He had come to a loss of words, he was quiet,his hand now anxiously squeezing his arm in what was presumed an unconscious effort by cause of his ever growing anxiousness.

"I do have a spare at home though I really would hate to inconvenience you more with this task at hand then I already did. Though I think its a rather potent risk of me to try and return by my lonesome. My vision is absolutely poor,and without them I am rendered close to blind."

I was fairly indecisive, this man before me. That whom brought upon my miseries,now by his lonesome was in evident need of attendance, mine specifically as we stood alone,although in that lies the issue that the wretch stood none the wiser that I am vehemently scorned by his faults.

I should find this a perfect opportunity in evoking destruction, of letting out my more cruel nature that he too held to creating by his neglectful devices. Yet all the same,I was hesitant in acting forth my vengence. Perhaps,if I move him further off from the sights of the town,I may find better opportunity and courage in his killing.

"I can attend to that. Though if you may see this option fit,I would have drastic preference that I am to partake in the sceneic walk. I am alike you an admirer of nature,and one whom does not fair well amougst the vast crowds of townsfolk. "

He gave no verbal reply to this,instead,he gestured out to extend his arm,to which I obliged in holding rather awkwardly. Off we had proceeded,towards the depths of the woods to which no man would follow. Perhaps,my hesitancy would leave me then.

#this is NOT shippy btw. please do not take it as so #frankenstein #mary shelly's frankenstein #writing #victor frankenstein #fanfic

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Vikings Season 6: How Lagertha’s Legacy Lives On

https://ift.tt/3n3LEgt

This article contains Vikings season 6 spoilers.

With the release of season 6 part two on Dec. 30, Vikings has come to an end. While the spinoff Vikings: Vahalla is set to premiere on Netflix sometime in 2021, it will pick up the story of the Viking and Anglo-Saxon conflict 100 years after the last events depicted in the original series. Thus the series finale of Vikings means we are saying goodbye to all the characters whose exploits viewers have enjoyed these last seven years. Whether in the flesh or in flashbacks, this is the final farewell. And no character will be missed so much as Lagertha.

When Vikings began, in the spring of 2013, it was a largely misunderstood enterprise (and still continues to be, by some). Premiering as it did on the History Channel, a cable channel best known for its WWII/Hitlerian focus in the 90’s and more current shows like Pawn Stars and Swamp People, many assumed that Vikings was a testosterone-heavy fight-fest created to feed the key male 18-49 year-old demographic that the network targets.

But that was never really the intention of creator/writer/showrunner Michael Hirst. As Hirst tells Den of Geek, women, particularly Viking queen Lagertha (Katheryn Winnick), were always supposed to be central in the series’ storytelling.

“I was hoping she would be popular,” Hirst says. “History Channel is a male-viewed channel. And I think History Channel initially picked the show up because they thought it would appeal to that natural base. That they thought, ‘Well, you know, it’s obviously going to be a show full of battles and fights and so on.’ But I always thought it was going to be about Lagertha as much as Ragnar. And I like writing with women.”

Hirst’s focus paid off. Women, like myself, eventually found (generally through word of mouth) the series, and we loved what we saw. Lagertha and the rest of the women on the show were more than pretty faces and eternal victims. They ran the gamut from the initially innocent and oppressed Anglo-Saxon Judith (Jennie Jacques) to soft-power-wielding Gisla (Morgane Polanski) and Aslaug (Alyssa Sunderland) to shield-maidens like Torvi (Georgia Hirst) and Gunnhild (Ragga Ragnars).

But it wasn’t simply the variety of types of women on the show. It was that none of them were ever simple and they were never just plot devices. Whatever label their cultures applied to them, they have always exceeded them. The women of Vikings have been spouses, parents, politicians, strategists, lovers, and friends—everything that their male counterparts were, and often more successful in their endeavors than those men. It was surprising, and on a show like Vikings, something rarely seen on American television.

And Lagertha—farmer, visionary, wife of Ragnar, mother of Bjorn Ironside and Gyda, shield-maiden, Jarl and Kattegat’s queen in her own right— was the first among the women we tuned in to watch. Which pleased her creator.

“What was wonderful for me was that the show, on History Channel, was getting 50/50 male/female viewership,” Hirst says. “In other words, particularly Lagertha was making women watch the show. And it was about so much more than fights and battles and things. So I was really proud of that. And I think that Katheryn was just brilliant in the role.”

And she has been. Appearing in over 80 episodes (and directing season 6A’s “Valhalla Can Wait”), Winnick shows up more than any other actor, and helped the show bridge the gap when Hirst’s other primary antagonist, Ragnar, was killed off. Doomsayers predicted the end of the series after the departure of Travis Fimmel’s excellent Viking legend. But Winnick and Lagertha went a long way in ensuring we continued to stay engaged and tuning in.

Not that everyone was pleased. From the start, there has always been some Internet criticism of Lagertha that accuses the character of “forced feminism,” ahistorically expansive sexuality, and the impossibility of the existence of actual “shield-maidens.” Some have even argued that women do not possess the physical strength to wield historically accurate Viking weapons (despite watching female actors, Winnick and Georgia Hirst specifically, regularly do just that on Vikings on a regular basis).

In fact, Lagertha appears to be closer to the truth than even many historians assumed when the show began seven years ago. According to the series’ historical consultant and writer Justin Pollard, not only was “Viking society, for all of its apparent terrors to Christians, a much more egalitarian society than Christian society, and women had a much stronger role in it,” but despite “quite a lot of howls of complaint, since then, we’ve found a number of excavated bodies, often excavated in the 19th century, that have been reanalyzed and now been shown to be women.”

The most famous of these is the grave of what many historians had referred to, up until 2017, as the archetypical “ultimate Viking” of the tenth century, found on the island of Birka, Sweden. First discovered and documented in 1878, it was assumed to be the skeletal remains and grave items of a male warrior—sword, spear, axe, arrows, shields, etc. One year after Vikings premiered, an analysis of the pelvic bones and jaw by bioarchaelogist Anna Kjellström strongly suggested that the skeleton was that of a woman. In 2017, analysis of the DNA and Strontium isotypes on the skeleton by a team led by Charlotte Hedenstierna-Jonson confirmed that the body was a woman, and consistent with the geographic profile of someone having lived in the correct place to be a Viking.

Lagertha, and women like her, weren’t a modern-day invention—Hirst’s women warriors were a strangely prophetic echo from the past.

Vikings Ending Explained

By Jamie Andrew

Nor are women incapable of the type of fighting we get to watch on the show. I brought up the point when I interviewed Clive Standen (Rollo) a few years ago, asking whether it was odd having Winnick, who stands as much as a foot shorter and weighs half as much than many of her male co-stars, on the battlefield. He laughed outright, assuring me that the actress, who holds black belts in two martial arts and founded three martial arts schools before the age of 22, is more than a match for those her character faces on the killing fields of Vikings–a not inconsiderable recommendation considering Standen’s own martial arts background. In other words, what we saw on the series was just as, if not more, real than the reality shows that make up a great deal of History Channel’s programming.

But whatever problems that naysayers may have had with the depiction of shield-maidens in general and of Lagertha in particular, her fans are legion and loyal. Word of her impending death began to circle as early as 2017. Article after article conjectured that she was always about to be killed off—even well past the point where most of Aslaug’s sons had given up their mission to avenge their mother.

So we had long been emotionally prepared for the death of the semi-retired Lagertha. That the means of her death was less glorious than the eventual end of her son Bjorn might have rankled had it not been so very much like the woman we have come to love. Both die in defense of their beloved Kattegat, but for Lagertha, the moment is about the heart of the show: family.

Vikings has always been less a historically-based action series and more a family drama told on an epic scale. And as it is as true now as then that rivalries and alliances, anger and empathy, misunderstanding and enlightenment, are constantly in flux in families. Lagertha has always had reason enough to hate her murderer. His birth alone might have earned him death at her hands. But like her equally illustrious partner Ragnar, she has never been as simple as the blood vengeance we traditionally and often erroneously associate with the Vikings.

Both are complicated characters, and capable of seeing the bigger picture when it comes to their family, to honor, to their fates. She recognizes that his actions are enough to rip apart the wounds only half healed among Ragnar’s sons. That she is able to comfort her own killer, to reassure him that he has done no more than live his destiny and hers, speaks to complexity and compassion all but absent in depictions of Vikings before the show began its run on History Channel.

And in that, Lagertha is precisely the embodiment of Hirst’s wish for the series:

“One of the things I most wanted to do was to overturn all the cliches about Vikings. I was told by some people at the beginning that I couldn’t really make a show about Vikings. Or, at least, I couldn’t make a show where Vikings were the heroes. Because they were always the Other. They’re the bad guys. They’re the people who come in the night and steal and rape and burn. And how could I make them heroic in any way? And of course, people thought they knew about the Vikings. Actually, they didn’t know anything, which is often the case. And so I thought, “Well, how do I show that?”

It turns out, you do it by creating a character like Lagertha. You do it by taking one of the most misunderstood members of a misunderstood culture and turn her into a hero who makes mistakes and silent sacrifices, enjoys triumphs and endures losses, bides her time and acts impulsively, regrets and doesn’t compromise, gives and takes, and loves and hates, and still goes on, even in death.

You make her one of us.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

And that’s why we have loved her, cheered her on, cried over her pain, and now mourn her end. Because Michael Hirst and Katheryn Winnick made Lagertha someone we could recognize some modicum of ourselves in, creating a link between Vikings of the 9th century and our own 21st century lives. She reminds us that carrying a sword in battle isn’t what makes a hero. Heroes are so much more than that, and while we will never wield axe or spear, the heroic is always within our own grasp.

The post Vikings Season 6: How Lagertha’s Legacy Lives On appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/387HG2f

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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revengeofthebluepen · 4 years

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Painted On With Laughter 22/23/24/25

Ch 22 Eight Letters

“(Name)!” yelled out the raven haired boy as (Name) closed her eyes. The tears were threatening to spill, she fought to stay strong.

__________________________________________________________

(Name) sat there under the tree her eyes closed, she took a shaky breath before opening them once more. Of all the people who would chase after her it was Dick. Of course she didn’t come alone. Tim had figured out that (Name) need her space once and awhile and this was one of those times, Dick and Barbara on the other hand hadn’t figured it out. (Name) climbed her way into the tree to escape them. Dick saw her and went after her as Barbara stayed on the ground. Barbara was fuming mad, (Name) thought it could be that she had told her secret to Dick.

“Vă rog (Name) [Please (Name),”

“Numai daca trimiti drumul,[Only if you send her away]” (Name) spoke quickly in Dick’s native tongue.

“Babara could you give us a moment please,” pleaded Dick with big blue eyes. Barbara still didn’t move. (Name) took a branch from the tree and broke it off as Dick continued to plead with Barbara. (Name) took the branch and broke it into small pieces and started to chuck them at Barbara, who started to yell at (Name).

“Quit being such a child (Name)!”

“Then give me some space!”

“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of me,” she shouted back

“Dick,”

“Hhm?”

“She’s sleeping with Bruce. She’s trying to be my mother,” Dick only heard the 1st part before jumping down to Barbara, both of them argued and (Name) sat in her tree listening. After an hour it seemed Barbara left in tears. (Name) felt like a horrible person for smiling for the action, but Barbara broke her down and now she could get her revenge. Dick looked broken but that didn’t stop (Name) from smiling, he had done the same to her and she wanted him to hurt, just for a little while. (Name) climbed down from her spot on the tree and took her seat from before. Dick took a seat across from her. He buried his face in hands, he was ready to cry. He had hoped to come back to (Name) they way she was and Barbara being friends. That everything was sorted out. As they years passed with him gone kept him updated, always positive things. Dick would have a lot to catch up on, and lots to talk to with Bruce.

“(Name), în cazul în care este Bruce, [where is Bruce?]”

“Calatorie de afaceri, timp de o săptămână, a plecat la zi. [Business trip, for a week he left today.]”

“Oh,”

The two sat in silence for a while til, Dick spoke up.

“Hey Grandma, Grandpa. I’m back,....god I feel stupid. How do you just sit and talk to the dead (Name)?” Dick questioned the (h/c).

“When you know someone so well, you know what their responses is. It's like being in a wave, you just get swept away.”

“Who’s the one next to you?” Dick asked motioning to Jason’s grave.

“Jason Todd, father took him after you abandoned us.”

“I didn’t abandoned you, I just wanted to give you and Barbara some space to fix things,” Dick said standing up. (Name) cleaned up her things and Dick helped her.

“I don’t think leaving without a trace counts as giving me space. Barbara bullied me to death literally and you just wanted us to patch it up?”

Dick stayed quiet making (Name) roll her eyes.

“Dick you’re a f****ing idiot. You abandoned us because you could handle the stress of it all. You ran from any responsibilities you had, any love you had and your friends. You left because you didn’t know how to fix things. You are disgusting human being there is no reason to ever do something like this. You a very craven man,” (Name) said as she placed her bag on her back and grabbed her guitar.

“You’re right I was scared and didn’t know what to do but what choice did I have?”

“Anything! You had so many other options, you could of talked to Bruce or me once I woke up, but instead you ran. Like a dog with your tail in between you legs. You could have done so many other things, Dick.” The two walked down the path together.

“I have eight letters on why I didn’t think of why I had no other option (Name).‘

“I have eight letters to respond to it,”

“(Name), I love you.”

“Bullsh!t.”

(Name) and Dick walked the rest of the path in silence. Dick finally understood there was no chance of (Name) and him going back to the way there were. The (Name) he knew was gone, but he still loved the beautiful woman before him. Even if she hated his guts.

“I’m sorry Tim,” (Name) said as she moved the chair and entered her room. She was met with Tim going through her things again. All of her circus things and the box that she had forbid. Tim quickly placed the items in the boxes they came from and (Name) rolled her eyes.

“Ce am de gând să fac cu tine?” (Name) said as she walked over to the boy on the floor.

“What did you say?” Tim asked as (Name) pulled him into a hug.

“What am I going to do with you?” (Name) said as she let go of Tim.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I know curiosity killed the cat,” Tim said as he motioned to the totes.

“Ah but enlightenment brought him back, Tim. Never limit your wonder for the world and people in it.”

(Name) and Tim went through her tote of things. There were photos, jackets, playing cards, teddy bears, and other things. Alfred brought the two their dinners in their room, while they went through things. Barbara and Dick sat down stairs in the dining room quietly eating their food. Every time Dick and Barbara were left alone the atmosphere became tense. Tim and (Name) lived their lives like normal as the days passed by. Upon the day of Bruce’s return Dick was nowhere to be seen. No one talked about Dick’s appearance and acted like life was normal. Tim and (Name) would work on their trapeze skills now that Dick was gone. Barbara and Bruce would do whatever they did before, even though (Name) caught them a few time talking about breaking up. Barbara unexpectedly brought it up.

On night while the three were on patrol, (Name) made her way down to the Batcave with Alfred. Bruce had seen off the day of his business trip and (Name) wanted to know a little more of where he went. It bugged (Name) to not know what he was keeping from her. She quickly hacked into the computer and looked through his plane log. He went to an Arabic speaking peninsula of China. They name was in Arabic and so (Name) was unable to read it. (Name) quickly wrote down it's coordinates before closing out of her things on the batcomputer. She cleared her activity and shut the computer of. Making her way upstairs she bid Alfred good night. (Name) would spend the next months trying to figure out just what was Bruce was doing. She would also try to learn the Arabic language. (Name) wasn’t the only one doing some snooping. Nightwing had watched Bruce and Tim as they went through their patrol.

