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insomniac-arrest · 4 years

Note

my mother did not tell us stories.

I was tucked up in bed nice and neat with my blankets pressed all the way up to my chin and my breathing coming out in an even flow. A smooth inhale, exhale, inhale again, it had all the trappings of real sleep. I’m the oldest so I have to tuck myself in neatly and wait for the others to follow suit. Though, I would guess most of them didn’t have to pretend.

Time must have slipped by, minutes, hours, the silver slash of the moon crossing the sky with a gradual ease of movement. I was somewhere between bruised-eyed wakefulness and a frantic dream trying to suck me down with the force of sticky tar.

Something banged from down below.

A crash like pots and pans, silverware tossed down stone steps, breaking flower vases on concrete. My eyes were fully open and my feet swinging out of bed before I knew what I was doing.

I can’t let the Pastor see this, that’s the type of thoughts I was having at the time. I was the oldest after all.

I pushed my way out of the blankets just as two little heads poked up from the covers on the beds next to mine, “what’s going on?” Tom slurred his words and asked groggily.

“Sh,” I hushed him, “I’ll take care of it.” I was already out the door and down the stairs that groaned under my steps.

The lights were off in the house and a draft pushed through my thin pajamas. I shivered and rounded the living room to find the kitchen quiet and empty.

“What was that?” More voices came from upstairs, but none of them were the Pastor.

I looked left and right, but all of the kitchen cabinets were firmly shut. I took a step forward and wetness hit my toes.

My eyebrows rose and looked down to see puddles of water across the floor. They were neat silver pools that dribbled from the door to the middle of the kitchen. And then simply stopped. I took a deep inhale and it smelled of damp soil.

I gawked at it for a long second before I heard a wizened voice. “What’s that, Cathleen?”

I turned quickly, “Nothing, Pastor Kirk. A stray cat!” I frowned at the wet spots on the floor. “Let me tell stories to the children and get them back to bed.”

My own mother never told stories even when I knew her, but I had a few left. I told one about a ghost that night.—————-It was a week later and I had a toothache that dully worked its way through my jaw and took up my whole head space. That was probably why I forgot to bow my head at mother Mary when I walked in the door that day. We were always supposed to show our respects.

“Do you show disrespect?”

“No disrespect, sir.” I squeaked.

“Do you want the devil to possess your carelessness? Huh?” I shook my head vigorously and looked for an escape route as little Lilly glanced over at me and mouthed some words.

“I’ll go get dinner started.” I said quickly before the flood gates really opened, “I’ll go collect more eggs. We’ll have cake.”

He just watched me carefully as I fled out of the back door and into the thick grasses. I was breathing hard by the time I was free of his hateful gaze. I slowed when I approached the hen house and paused as I saw Margaret standing besides the little door and not going in.

She was a stoic girl with a handsome chin and small watchful eyes.

I gave her a wary look and examined the brown coop: it seemed the same wooden structure with a steep roof and little ramp up to the door. “Um,” I glanced to Margaret who had not spoken since she arrived at the home. “Is something wrong?”

Margaret pointed carefully toward the door and I shuffled over to look at the small tin handle. It was wet.

I slowly reached out to touch the moisture clinging to it, but jumped when the chickens burst out with a series of loud clucks and noisy bocking. I wrenched the wet door open and the chickens came flooding out. “Girls, girls!” I tried to calm them but all six of the ladies came charging out of the house and into the yard.

Except for one. I stuck my head into the dim little space that smelled of sawdust and animal warmth. And wet soil.

There was one chicken left in the house. She was standing over a very large egg and when I went over to her the egg broke open as if made of a chalk. Easy and strange.

One green scaly leg stepped out, and then another. I cocked my head to the side as a lizard seemed to be looked back at me. A chicken seemed to have laid a lizard.

“Shoo,” I waved the chicken off and looked at the strangest green creature I’d ever seen.

“Cathleen!” Someone called for me. “Cathleen, what are you doing?”

I grabbed the lizard with both hands and stuck it in my pocket. “Nothing!” There were more drops of water near the coop as I exited it.

The Pastor gave a small lecture that night about young woman who stray from the path of the righteous: ones who were did not listen well or have good in their hearts. He finished with his usual speech about the end of the world and judgement coming to us all.

I wasn’t sure about the rest of it, but I remembered what the chicken had just birthed and for once I almost agreed.—————“I can’t hear you!” It was late. The night sky had long since been glittering above and my eyes drooped.

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you.” Our voices joined together as we repeated the phrases and knelt and then stood and then knelt again.

“Louder!” He said with a look in his eyes you might see in race horses on their last lap. Lilly softly wept beside me.

It was long past our bedtimes and Tom’s knees were bleeding and leaving marks upon the floor.

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you.”

I was shaking slightly. I was the oldest. But I had already tried to reason with him to release the younger ones, but he just spat “do you want to see your siblings go to hell?” I knelt and then stood again.

My throat was raw and hoarse and I had forgotten in what way we had angered him this time.

My head was bent down and hair loose around my face when color bled across the floors. A rose-red slant of light that spilled and spilled out onto the kitchen tiles.

I looked up just as the full moon was colored a hazy, distinctive crimson. It bathed the entire fields outside like a battlefield. And the grass was wet.

“What is that?” The Pastor’s eyes went wide and he took a step back. My cheek still stung from when I had tried to talk to him earlier. I turned to him now, knees trickling blood and a defiance I didn’t know I had shining through my face.

Bang

The other kids jumped as the loud noise crashed from outside.

“Cathleen?” One of the younger kids reached for my hand and the Pastor backed away toward the corner.

“It’s fine.” I said and looked toward the door expectantly. The smell of damp earth and overturned soil permeated the air.

Bang

It was coming closer. All the signs were there. It had been coming for awhile now.

“What devils have you brought to my door, child?” He looked directly at me and I couldn’t help but be filled with it. Remade in the terror on his face.

BANG

Something banged on the door and shook its very hinges. “Margaret,” I turned to my foster sibling, “let her in.” I glanced back over to the Pastor with my head raised, “mom’s back.”

My mom never told us stories. But she was one.

#asks #flash fiction #stories #creepy #ghost story #cw: child abuse #extra-plus-ordinary

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Wizard of Oz Queen x pre-teen Chap. 2; Landing in Oz

*Author’s note*

Alrighty here’s where things get interesting now just a few things. Now for the person I’ve chosen to be Glinda, the witch of the North I had a combined costume idea, so based on the gifs below imagine Fred’s outfit from the Christmas 1975 Hammersmith concert, and the very LAST costume David Bowie wears in the film Labyrinth. Also a face cast you can imagine for the 4 Fae Queens, just think of Lucy Boynton’s!Mary Austin.