“Nightwing what are you doing here?” questioned Batman ash Nightwing jumped onto the roof top.

“Just following a pattern of obsessive behaviors installed in me at a young age.”

They finished their patrols and head home. Greeted with Alfred who acted along with the others that Dick was there earlier.

With the dawn of a new day, there was pounding on (Name)’s door. She dragged herself out of bed. She had extreme bed head and could barely function. She opened her door and looked up to see, Dick and Bruce. Dick smiled and Bruce stood back nervously smiled. He had the I-lied-that-you-were-fine-and-so-please-act-so face. (Name)’s eyes locked with Dicks. He had caused her so much pain but when she looked at those baby blues she couldn’t hate him. She punched him square in the face before walking down the hall and kicking opening Tim’s door. She dragged Tim away from his computer where he was researching God knows what. Dick nursed his bleeding nose, as (Name) dragged Tim down the hall.

“Tim, meet the asshole who screwed me up for life. Mistake of my life, meet my little brother Tim,” (Name) said as she walked back into her room and slammed the door shut. She quickly changed and open the door, where the three males were talking.

“Let’s go bro we got work to do,”(Name) motioned for Tim to follow.

The group walked down to the gym where a table was set for Bruce and Dick tp eat and watch. (Name) and Tim climbed the ladders as the two older males took their seats. (Name) and Tim performed their routine over and over until (Name) was happy with it and then moved onto the next one.

“She’s still got it,” Dick said as he was memorized by her movements.

“I’m surprised all you got was a punch in the face, Dick.”

“She already made my life hell, I stopped by earlier this week.”

“I figured, there was a note in Romanian in my office.”

Dick wasn’t the one to write it but (Name) only wrote like that when it was for Dick. The day would continue to pass as (Name) would still beat up on Dick. One night he apologized for everything and (Name) stood there in silence for a moment before saying:

“You’re and idiot. I forgave you a long time ago, but I will never forget the hell you put me through.”

Dick and (Name) would never be romantically involved like they were but familiar strangers was good enough for Dick. He would have to baby step his way for them to be friends ok but he was fine that. If it was to make (Name) happy he would do so. He would take the smallest chance he could in order for them to be just friends. They years passed and (Name) kept tabs on her brother as the Phantom. She made sure he was safe as he became the Red Robin. She was proud to see him turn out alright. (Name) learned more about Bruce’s trip as she discovered who her mother was. She wanted to ask Bruce to let her go the next visit he went on but she held her tongue. She was dieing to meet her mother. One night during family dinner, the atmosphere wasn’t hostile so as everyone else left once finished she spoke:

“Father, would you mind telling me about my mother.”

“Would you like to meet her?”

“More than anything,”

Bruce called a family meeting explaining he and (Name) would be taking a trip out of the country for business. He explained how there was a diplomat who had another young daughter so they would be why he was taking (Name). They a week later. Tim hugged (Name) good bye before her and Bruce got in the car. Bruce would do anything for his baby girl, even if it meant they would travel halfway around the world.

Ch 23 Home Is Where The Books Are.

Nyssa and Talia sat in the main living room of the place as they watched Damian, Talia’s son, work on his martial arts. A guard whispered something to the Talia and she nodded. The grand doors opened and (Name) and Bruce walked in.

“Bruce it's nice to see you again,” said Talia as she walked her way up to Bruce. She dismissed the training and Damian to the other room. Nyssa sat there quietly but walked in, her eyes never leaving (Name).

“This is my daughter, (Name),” Bruce said as she introduced (Name) to Talia.

“Our daughter, Bruce, our,” said Nyssa. (Name) smiled as Nyssa walked up to her. Her mother pulled her daughter into a tight hug. Nyssa placed a hand on her cheek.

“You’ve become so beautiful, (Name). I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. My condolences for the Graysons, they were close friends of mine,” Nyssa said as she looked at (Name) fondly.

“I would like it if you would live here with me for awhile (Name),” Talia said as she placed a hand on her shoulder.

“That is if Bruce allows it and you wish to,” Nyssa chimed in.

“It's’ up to (Name), if you wish to stay for a while.”

“I would like to, but I need to talk it over with my brother.”

“Of course, my child. You can go home anytime if you wish so, if you decide to stay.”

(Name), Bruce, Talia and Nyssa all were lead to a grand dining hall to sit and eat. At dinner (Name) met Ra’s Al Ghul, which was her biological grandfather. He wasn’t to pleased with Bruce being there but was pleased to see a new possible heir bringer there, to continue his bloodline. (Name) met another boy there named Damian. He was her cousin, sort of. His mother was Talia who was sister of Nyssa. Bruce was both of their father, though Damian had no clue they shared a father. It was obvious why Ra’s Al Ghul wasn’t pleasent about Bruce being there. (Name) would spend the next couple of days debating if she would stay there for a few months or if she would go home. Damian was very cold to (Name) and her outside ways and there were no other children about. Talia and Nyssa both offered to educate (Name) in their way of life along with their cultures of the region they lived in. Two nights before (Name) was to leave she called Tim.

“Hi (Name), how's it going so far?”

“Amazing Tim. The food, the language, the culture all of it is amazing. I met my mother.”

“That’s amazing is she what you hoped she was like?”

“Everything and more, that's why I’m calling,”

Tim became silent on the other side.

“She’s offer me to stay for a month or two maybe longer, but I could come back anytime I wish, would you be fine with that?”

“Do you really want to drop everything to be with a woman you barely know?”

“I want a chance to have the mother I didn’t have, but”

“But what?”

“If you don’t want me to stay that long and far away from you, I will comeback tomorrow. I am asking if you are ok with all of this.”

“One condition, you have to call me at least once a day.”

“Wouldn't dream not doing so,”‘ (Name) said with a small chuckle.

Little did know there was a certain raven haired boy with gleaming ice blue eyes that match his father's. (Name) woke the next morning (Name) woke up in her room. The bed was a large circle with a thin curtain that draped over it. She had plenty of pillows and blankets. She moved the curtain out of way and was met with the same ice blue eyes that watched her. He wore a white shirt and matching pants. He looked like a karate kid but didn’t have the belt.

“صباح الخير [Good morning], Damian.”

“Mother sent me to get you,” with that said Damian left for (Name) to change. She wore a light (f/c) long flowing dress with a gold collar. With every step (Name) took she looked as if she was floating, she looked like an angel. It changed from (f/c) to white at the bottom of the long dress. She had long sleeves with slits along the length of it. She wore plenty of gold and jewels on her, requested of her from her mother. (Name) opened her chamber doors and was met with Damian sitting on the floor in front of the door.

“يحتاج الأطفال غاضب إلى أن مدغدغ [Grumpy children need to be tickled]” (Name) said as she bent down to Damian’s level. He narrowed his eyes as (Name) leaned forwards. She tackled him and tickled him. Damian fought to be free but gave up upon his first laugh. (Name) tickled Damian till she became tired. He had a huge smile spread across his face as both he and (Name) laughed in the hallway. Talia had come to see what was taking them so long and watched secretly. She hadn’t seen her child smile for a long time. (Name) and Damian came to breakfast and afterwards bid Bruce adieu. (Name) spent the rest of her day like her last several. After breakfast she would train with Talia and the other guards, then they would break for lunch. Following lunch, (Name) would learn about the language and culture, taught by her own mother. During these lessons (Name) and her mother would chat about their lives. They would become close over a short period of time. (Name)’s lessons would end at dinner and after that (Name) would be free to do whatever she pleased. (Name) would often call Tim and chat for an hour or so. Once finished (Name) would often wind up in the library or exploring the castle. On a particular night while (Name) was sitting in the library, Damian knocked on the door. The guards let him in and he walked over to (Name), who was sitting in a pile of pillows.

“[Hello]مرحبا, Damian,” (Name) said as she closed her book.

“مرحبا, (Name). What are you reading?”

“I just stared it, it's called Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I’ve already read it over a million times though.”

“Then why keep reading it over and over,” Damian questioned as he took a seat across from (Name).

“Because this book is magical, it hold great value to life.”

“Would you read it to me, once you’re done?”

“I can start over, I just read the 1st page.”

“شكرا لك أخت كبيرة [Thank you, big sister.]”

“فإنه ليس من شقيق مشكلة صغيرة [It's no problem little brother],” (Name) replied. Damian was shocked (Name) spoke the language fluently but he was appreciative that she had respected him as one of the immediately family, even if he didn’t think they were directionally related.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Name) started as she watched Damian's eyes fill with wonder with every word that she spoke.

(Name) and Damian would spend their evenings together and grow closer together. The days would turn into weeks and finally into months. As the days passed Damian found he felt like a child, as one should at that age, when he was with (Name). She was his saving grace from the stress and pressure of becoming Ra’s Al Ghul successor. (Name) was clueless to how she had saved Damian from his inner demons and he was thankful for her unrealized help. He could sleep through the nights without nightmares and face the stress of the new coming day.

At night when (Name) talked on the phone to Tim, Damian was jealous, never that he’d admit it. He didn’t know why but he felt like Tim was stealing her away. He would sit outside of (Name)’s room and listen to their conversation, or at least (Name)’s side, and wait till she was done to knock on her door to ask her to see him off to his bed. (Name) knew Damein was there, on the other side of her door, and figured he might become jealous but she wasn’t sure until a few night before she left to go home.

“Relax Tim I will be home tomorrow. Yes I know. No I will not bring back any foreign disease.”

There was a knocking on her door, (Name) suspected it to be Damian.

“Hold on Tim. أدخل [Come in]!” (Name) said and her suspicions were right. It was Damian. He didn’t look pleased with (Name).

“ شيئا؟ مرحبا أخي الصغير. هل تحتاج [Hello little brother. Do you need something?]”

Damian said nothing but sat next to his big sister on her bed. (Name) pulled Damian into a hug while he glared at the phone.

“هل ترغب في التحدث إلى أخي الآخر؟ [Would you like to talk to my other brother?]” (Name) asked with gentle eyes looking at Damian. He nodded and (Name) spoke into the phone:

“Hey Timmy my Damian, my little brother, wants to talk to you. ”

(Name) handed the phone over to Damian.

“She’s my sister, stay away from her or die,” He threatened through the phone. (Name) tried to quickly snatch the phone back but Damian was quick to hang it backup.

(Name) quickly ushered Damian out of her room without a word said. Damian was quite shocked at the action, and looked up at (Name) as she shoved him out of her room. (Name) eyes were filled with worry and disappointment and Damian knew he caused this. It was the first time he felt remorse for his actions. He had never disappointed anyone like this.

(Name) locked the door behind Damian and quickly called back Tim. She repeatedly apologized for Damian actions. Tim was calm about the whole ordeal but secretly felt as if Damian was going to steal (Name) away from him. Hw would be all alone once more.

The next morning Damian didn’t greet (Name). She woke up and changed back into a pair of comfy sweatpants and a graphic t-shirt. She brushed her (h/c) and pulled it into a ponytail. (Name) quickly made her way through the palace to the landing strip for the plane and waited for Bruce. (Name) sat on the landingstrip and watched as the snow fall around her. Damian walked by and noticed his sister out in the freezing cold. He walked to a tea room that overlooked the landing strip, whereTalia and Nyssa both sat on giant pillows.

“Mother, what is (Name) doing out there?”

“She’s waiting for her father,” Nyssa answered.

“Why isn’t in here waiting in the warmth?”

“Why don’t you ask her,” Talia said as she sipped more of her tea.

“Mother, may I bring her one of your cloaks to keep her warm.”

“Of course,”

He ordered one of the nearby guards to get him his mother's winter clock. The guard returned and handed it to Damian. He ran excitedly towards his cousin, thinking he could work an apology about last night. As he walked into the snow a plane touched down and (Name) stood to greet the passenger. Bruce came in the plane and when he got out two more got out behind him. Tim came running up and tackled (Name) into a hug, as Talia and Nyssa came out to greet the others. Damian threw the cloak down in a fit in anger before trying to storm back in. Talia stopped him as the males approached. Tim helped (Name) out of the snow and she brushed herself off. They all walked into the tea room. (Name) was given a blanket and sat by the fire. Tim and her shared a blanket and pillow together and warmed themselves.

“Damian,” Talia said as he went to leave once more.

“Yes, mother.”

“I would like you to meet your father.”

Damian and Bruce stiffly talked as the others chatted. (Name) explained the whole situation to Tim and Dick. She introduced them to Talia and Nyssa. (Name) and Nyssa showed Dick and Tim around the palace, to give the family some space. (Name) showed Tim and Dick the enormous three story library filled with books from all around the world, her room, and the raining area along with other rooms. As they entered the training room Dick was being Dick again.

“I bet I could win if we fought, (Name).”

“Bringing it on,” (Name) said motioning for him to come to the middle of the room.

“If you get thrown out of the circle you lose,” (Name) said getting in the stance.

Dick went to punch first and (Name) dodged and hit him in the back. Over and over Dick went to punch (Name) but she had sharpened her cat like reflexes during her stay and easily avoid his punches. Dick didn’t lay a finger on her but was getting the crap beat out of hip. She cut him with her sharp fingernails, and kicked out his knees in the back, making him fall. Dick was slowly inching his way to the edge of the circle but (Name) would make sure he wouldn’t take a step out of it. During one of (Name)’s punches, Dick caught her arm and pinned her onto the floor.

“Got you now (Name),” Dick said as he went to throw her out of the circle.

(Name) was quick to act and slithered her away out of his pin. She wrapped her legs around his arm and dislocated it from it's socket. Dick let out a scream of pain. Dick quickly fought to stand and (Name) dislocated his other arm. She kicked his knees and he fell. He tried to kick her and she punched his repeatedly. Dick was battered, bleeding and soon to have plenty of bruises. (Name) kicked Dick out of the circle and took it as a win. During the fight, Nyssa summoned a medic, who now attend to Dick.

“God, (Name) what did I ever do to you?” Dick questioned while cringing in pain.

(Name) gave a are-you-f**ing-kidding-me-look to Dick as he remembered his grave errors.

“I don’t know Grayson, you did an amazing job shattering my heart and ruining my life.”

Though Tim didn’t know all of the details, he could tell there was more than the typical running someone life, by the way (Name)’s voice hinted at more than met the eyes. It was going to be a long plane ride.

Ch 24. Once Upon A Memory

“You have no right to!” shouted (Name) as she slammed the door shut. Tim raised an eyebrow as (Name) locked the door. Tim said nothing as (Name) stretched a little bit as the pounding an the door aroused.

“Open the door, (Name)!” shouted Dick from the other side.

(Name) continued with her stretched before walking over to the door and placing a chair in front of it, to in vain prevent Dick from getting in. Tim said nothing and walked over to (Name) who pulled him into a hug. They parted and made their way over to the trapeze, both climbing up on opposite sides. They started in silence and performed flips through the air. (Name) didn’t want Dick to watch her with those baby blues. She still loved Dick, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Ever since returning from her mother’s home, practicing with Tim felt different. Tim had different little quirks than Dick. Tim would always take a breath and close his eyes before leaping out into the air while Dick used to lock eyes with (Name). Dick would let go of his right hand ever since his parents death rather than his left while Tim was quick to let his left arm down first. Tim liked to let his feet be limp while Dick always pointed his feet. These little quirks made all the difference to (Name). Tim wasn’t Dick. Tim would never be Dick. No matter how many similarities there were just as many differences of the two and it brought a smile to (Name). Tim had all the comfort of the past and yet was all to unique to make it totally different for her.

Their practice soon concluded and Tim left to go finish his homework. (Name) sat on the chair and sipped her water. She unlocked the door and when she went to leave she nearly tripped over Dick. He had been sitting in front of the door the whole time waiting with her. She noticed Tim sitting next to him. Dick was showing Tim a picture of some sort. (Name) leaned over Dick’s shoulder and saw it was of (Name) in a tute when she was 3 sitting on her tiger, Tulip.

“Why do you still have that in your wallet?” (Name) said pinching the nose of her bridge.

“Like you don’t have mine in your wallet,” Dick said with a laugh.

(Name) had long forgotten the photo and took her wallet from her pants pocket. In there was a picture of Dick in his costume with his parents. (Name) smiled putting the photo back.

“Don’t give me that look, Dick.”

“You kept it thought,” he said in a sing song voice.

“Because I keep my promises unlike you.”

Dick looked hurt, like (Name) had stuck a cord. Tim looked awkward because of this.

“Don’t you have homework Tim?” (Name) asked like she was his mother, giving him a warning. Tim quickly left to go do his homework while (Name) walked through the manor with Dick on her tail the whole time.

“Please (Name) let me try and fix this,” Dick pleaded.

“If I let you try, you must leave me alone when I say so. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Dick convinced to do the trapeze once more. Again (Name) changed into the right clothes. She climbed up the tower and took her spot opposite of Dick. (Name) looked across at Dick. She could hear Mary’s voice say: “When you look out look only at him. Let go when you feel like you could fly straight forward and he’ll catch you.”

(Name) could feel a small pressure on her back, like when Mary would push her off. She felt like it was all a dream and she would wake up. It was a good dream and she didn’t want to wake up and feel all alone once more. Dick locked eyes with her, and their eyes never strayed from each other. Her (e/c) into his baby blues. It was nostalgic feeling as the air rushed past her while she flew through room. Her hands loosened as she swung forwards, and she felt as if she was in a trance as her eyes closed for only a second. She felt like she had wings, as she flew through the air. With her eyes still clothes she could feel the world freeze before the wind changed direction. (Name) felt like the catch would never come, it was her first time all over again. This time she wasn’t scared, she knew what Dick would do. With a tug on her wrist she knew he had caught her. (Name) slowly opened her eyes as she felt the change in direction. Without hesitation (Name) locked her eyes, this time, with Dick’s own. Neither of them let go as the swing swung less and less and eventually came to a stop in the middle of the air. It was like this was one big memory, for everything was like before, but this time without the fear.

“Don’t you dare,” said just like before.

The weightless sensation overtook her body. Without any thought (Name) moved to as she was laying down in the air. The whole time her eyes never broke from Dick and neither of them blinking. (Name) could tell this wasn’t a dream or a memory for this time before she collided with the net. (Name) closed her eyes, breaking the contact with Dick.

The room was silent for there was nothing to be said. Dick knew there was no chance, (Name) was gone for good. She had never closed her eyes at the end like that before. Dick figured it was (Name)’s way of saying it's all over. Done with pain. Done with trying to fix it. Done with his love. Done.

A sickly laughter filled the room and Dick looked down at (Name). (Name) laughed a twisted sickly laughter, that shrieked with pain. She fought to get out of the net but was caught. Her laughter grew louder and louder as she fought harder and harder. Dick wasted no time jumping down to (Name). He scooped (Name) in his arms, even though she was fighting against him. (Name)’s laughter only faltered when she would quickly catch her breath. Dick was quick to run with (Name) in his arms to the private indoor pool. (Name) fought more as Dick moved through the room. He carefully walked into the pool, careful to keep (Name)’s head above the water. Dick was up a little past his chest when, (Name) started to calm a little. He held her as she floated on the water. She was completely submerged except for her neck up. Dick took exaggerated breaths and (Name) caught on. She tried in vain to mimic his breaths but fail.

“Please don’t hate me,” Dick said slowly.

Dick submerged (Name) in the water only for a brief moment before quickly pulling her out of the water. She gasped for air. She treaded water as Dick pulled her into a hug. She could feel his chest move, allowing her to mimic his breathing. (Name) looked up at Dick. Dick looked down at her, he looked her. Dick moved his hands from her back to her waist and (Name) placed her hands around his neck. Dick locked eyes with (Name). He leaned in and his forehead touched her’s.

“(Name)?” Dick said. (Name) leaned in still locking eyes.

“Yes?”

“I...I lo..”

“Please don’t,” (Name) said still not moving away from Dick.

“I love you, (Name).”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?” yelled Bruce.

Dick looked up at Bruce in shock. (Name) looked calmly at her father, she saw this coming a mile away. Bruce was an over protected batdaddy and that would never change.

“Took you long enough,” (Name) said as she shoved Dick under the water before swimming over to where Alfred now stood with towels.

Ch 25. Just Another Bridge to Cross

After the incident with Dick, (Name) wasn’t seen for a few days. Tim began to worry more than anyone else. It would ended up be a week when (Name) would crawl out of her room to do laundry. (Name) was washing her clothes when Tim spotted her. He was carrying a basket for Alfred, who being the butler he was knew (Name) was there. Tim ran up to (Name) after dropping his basket to hug the girl. She hugged him and placed a kiss on top of his head. Alfred left the room to give the two a moment. They stood in silence for the longest time till the steady running footsteps approached. Dick flung open the door and joined in the group hug. It took (Name) three seconds to literally kick Dick away from the two.

“I take it you’re still mad?” Dick said getting up from his spot on the floor.

(Name) quickly flipped him off. Dick rubbed his neck sheepishly before leaving.

“(Name) are you going to be ok?” asked Tim.

“In the end yes. Do you know why?”

Tim shook his.

“Because I have my family, including you.”

The moment wasn’t romantic, it was like a mother and son moment. It was spoiled by the sounds of screams above. (Name) was quick to rush to the seen with Tim on her tail. (Name) watched as Barbara stood on a chair along with Dick. They were pointing and screaming at the large rat on the floor as it scurried around the room in fear of them. (Name) was calm as she neared the rodents. She was quick to pick it up with a towel that she had forgotten to drop in the laundry room. (Name) was quick to place it outside and watched as Dick climbed down from his spot from the chair with Barbara.

“Seriously, the son of the legendary Flying Graysons, who used to hang out with a dangerous animals and swings to a death wish, is scared of a rat?” (Name) muttered to herself as she took the laundry basket from Alfred. (Name) was quick to go back to her room and put her clothes away but this time she didn’t lock her door, let alone close it. Tim was the first to notice this. He entered (Name)’s room and it was like nothing had changed, for her room looked the same as before. He found (Name) sitting on her bed with her guitar. She was staring at the picture from her wallet, of her and her old family. That wasn’t the only picture she had laid out. Tim walked closer and saw a few. There were several of Dick and (Name).

“Who’s that?” Tim asked pointing to a picture with Dick next to a girl in a hospital gown.

“Me, after...after things got bad,” (Name) said looking at the picture. It had a picture of Dick sitting next to an unconscious (Name) with bandages that littered her body.

“When was this one taken?” Tim asked pointing of one with Jason and (Name).

Jason was wearing his leather jacket and was twirling (Name) in a dress.

“At the benefit ball a few years back.”

“Is that Dick in the photo?”

“No it Jason, a good friend of mine,” (Name) said handing Tim the photo.

“See his eyes are green as the garden in the back, Dicks are a sky blue and your’s are a smoky blue.”

“Will you tell me of this one?” Tim asked taking a seat next to (Name) on the bed.

The two sat and talked about the photos. There was at least one each year, ever since (Name) was dropped off at the circus. She had even photos of when she lived with Mr. Haly, most of them her at the park alone. The sun set in the sky and Tim grew tired. He fell asleep on the comfy bed next to (Name) who was putting the photos back in the shoe box. She was careful to not wake Tim as she picked him up and placed him in his own bed.

“Știam eu că le-a păstrat, [I knew you kept them]” came Dick’s voice as (Name) exited Tim’s room.

“Am nevoie de someway la tine minte, doar în cazul în care l-am tot uitat din nou. [I need someway to remember, just in case I forgot it all again.]” (Name) said walking down the hall.

“încă te iubesc[I still love you]” Dick said following her.

“Stiu [I know],” (Name) said going down the staircase and out the door, where she walked along the cobble stone path.

“Dar? [But?]” Dick asked trying to grab (Name)’s hand.

“Nu te pot iubi după ce ați făcut[I can't love you after what you have done].”

“Nu poți să mă ierți și să uiți totul?[Can't you forgive me and forget it all?]”

“Eu te pot ierta, dar nu voi uita niciodată ce ai făcut.[I can forgive you but I will never forget what you have done.]”

Dick said nothing as they arrived at the tree. They both said noting but took a seat at the base of the tree and (Name) looked at the tomb stones. It was well past midnight when Dick carried (Name) back to the manner. She had fallen asleep and Dick couldn’t bring himself to wake her. Besides he could leave easier if she was asleep. He placed her in her own bed before changing into his nightwing suit.

While Dick, Tim and Bruce patrolled the city of Gotham, (Name) was fast asleep. Dick found the most ruthless short assassin who tried his best to kill Dick. Eventually as the fight raged on and Dick was badly injured but had the young assassin tied up. He pulled out his phone and called Bruce. Bruce and Tim were quick to arrive and soon the four drove back to the manner. Dick was bleeding pretty bad as he changed back into his normal clothes before walking back to the kitchen where Damian was also being patched up. An argument started between Dick and Damian, which woke (Name). She slowly made her way down to the kitchen with gun in hand. She slowly opened the door and saw Tim sitting on the counter eating a cookie, Dick holding a rag to his shoulder, Alfred stitching Damian, who was getting stitches and Bruce was nowhere to be seen. All of the boys were in their normal clothes except for Damian who was dressed as a ninja. (Name) slowly entered the room as all eyes turned to her, except for Alfred who had heard her.

“Tim if you’re not hurt go to bed. Dick cât de rău sunt sângerezi? [Dick how badly are you bleeding?] ماذا تفعلين هنا أخي الصغير؟ [What are you doing here little brother?]” (Name) said giving Tim a hug, before walking over to Alfred’s med kit on the counter.

Dick moved the towel and (Name) could see it would need stitches. She was quick to grab the things she needed before moving over to where the brandy was and the torches. Dick sat on the bar stool as (Name) walked over to her. She said nothing as she poured the brandy onto his wounds, though a small smile appeared on her face. She heated a tip of the needle before dipping it in the brady. She slowly stitched Dick together.

“ماذا تفعلين هنا أخي الصغير؟ [What are you doing here little brother?]” (Name) said once more.

“Mother sent me,” Damian said slowly in english.

(Name) gave a small hmm in agreement before focusing back on her work. Alfred finished taking care of Damian before looking at (Name)’s needle work. Her stitches were better than his own and where ever she learned it taught her very well.

“I’m not even going to ask what happened but what ever happened don’t let it wake me again,” (Name) said as she placed the final stitch. She picked up Damian before giving Alfred a hug good night. She left with Damian in her arms and Dick on her tail. The whole time Damian gave Dick death glares as Dick spoke to (Name) in his native tongue. They parted their ways and (Name) put Damian down in her room. She went in her closet and eventually returned with a box of clothes. She pulled one out that was Damian size, which happened to have a cute green frog on it, along with matching green shorts. She showed him to the bathroom and he changed while she pulled out a large feather pillow that was the size of a bed. She added several blankets and pillows to it. It looked like the type form his home. Damian returned and climbed into the bed (Name) had made, before (Name) crawled into her own. She turned off the dim light and the two fell fast asleep.

There was a boyish scream and (Name) woke in a split second, with her gun pointing straight at the source of the sound. She turned on the nightlight and saw it was Damian. He was having a nightmare. She quickly walked over to him. It looked as if he was fighting an invisible enemy. She was careful to pull him into her arms. She rocked slowly while sitting on the floor with his.

“استيقظ. إنه مجرد حلم.[Wake up. It's just a dream,]” (Name) repeated in a calm voice.

Damian eventually woke with quiet a start. He looked up and saw the soft expression in (Name)’s eyes and relaxed. There was nothing said as (Name) let go of Damian and turned off the nightlight. She could see him look hurt when she waked over to her bed. She grabbed her grabbed her pillow, a sheet, several books and a flashlight before returning to the bed. Sh draped the sheet over them and made a small tent. She sat up the light in the floor and pulled Damian close. She opened a book from the stack and started to read:

“A baby cried out as a woman with long hair sat the baby outside of a large red and white striped tent. A rustling of the fabric alerted the woman that someone was trying to get to the baby. The woman kissed her baby girl’s head one last time before fleeing into the…..”

Tim was carrying a coffee and walked into (Name)’s room. He went to wake her from her spot on the bed but she wasn't there. He found her covered in blankets curled up with Damian and a book. Tim took the camera from (Name)’s nightstand and quickly took a picture before slowly waking her up. (Name) looked up and saw Tim, who handed her a coffee. She gratefully took the coffee and sipped it as she moved to stand up she. She tucked Damian back in bed before making her way down stairs.

Bruce, Dick and Alfred all stood in the livingroom and to (Name)’s surprised Talia was there. Talia walked slowly over to (Name), with her eyes looking like she had been crying for a while. (Name)’s back went rigid and chills ran down her back. (Name) could feel there was something wrong, like when Jason was killed. (Name) didn’t know what it was exactly but tears started to roll down her eyes. There was nothing said and yet (Name) knew what was wrong the second Talia pulled her into a hug.

“No, please, no,” was all (Name) could mutter as she bawled her eyes out into Talia’s shoulder.

Tim and Bruce stood awkwardly in the room as they waited for the two to part. Damian quietly entered the room with Dick on his tail. (Name)’s legs gave out and Talia and her sat on the floor crying. Dick went to walk over and comfort (Name) but one glare from Talia made him shrink back into his place. Tim wasn’t told why or who, but he didn’t need to be told. Tim could tell it wasn’t his place to do anything and so he left taking Dick and Damian, much to their protest, with him.

“She went peacefully,” said Talia once (Name) had calmed down.

“When is her funeral?”

“Tomorrow, at my home. I would like it if you could leave with me as soon as possible.”

“Let me pack my things,” (Name) said standing back up.

(Name) packed her things with the men watching her every time she walked into the same room as them. (Name) didn’t say anything but gave Tim and Damian a hug before leaving. (Name) got into the car with Talia before loading into a plane.

The four men feared they would only be able to watch as (Name) fell to pieces before their eyes

#painted on with laughter #batfamily #BatFam #dick grayson x reader

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tomnhaz · 5 years

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What I Didn’t Know: T.H. x reader

Summary: Tom has been secretive with no explanation and when you confront him things don’t exactly go as planned.

Warnings: cussing, maybe ? i honestly don’t remember

Word Count: 3k

Notes: requests are open, fic friday is coming, and let me know what you think !