Warnings: Tornadoes, death of a character (not a main one).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@platawnic

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@kairosfreddie

_______________________________________________________________

*3rd Person POV*

About a half mile away from the house, a giant F2 tornado had hit right near Rockfield studios. Henry Gale was frantically racing towards the barn to get some of the cows and horses lose from the stable so that they wouldn’t be trapped and end up getting killed.

Covering herself with her shawl, Aunt Em raced out the backdoor near the storm shelter and she cried out for (Y/n) as loud as she could over the harsh winds.

Just around the trail leading to the house, (Y/n) and Toto arrived back home to see the tornado coming right up towards the house. She and Toto as best as they could ran around the fence dodging bushes and trees that were now flying right towards them.

“Henry! Henry I can’t find (Y/n) she must be out there in the storm!”

“We don’t have time to look for her now we’ve got to get underground!” Henry urged his wife as he dragged her over to the storm cellar. All the while Em was screaming out for (Y/n) till she was gently shoved into the storm cellar. Henry followed close behind her and struggled to close the doors till finally he got it and bolted it from the inside.

*1st POV*

The loud winds, the trees flying right at us, and the sheer force of the winds themselves almost wanting to take us with whatever it could grab. I set my suitcase down and quickly grabbed Toto before racing toward the house.

When we finally got there, I grabbed the screen door but as I opened it, it flew right off its hinges and into the air. Without a second thought I opened the main door and started searching all the main leveled rooms for my aunt.

“Auntie Em! Auntie Em!” the storm cellar! I ran towards the backdoor and opened it and was petrified cause the tornado was now just a foot away from the house. I ran over to the cellar door and tried to open it only to find it was locked.

I kicked it trying to be louder than the rapid winds and crying out as loud as I could.

“Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!” the tornado was getting closer so with no other choice I went back inside and closed my bedroom door. My heart was racing and I was completely terrified. I held Toto closer to my chest praying that the twister was going to pass.

Suddenly my windows exploded from the hinges and went flying around my room. I shrieked and tried to duck away from my window, I crawled towards my bed but as I tried to pull myself up onto it, the window suddenly flew right at me and hit me in the back of my head.

Soon I was knocked out as I fell against my bed.

When I woke up, I heard the sound of chickens clucking before the cries of a rooster. I looked out towards the open window and saw a whole chicken coop was outside before blowing away. I was also surprised to see a cow suddenly fly right by mooing as it did.

Toto came right up towards my window barking at the cow before hopping right off and going to hide underneath the bed. Shortly after the cow went away, two men in a canoe soon appeared. When they saw me, they took off their fishing hats and greeted me before rowing away. I then looked down my window to see just where exactly we were.

And I got the shock of my life when I saw nothing but spiraling winds.

“We must be up inside the tornado!” I exclaimed to Toto who peeked his head up right at me. Soon another surprise came at me when I saw Paul Prenter just a few feet away from my window. He sat on top of a car (god I hope Freddie and the boys aren’t in there). I exclaimed his name in shock but it wasn’t until a few seconds later that I thought I was going mad.

As quick as a snap. Paul’s appearance soon began to change. Now he wore an all-black witch’s robe, the car turned into a broomstick, he wore the typical sharp pointy black witch hat, and his skin turned a sickly green color.

Terrified I buried myself into my bed as the echoes of a wicked laugh came out of him.

The house continued to spin faster and faster, so much so that now my bed was moving from side to side of the house. I kept screaming and shrieking as I held Toto close to my side so that he wouldn’t get hurt. It felt like forever that we kept spinning on the bed and swaying back and forth.

Then as quick as it happened, it suddenly stopped and everything went silent. There was no more wind howling, no more movement, no cackling, nothing. Just pure silence.

After waiting about a minute or two to see if we really had landed, I stood up picking Toto off the bed and grabbed my basket that I kept some essential things in and walked out of my room.

The house was disarray with things falling over, pictures broken, books scattered everywhere, and furniture turned on its side. Toto and I walked through the damage right towards the front door.

When I opened up the front door, I was greeted with the most beautiful sight.

All around was nothing but bright colored flowers, a small bridge with a crystal clear river flowing underneath it, and up ahead a tiny little village of sorts. I slowly got out of the house with Toto at my side and the two of us walked out and explored this abandoned place.

It was beautiful. Flowers that looked like the ones back home and some flowers I had never seen before, like this one flower looked like a rose however it was sky blue color, and when you went to smell it, it didn’t smell like a rose at all. It smelled more like a daffodil.

We walked over the small bridge closer to the village homes and I could see just behind the village were rolling hills just like back home. And the floor was even unique, it spiraled around into two colors, one was a red brick trail while the other was yellow.

“Toto,” I started, “I have a feeling we’re not in Wales anymore.” I told him. I continued to look around this beautiful place and was just in awe at it’s beauty. It was like something out of a fairy tale. “It’s so pretty here.”

I then heard a shimmer of a bell behind me and when I turned around floating right towards Toto and I was a crystal ball of sorts. The sun reflected off the beautiful rainbow within it and to my surprise, the ball began to grow bigger and bigger the closer it got to us.

I backed away slowly as the crystal soon landed on the ground and soon appearing before us was a man.

He was—very handsome. Dark, tan skin with black hair that almost made him look regal looking (kinda like a lion’s mane). His eyes were emphasized with the Egyptian cat’s tail, and glitter specked across his cheeks giving him a more ethereal appearance.

He wore a mixture of white and silver clothes. His pants and tight shirt were all white but he was draped in a silver fur coat. Well the fur stopped midway while the rest of it was like expensive silk or even satin material.

He also wore rings across almost each finger and his nails were painted the purest black. And in his hand he held a dazzling wand glittered with diamonds.

What was also unique yet slightly familiar about this—being was the overbite he had. I couldn’t place it but I swear I knew someone else with an overbite just like him but—I could remember his name.

“Now I—I know we’re not in Wales.” I muttered down to Toto. He walked up to his, hit white boots clicking underneath the stone-brick road. His eyes stared at me intensely as he said.

“Are you a good witch? Or a bad witch?” I looked around confused before pointing to me.

“Who me?” he nodded. “I’m—I’m not a witch at all. I’m (Y/n) Gale. From Monmouth.”

“Oh well is that the witch?” he said pointing down to Toto who looked up at the man with a tilt of his head.

“Who Toto? Toto’s my dog.” He chuckled softly before saying.

“Forgive me my dear, but I’m a little muttered. The seasonal faes had called me to say that a new witch has just dropped a house on the Wicked witch of the East. And there’s the house, and here you are, and there is all that’s left of the Wicked witch of the East.”