You were walking home from work when you decided to stop and get some coffee as a pick me up. Work today had been stressful, and you still had quite a bit of stuff to finish up when you got home, and hell, you deserved it. When you walked into the shop you took a minute to warm yourself up from the cold before looking around. Immediately, you saw the telltale unruly brown hair of your boyfriend, which shocked you a bit considering that he had told you that he was going to be at the studio filming late again. You smiled a bit, excited at the idea of being able to spend the rest of the night with your boyfriend instead of by yourself with a glass of wine and your work, but your heart dropped as you continued to survey the scene in front of you.

Sitting across from Tom was the definition of a picture perfect girl. Her hair was long and styled to perfection, her skin was clear and glowing, and the smile she was flashing your boyfriend was enchanting. Hell, if you played for that team you would be in love with her too. So you shouldn’t have been surprised that Tom would also fall under her spell.

You stood by and watched for several more minutes, before stepping up to the counter and placing your order. You kept your head low, trying to avoid looking back at the table where the man who held your heart was sitting idly by and giving your love away to another woman. You attempted to bury your attention in your phone, only looking up briefly when your name was called. You grabbed your drink quickly, no longer in the mood to enjoy it before rushing out of the shop, but not before turning to take one final look at Tom.

This turned out to be a grave mistake when your gaze met the soft brown one of your boyfriend. You watched as his smile disappeared and his eyes widened in realization - he had been caught. You weren’t planning on sticking around too long because you knew that if Tom confronted you right now you would break down, and the last thing you wanted to do was to get into a screaming match in the middle of your favorite coffee shop. Well, I guess your ex-favorite coffee shop; you weren’t sure if you’d be coming here again after this experience.

Suddenly, you broke eye contact with Tom and rushed towards the door, nearly shoving over an elderly man and his teacup as you made a beeline for the exit. You heard the vague shouting of your name as you hurried out of the shop. You didn’t stop to turn around, you didn’t want to deal with this right now. You had never been one for confrontation, and this time was no different. Sure, you and Tom had your share of fights, but you knew that this fight would be different. Tom knew how you felt about loyalty, it was the thing you valued most in a relationship. You didn’t want to jump to any conclusions before hearing his side of the story, but you know what you saw and you know how this was all gonna end.

You trudged through the door of your shared apartment and immediately threw your coffee in the trash - you’re going to need more a pick me up than that to get you through the night. The good news was that Tom hadn’t followed you home from the shop. Maybe he had assumed you hadn’t seen anything or maybe he figured it wasn’t actually you and had gone right back to enjoying his date with his new sidepiece.

Or maybe, you were the sidepiece? Had Tom ever really loved you? He was an actor after all, he gets paid millions of dollars every year to pretend to be someone he’s not, so why should his work stop at the threshold of your home? You walked quickly into the kitchen and yanked open the door of the fridge, eyes immediately falling on the boxed wine sitting on the top shelf. You pulled out a glass from the cabinet and poured yourself a full glass before maneuvering your way to the living room.

You plopped down on the sofa and flicked on the TV. Of course, much to your dismay, the news station was covering the latest release of the Spiderman: Far From Home trailer. You groaned audibly and quickly changed the channel, falling back onto the sofa, a few drop of wine spilling over the rim of the glass and landing on your shirt.

‘Oh great, another mess.’ you said to yourself. You dabbed it dry, but eventually gave up and accepted the fact that the shirt was ruined because there was no way you had the effort to clean red wine out of a white shirt at the moment. ‘I didn’t even like this shirt that much anyway. Tom gave it to me..’ you trailed off when you realized where your sentence was going.

You looked around the room slowly, making a mental note of everything in the room that belonged to Tom or Tom had given you as a gift or that you and Tom had purchased together. The task become almost impossible, and you realized that Tom had become an almost omnipotent part of your life. You started to giggle to yourself as you thought of how ridiculously empty this apartment would look if you were to get rid of all of his stuff.

It was most likely the wine kicking in, but your giggle transformed into a full laugh when you started to think about just how empty your life would be without Tom. Tom was your everything, the two of you had built a life together over these last 2 years, had built a foundation. And now, after the incident today that foundation was slowly crumbling down around you and no matter how frantically you picked up the pieces, you would never be able to put them all back together. The one person who had so successfully built you up and held you together, was now the sole cause of your undoing.

Tom didn’t come home that night.

Which leads you to your current position, standing across the kitchen from Tom, screaming. Ya know, handling the situation the way all adults do - really listening to what the other person had to say. Except, none of that was actually happening, and instead you were fuming because Tom had denied even being in that coffee shop.

You don’t want to say you didn’t care that he was on a date with another girl, but it would have made it much more forgivable if he at least appeared apologetic.

‘Y/N, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I told you I was going to be at the studio late’ he had said. You had felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. You knew he could see the disappointment laced across your face, but evidently he didn’t care as he continued to tow the line with his lies. Eventually, you had had enough.

‘Tom.’ You had shouted, your eyes closing and a hand raising in the air to indicate silence. Tom seemed to sense how truly angry you were because he quickly stopped talking, but the look on his face told the only story you needed to hear.

‘Tom, I, you just, ugh’ you let out a facetious laugh, running your hand over your face, feeling just how warm it was and letting you know just how flushed you were with anger. ‘I don’t even know what to say to you.’ you let out, continuing to push down the sob that was trying to break its way out of your throat.

‘Y/N-’ Tom started, but you were done listening to his bullshit.

‘No.’ you shouted again, shaking your head indignantly and looking at the ground before looking up at him again. ‘You’re done talking. I’ve heard enough from you.’

You stared at Tom for what felt like eternity, searching his face and his mannerisms for any sort of clue that would tell you why. You had sort of come to terms with what had happened, accepting that Tom was out with another woman. What you still had yet to understand was why he had done it. You had thought that you and Tom were in a good place. Sure, he was gone sometimes for filming and promotions, but when he was home the two of you were back to normal, almost as if he had never left.

Tom just stood there and returned your stare. He looked deeply into your eyes, his eyes darker than usual and glazed with tears. It looked almost like he was trying to tell you something by the way his gaze bore so deeply into your own. You blinked your tears away and crossed your arms, ‘Will you just tell why, Tom? Why would you do it?’

Tom took a step closer to you and you felt your body tense up and the arm that Tom had outstretched towards you flinched back slightly.

‘Y/N, let me explain, please. I love you, this has just, it’s not what it looks like.’ Tom ran his hand through his already messy curls. Shaking his head in disbelief as to how this situation had gotten so far out of his control.

‘Oh, isn’t it? Please, Tom. Enlighten me as to how I’m misunderstanding this. Because from where I am standing it looks like you were on a date with a girl who wasn’t your girlfriend of 2 years.’ your voice was cracking, and the tears were falling freely at this point. You weren’t so mad anymore as you were crushed. Your heart was shattered and in pieces on the floor and Tom just continued to walk all over it.

‘Love, please, I just need to-’ Tom continued, his voice slow and calm, a polar opposite to the route you were taking. He continued to take steps in your direction before he was standing directly in front of you.

‘I just don’t understand why!’ you shook your head, running your hands through your hair. You felt Tom’s hand grip your arms, and immediately you fought to get out of them. You didn’t want to be near him right now, no matter how desperately you wanted to be in his arms you couldn’t help but picture him holding that girl.

‘Y/N! Darling, please stop fighting me.’ the two of you struggled a bit longer, Tom trying to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest to calm you down. Finally, you gave in, the exhaustion of your emotions finally taking over you. With one last sob you fell into the brunette’s arms, grabbing at his bicep with your hands and falling to the floor.

Tom was quick to adjust once you hit the ground and pulled your head to rest against his chest, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and pressing kisses to the top of your head. Your breathing began to slow, but the tears were still falling down your face. You knew you shouldn’t have given in to him, but you were weak and vulnerable and hell, you wanted him to hold you just one more time.

After several minutes of comfortable silence Tom was the first to speak, ‘Y/N. You know I love you, so fucking much.’ he stopped to press a kiss to the top of your head. ‘I would never do something to intentionally hurt you.’ he paused again to take a breath and gather his thoughts. ‘I know you saw me in the coffee shop with Jenna.’

So. That was her name: Jenna. It’s fitting, she’s pretty. At this, you tried to pull yourself out of Tom’s arms, but he predicted your movement and wrapped his arms tighter around your frame.

‘Jenna is an old friend from school and she recently got engaged to her boyfriend Matthew.’ Tom’s hands were now playing with the ends of your hair, and you felt your heart stop and your entire body tensed in Tom’s arms. She was engaged?

‘I called her a few weeks ago and asked if she could meet with me after I found out she was engaged because I had some questions.’, you were so ashamed. If you had just heard him out the first time and not lost your shit so fast you wouldn’t even be in this situation. You felt Tom lean back slightly, almost as if he was expecting you to turn and look at him but the thought of facing him right now was humiliating.

So instead, Tom continued to speak, ‘I love you, Y/N, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life in love with anyone else.’

You felt the humiliation slowly begin to fade away, and you turned slowly in Tom’s arms until you were face to face. He still had tears in his eyes, but his eyes had returned to their normal color, and you saw a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘Tom, I-’ you started, your gaze switching from his lips, to his eyes, to surveying his face.

‘Shhh, it’s okay. I know.’ he guided your head into his neck and continued to run his hands soothingly through your hair. ‘I was planning on waiting for the perfect moment but…’ he trailed off, shifting slightly to glance down at you.

He gave you a suggestive look and you unwrapped yourself from his arms so he could stand up. You remained seated on the ground, and Tom squated next to you placing his hands on either side of your face. He pressed a kiss to your nose before whispering, ‘I’ll be right back, don’t move.’ and he turned around and quickly ran upstairs towards your bedroom.

You watched his back as he walked away and continued to scold yourself for being such a whiny and self obsessed girlfriend. Why didn’t you just let him explain it from the start and you would have avoided this whole argument. You really didn’t deserve him at all, and yet here you were sitting on the floor while Tom was upstairs getting the one thing that would bind the two of you together for the rest of this glorious life. You had to agree with him though, you couldn’t imagine being in love with anyone else for the rest of your life. Perhaps that was why you had overreacted so much, because the thought of not being with Tom anymore would be far too painful. Tom was your everything.

You heard his footsteps at the top of the stairs and turned your gaze to the steps in anticipation. As Tom came creeping down the stairs, you rose slowly to your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to make yourself feel smaller. You knew it was just you and Tom, but the intimacy of the moment made you want to shrink down.

As Tom reached the bottom of the stairs, the light smile that has graced his face earlier had transformed into a full smile. He had one hand hidden behind his back and the other was reaching out to you. With the knowledge of what was about to happen at the front of your mind, a shy smile forced its way onto your face.

‘My darling, Y/N.’ Tom said with a smirk, walking cockily towards you. ‘I have been in love with you since the minute I first laid eyes on you.’ By this point, Tom was now standing directly in front of you and had taken one of your hands in his. He slowly brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a light kiss before falling onto one knee. Even though you knew exactly what was going to happen, you couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped your mouth.

‘Y/N, people might say we’re young, and hell, we are, but I know that this is the right thing to do. And I’m not just using this as a way to erase what happened tonight, because what happened revealed a lot about us and let me know that I really can’t hide anything from you.’ he said with a chuckle, tilting his head to the side with a shrug.

A small laugh escaped your own mouth, and the smile you were sporting continued to grow wider if that was even possible. ‘Tom, everyone knows you can’t keep a secret for shit.’

Tom let out a deep laugh, ‘Yea, yea, I know.’ he shook his head before continuing, ‘Now shut up I’m trying to be romantic.’ He shook his whole body lightly as if to restart, which caused you to laugh once again. ‘Love, you are it for me. You’re my endgame.’ he said with a wink.

You pulled your hand away and pretended to leave. ‘Tom, I cannot believe-’

‘I’m sorry!!!! Really, I am sorry. Please come back, love.’ he pleaded, still on one knee and reaching out frantically for you to come back. ‘Y/N, I’m sorry it had to be done.’

You turned around and looked at him, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile. ‘This is your last chance, Holland.’ you warned.

‘Okay, I’ll be good. I promise.’ he used his free hand to trace an X over his heart dramatically. With a laugh you walked teasingly back over to him, letting him take your hand in his once more. He looked up at you again with a wide smile, the gold flecks in his eyes shining brightly. ‘I’m just going to cut to it, love.’ He paused and bit his lip to suppress his smile and tried to keep a straight face, as he brought his other arm out from behind his back revealing a small velvet box. He popped it open, revealing the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen, ‘Y/F/N, will you please marry me?’

It wasn’t possible for the smile on your face to grow any bigger as you nodded your head frantically.

‘Yes? Is that a yes?’ Tom asked, still down on one knee.

‘Yes, you idiot. Now get up here and kiss me.’ and with that, Tom shot to his feet and pulled your body flush to his as your lips met.

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loretranscripts · 5 years

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Lore Episode 11: Black Stockings (Transcript) - 25th July 2015

tw: violence, death by fire, medical details, ableism, child abuse, torture, unsanitary procedures

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Before we begin, I want to share something exciting with you. My newest novel, Grave Suspicion, is finally here. In fact, today is release day, and like every other type of release, the first day is always the most important. The novel is a supernatural thriller. If you like the unexplainable, the odd, and the mysterious then you’ll love this book. It’s available in paperback as well as a number of digital formats from eBook stores, and it would mean the world to me if you’d consider buying a copy today. You can go to amazon.com and search “Grave Suspicion Aaron Mahnke”, or visit aaronmahnke.com and find links to your other favourite formats. And thanks in advance for an incredible release day for this book, and know I couldn’t have done it without you. And now, on with the show.

Most of us have had the joy of being sick once or twice in our lives. It’s a part of the human experience, I suppose – we get sick, and then we get better. At least, that’s how its supposed to work. One thing I’m constantly thankful for is the fact that we live in such a modern, enlightened age of medicine. We no longer use urine as an antiseptic and we don’t diagnose illness based on our astrological signs, but that wasn’t always the case. Gone are the days of bleeding ourselves with leeches or trying to balance our humours to make sure our sanguine fluids aren’t overpowering our melancholic fluids, and I’m probably not the only one who’s happy that we no longer treat sick people with enemas administered with metal syringes filled with boar bile. Yes, bile from a boar. I could not make this stuff up. Our ancestors didn’t know why certain things happened, but they sure did their best their best to try. Stories were created, myths were told, and superstitions took root. All of them were designed to explain why things happened, and these reasons, even if they were pure fabrications, somehow helped people deal with the realities of life. Why was my child born deformed? Why did my husband’s personality change overnight? Why did my entire family die from a plague last year? These questions haunted people in ways we can’t understand today, and they grasped for anything that would help them cope. They found answers in their common folklore. Among the countless tales and stories told, there’s one superstition from Ireland that saw more usage than most. You see, when something didn’t seem right, when things went wrong, and people suffered, there was only one explanation in the minds of the Irish that covered it all: they blamed it on changelings. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

A changeling, according to the folklore of Europe, is a kind of fairy. Stories of them can be found in Germany, Ireland, England, Scandinavia, Spain, and many other European countries. In all those cultures, changelings have the same methodology: they are a substitute for a kidnapped human being. Either out of jealousy or great need, fairies were said to enter our world and make a trade without our knowledge. They would leave one of their own behind and return to the fairy realm, where the kidnapped human would live a happy, joyful life in paradise. We have a great summary of changelings thanks to the Irish poet William Butler Yeats. “They steal children”, he wrote, “and leave a withered fairy, 1000, or maybe 2000, years old instead. At times, full-grown men and women have been taken. Near the village of Colonie lives an old woman who was taken in her youth. When she came back, at the end of seven years, she had no toes, for she had danced them all off”. Changelings, according to the legends, can actually take one of three forms. The first is the kind Yeats wrote about: the senile and ancient fairy, who is disguised as a child. Another kind of changeling was an actual fairy child, and the third type was simply an inanimate object, such as a block of wood or a carved log. This third type is sometimes known as a “stock”. The logic, at least to someone in medieval Europe, was simple. If a child was born with birth defects, was sickly or ill-tempered, they were often thought to be the fairy substitute, left behind when their real child was taken from their home. If an adult went missing, or was later found mysteriously dead, people would often assume that the body was really a bundle of sticks that had merely been enchanted to resemble their loved one. Folklore blossomed on the subject. Wives’ tales and legend taught new generations how to spot a changeling, instantly providing them with both one more reason to fear every little change in a person’s life, but also some safety and hope that they could cling to.

Even the overall wellbeing of a family could hinge on these creatures. Changelings, you see, were said to drain all the luck away from a home, and by doing so, they would leave a family cursed to struggle with poverty and misfortune, all while trying to care for a child they saw as a curse more and more, every day. When the stories focused on men and women who had been swapped out for a fairy, the symptoms were more psychological in nature. Signs of an adult changeling included mood swings, becoming argumentative, and losing interest in friends and family. Changelings were said to have enormous appetites, eating everything they were given and then asking for more. It was said that if your infant preferred food from the larder rather than being nursed, there was a chance they weren’t really your child at all. While most changeling infants died in early childhood, those that survived were said to become dim-witted adults. Men and women who survived this long were sometimes called “uffa”, which is where we get the word “oaf”. Thankfully, though, there were ways to test people to see if they were, in fact, a changeling. One method involved putting a shoe in a bowl of soup. If the baby saw this and laughed, it was seen as proof that the child was a changeling. Another method involved making a tiny loaf of bread inside half an eggshell, again meant to make the fairy laugh. And once discovered, a fairy changeling could be driven from the house in a variety of ways, in which case the kidnapped human child or adult would be returned unharmed. One trick involved holding the suspected child over a fire, while another recommended forcing the suspect to drink tea brewed with foxglove, a poisonous flower. It was thought that as the person’s body expelled the toxin through vomiting and diarrhoea, the changeling would be forced to return to the fairy realm. It sounds crazy to think that people would believe such stories, even centuries ago. Surely no one actually performed these tests, or administered these treatments, especially to their own family, right? Unfortunately, history teaches us that desperate people are capable of just about anything.

In July of 1826, a woman named Anne Roche from Tralee, Country Kerry in South-West Ireland, was caring for a four-year-old boy named Michael Leahy. According to her own testimony, the boy was unable to walk, stand or speak. Convinced that he was, in fact, a fairy changeling, she bathed him in icy waters three times to force the fairy out. The boy drowned. She was tried by court, and they found her not guilty. In 1845, a woman suspected of being a changeling was placed in a large basket filled with wood shavings, and then hung over the kitchen fire until the contents of the basket ignited. In 1851, a man in Ireland literally roasted his child to death, because he believed the boy to be a fairy. Three children were suspected of being fairies in 1857 – they were bathed on a solution of foxglove, and then forced to drink it. Sometimes babies were left in or near bodies of water as a way of forcing the changelings to leave. In 1869, an exorcism was attempted by dipping a child three times in a lake in Ireland. Another woman actually left her infant on the shore of a lake, and walked away, expecting the fairies to come and make the swap. Thankfully, she returned later to reclaim her child. Sometimes neighbours stepped in when the parents of an obvious changeling would did nothing. In 1884, while the mother of three-year-old Philip Dillon was out of the house, Ellen Cushion and Anastasia Rourke snuck inside. Philip, you see, could not use his arms and legs, and these neighbours saw that as proof enough of his condition. One of the neighbours stripped the boy naked while the other stoked a fire. Then, when everything was ready, they placed him on a large shovel and held it over the flames. Little Philip survived, but he was severely burnt by the incident. We hate what we fear, you see, but rather than fade away as the 19th century moved on, the fears and superstitions around changelings only seemed to grow in Ireland, and as hard as it might be to believe, things were about to get worse.

In the late 19th century, one of the governing bodies in Ireland was the Board of Guardians in each district. They were tasked with dispensing public aid, and one of the ways they did that was by building labourer cottages, homes built to provide housing for rural agricultural workers. Many workers had lost their land in the recent famine, and this was one way of helping alleviate some of the homelessness and poverty that had become so common in the country. One cottage was constructed in Ballyvadlea, a small community of just nine homes and 31 people, in County Tipperary. The family who was awarded the cottage moved in, but there was a problem. It seems that the house had been built on a rath, a low, earthen ring, and while archaeologists know them to simply be remnants of an Iron Age fort, some of the Irish still thought of them as “fairy rings”, portals into another realm. After the family moved in, odd things began to happen. Cries in the night, noises that couldn’t be identified, and a feeling of dread. Almost as soon as the tenants had moved in, they were leaving. In their stead, the cottage was given to an old, retired labourer named Patrick Boland, who moved in with his adult daughter and her husband. His daughter, Bridget, was unusual. In 1895, it was the men who controlled the family, they were the breadwinner and sole provider. But even though her husband, Michael, did well as a cooper, someone who makes and repairs barrels, a business that has always done well in Ireland, Bridget wasn’t dependent on him. She had her own business making dresses and keeping hens, and the income from those jobs was more than enough to meet her needs. She was also said to be clever, flirtatious, and highly independent. You can imagine how she must have annoyed her husband and caught the ire of the neighbours, and then there were the rumours of the affair she was having with another man. Bridget Cleary was a self-made, self-possessed woman, and everyone else was bothered by that. I tell you all that because stories have layers. There’s the meaning you glean from the initial telling, and then there’s the rest of the story. The deeper you dive, the more things begin to make sense, and believe me when I tell you there’s a lot about this story that fails to make sense. On March 4th, 1895, Bridget left home on an errand. She had eggs to deliver to the house of her father’s cousin, Jack Donne. It was a short enough distance that she decided to walk, but the weather turned sour while she was out. She spent the next day in bed, complaining of a raging pain in her head. She had chills and shivered constantly. Donne came by the little college to visit a few days later and found Bridget still in bed. He took one look at her, and declared, “That’s not Bridget”. According to him, she was a changeling. Thankfully, no one believed him. Yet.

On March 9th, five days after Bridget’s walk in the cold, her father walked four miles to the nearest doctor and asked him to come help. Two days later, there was still no sign of the doctor, and so her husband, Michael, made the journey. After yet two more days of waiting, the doctor had still not come, and so Michael went again, this time making sure that he brought along the summons from the local health authority. While her husband was out looking for the doctor, the doctor arrived unexpectedly. He did his typical house call check-up, prescribed some medicine, and then left. Still frustrated, the family called upon a priest to come by and give her last rights, just in case. Things weren’t looking up for Bridget Cleary. This was March 13th, a full nine days since taking ill, and so later that evening neighbours and relatives gathered at the cottage to help administer fairy medicine in the form of herbs. Bridget refused the treatment, and they held a red-hot poker in her face until she complied. Things got worse the following day. Cousin Jack Donne had begun to spread word that Bridget had been taken by the fairies and replaced by a changeling. At his urging, a man named Denis Ganey was called to the house. Ganey was known in the community as a fairy doctor and was well-versed in treating cases such as these. His treatments wouldn’t necessarily fit into modern medical textbooks, mind you. They included the use of the hot poker, forcing the changeling to drink first milk from a cow that had just given birth, dousing the person in urine and exposing them to flames. Bridget was slapped and held in front of the fireplace, while her husband demanded that she state, before God and family, that she was indeed Bridget Cleary. Even though she answered yes, the gathered crowd didn’t believe her.

Now, before I continue, there’s something you need to understand about Michael Cleary’s state of mind. While his mother had died when he was young, his father had just passed away hours before. He and Bridget were childless, and they lived with her father in a spare room in the 19th century equivalent of public housing. His own wife was rumoured to be cheating on him, and she didn’t even need him to support her. Michael Cleary was adrift, he had come undone, and maybe that’s what drove him to the edge of sanity. The treatments continued late into the night. Friends and family began to ask to leave, but Michael was said to have yelled that no one was leaving until Bridget came home. He locked the door and placed the key in his pocket. If they could just get this right, he told them, if they could just drive the fairy out and be done with it, his Bridget would come home. Again, she was asked to declare her identity, and Bridget refused. Now, historians don’t know why. Maybe she was just afraid, maybe her independent, stubborn nature prevented her from handing over authority to her husband. Whatever the reason, her silence infuriated Michael. He stripped her to her undergarments and pushed her to the floor. “Come home Bridget, in the name of God”, someone was said to have cried as she lay near the fire. “She’s not my wife”, Michael replied, “you’ll soon see her go up the chimney”. And with that, he doused her with lamp oil, and grabbed a log from the burning fireplace, which he used to ignite the oil. Bridget Cleary burnt to death on the hearth of her own kitchen fireplace, in front of her husband and father, cousins and friends. She was 26 years old.

We haven’t always known as much about the world as we do now. Compared to the centuries before our own, we live in a veritable golden age of knowledge and understanding. Science has eradicated much of the ignorance that once plagued us, and while I’m a fan of mystery and unanswered questions, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Ignorance has been used as a justification for the barbaric, inhumane treatment of other people, to fuel our hatred of those who aren’t like us. That kind of fear often becomes the agent of a dark transformation. Under the influence of fear, humans have a history of mutation, of changing into something grotesque and dangerous. We become monsters. Fear drove Michael Cleary and the others to kill his wife - fear of illness and disease, of mental and medical mysteries, the fear of the loss that seems to be creeping ever closer to his household, and blinded by that fear, Michael Cleary lashed out with the only tool he had: superstition. In many ways, it’s beyond ironic that his fear turned him into someone else. In the end, perhaps, he was the changeling. After forcing one of Bridget’s cousins by knifepoint to help wrap her body in a sheet, he carried her to a nearby field, and buried her in a shallow grave. A short time later, some of the neighbours told the local priest that Bridget Cleary had gone missing. They said, in whispered tones, that it had been a fairy exorcism. When the priest found Michael Cleary praying in the church the next day, he brought up the man’s wife. “Is your wife alright?” the priest asked. “I heard she’d been sick”. “I had a very bad night, father”, Michael told him, a wild look in his eye. “When I woke up, my wife was gone. I think the fairies have taken her”. He was convinced she would return. He had plans to visit a nearby fairy ring and wait for her. She would arrive, he said, in a white gown on a pale horse, and he would cut her bindings with a blackened knife. His Bridget would come home. The priest, to his credit, didn’t believe a single word. He called the police, and a massive search was undertaken. On March 22nd, two constables found her body in the shallow grave her husband had dug just days before. She had been badly burnt, and lay in the foetal position, her knees against her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Because her face had escaped the fire, a cloth sack had been placed over her head. All that remained of the little clothing she had been wearing was a pair of black stockings. Bridget Cleary would never come home.

This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can learn more about me and this show over at lorepodcast.com, and be sure to follow along on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, @lorepodcast. This episode of Lore was made possible by you, the most thoughtful and knowledgeable listeners around. [Insert sponsor break]. Let me take a moment to say thank you. Because of you, Lore has been a runaway success, and truth be told, I couldn’t have done any of that without you, and I’m thankful to each and every one of you. Now, many of you have asked me to step it up and produce this show weekly, and I’ll be honest – I would love to do that. But to get there, I need your help. So, do this for me: visit my sponsor websites and sign up for their free trials, that helps so much in the long-term success of this show. Pitch in over at Patreon, leave an iTunes review, buy some of my novels, every little bit helps me get closer to being able to take Lore to a full-time, weekly schedule. You can find links and info on how to do all of that over at lorepodcast.com/support. As always, thanks for listening.

Notes

Literally no Celticist with any level of proficiency would use Yeats as a source for “Celtic mythology”.

I can’t find any source for this word “uffa”, but the etymology of “oaf” apparently does trace back to the Old Norse alfr, meaning elf.

#lore podcast #podcasts #aaron mahnke #changelings #bridget cleary #fairies #ireland #folklore #transcripts #11

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haikyuu-imagines-and-others · 6 years

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Haha, the ask box is open! May I request a scenario where Oikawa, Bokuto and Kuroo (separately) have a bad day and their female friend decides to make them a blanket fort with all sorts of enlightening things like fairy lights. But then they end up talking over the problem in the tent and/or just about anything really and end up falling asleep next to each other. BUT in the morning they realize that they want to be together. Kisses ensured. Please and thank you!!

Jeez I’ve been gone for a while, huh? I am really sorry guys! I’ve been all over the place, getting my cosplay ready, looking for a new job, getting my degree… just a LOT of things happening at once TT~TT I have another blog I’m working on for other fandoms, so that’s also been kind of eating up my time… ugggghhhhh Anyway! I absolutely love this idea of comforting the boys rather than the usual other way around, thank you for requesting! - Admin Satori

Oikawa Tooru:

It’d been a bad day. A bad… BAD day for the great king, Oikawa Tooru. In all his life, all years of school, every match on the court - he’d never felt so…. miserable. So completely downtrodden in every movement he makes.

But he seemed to be moving in slow motion the longer the day went on - as if it were playing with him, teasing him of all the failed events he’s ever had in his life. His knee, his matches, his love life. Everything seemed to be against him.

It seemed even Iwaizumi had gotten tired of his antics for the day, having sent him home from trying to practice his serves. Not that he was in any condition to practice; His knee had been killing him for the past week.Tension, frustration, hopelessness rolled off his shoulders in waves on his way home, forcing away the pain with every stretching of his leg, of his knee, with his step. Oikawa just wanted it all to end already - why had he been suffering so badly recently? It wasn’t as if he’d been blessed with good fortune to warrant this bad bout. Why did Karma believe he deserved to suffer for happiness he hadn’t felt in… forever, if he really thought about it.

He knew no one was home, and he was glad for it - he really didn’t want to have to deal with explaining his bad mood to his mother, or father, or sister, or whoever decided to pay him any attention. The great king, for once, didn’t want anyone looking his way.

That’s why he was surprised to enter his living room and find… a makeshift fort/tent in front of the couch - blankets and pillows tossed inside, flickering, soft fairy lights adorning the entrance to the comfortable paradise that dwelled within. He could see someone, and he had an idea of who, had really gone to the ends of the world to put this together, even going so far as to get all the extension cords connected so they could charge their phones while they watched whatever. Oikawa’s soft brown eyes followed the cords path, curling around the tent/fort, over the couch, around the dining room table, to the only outlet that wasn’t bombarded with plugs - the one right by the kitchen. He could hear soft humming coming from inside it.

“Tooru! You’re home early!” Your smile was bright, infectious and causing a gentle smile to curl his lips. Though it didn’t reach his eyes, he didn’t feel the smile, and that worried you. “Tooru?” You set down the treats you’d been about to take into the living room, reaching out to him and cupping his face, “What’s wrong?”