I looked over toward my house and low and behold, right where my bedroom was, I saw feet sticking out from underneath my house. I gasped and that’s when the man said to me again.

“And so what the faes want to know is are you good? Or are you wicked?”

“But I already told you I’m not a witch at all. Witches are old and ugly!” I then heard the musical ringing of laughter which startled me.

“What was that?” the man chuckled cunningly as he said.

“The seasonal faes. They’re laughing because I am a witch. Or well—Warlock. I am Fiyero, the Good Warlock of the North.”

“Really? Oh forgive me sir.” I curtsied. “But I never knew a Warlock could be handsome.”

“Only Bad Warlocks are ugly my dear.” Dear? The way he even called me that sounded familiar but—I still couldn’t place the face back home. “The seasonal faes are happy because you have freed them from the wrath of the Wicked Witch of the East.”

“If you’ll forgive me for asking but—what are seasonal faes?” I heard the musical laughter once more and that’s when Fiyero answered.

“The fairies responsible for making all the seasonal or earthly changes in our happy home of Oz.” he told me. Then with a graceful turn of his cape, he soon came up onto a platform and proclaimed, “You may come out my darlings and thank her.” But no one came out.

“Do—do they not trust me?”

“Oh pay no mind my dear. They’re just a little shy. But a little song helps ease them out. Do you know any?”

“I—I think I remember a song that my Auntie once sung to me when I was a little girl.”

“Would you care to sing it for them?” he extended out his hand for mine. I walked towards the platform and hesitantly looked up at him. His gentle brown eyes assured me that it would be okay, so I took his hand and he helped me up the stairs till I stood at the center of the platform.

I rubbed my sweaty palm against my jeans and cleared my throat before turning towards Fiyero who only nodded softly. I took a deep breath and softly began to sing. This was a song my Auntie Em used to sing to me to ease my fear. She said that her mum once sung it to her, and her mum before.

A song passed through generation to generation. As I did the soft vocalization part, I was shocked to hear a reply from a beautiful female voice echoing my vocalization, but adding another part to it.

Play video

*Me*

Every inch of me is trembling But not from the cold Something is familiar Like a dream I can reach but not quite hold I can sense you there Like a friend I've always known I'm arriving And it feels like I am home

I have always been a fortress Cold secrets deep inside You have secrets, too But you don't have to hide

Show yourself I'm dying to meet you Show yourself It's your turn Are you the one I've been looking for All of my life? Show yourself I'm ready to learn

Ah ah ah ah

*Female fae voice*

Ah ah ah ah

I could see Fiyero’s wide smile and he gestured for me to go on. I walked down off the platform and ventured further into the village. The first thing I went up to was a large Hollow tree. I touched the proud trunk before climbing up on top of it. When I scaled a certain part of the tree, I saw just to my left and ice slide.

I pulled myself onto the branch and slowly walked across it before sliding all the way down. Going side to side, loop-de-loops, and dipping straight down till I came to an underground cave. Fire soon sparked through the dark cave and I saw ahead of my large rock pillars just ahead of me.

I took the leap of faith and jumped across from rock to rock, using the fire as my light and only guiding source. When I reached the other side, I soon came across an icy paradise.

Ice surrounded most of this part of the cave, the light from the fire made the ice sparkle like a soft rainbow. Along the trail was an ice bridge and just underneath it was a flowing river. I walked along the bridge still singing my song till I came to an elegantly made ice staircase.

I quickly raced up the stairs only to come back to the beginning back to the front of the village. But still no faes made themselves known. Toto came up to me and I picked him up and turned to Fiyero shrugging in defeat and sadness.

Maybe they didn’t want to see me. And that was sad cause I’ve always secretly longed to see a fairy.

*Me*

I've never felt so certain All my life I've been torn But I'm here for a reason Could it be the reason I was born? I have always been so different Normal rules did not apply Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?

Show yourself I'm no longer trembling Here I am I've come so far You are the answer I've waited for All of my life Oh, show yourself Let me see who you are

He held his hand out in wait as he walked down the platform and gently waved his diamond wand around and magic soon surrounded me with images of the four elements and seasons.

Spring and Earth, Summer and Fire, Autumn and Air, and Winter and Water. When he finished the verse he gestured for me to take over.

I set Toto back down on the ground and just stared in awe at each of the elements/seasons slowly spinning around me. I then found myself reaching out towards the Spring element and as soon as I touched the flower, a powerful magic blast exploded out across the village.

*Fiyero*

Come to her now Open your door Don't make her wait One moment more *Me*

Oh, come to me now Open your door Don't make me wait One moment more

Soon I saw nothing but fairy dust fly out from either the homes, the tree, the caves, and even the garden I had crossed earlier. I was soon surrounded by thousands if not millions of fairies. All of them wearing the colors representing each season or element.

Winter and water spirits wore blue and white, Spring and Earth wore green and brown, the Autumn and Air wore orange or pink attires, and the Summer and Fire faes wore yellow or red. The faes then began singing in a beautiful choir and soon vocalizing were four beautiful women soon coming towards me.

They looked identical in facial appearance but each of them had their own significant ethereal based on each season or element they represented. They were also the same size as Fiyero compared to all the other faes.

I also noticed how these four women each wore a crown upon their heads. I turned to see Fiyero bowing to these four women, I began to realize that these four must be the Queens. I bowed in respect as well and that’s when I felt a hand under my chin.

It was the Spring Fae Queen and with her gentle green eyes she looked down at me with a motherly gaze as she sung to me. Her beautiful dark brown hair was like looking at the very earth at the ground, and with her spring flower crown decorating her hair, it just made her dark hair pop out even more.

*Faes*

Where the north wind meets the sea

*Fae Queens*

Ah ah ah ah

*Faes*

There's a river

*Fae Queens*

Ah ah ah ah

*Faes*

Full of memory

*Spring Fae Queen*

Come, my darling, homeward bound

*Me*

I am found!

For some reason I felt tears in my eyes but I sung out proudly and that’s when the four Queens allowed me in their circle. The Spring fae Queen first gifted me with a flower necklace that was a beautiful pink color.

The Summer Queen with a fire igniting from her hands, forced my hair to come undone from my braid and finally be long and flowing like fire itself. She even gave my hair some bright red highlights that almost resembled fire across the field.

The Autumn Queen soon came up and gifted me with two bracelets made of twig and she used the air to bring some Autumn leaves to decorate the bracelets. I even saw how along my arms a pattern of golden leaves were imprinted into my skin, kinda like a tattoo.

The Winter Queen changed my entire outfit into a pure snow white dress, but at the bottom of the dress it was an indigo color. It was also decorated with snowflake crystals of white, blue and indigo. And on the back it even had two wing-like flaps that came out of the shoulders.