But he didn’t want to ruin your good mood, so he shook his head - his smile a little more forced than before, “Ah, ________-chan! Always so sweet to me~.” His hands reached up and poked your cheeks, pushing them together to give you fish lips. “When did you become my mom?”

You whined, feeling the pinch of your cheeks as he pushed a bit harder, pulling away from his hold and sending him an unamused glare, “The second Iwaizumi texted me you were on the way home.”

Oikawa let out a huff of a sigh before turning and going to the living room, waving his hand vaguely, “Iwa-chan is such a big baby! Why’d he go and tell you where I was going?” His back to you, his expression revealed his desperation to be alone - his eyes glancing over longingly at the hallway leading to his room. But then you were popping up in his sight, and his eyes flashed over to the fort, “And what’s this, ______-chan! I’m not a kid!”

“You sure act like it.” You muttered offhandedly before crawling into the fort, setting the snacks you’d grabbed off to the side before patting the space next to you, “Come on, Tooru - it feels cold in here without your enormous amount of body heat.”

He squawked in surprise at your tease, feeling as if you’d meant to say something much meaner about his ‘weight problem’ rather than what you had.

But he followed your instruction anyway.

You smiled proudly over at him as he got comfortable, “The Grand King has entered his loverly kingdom! Welcome, My King.” You bowed as best you could while laying on your stomach, your arms brought under you and resting your weight on your elbows. Oikawa gave you an unimpressed raised eyebrow, but you only stuck your tongue out, “Whaaat? I worked really hard to put this together! Do you realize how close I was to running out of extension cords?”

The laugh that left him almost sounded genuine, but you knew he was still holding back. Still forcing himself to have a good time. For your benefit.

“Dad is definitely not going to like the electric bill this month…” His voice had trailed off into a mumble by the end of his sentence, and he noticed he was unintentionally relaxing in your little fort. How could he not? You’d brought all his favorite things in one place just for him - blankets, pillows, snacks… and your warm smile. That’s all he could really ask for. Forcing his mind off the way your gentle laugh made his heart flip, he cleared his throat and leaned on his hip, one hand brought up under his head, fingers in his hair, while the other laid casually on his waist, his legs further down so the pressure was off of his knee. “So..” He started.

“So….” You mimicked, smiling fondly when he huffed in slight amusement.

Oikawa’s eyes flickered from object to object, seeing that you’d really put a lot of thought into this, “What instagram, or pintrest, blog did you get this idea from?” His smile was teasing as you sighed loudly and playfully swatted at his chest, “Sorry, wrong question.” He amended, his tone making it known it had not been a mistake of his tongue to speak what he had. “What I meant to ask was….” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his fluffy comforter under him, under you, “Why?”

The question was simple enough. But his voice, quiet, gentle, almost… shaky had your senses on alert - you’d known he hadn’t had a good day, Iwaizumi had told you as much when he’d called you, but you hadn’t known… it was bad enough to make his mask slip just the slightest.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his curious gaze focused on you, his lips pushed out into a pouting frown - how you just wanted to lean forward and kiss his sadness away. But slapping back to reality, you inhaled slowly, casting your eyes to his injured knee before meeting his eyes again, “I heard you had a bad day…”

Just the mention of his day had Oikawa practically recoiling into himself, his staring contest with your face suddenly broken and looking at anything but. His fingers, which had been gently stroking the cool comforter below him, now gently dug into the fabric, the bouncy, stretchy material wrinkling around his pressure.

He didn’t want to tell you about his dumb day. About his failures. He’d take those to the grave - the only people to actually know the truth would be those that were there and himself.

“…. Do you want to talk about it… Tooru?”

Heart stilling in his chest, Oikawa felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Why would he hide anytime from you? His closest friend after Iwaizumi. Someone who gave him advice from the opposite view. You who had helped him through his physical therapy sessions after his accident.

But when he still didn’t answer, you felt as if you’d crossed a line you hadn’t known had been drawn. So you nodded to yourself before turning your attention down to your hands below you, “Sorry… Uhm… You don’t have to, okay? But I’m here if you change your mind.” The gentle hope still in your voice, after being silently rejected, had Oikawa’s heart lurching forward - not only had he failed everything today, but now he was hurting you, too.

“I changed my mind.” Your eyes were drawn to the quiet voice beside you, seeing his internal battle plain on his face - the mask was completely off now. A faint sense of pride gripped your stomach as you watched him get a bit more comfortable, his body taking up much of the same position you were in, he was debating on what to say or at least how to say it - and it meant the world to you that he’d open up… even if he wasn’t the most comfortable with it.

You remained quiet, though, not wanting to rush him with questions, or prompt him along what he was feeling. All your friendship with the young man you’d been focused on giving him his time and space, while also reminding him that you were there with him. Whenever he needed you, you were just a phone call away. You remembered when he’d tease you, or even your friendship with him, saying how it was almost like the two of you were dating with how much you tried to comfort and be sweet to him.

How could he have known he’d pinpointed the exact dream you’d been plagued with since you first met him?

Oikawa tumbled the words in his head, in his mouth, not sure of what exactly to reveal to you - the entire truth? Or lie? Or half truth half lie?

One glance in your direction had him feeling guilty for even thinking about lying to you. Not you. Never you. Instead he let out a loud sigh, letting his head fall forward so it was resting against the pillow under his arms, burying his face in the soft plush it provided. “Everything is wrong, _______… Just… Everything.”

It was the first time in almost a year that he’d used your name without the cute honorific.

The seriousness of that fact had your heart beating a mile a second in your chest, hammering against your ribs and even setting a gentle blush across your cheeks and nose. Why did it have such a strong effect on you?

Now wasn’t the time to focus on your feelings though - he needed you.

Hesitantly, you reached your hand out, seeing it slightly shaking as lowered from the air between you to rest soothingly on his back. Slowly, still hesitant on whether he wanted to feel anything touching him, you rubbing your hand up and down his back, every now and then using the tips of your nails to trace soft patterns into his shirt, into his back.

“What’s everything, Tooru?” Voice still soft, hands still gentle, Oikawa fell quite easily into a sense of security - you were a safe space for him.

He could express his very deep fears to you without judgement, he felt.

A quiet voice inside him warned him of trusting people wholeheartedly - giving someone everything of you would only cause your own destruction. He wanted to play cautious around everyone, around you… but the understanding in your eyes, the feel of your hands slowly easing away his stress, the lull of your voice… all of it gave had his chest feeling too tight for his heart, as if he were too far from you, that he needed you as close as he could get you.

But he didn’t move.

Instead he, slowly, cautiously, spilled his heart out for you to see - bearing witness to his very unraveling.

—

The next morning, Oikawa felt sleep keep his eyes shut tight, reminding him of the long night of talking the two of you had had just a few hours prior. If he had to guess, he’d say he’d fallen asleep while talking to you - his voice fading closer and closer into the darkness around you two until you’d heard the soft snores of his slumber.

Eyes flickering open, blinking against the muted light of the sun against the fort’s blanketed roof, he glanced down at his body to see a soft sheet that hadn’t been there before he’d fallen asleep.

You’d covered him, tucked him in, and he was sure without a doubt had kissed his forehead to chase away his bad dreams.

The second thing he noticed, apart from the warmth he felt at the idea of your kiss against his skin, was your gracefully sleeping form. Ethereal in your own way. Gentle light surrounding you, caressing your dreams, your eyelids flickering just the slightest with the hint of something Oikawa would never be able to witness himself. Your lips were slightly parted, your breath coming in soft and quiet, no terrible snoring like he’d known himself to have.

He wanted to touch, to make sure you were really real, really there with him and gracing him with your presence. Oikawa wanted to call your name, see you react to his saying it, he wanted to be able to ask you to say his name.

But he didn’t want to break the fragile scene before him. He felt if he did anything that all that it’d shatter this moment for him - and he’d be forced to handle his own shit all on his own.

So his movements were slow, calculated, his body scooting just slightly closer to yours. For a few moments while he was getting closer to you, he briefly wondered what it was he was doing.

All Oikawa wanted was to be closer to you. And to wake you up….

With a kiss.

Bokuto Koutarou:

Opening the door, he knew you were greeted by darkness.

His darkness.

Or rather, the darkness of his room since he’d drawn the blinds and covered them with a thick blanket. No sun, no light - he didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

“Koutarou…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and he could hear your gentle sigh that followed - he’d put you through his mood swings way too often for you to be surprised by them at this point. Bokuto knew you hated him, you had to - there was no other way you’d feel about his sorry excuse for a human being. Littered with anxiety and depression every other day, joyous and annoying the next before hitting another low for absolutely no seeable reason.

“Sorry…” His voice was laced with sleep, or something close to it, he assumed. Sleep had evaded him, no matter how fast he ran towards it, no matter how much he pushed himself through physically, mentally, and emotionally… Sleep wouldn’t come. And he’d be left with his thoughts again.

There was a quiet shuffling as you entered his room, picking up what clothes he’d disposed when he’d come home the night before. He hadn’t been at school today, so you’d figured he’d fallen into another slump. You would have come sooner… But you had to get his classwork so he didn’t fall behind.

You paid no mind to his apology, knowing he wasn’t looking for validation - he’d shown you how he was from the beginning, and while he’d seen you be open and accepting of it… he couldn’t help but feel as if you’d wished you’d never met him.

Bokuto jumped slightly, surprised when he felt your soft touch against his arm, then he felt you sitting on his bed beside him, the mattress dipping with your added weight. “Sorry…” He mumbled again, the words feeling like wet sand in his mouth - knowing it was only a matter of time before it’d feel like molasses.

Gently, you stroked his arm, following his lines and dips, but then tracing some random designs - he could have sworn he felt you spell your name out, but then he knew he’d be fooling himself. “Kou…” Your voice, still gentle, still sweet, called out to him still, sending a wave of warmth across his skin, striking him in the heart directly. His sudden inhale notified you he was listening, “Kou, Do you want to talk about it?”

No. No he didn’t. He wanted to forget it ever happened, forget he ever existed.

“You’ll feel a lot better if you talk about it, Kou… Remember?”

Yeah, he knew that. It always helped to talk to someone when he felt like melting into the ground to escape. Talking to you specifically always had his world becoming brighter, he noticed. Your voice had a way of showing him the light even in the darkness of his own making.

Painfully slow, even for him, he turned his head to glance at you over his shoulder, seeing your silhouette surrounded by the light of his home - knowing it was nothing more than shadowplay… but he wasn’t able to get the image of you, his guardian angel, out of his mind. Because that’s what you were to him. His guardian. His savior. Someone who always knew when he wasn’t his best, and still encouraged him, inspired him, to better himself. To come to terms with his mental health.

The small smile that curled your lips was light a breath of fresh air for him. It revitalized him. Made him remember he wasn’t alone in his fight.

You patted his arm gently, tipping your head towards his open door, “Come on, Kou… I have a surprise for you.” Bokuto wanted to blow you off, huff in irritation and turn back to his dark corner, push you away…. But he also wanted to pull you close and never let you go, tell you everything he’d ever thought about in the last couple of hours without you in his presence, lean on you in his time of need. He wanted both equally, to the point of agony at just the thought of you.

But he didn’t act on either. He held back his emotions, as he’d been doing for the past day - knowing sooner or later he’d explode but today wasn’t that day… So he didn’t have to worry about it now.

Now was reserved for the way your hand stroked down his arm, now was held for only you and the gentleness of your touch as you laced your much thinner fingers with his. The present he was in would be focused solely on the way your smaller form tugged at him to get up, encouraging him to keep moving forward. “Kou..” You whined with a small laugh, knowing he wanted to come with you, but it was hard getting out of bed.

With a final blow to his demons, Bokuto slowly followed your tugging, sitting up in bed and using his other hand to rub roughly at his face - he was sure he had indents of his pillow sheet on his cheek. You were patient now, seeing he was really making an effort to follow you, your hand still holding his softly, feeling the strength with which he held your hand - as if you were his tie to reality.

Getting out of bed completely was a struggle, a battle all on its own. But he’d fight it. Over and over again would he fight it.

As long as you were there with him, waiting for his victory.

“Koutarou, I’m really excited to see what you think of the surprise, it’s really cute and I found it online when I was just looking for…” You continued to chatter, and while you were sure it annoyed most other people, you also knew Bokuto needed that verbal prompting. He’d told you before he liked when you talked, or when you’d blabber on about this or that… He liked your voice.

Bokuto listened contently, each step closer to your surprise becoming easier and easier with your excited jabbering. He wasn’t really focused on your words, or what it was you were talking about… but your voice. So sweet and gentle with him, using just the right tone to make him feel as if he were falling harder and harder for you each day passing.

Oh, he knew he was smitten. He’d been head over heels for you the moment Akaashi had introduced you to him! From that day forward, he’d begged any God to give your attention to him, and he’d tried… countless times to gain the courage and confidence to ask you out.

All his trials and errors, though, did have a benefit in the end… Like today, here you were. You were always there for him. A wonderful friend… that he wished he’d have the guts to ask to be more than just a friend. Whenever he was in his lowest of moments, and he knew it was too late to call you to help… he’d think of you. Of your smile, of your gentle hands pushing him forward and your soft voice coaxing him into the light you’d made your kingdom.

What he wouldn’t give to stand by you in that light.

“… So I figured I’d do the same and build us a little fort for the day! Or however long your mom will let us have it up!” You stood proudly beside him, your hand squeezing his excitedly as you stared ahead at your masterpiece. When he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him curiously - only to feel a blush settle across your face when you saw he was staring at you intensely. “Kou!” You laughed a bit nervously, nodding towards your fort, “Look what I made!”

He didn’t want to look away, but the blush on your cheeks had given him a weird feeling - as if he needed to look away or you’d go crazy. So he listened to his gut, and allowed his golden eyes to focus ahead the two of you… at the cute fort you’d built in the center of his living room.

“A fort?” It was a lame question, he knew, and he wanted to apologize for it since it was less than excited, but he knew you wouldn’t accept it in the slightest.

In fact, you smiled fondly, “Yes, sir! A fort! Come on! I made it perfect size for two and I have most of your favorite things in there!”

Bokuto felt a small, shadow of a smirk pull at his lips, his eyes going back down to your jittering form as you pulled him towards the fort. You were by his side, he wanted to argue… you’re his only favorite ‘thing’.

But the words stuck in his throat, and refused to come out.

You got into the fort first, making sure everything was perfect before you motioned for him to come in with you, “Come on in, Kou! What’s a fort without its great Knight!” Your smile was soft, but it spoke volumes to him - as if you were beaming from ear to ear in his minds eye.

Once he was situated next to you, on his back, staring up at the ‘roof’ of the fort, he felt his darkness slowly seeping away from him. Being replaced with a childlike wonder at the work you’d put into something so silly. “How long did it take you to make this?” He asked, his voice slowly coming back to him, gaining incrementally the rambunctious boom he had in his usual every day interactions.

Copying his pose, you turned so you were laying on your back, your hand slowly reaching between your bodies and resting over his, your fingers lacing with his once more, “Uhmmm about 30 minutes.. Why?”

Bokuto shook his head, “You were here for a whole hour, weren’t you?” He could tell when you fibbed, there was a certain choke to your voice whenever you’d try to squeak past him.