The millions and millions of tiny Faes then began to circle me and as fairy dust came down upon me, I felt myself lifting into the air and I was soon spinning around like a top. I closed my eyes as I allowed the faes voices surround me and envelope my very soul.

It was like being wrapped in a blanket of warmth and love.

I would join in with the faes whenever I could as I raised my arms over my head and my hair rose high above me. With one final loud vocalization from me, fairy magic exploded across the land.

*All*

Show yourself Step into your power Grow yourself Into something new

*Fae Queens*

You are the one we've been waiting for

*Seasonal faes*

All of our lives

*Me*

All of your life

Oh, show yourself

*Faes*

Ah ah

Ah ah ah ah

*Me*

Ah ah ah ah

Soon I was gently lowered back to the ground as all the faes fluttered all over the place and the four Queens stood before me.

“We thank you again dear one. For you have freed us from the wrath of the Wicked Witch of the East.” The Spring Queen said with a voice that warm and sweet just like honey.

“And from each of us, we have bestowed upon you a Faes life force. Should the time come, our magic will help heal any wound or brink of death you may encounter.” The Winter Queen told me. Her white hair resembled the snow in winter and her icy blue eyes held such warmth.

“Let the news be spread far and wide from every far reaches of our Fae kingdoms,” the Autumn Queen first started off.

“The Wicked old Witch at last is dead!” the Summer Queen finished as she raised her arm high over and shot a fireball into the air. All the fairies cheered and rejoiced.

Fiyero came up to me and placed a hand to my shoulder smiling down at me.

“Being gifted by the Fae Queens is a most powerful thing. You should be considered lucky.” I nodded and I bowed to the four Queens again and said.

“Thank you, your majesties. I shall treasure your trust and gift forever.”

Suddenly out of nowhere an explosion happened right in the middle of the fae kingdom. An evil red smoke soon exploded out and an awful smell took over the air. All the faes soon took off fleeing back to their hiding places and there stood an evil looking man.

He was dressed in a full black Warlock robes and held a broomstick in his hand. His green skin was like the grassy fields back home and his eyes were gleaming with hatred right at me. The 4 Queens and Fiyero all stood protectively around me as the green warlock walked towards the feet that were sticking out from my house.

“I—I thought you said the Witch was dead.”

“That was his sister. This creature is the Wicked Warlock of the West. And he’s far worse than his sister was.” Fiyero said to me.

“Who killed my sister? Who killed the Witch of the East? Was it you?!” the Warlock of the West said as he slinked towards us before glaring right down at me.

“No. No it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill anyone!” I said fearfully.

“Well my little lass. I can cause accidents too!”

“Aren’t you forgetting the Ruby slippers?” the Spring fae Queen asked.

“The slippers, yes!” the Warlock of the West said. He turned back towards his sister’s feet. Next thing we saw, the slippers disappeared and the feet curled in before disappearing underneath my house. “They’re gone! The ruby slippers. What have you done with them? Give them back to me or I’ll—”

“It’s too late. There they are, and there they’ll stay.” Fiyero said as he wand pointed down toward my feet. I looked down and gasped.

My normal shoes had now been replaced by the witch’s ruby slippers.

“Give me back my slippers. I’m the only one who knows how to use them. They’re of no use to you. Give them back to me. Give them back!”

“Keep tightly inside of them my dear. Their magic must be very powerful, or he wouldn’t want them so badly.” The Summer queen warned me.

“You females stay out of this. Same with you Fiyero! Or I’ll fix you as well.”

“Ha! Rubbish green-meanie! You have no power here. Now fly off! Before someone drops a house on you too!” Fiyero laughed. The Warlock suddenly grew fearful as he looked up at the sky for a moment before looking back at us.

“Very well, I’ll bide my time. And as for you my little lass. It’s true I cannot rid of you here as I’d like but just try to stay out of my way. Just try. I’ll get you my pretty, and you’re little dog too!” I looked down at Toto who was hiding behind my legs.

I quickly grabbed him and held him in my arms as the Warlock of the West let out a sinister cackle before moving away from us and disappearing into red smoke and fire. We all heard the fearful exclaims of the other faes.

“It’s alright now you may come back out. He’s gone.” The Spring queen assured all the faes.

“It’s alright. He’s gone. You may come back out.” The Winter queen spoke out as well. Fiyero waved his hand in front of his nose and said.

“Ugh what a rotten smell of sulfur. I’m afraid you’ve made a rather nasty enemy out of the Warlock of the West. The sooner you return home safe and sound, the safer you’ll sleep at night my darling.” He stroked a strand of my hair out of my face.

“I’d give anything to get home all together. But…..which way is the way back to Wales? I can’t go the way I came.”

“No indeed not. The only person who might be able to help you, would be the Great and benevolent Wizard of Oz himself.” At the mention of that name. the Fae Queens and all the fairies bowed their heads.

“Wizard of Oz? Is he good or is he wicked?”

“Oh very good but very mysterious. He lives in the Emerald City and that’s a long ways from here. Did you bring your broomstick with you?” I grinned sheepishly.

“No I’m afraid not.” I admitted shyly.

“Well then you’ll have to walk. The faes will see you safely out of the borders of their land. And remember; never let those ruby slippers off your feet for a moment. Or you will be at the mercy of the Wicked Warlock of the West.” Fiyero said as he led me across the garden before standing in front of me and giving me a kiss on each cheek.

“Okay but—how do I get to Emerald City?”

“It’s always best to start at the beginning. And all you have to do, is follow the yellow brick road.” He said going a grand gesture towards the trail of yellow bricks.

I hesitantly walked towards it before turning back towards Fiyero and asked him.

“But what happens if—”

“Just follow the yellow brick road my darling.” He said with a smile and a wink. Then he transformed back into his crystal ball and it began to shrink as it floated off back towards the sky. All the while some of the faes flying behind him waving goodbye.

“Damn. People come and go so quickly around here don’t they?” the faes all nodded.

“Here, let’s get you back into your normal clothes. Those aren’t really meant for traveling.” The Winter Queen said and with a twirl of her hand, the dress disappeared and my normal clothes came back. I also took notice that the Autumn leaves along my arm had also disappeared, and when I looked at my hair, the red highlights were gone as well.

“Wait, did you…..”

“No my dear. You still have our ties to you. It’s best to keep Fae magic outside of our kingdom a secret. Anyone with the gift of the faes becomes a target and you’ve already become one for the Warlock of the West.” The Autumn Queen told me.

“But if you do need to prove yourself protected by the Four Fae Queens, just touch the necklace of earth I’ve gifted you and your protection marks will come forth.” The Spring Queen assured me.

I nodded before looking down at the point where the yellow brick road started.

“Follow the yellow brick road.” I said to myself as I slowly began walking the spiral of the road. “Follow the yellow brick road.”

“Follow the yellow brick road.” The Autumn Queen told me. I looked at her and she nodded as I continued to walk along the Yellow brick road. All the while I could hear the other Queens tell me to follow the Yellow Brick road.

Soon the faes all began to sing as I walked along the trail before some of the Spring faes held out some violins and began playing them as they continued to sing as the Queens soon came up alongside me and we all skipped down the road.

Follow the yellow brick road Follow the yellow brick road Follow follow follow follow

Follow the yellow brick road Follow the yellow brick

Follow the yellow brick

Follow the yellow brick road

You're off to see the wizard

The wonderful wizard of oz You'll find he is the wizard of wiz

If ever a wiz there was, If ever or ever a wizard that was The wizard of oz is one because,

Because, because, because, because,

Because, because of the wonderful things he does You're off to see the wizard

The wonderful wizard of oz

When I reached the borders of the Fae kingdom, they all stopped as I continued to skip along ahead with Toto right at my feet. I briefly stopped and turned to bid the fairies goodbye. They all waved goodbye to me and I blew them a kiss before continuing down the Yellow brick road.

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chrysalispen · 4 years

Text

xxvi. like a friend, with whom their love is done;

AO3 link is HERE

fic under the cut

== The return to the village was a quiet one, Hugh sulking as he was all but dragged along with Aurelia’s hand braced against his shoulder in such a way that he knew escape was impossible. To be a twelve-year-old again, she thought distantly, with naught to bring care for summer days except whether or not one was allowed in a swimming-hole.

The Millers’ small home was just as she’d left it not two bells past, now with a small army of chickens clucking and milling about the pathway to the front porch. They squawked and flapped as she and Keveh’to shooed them away, and swarmed the small yard for more feed as Hugh opened the door to let the three of them inside.

“Mum!” he called. “I’ve brought Miss Aurelia and the Sergeant!”

“Come in, everyone,” Frieda called cheerfully, and Aurelia let out an internal sigh; she was sure her orders had been quite disregarded the moment Vahne arrived on the woman’s doorstep. “Our new little friend is in here with me. Come have tea with us.”

Sure enough, when they entered the big room of the house, Aurelia saw Vahne sitting in a small chair with her hands clasped anxiously in her lap, looking visibly pale and distraught. Her oak-brown tail slapped the leg of the low table, skinny body tense, and her large ears flickering wildly at every stray sound. The lady of the house was not only not in her bed, she was waddling her way over to the fireplace to retrieve a tea kettle filled with boiling water.

Aurelia scowled at her. “For heaven's sake, Frieda! We just talked about this-”

“Oh, enough of your clucking, you great mother hen! I’ll not have a child sitting in here unattended while I lay about doing nothing. A spare few minutes to make some tea won’t harm me nor the babe.”

The Garlean’s eyes narrowed.

“You do not get to be on your feet unless it’s an emergency, and tea does not constitute an emergency,” she said. “Hugh is well old enough to pour some tea without your assistance.”

“Aurelia-”

“It isn’t a request. Hugh, pray take the pot from your mother so she can rest.”

With a great and melodramatic sigh, the ginger-haired Midlander all but threw herself onto the couch next to her two youngest sons, Bran and Geoffrey. The two boys, six and four summers respectively, took almost no notice of their mother’s foul mood. They were wholly preoccupied with their strange visitor, and in watching every movement she made with open and wide-eyed curiosity- that in itself was hardly a surprise, Aurelia thought, as Miqo’te were few and far between outside the city. Meeting children close to their own ages was likely something of a novelty.

Their gaping had been soundly rebuffed, however. Vahne was either making a valiant attempt to ignore them or - like a cat - simply had not deigned to notice their interest.

“Mama,” Bran piped up hopefully, not taking his eyes off her, “since there’s a guest, might we have biscuits?”

“This isn’t afternoon tea, Bran,” Hugh began, but Frieda only smiled at the boy.

“Of course, love. There’s still that jar of gingersnaps in the cabinet. Why don’t you go help your brother find them? I’ll stay here while Mistress Laskaris and Sergeant Epocan have a chat with our friend.”

“No,” Vahne said hoarsely. “No, I-I only want to speak to Miss Aurelia.”

“Sweetling, there’s no need to worry. You’re as safe as can be here.”

“By myself, ma’am.” Her hands shook where her fingers lay knotted at her waist; it was obvious she was terrified and only barely hanging onto the merest threads of her composure. “I have to speak with her alone. It’s important.”

“Surely a bit of tea-”

Firmly, she shook her head. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m not hungry.”

“Biscuits can come later.” Aurelia took the Miqo’te girl by the elbow and gently urged her to stand. “Let’s talk outside first, shall we? By the chicken coop around the corner.”

Her concern for the girl was enough that she barely took note of the stifling afternoon heat when the pair set foot back outside. She nudged aside Frieda’s hens with one foot and guided Vahne around the corner to find a patch of shade beneath the overhanging eaves of the coop before turning to her and offering a small smile.

“Goody Miller’s a very sweet lady and her offer was genuine, just so you know. But we’re alone now,” she said, keeping her words as quiet and gentle as she could manage. “What’s happened to bring you back so soon? Have you been hurt?”

Sniffling piteously, Vahne scrubbed at her eyes with her bared forearm and shook her head. The childish bravado of yesterday was quite gone; now she looked small and forlorn and frightened, and every ilm the Miqitten she was in truth. Not knowing what else to do for the moment, Aurelia opened her arms in the way L’haiya used to do when she was distressed. She was quite uncertain that the gesture would be accepted, and was more than a little surprised when a pair of wiry arms wound themselves around her waist and squeezed tight.

The girl stammered, “I-I-I’m not here for me. I-”

“It’s all right,” Aurelia carefully smoothed her fluffy curls away from her wet eyes, “you can talk to me. Tell me what’s happened.”

“...She doesn’t know I’m here!” Vahne cried. “I’m- she’s going to be so angry, I broke all of the rules and she’s going to- I’m so scared! But I-I couldn’t- he needs help, I couldn’t just let him-”

“Deep breaths,” she said. “Count to ten.”

“I-”

“I’ll count with you if you like.”

“N-no, I’m-” The small body pressed against hers trembled from head to toe for long minutes before the arms around her waist relaxed, and Aurelia let her go. Vahne took a slow, deep breath, then stared down at her feet. “I’m not supposed to be here. There’ll be the seven hells to pay once she finds out I’ve come to fetch you. But… there’s-”

At her hesitation, Aurelia said, “There’s been an emergency?”