But you laughed, feeling your heart swell at his knowing you so well. “I couldn’t get the lights plugged in right! I thought one of the bulbs was broken… but it was just slightly unscrewed.” You mused happily, very pleased with your work, or maybe you were riding out the bliss you felt when his hand squeezed yours softly.

An actual smile slipped onto Bokuto’s face, touched, truly touched, you’d do something like this for him. “I think…. I think I’m ready to talk now, _______.”

Anxiety clutched your stomach suddenly, fear of screwing up with the wrong words curled around your throat. It was almost impossible, but you managed a quiet, “I’m always listening, Kou…” and you prayed he didn’t hear the shake of your voice - you’d never forgive yourself if you unintentionally had him pull away from you.

Taking a deep breath, Bokuto felt his heart squeeze in his chest, feeling your hand hold his tightly, reassuring him that you were there with him. That this wasn’t just some silly fantasy his demons had brought him in a fitful night.

No, you were here. With him. Beside him. Holding his hand as if he were your tie on reality, too.

——

He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t remember pulling you close against his chest in the cover of night. He didn’t even remember when he’d allowed your head to rest on his bicep as a makeshift pillow.

But the moment he opened his eyes, he came face to face with your peaceful, beautifully exhausted expression. You’d fallen asleep just as easily as he had. But after he did.. He was sure of it.

He’d been heard just fine.

Carefully, his brought his other hand from his stomach to stroke away the hair from your face, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest when you hummed contently, the vibration of your body against his having his lungs feel as if they weren’t large enough for the inhale he took.

In the night, you’d pretty much, thankfully, happily wrapped yourself around him, your left leg resting over his, your ankle having hooked around his. Your left hand rested comfortably on his stomach, your fingers pressing into his shirt now and then as your dreams continued - your cheek pressed into his bicep. The fluttering of your eyelashes tickled his skin, and had the young man smiling serenely down at you.

“I really… don’t deserve you, _______….” His voice was quieter than the A/C blowing through his house, and he was thankful you weren’t awake to hear it; He knew you’d only argue against it. “I…. I don’t think I can be just your friend anymore, ______…” Bokuto dipped his head just the slightest, now pressing his forehead against yours, his nose against your cheek as he debated on whether this was a good idea or not.

Was he right to want you? To keep you by him? Would he ever forgive himself if you got eaten up by his darkness?

“So… Are you going to kiss me or am I going to kiss you?”

Your voice, laced with sleep, scared him, his eyes going wide, pulling his head a bit away from yours. You whined quietly and leaned closer to him, now pressing your head against his chin, feeling disappointment bloom in your chest that you’d ruined the moment.

Bokuto cleared his throat, “Ah. I.. I’m sorry, _____. I didn’t mean, I, Uh.. Um..” He coughed a bit awkwardly, a sheepish smile coming to his face - and you forced yourself to open an eye to catch a glimpse of the beautiful expression.

He was back.

When you didn’t say anything to indicate you were mad, his heart swelled - you wanted him to kiss you. Seriously? That’s all he’d been dreaming about for the past couple of months! Excitement thrummed in his veins, and he slowly lowered his head once more so he was pressing his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?” It wasn’t a question about the kiss. It was for afterwards. What would happen after the kiss? He felt his anxiety eating at his stomach, making it do flips the closer and closer he felt your lips in the air between you.

You hummed with a gentle smile, leaning up just the slightest so you were just a hairs length from kissing him, “Let’s figure that out later, Kou…” It was a promise. You’d be there for him. Regardless if it worked between you two or not. You needed each other.

And that’s all it took before Bokuto was closing he space between you two and pressing his lips against yours.

He’d never seen fireworks explode behind his eyelids like this before.

Kuroo Tetsurou:

He didn’t want to talk about it. The rigidness of his body told you that much. And while it killed you to see him so antisocial about his issues, you understood that Kuroo preferred to deal with his own problems in his own way.

Sometimes it worked, he’d be fine the next day - acting as if nothing had happened and he’d never been in a sour mood previously.

Sometimes it didn’t - He’d be moody, and snap at anyone that had anything adverse to say about what he was doing, or even just gave him a look he took the wrong way.

It was too soon for you to figure out which way he’d go. Kuroo had just come over to your house, irritation and frustration rolling off his shoulders, proclaiming he didn’t want to talk about it right now and he just wanted to hang out with you.

You’d been flustered, to say the least. It wasn’t every day that your close friend, Kuroo, would barge into your house and want to hang out with you. Sure, being close friends should warrant that kind of behavior - but he was a busy young man. He had a ton of things to be taking care of.

That’s probably why he was irritated, you deduced. “Well, Tetsu, you came at just the right time!” Your smile was bright as you tossed yourself out of your study chair, padding over to where you’d, oddly enough, set up a rather nice looking ‘fort’.

“Yeah, but did you finish?” The sight of you freezing in your movements and sending him an ‘that was kinda funny but stupid’ expression had his sly smirk brightening his expression just slightly.

Giving his question, insincere in wanting a real answer, a few minutes to settle in the room, you sighed loudly and crawled into the fort, “Ya done?” You raised an eyebrow at him when you’d turned around enough to be able to see his curious expression.

While his bad mood was still fresh and pulling at his attention every five seconds, he refused to let it affect him around you. You didn’t need to see him like that. Unraveled by his own making. And even though he had wanted to go home…. To bury his face in his pillows and forget today had ever happened, his legs had taken him to your house. Straight through and up to your room. He hadn’t even knocked, honestly.

“Well considering you’re so excited that I ca-“

“Ah, ah, ah! Hush!” You laughed with a wide smile, sitting back on your legs before waving him towards you, “Come on! I’ve got everything set up and ready!”

Kuroo squinted at you suspiciously, but he still walked towards where you sat within your small fort. “Why did you build this exactly? Reverting to being a 5 year old, again?” When he got to the point where he could no loner see you within the blankets, he slowly kneeled down, leaning back on his ankles as a way to show he didn’t trust your ingenuity.

You snorted and shrugged, “Maybe, Maybe not! Either way…. Get in the fort, Tetsu.” You reached your hand out, offering him to take it, an aide for his ‘i’m way too old for this’ attitude to revert to the wonder he’d once had when he wasn’t ‘too old’. “Come on! I have snacks in here, and cool manga, and phone chargers.. I even have some headsets so we can watch movies and videos!”

Everything froze as the last portion left your mouth.

It was almost as if you’d planned this for him… From the beginning.

A flush quickly colored your cheeks and you cleared your throat in your embarrassment, “I mean.. Heh… Uh…” You didn’t have anything to save you in this moment. You’d outed yourself so easily under his golden stare on your being. You’d felt as if you’d been put under a microscope while he’d watched passively, quietly waiting for you to admit you’d been up for the past night and a half getting everything just perfect for him.

But he didn’t comment on it.

It touched his heart, he would never admit it to you - why would you care if it had really sentimentally mattered to him whether you’d planned for his bad mood or not?

Instead, he felt his smirk widen, “So is this thing going to collapse as soon as I get in or….?”

A sigh of relief exhaled from your mouth as you nervously flattened the space next to you, “No, of course not, Tetsu! I made this fort perfectly stable and able to withstand even the harshest of weather conditions! It’s fool proof!”

Kuroo snickered, “Yeah, but you’re in there… So it’s more like… A Fool’s Experiment.” The playfully insulted expression you threw him had his mood lightening just the slightest, laughing at the way you huffed and turned your face away from his gaze. “Okay, okay… I’m coming in…” He slowly moved himself to all fours before crawling into the fort.

“Now you have to turn around, Tetsu… Otherwise you’re just going to be severely disappointed in the fort experience of my brilliant minds making!”

Internally, you groaned… why did you have to talk so much?? He was already here! He was already next to you! Why’d you have to make it just a little awkward every time you opened your mouth?

But the young man took your request to heart, and he slowly, carefully, sat up from his crawling position.

It was only too late, WAY too late, for you to have noticed there was no enough room for your large friend to move around comfortably. You were directly in his way for him to be turning around like you’d advised. His right hand placed itself next to your calve, the other on the other side of your hips, his face just a few inches from yours.

He froze.

You froze.

The two of you were so close. You don’t think you’d ever been this close to him.. Not face to face - only ever hugs here and there, or when he’d give you piggy back rides when you weren’t feeling good… Not this though. This was something different.

Kuroo felt a heat light in his chest, pleading him to push closer to you, lean you further against the sheet that acted as a wall, trap you between his body and your floor. His hands itched to rest on your hips, on your waist, and pull you closer to him - for his back to press against the sheet and have you leaning on him.

Fear replaced his desires in an instant when he noticed your eyes flicker down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more.

What if he disappointed you? What if he frustrated you like he did with everything else in his life? What if you grew to hate him as much as he hated himself?

So he chickened out, and pulled away, his eyes looking down to make sure he didn’t touch you at all in his turning around. It wasn’t until he was laying on his stomach, facing the mouth of the fort, that he let out a sigh of relief.

But disappointment settled in the pit of your stomach. And suddenly you didn’t want to be near him… You wanted to be as far away as possible and hide in the darkness of your room… Just so no one had to see the emotion threatening to leave your body at his simple, silent rejection.

Kuroo hummed contently, his arms wrapping under the pillow below him, “You were right, _____… This view is much better.. I can see everything - like the dirty underwear under your bed..”

Seconds ticked by before he realized you hadn’t reacted the way he thought you would. No yelp, no squeak, no whine for him to please be kidding… Nothing.. It was eerily silent. His eyes went from staring out ahead to him to looking at you from the corner of them, he wanted to call your attention - feeling like he needed your eyes on him as much as he needed oxygen. But he remained silent, watching the way you blinked out of your stupor and sent him an unappreciated glare.

This glare had less teasing than he was uses to - like you actually meant it.

“Har, har… so very funny.” Even your retort lacked the playfulness he was used to in your words. “So… Now that you’re feeling a bit better….” You paused, feeling your irritation and disappointment get the better of your emotions. You had to control yourself.. Why would you dare give Kuroo the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt you with his inaction? That feeling of loss and bitterness was reserved for later… when you were alone and allowed to seethe and cry. You cleared your throat, reminding yourself you were here for him and his bad mood, “Did you want to talk about-“

“No, I still don’t want to talk about it…” He muttered, his tone back to being a little sharp. His attention turned back to the view you’d praised about earlier - before he’d gone and screwed everything up. “It’s not really… anything concerning you, _______… It’s just me, just me that has the issue.” His voice lightened considerably by the end, his hands gripping the pillow under him roughly, forcing himself to think about what you would think if he were to suddenly bare his soul for you to judge.

You wanted to huff in irritation. You wanted to push his head into the pillow in an act of frustration. You wanted to mutter a backhanded compliment of how good he was at keeping his emotions in check.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not after what you’ve been feeling for him built itself to the level it was now. Hurting Kuroo in any way.. was never an option for you.

Gently, you rested your hand on his gripping the pillow with such a force you were scared he’d rip it. The feeling of his warm hand slowly taking yours instead of the pillow had your heart doing flips - seconds after it’d been shattered.

It was impossible for you not to reach out to him, though, you realized. Having his gaze, his hands, his attention focused solely on you was the only thing you wanted with your life. That’s all. When he went to reiterate his stance on his feelings, you shook your head and squeezed his hand softly, “You don’t have to tell me, Tetsu… But I’m right here if you want to talk.. Always.”

The finality of your words had Kuroo feeling out of breath. How could he have ever gotten such a guarantee from someone he’d just chickened out from kissing just a few seconds ago? Were you insane? Was he just that big of an asshole to turn you down?

And it wasn’t even something he’d planned on doing. He liked you, really really liked you for you and how you treated him - and he’d give anything to keep you by his side for as long as you could… but he’d chickened out, gotten scared by his own doubts.

“I know it’s really hard to trust people, Tetsu.. For the longest time, I wouldn’t have ever dreamed I could open up, but once I did I was really happy and-“

Warmth spread through your entire body, your words being muffled by a pair of lips against yours. You started with surprise, but your slow mouth only had his kiss becoming more desperate - his need for you to want him back just as large as it had been before his fear had shut him off. Your mind kicked itself in the ass before you were slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers delving into his hair as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Kuroo was the one to pull away first, his breathing labored, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes closed. Your hands slipped from his hair, cupping his face with one hand while the other slipped down his chest, resting over his heart where his hand had stopped it from falling any further away from him. You quietly panted, trying to supply oxygen to your surprised systems - he’d kissed you. Out of the blue, Kuroo had kissed you. For no reason you could see, he’d kissed you.

“I… I really want to talk…. _______….” His voice was a little shaky, unsure in what exactly he wanted to say to you - or why he’d chosen you to talk to about all his issues.

A soft smile curled your lips, and, after gaining enough courage, you leaned up a bit to press a sweet kiss against his lips; chaste and soft, he wasn’t even sure you’d actually done it! “I’m right here, Tetsu…” Your whispered words breathed life into his very soul, and he knew he’d be able to actually talk to you - no jokes or distractions to divert your attention.

Okay… so Kuroo’s… is COMPLETELY different than the other two lmao… mostly because I kind of… ran out of time.. again.. hehe… I hope you like the twist of it tho :D

#Admin Satori #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! scenario #Oikawa Tooru #Bokuto Koutarou #Kuroo Tetsurou #SFW #Slight Depression #Depression Mention #tw: Depression

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humansareweirdsedition · 7 years

Text

Humans Are Weird: Women’s Edition Part XI

It’s Part XI guys! This one took a bit of time not because I had difficulty writing it (which isn’t to say I didn’t have writer’s block at some point), but because my cat Moon kept bugging me. Like, as I wrote this sentence, he was sitting beside me, purring for attention. He doesn’t leave me alone. All day long, he has followed me around and kept me from working. He’s such a pain.

By the way, the italic conversations are the Voyager Moana’s crew speaking Earthen languages (usually mixed). An example is two random individuals speaking Arabic and Japanese in the same sentence. One person be speaking in Japanese, but then start speaking some Arabic words in between, and the other person will do the opposite and they both completely understand each other.

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX >> Part X >> Part XI >> Part XII >> Part XIII >> Part XIV

“Lieutenant General!” exclaimed Fatima as she stood up and salute her. “It’s good to see you’re alive.”

Seeing Fatima’s warm, genuine smile brought a flood of relief to Murakami. “It’s good to see you’re alive as well. I thought you got burnt to a crisp back on the ship,” she said, unable to hold back a smile. It really had been too long since she last saw any of her friends.

Fatima grinned. “Honestly, I would have been if Vallion hadn’t shielded me...” As her voice trailed off, a far away look took over. “I was lucky Vallion had my back. We were all lucky not to have died.”

Murakami sighed. “Well, who would’ve thought pendulums of death made of mattresses and a Twinkie-oven bombs could do so much damage?”

“Gigi’ish did. He was complaining the entire time we were making it,” she said with the most serious of straight faces, mimicking the face Gigi’ish often made when someone was about to do something reckless.

Murakami couldn’t help, but laugh. “Yes, well, he’s more...”

“Paranoid?” Fatima supplemented.

“...cautious than he should, but he’s managed to survive this far with us.”

“Uh-huh...anyways, why has this kalb brought you here, sir?” Fatima asked as she jerked her thumb towards Mel.