“I’m…. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Not even our friends know. But-”

“But?”

“I had to go find help. He’s like to die,” Vahne burst out. “I can’t talk about it here, but- he’s so ill and nothing she’s done is working! Not the potions or the conjury, none of it!”

“Vahne-”

“Please, I need you to come with me, you have to come back and help him if he doesn’t have help he’ll die- ”

“Vahne, love. Take a breath.” She braced her hands upon those thin shoulders. “You don’t need to explain any further. I’ll go.”

“Oh thank you, thank-”

“First things first.” Her hands squeezed those thin shoulders. “There are some things I need to get from my house, and I need to let my partner - the Keeper man you met - know about this.”

Those eyes went huge with alarm. “You can’t tell him about us! People aren’t supposed to-”

“He won’t give away your secret. I promise. But he needs to know where I’m going so that the other healers don’t worry. Even if he just tells them I’m helping someone who’s sick outside the village.”

“B-but-”

“I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

“I…. I can try.”

“I want you to stay here with the little ones for a bit while I talk with my partner. I’ll need to fetch my medicine bag from my house, and once that’s done you and I can go together. All right?”

Vahne’s expression was still skeptical, but after a moment she nodded.

“Good. Let’s get out of this awful heat. I’m sure Goody Miller will be happy to let you wash up.”

Frieda, predictably, was more than grateful for the distraction (and at least as curious as her youngest sons), and while Vahne took her seat once more Aurelia went into the parlor where Keveh’to was helping the boys retrieve the jar of gingersnaps on the high shelf of their mother’s cupboard.

“Sergeant,” she said. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t bat an eye. “Take those to your mum,” he directed Bran, passing the opened earthenware to the boy. “Be careful not to drop it.”

“Are you and Miss Aurelia coming?”

“In a moment.”

Once he had judged the children to be out of earshot, he turned to her with a frown, his voice dropping near to a whisper.

“So. What’s got your new little friend upset?”

“There is someone in dire need of medical aid. I wasn’t able to get much out of her beyond that, but she was being secretive enough about his identity that I suspect her guardian would be in a great deal of trouble if it was widely known.” Aurelia shook her head. “I’m sorry, but whatever’s happened with your dead man, you’ll either need to continue your investigation alone or wait until I return.”

“Return? What do you mean-” The furrow in his brow deepened visibly. “...Where are you going?”

The Garlean stared at him as if he’d gone entirely daft. “Well, with the girl. Back to her home, of course. What did you think I meant?”

“What- you absolutely will not.”

“Keveh’to, I must. I’m a chirurgeon. This is my profession. No matter how much you mislike the decision, I cannot simply-”

“You would risk your standing with the Hearer- with the Elder Seedseer - for a girl you met by chance yesterday. A girl whose family is possibly harboring an outlaw?”

“We don’t know what he is, only that she won't discuss him. ...Although I shall own that is most likely to be the case.”

“Ewain’s going to be furious with you.”

“Ewain has yet to approve of aught I do. ‘Twould be a terrible pity to disappoint his abysmal expectations, especially if it means healing someone of whom he might not approve."

“You know very well what I mean! Trevantioux’s not in charge but he’s still Ewain’s assistant for now, and he’s of half a mind to have you punted back to Gridania as it is. If you go so far as to simply take off on your own like this, the Hearer might actually listen to him.”

“It falls to you to make sure that doesn’t happen, then, doesn’t it? Make excuses for me if you must, but I am going.”

His frustration was writ large across his face, and although Aurelia couldn’t help a sense of passing amusement at the sight - apparently even the good sergeant had his prejudices - her concern for Vahne’s predicament left her with little patience nor time to coax him into an agreement.

“Very well,” he sighed. “When? Tonight?”

“As soon as I’ve gathered my things.” When he opened his mouth to object, Aurelia raised one of her hands. “I know, but I really don’t think it would be wise to wait on Ewain’s approval- Frieda!”

“Aurelia-”

“Yes, love?” came the response from the hallway. Aurelia ignored Keveh’to’s quiet string of exasperated oaths.

“Can you watch her for about a quarter bell? I’m running back to the house for some things and then our friend and I will be on our way!”

“Aurelia, we should talk about-” She pushed her way past him and opened the front door, Keveh’to trailing behind. “Damn it, wait for me!”

Trevantioux must have chosen to linger on his way home; the house was still empty when she threw the latch and slipped through the door. She hurried past the small partition that made up her room, reached into the plain cabinet by her cot, and retrieved the heavy standard-issue medicus’ field kit from its resting place for the first time in moons.

From his spot in the doorway, she could hear Keveh’to tapping his toe impatiently. She reached into her leather satchel to search for her journal and her gathering bag, then shouldered her burdens and made her way into the main area. “Surely you don’t plan to walk with all of that,” he said.

“Why, Sergeant Epocan! If one didn’t know better, one might suspect you were concerned for my welfare.”

“Someone should worry about you. For a lass as quick-witted as you are, you are downright bleeding pigheaded sometimes, do you know that, Mistress Laskaris?”

“So I am,” she said, without skipping a beat. “Obstinate as a gigas, my governess used to say. ‘Tis the Garlean in me, you understand. As a race, we’re rather a stubborn lot.”

The scowl he wore trembled, the tiniest bit, into a smirk. She grinned.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” she said, “but I will be back.”

“That isn’t what I’d call reassuring.”

“Keveh’to, I have had any number of opportunities since our arrival here to attempt an escape. Please. I’m asking you the same thing I just asked Vahne.”

“Vahne?”

“The girl. I’m asking you to trust me.”

He folded his arms over his chest, ears flat and tail flickering unhappily.

“I do,” he admitted, gruffly.

“And pray make my excuses to the Hearer. I know you’ll think of something believable.”

Frustration gave way at last to resignation. It was the same sort of look Sazha used to give her when she’d successfully talked him into some childish scheme or harmless prank, and she felt a sharp and unexpected pang in her breast, one that she shoved down immediately as she brushed past him to open the door.

She needed to go back for Vahne so they could be quickly along her way. Remorse could wait.

~*~

Vahne seemed both surprised and relieved to see her - though rather less pleased about carrying two of Aurelia’s satchels - and they were off as soon as their waterskins were refilled and Frieda had pressed extra biscuits upon them (never minding Vahne’s embarrassed insistence that she wasn’t hungry). The stiffness and tension flowed out of the girl’s shoulders once they entered the tree line on the opposite embankment of the creek bed. She had lost none of her anxiety; it lingered still in her furrowed brow, but she had stopped crying and even made a brief attempt at conversation as the two made their way through the forest.

“So how did you meet him?”

“Who?”

“You know who.” Vahne’s brow lifted beneath her fringe. “No one out here just makes friends with a Keeper.”

“And why shouldn't I? Keveh'to is an adventurer like myself. He fought the Empire as part of the Twin Adder. I met him when I first arrived in Gridania.” It was the truth, Aurelia thought, for all that it was rather broad and quite sparing of some few selective details.

“All right, so what’s he doing out here, then?”

“He was assigned out here and so was I, so we traveled to Willowsbend together.”

Vahne squinted at her for a long beat in silence, adjusting the strap of Aurelia’s herb satchel from one shoulder to the other before she spoke again.

“I think you’re lying, miss.”

“And I think you’re being impertinent.”

Her young companion huffed, lower lip protruding outward with her sullen and sidewise glare. “Adults always say that when they don’t want to answer my questions.”

“I wonder why that would be.”

Vahne’s glare deepened into a fitful scowl and that was the end of the discussion.

The afternoon wore on beneath the quiet crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs, and they walked in a silence that continued unbroken with the exception of the occasional bird call in the distance. Aurelia stopped their trek long enough to rest and take some water and a light snack, and she could sense the fear and impatience coming off the girl in waves even to pause for such a basic necessity. As the pair made their way into the depths of the Shroud, the sun sank lower in the trees until the light grew dim in what little of the sky was visible beyond the canopy.

Aurelia was loath to admit to it, but exhaustion was beginning to run its treacly fingers up her legs, dragging her footsteps. They seemed to sink deeper into leaves and loam with each passing step. She’d long since fallen out of the routine of daily hard exercise that castrum life had imposed, and this was a longer trip than she had expected. Even half-emptied the field kit dug painfully into her shoulder, but there was little for it save to continue on and hope there was respite in sight.

As if on cue she felt a tug at the corner of her dalmatica.

“Up ahead.” Vahne adjusted the strap on her shoulder and pointed. “There it is, that’s my Aunt Rhaya’s cabin.”

She would have missed it if she weren’t looking for it. The small homestead all but blended into the background of birch and sycamore, a thread of peat smoke twining in a vague ribbon from what appeared to be a thatched roof half-covered in pine needles.

Despite what must surely have been the welcome sight of her home, the Miqitten at Aurelia’s side did not move. She stood transfixed upon the path towards the clearing and stared in the direction of the cabin’s front door, her luminous grey eyes glassy and bright with newly formed tears.

“Vahne? What’s wrong?”

“My aunt, she…” Those thin shoulders slumped forward. “...Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s- she’s going to be mad at me,” she whispered. Her voice was small and tremulous. “Really, really mad. I don’t know… she might not let you inside.”

Aurelia tried to offer as reassuring a smile as she could muster. “Well, let’s not invite trouble before it appears, shall we? We can cross that bridge when it arises. I can take my bags back if they’re too heavy for you.”

“No… no, it’s all right. They’re not any trouble, really.” Vahne’s mouth arched downwards in a trembling bow. “It wouldn’t help, anyroad.”

A lantern light flickered fitfully in one of the windows, and as dusk descended upon the forest it became a beacon for them both, healer and huntress in training. Aurelia nearly startled when Vahne slipped one thin hand around hers and squeezed, tightly- but knew almost as soon as it happened that Vahne would be embarrassed should she remark upon it. She liked the girl and wanted to spare her feelings, so she only returned the gesture with a brief squeeze of her own as they drew near.

Something instinctive drew its fingers up her spine all of a sudden and Aurelia stopped, grabbed her young companion’s hand, and pulled her to a halt as the door was flung unceremoniously open. A handsome Miqo’te woman who looked very much like Vahne all but threw herself across the threshold, bow and arrow nocked and ready to fire. The expression on her pretty face, what Aurelia could see of it in the growing darkness, was grim and tight-lipped.

Vahne quailed at her side, half-concealed behind a nearby stack of lumber. The woman, who Aurelia assumed must be her aunt, did not seem to notice.

“Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer!” she snarled. The creak of wood was audible as her slender fingers pulled the bowstring taut, and Aurelia doubted she would hesitate if her bluff was called. “Get yourself back to the road, stranger, or I’ll see you buried in the forest.”

“Madam, please,” Aurelia began, “I’m-”

“You get one more warning before I let my bow speak for me. Your choice.”

That face could have been hewn from the white stone of Amdapor for all the softness in it- and in the next heartbeat, Vahne stepped forward and pushed her back behind the lumber pile, shielding Aurelia with her body before she could protest.

The woman’s eyes flared wide with surprise, and her grip on the bow relaxed.

“Vahne? What are you-”

“I won’t let you hurt her, Auntie,” Vahne burst out, flinging her skinny arms outward. “You’ll have to shoot me first!”

Vahne’s aunt was quick to recover, the angry set of her jaw returning in full force.

“...Who is this person?”

“This is Miss Aurelia,” she replied, and after a rather more hesitant beat, added: “She’s a conjurer. She’s the lady who saved me in the ruins-”

“Where you were not supposed to be.” Those steely grey eyes, a shade or two darker than the girl’s, narrowed to slits. “...Vahne, so help me, if you went into Quarrymill to fetch her-”

The girl’s face had gone pale.

“No! Aunt Rhaya, she… it’s just a little village, on the far side of the creek. I wasn’t- I-I was careful to make sure that-”

“You know what we discussed! No one was to know about him, Vahne! No one!”

It was quite clear this impasse wasn’t going to be solved any time soon without her intervention. Aurelia cleared her throat and nudged the girl to one side, neatly sidestepping her extended arms, and both Miqo’te stared at her.

“Good evening, madam,” she said, as politely as she could manage. “I hate to interrupt, but- I assume you must be Rhaya? Vahne has spoken of you before.”

Vahne winced, visibly, at the hostile glare the other woman gave her before turning her suspicious glare upon the newcomer- but her aunt nodded, slowly.

“Aye, I’m Rhaya Wolndara. And who’re you?”

“My name is Aurelia. As your niece says, I’m a conjurer and chirurgeon, and a member of the guild in Gridania. Now, I’m given to understand that someone in your household is in need of a healer. Is this true?”

“We don’t need help from the likes of you,” Rhaya said flatly. “I don’t know what Vahne told you, but no Gridanian is about to set foot-”

“Aunt Rhaya, please! He’s going to die if we don’t do something!” Vahne blurted. She stamped one foot in the dirt and the tears in her eyes overflowed, trickled down her cheeks, dripped onto her kurta. “I told you about her yesterday when I met her and you said it was fine and we don’t need her but it’s not fine, he’s dying!”