“Meru-kun is unfortunately tasked with getting me to reveal personal information about our crew.”

“Meru? I thought his name was Mel? The leatherhead goons and the other prisoners call him that.”

“Oh, his name is Mel, but I figured this’ll be a fun way of passive-aggressively pissing him off.”

“Good one, sir.”

“Alright,” Mel interrupted, his usual stoic expression had now taken a chilling aspect, “all languages except Standard Galaxic are forbidden.”

Fatima was less than impressed by Mel’s declaration. “What will you do if we don’t comply?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Indeed, what could Mel do to them? He was a slave; and albeit he had more freedoms than most on this vessel, he was still a powerless figure, but Murakami had a sinking feeling that underestimating Mel’s capabilities would be a grave mistake...

“This,” said Mel, managing to make the word foreboding, before he fidgeted with the holo-screen. Within five seconds, Fatima was convulsing on the floor, screaming the most unholy of screams, and clawing the back of her neck.

It was terrifying.

Resisting the urge to grabbing Mel by the shoulders and shaking some sense into him, Murakami forced herself to remain calm, even as Fatima convulsed on the floor. “What are you doing to her, Mel? Why are you doing this? You need to stop this now,” as she spoke, she felt her resolve crumble. Mel was ignoring her and staring at Fatima. “Please stop this. Mel..you’re hurting her! Mel, please. Stop. STOP.” Her voice, becoming increasingly desperate, fell on deaf ears.

Mel kept his gaze on Fatima as he spoke to her. “Col. Fatima Hashim Is’a. Obedience will be learned aboard the Frek’jon before you are sold. The more you comply, the easier it becomes.” Murakami watched with a faltering heart as, despite the excruciating pain she must have been in, Fatima glared at Mel. But for that, he increased the intensity of her pain. “Do you understand your situation yet, Col. Is’a?” he asked.

This time, when Murakami stepped, she shook Mel by the shoulders. “Yes, you’ve made your point. Now, stop this. I’ll do anything―” When the word left her, she immediately clamped.

But it was too late. She messed up.

Mel titled his head to the side, apathetic to them both, before asking her, “Anything?” and sending chills down her spine.

Hanging her head in defeat, Murakami nodded. “Anything, just please...no more. I’ll talk to my crew. I’ll get them to cooperate.” She failed them. She failed her crew. She failed them not just as their captain, but as their friend as well.

“Superb,” Mel said, practically clicking his heels as he turned away from them both and deactivated whatever device was attached to the back of Fatima’s neck. “Col. Is’a, I suggest giving Lt. Gen. Murakami your thanks. She has just secured a comfortable future for you and all your crewmates.” As he moved to leave, Fatima tottered back on her feet.

“MURAKAMI! NO, DON’T!” Fatima cried out. “Wait, please, don’t. I’ll survive. We all will. You know us. We’re stronger than we look.”

“Enough, Col. Is’a. Don’t try my patience,” Mel warned, pausing mid-step, his fingers at the ready to activate the device again.

“Allaena―” Fatima began, but was cut short by Murakami.

“We understand, Mel. Allow the two of us a final moment,” she requested, head bowed. Seeing Fatima so distraught distressed her. She had to do something about her actions.

Finally, after a brief silence, Mel spoke. “You have five drushes. Use your time wisely.” Taking a step away from them, yet remaining in earshot, Mel motioned for them to begin.

Stepping closer to the barrier, Murakami rested her head against the wall beside the barrier. “I know...” she began, speaking through clenched teeth, “I know you all are amazingly talented, fucking batshit crazy. Sometimes I think a nuclear blast couldn’t even kill you all...but I can’t just stand idly by while you’re tortured. You’re family to me.” She forced herself to face her, even though it pained her. “You and everyone else from the Voyager Moana. You are my second family. And just knowing that when one of you is harm’s way and all the others are susceptible to the same harm...

“Fatima, I just can’t do nothing. I have to do the right thing, even if it doesn’t feel right, but this doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I won’t give up. Not on our crew. Not ever. I’ll figure a way for all of us to escape, I promise...

“Just please, be patient.” It tore her apart. She had fallen for Mel’s trick; she made a stupid rookie mistake. She was unable to save her crew; but she could still protect them to an extent. She had made her mistake, but she wouldn’t make it again.

As she locked gazes with Fatima, Murakami willed her to understand and released a sigh of relief when Fatima reluctantly conceded. “I’ve entrusted my life to you before, and I’ll continue to entrust my life to you.”

“Shukraan, Col. I’sa.”

“Ma salam, Lt. General Murakami.”

Clutching her chest, Murakami turned away and faced Mel. “Just under five drushes. Good. Let’s go. You have work to do.”

Krellion was having a dull gulkib. First, after Zeelot demanded Krellion finish his latest batch of pheromones, they took it from him, and Krellion was now stuck examining Col. Jay’va on Zeelot’s orders. Such dreary, tedious work. Obviously she’s in pristine physical health. I made sure all the injured dulgos were, but why does Zeelot want me to examine her in particular?

She was unremarkable. Her fur was brighter than most females, but it wasn’t abnormal. She was of average height and weight. Average intelligence. Nothing stood out about her except her fiery temperament, which would serve her well in the Arena. “Hhhhnnn...Col. Heth Jay’va, what’s so special about you that caught Zeelot’s attention, hmm?” he asked her, but of course she couldn’t answer. She was still incapacitated due to the influence of his pheromones.

As he turned away from her, he heard the door behind him swoosh open and the familiar tappity-tap of Zeelot’s feet. “How goes it, Krellion? Any progress?” inquired Zeelot as they way their way over to him.

“If I knew what I was searching for, then maybe,” he said, “but since I don’t, no.” His patience was wearing thin and he made it known. “Care to enlighten me on my task, dear Captain?”

Zeelot sent him a freezing glare before reaching a hand out to Jay’va. “Rumor is, Goth Yuyu’ish, the Psi Ken of Zarga colony Luga Fi, is searching for a new carrier for his harem,” they explained, “and Col. Jay’va will be the perfect carrier for him.”

Krellion was unconvinced. “This carrier is a dulgo, Captain; and a volatile one at that. Psi Ken Yuyu’ish will not have the patience for her. He is more likely to skin her alive and use her pelt as a throne rug than keep her as his next mate. She will serve us better in the Arena.”

“I agree,” Zeelot clucked. “She would be serve us better in the Arena, and she will.”

As they spoke, it clicked in Krellion’s mind Zeelot’s plan. “You plan to display her at the Arena and appeal her battle prowess to Psi Ken Yuyu’ish,” he stated.

They nodded, a confirmation. “As Champion of the Arena, she will fetch a far higher price than just as a captured dulgo.”

He gave them a sideline look. “Sir, you believe she’ll become Champion? No dulgo has become Champion. It’s absurd. Their weak-minded dispositions leave them prey to the kulgo of the Arena.” At best, Jay’va could win a few matches against other dulgo and some of the weaker opponents. She could maybe taken down a Pollikon or two if she was enraged enough, but she could never become Champion.

Yet Zeelot remained confident in Jay’va’s success. “Psi Ken Yuyu’ish will want a fertile mate. If her fertility is low, be sure to increase it. Otherwise, recheck her health and have her prepped for the Arena. Just two and a half gulkibs until we reach the Auction.”

And with that, Zeelot was gone, leaving Krellion to finish his work.

Vallion sat in their cell rereading the same holo-screen with information of kulgo and dulgo H’hish. It included the basic anatomic and cellular differences, their roles in H’hishian society, and more. It explained why Vallion had never reached complete sexual maturation while living on Farla Lai. But it doesn’t explain it all, they thought for the hundredth time, it doesn’t explain why my siblings reached maturation while I didn’t. We have the same parents, so why?

It was a mystery, one that even the unsettling Krellion didn’t have an answer for, or at least one he was willing to provide. Vallion was a kulgo, but they didn’t comprehend why they had to be one. It would have been nice just to be like everyone else, but they weren’t. Instead, they were an immature kulgo waiting to be sold to the highest bidder at an Auction on a planet they had never even known about.

Besides the reading, Vallion had nothing to do in their cell. No fellow inmates to converse with, no guards to befriend...no one. They were isolated. Even their meals were delivered by servant bots. It was frustrating. They had never been so alone in their life. The isolation was as maddening as their identity crisis.

“This sucks...” they mumbled, tossing the holo-screen aside.

“I know, right?”

Vallion turned their head so fast, they nearly sprained their neck. “Lieutenant General!” Vallion exclaimed as they immediately bolted to the barrier and pressed themselves against it to get a better look at her. “It really is you! Sir, how are you here? What’s going on?”

Murakami wore a painful smile as she answered, “It’s really me, Vallion.” She paused, looked to her left, and then continued, “and as for how I got here...I’m now a slave of the Frek’jon.”

“Frek’jon?” repeated Vallion, confused.

She nodded. “It’s the ship we’re on. It’s a mercenary vessel filled with the most distasteful of individuals.” She made a face and stuck out her tongue.

Vallion couldn’t help, but wiggle their ears. Even in the most trying of times, humans managed to find humor. “All that aside, it doesn’t explain what’s going on,” Vallion said, returning to the seriousness of their conversation.

“About that...” Murakami cringed and stepped aside to allow another lifeform to join their conversation.

And that lifeform was...terrifying. Just glancing at them was unnerving in a way differing from being in Krellion’s presence.

“Who are you?” Vallion asked, standing their ground as if that would do either them or Murakami any good.

“You may call me Zeelot, and, as I have said to the others, I am the captain of this vessel. I am here to support our dear Murakami in explaining your current situation and why it is in your best interest to cooperate with us. Right?” The lifeform, Zeelot, wrapped a disgusting limp around Murakami’s shoulders. It was sickening.

It didn’t sit well with Vallion, but they were in no position to make demands or lash out. Instead, they looked to Murakami for guidance.

Sighing, Murakami looked from them to Zeelot with great reluctance. “The crew will be sold at an auction soon and they―we need a list of personal details on them not readily available from their personnel files. I’ve already spoken to Balogh and she’s agreed to help speak to the crew with me―”

“Pardon me for interrupting, but do you hear what you’re saying?! And how did you get Balogh―of all people―to agree?” they asked, unable to believe what they were hearing. “This is utter nonsense. This is―” But they didn’t get the chance to finish speaking because Murakami cut them off.

“I know, Vallion...I know,” she muttered, staring at her feet. “I know, but you need to understand it’s not a matter up for discussion. It really isn’t. Just, just look at your holo-screen and you’ll realize why.” Lamely, she motioned to the discarded device.

Curious, Vallion picked up the device and found new content notice. Tapping it, a holo-vid popped up previewing Fatima dressed in the same ugly clothes as them and Murakami. Glancing over at Murakami, they wanted some semblance of an explanation, but she wouldn’t meet their gaze. Now they were becoming increasingly distressed and decided they had to play the holo-vid.

Tapping the screen, Vallion stood rigid as the sound of Fatima’s sweet voice filled their cell.

#Humans are Weird: Women's Edition #Humans are Weird #HAWWE #HAW:WE #Humans are Space Orcs #Humans are Space Australians #Space Australians #Humans are Space Oddities #Space Orcs #Space Oddities #Humans #Aliens #Science Fiction #Sci Fi #Original Story #Original Characters #Space Adventure #Space Travel #Outer Space

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snowwolf1118 · 7 years

Text

Humans Are Weird: Women’s Edition Part XI

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX >> Part X < > Part XII >> Part XIII

“Lieutenant General!” exclaimed Fatima as she stood up and salute her. “It’s good to see you’re alive.”

Murakami sighed. “Well, who would’ve thought pendulums of death made of mattresses and a Twinkie-oven bombs could do so much damage?”

Murakami couldn’t help, but laugh. “Yes, well, he’s more...”

“Paranoid?” Fatima supplemented.

“...cautious than he should, but he’s managed to survive this far with us.”

“Uh-huh...anyways, why has this kalb brought you here, sir?” Fatima asked as she jerked her thumb towards Mel.

“Meru-kun is unfortunately tasked with getting me to reveal personal information about our crew.”

“Meru? I thought his name was Mel? The leatherhead goons and the other prisoners call him that.”

“Oh, his name is Mel, but I figured this’ll be a fun way of passive-aggressively pissing him off.”

“Good one, sir.”

“Alright,” Mel interrupted, his usual stoic expression had now taken a chilling aspect, “all languages except Standard Galaxic are forbidden.”

Fatima was less than impressed by Mel’s declaration. “What will you do if we don’t comply?” she asked, crossing her arms.

It was terrifying.

This time, when Murakami stepped, she shook Mel by the shoulders. “Yes, you’ve made your point. Now, stop this. I’ll do anything―” When the word left her, she immediately clamped.

But it was too late. She messed up.

Mel titled his head to the side, apathetic to them both, before asking her, “Anything?” and sending chills down her spine.

“MURAKAMI! NO, DON’T!” Fatima cried out. “Wait, please, don’t. I’ll survive. We all will. You know us. We’re stronger than we look.”

“Enough, Col. Is’a. Don’t try my patience,” Mel warned, pausing mid-step, his fingers at the ready to activate the device again.

“Allaena―” Fatima began, but was cut short by Murakami.

“We understand, Mel. Allow the two of us a final moment,” she requested, head bowed. Seeing Fatima so distraught distressed her. She had to do something about her actions.

Finally, after a brief silence, Mel spoke. “You have five drushes. Use your time wisely.” Taking a step away from them, yet remaining in earshot, Mel motioned for them to begin.

“Shukraan, Col. I’sa.”

“Ma salam, Lt. General Murakami.”

Clutching her chest, Murakami turned away and faced Mel. “Just under five drushes. Good. Let’s go. You have work to do.”

“If I knew what I was searching for, then maybe,” he said, “but since I don’t, no.” His patience was wearing thin and he made it known. “Care to enlighten me on my task, dear Captain?”

“I agree,” Zeelot clucked. “She would be serve us better in the Arena, and she will.”

As they spoke, it clicked in Krellion’s mind Zeelot’s plan. “You plan to display her at the Arena and appeal her battle prowess to Psi Ken Yuyu’ish,” he stated.

They nodded, a confirmation. “As Champion of the Arena, she will fetch a far higher price than just as a captured dulgo.”

And with that, Zeelot was gone, leaving Krellion to finish his work.

“This sucks...” they mumbled, tossing the holo-screen aside.

“I know, right?”

“Frek’jon?” repeated Vallion, confused.

She nodded. “It’s the ship we’re on. It’s a mercenary vessel filled with the most distasteful of individuals.” She made a face and stuck out her tongue.

“About that...” Murakami cringed and stepped aside to allow another lifeform to join their conversation.

And that lifeform was...terrifying. Just glancing at them was unnerving in a way differing from being in Krellion’s presence.

“Who are you?” Vallion asked, standing their ground as if that would do either them or Murakami any good.

It didn’t sit well with Vallion, but they were in no position to make demands or lash out. Instead, they looked to Murakami for guidance.

Tapping the screen, Vallion stood rigid as the sound of Fatima’s sweet voice filled their cell.

#Humans are Weird #Humans Are Weird: Women's Edition #HAWWE #HAW:WE #Part XI #Humans #Aliens #Science Fiction #Sci Fi #Fiction #Original story #Original Characters #Outer Space #Space Travel #Adventure

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