“Vahne-”

“She wants to help! Can’t you at least let her try?”

Aurelia looked between Rhaya and Vahne, whose tears were clearly borne of anger and frustration, and opened her hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“Vahne has given me no details save that there was an emergency,” she said. “If you like I can come in, make an examination, and tell you what needs to be done and a decision can be made from there. But this is a private matter and I see no need to involve the Guild nor anyone else.”

“....You won’t tell anyone you were here,” Rhaya said, after a long and deliberate pause. “I have your word?”

“You have my word.”

The flickering candlelight from the lantern haloed the huntress’ lithe form in such a way that made her expression difficult to see, but after a pause, Rhaya lowered her bow and gestured towards the door with a jerk of her chin.

“Shoes at the door. Follow me.”

#chapter 26 #reborn by fire #chrysalispen writes #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light

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sneksue · 3 years

Text

Official Post About Lifestyle Changes

The date is January 28, 2021.

I have not had chickens for a while. It will be 2 years in August. I have been meaning to write something here about all of it, but I either have not had time, or the willpower to go through with it. I was in grieving.

In June of 2019, I took a trip from my shared homestead in Mississippi to Colorado to do some long distance hiking. I left all of my animals in the care of my ex husband’s mother and her then boyfriend.

I trusted them to at least do the bare minimum in my animal’s basic care.

That didn’t happen. They failed night after night to close and lock the coop’s door. They wouldn’t change their water during the day and they did not collect eggs.

When I had service on my phone during the hike, I checked in with them to find out that because they had not closed or locked the coop door at night, several birds were “missing”, with more missing every day.

Instead of simply closing the door and providing a safe space for my dear, darling animals to sleep at night, they decided to buy a game camera to see what was happening to them at night.

Their reasoning had absolutely zero logic, and I was pretty pissed.

They found that raccoons were simply just waltzing into the coops and grabbing birds. The raccoons would drag them away into the woods and feast.

By the time our trip was almost over, all of my ducks were gone. There were only a few chickens left, and the guinea fowl were all intact due to roosting 50ft up in oak trees. My cat was also “missing”.

I was heartbroken, devastated. I had spent so much money, time, energy, and love to build this flock. I wanted to provide my “family” and myself with sustainable, renewable food in case of a natural disaster. No one seemed to value my efforts, or even care to see what my end goal was.

On top of grieving for the loss of my feathered babies, my then husband’s younger brother decided to GO OFF on me during our drive back to Mississippi. He claimed I was selfish, psychotic, uncaring, and manipulative. He screamed at me while we were all stuck in the car. He called me a bitch, he called me a liar, he called me a leech. I was stunned in silence. I had been struggling with my mental health for years, and had contemplated suicide more times than I could count. So, it is no surprise that while we were driving 70mph on the interstate, I seriously contemplated opening the car door and leaping out into traffic.

I turned to my husband, my partner, the love of my life, my support system, to back me up. Defend me. Tell his brother that he was wrong. My husband did nothing of the sort. He remained silent as the verbal barrage from his brother continued.

Everything clicked for me then. My mother in law was a complete nutcase, she blamed me for all of my husband’s shortcomings. She viewed me as a failure for not being the perfect housewife. She only saw me as a burden on her son’s happiness. My husband maintained an emotional distance from me for several years. He refused to be intimate towards me. He never showed an interest in me, my thoughts, my feelings. He never stood up for me or was proud to show me off. He never commended my strengths and triumphs, he only pointed out what he viewed were my failures. My brother in law was more of a nutcase than his mother, physically abusing his dog and neglecting his cat, leeching off of his mother and getting handouts at every possible opportunity, spending his days smoking hundreds of dollars of marijuana, drinking booze, playing videogames.

I had no social life, I wasn’t allowed to have a social life.

I had no friends I could hang out with, all of my friends were online.

No matter how much I did for these people and how much I excelled at everything I did, nothing was ever enough. I was never enough.

No wonder I struggled with mental health, eh?

I came to this realization instantaneously, and demanded to be dropped off at my dad’s house in Westminster, CO.

I had none of my personal belongings besides my hiking and camping stuff. I didn’t care, I just had to get away from these toxic monsters.

My husband and I loosely decided that this would be a “break” for our relationship, and that he would go back to MS to work and save up to move here with me. I agreed and I began working and saving up myself.

We both knew he was never going to come here. We were never going to be together again.

We remained in close contact for a few months after the separation. But the contact and our conversations became fewer and less substantial.

One night, as I was walking home from work, I called and told him that I thought we should break up. He admitted to me that he had removed his wedding ring over three weeks prior. I was understandably hurt by that, but I did understand.

He also informed me that all of the birds were gone or dead except for a couple roosters.

I was more devastated by the loss of my birds than the loss of my marriage. If that doesn’t tell you enough, I don’t know what does!!

My cat never returned.

I asked him if we could keep in contact, and he told me he did not want to talk to me or hear from me for several years. I was once again hurt by this, but with his own mental health issues, I again, understood. He did say he can see us being friends in the future, but now that its been some time, I don’t want to be friends with him. I want the best for him, but I can’t bring myself to expose my mentality to his toxicity and negativity.

I asked again and again, over a period of months, for him to return my belongings. He kept putting it off. I told him I was going to drive down there myself and gather everything i could and dispose of the rest.

He agreed, initially, then banned me from coming only after I requested the time off from work and had friends to accompany me on the journey, He promised he’d send all my stuff in several shipments after he sold my car. I told him he could keep the profit from the sale of my car and use it to send me my stuff.

He ended up sending me ONE box of my stuff. And most of it wasn’t even mine. I was appalled and disgusted that he’d be so careless and inconsiderate.

I sent him messages and requested SPECIFIC items after I received the first box. I got no reply, and no more packages to this day have been sent.

He and his family stole my property, killed my pets, and broke my heart.

Thieves, liars, and extremists, the lot of them.

I grieve daily for the loss of my animals and the torture I was put through for nearly 6 years.

All of that out of the way, let me move on to tell you what this blog will now feature.

I have obviously had a change in lifestyle. I no longer live on homesteading land, I live in a roomy two bedroom apartment with my AMAZING fiance.

My love of chickens, I discovered, was a love for reptiles in general. Cuz birds are reptiles and all that jazz.

When I met my fiance, I was already blown away by his attitude, confidence, and view on life right off the bat! He inspired me, made me want to be better to myself.

Meeting him felt weird, at first. It felt weird because I was waiting for this amazing person to... have a catch. There’s gotta be a red flag somewhere. And if there isn’t... he is probably a psychopath who will eventually turn on me and kill me. No one is that... good.

So I thought to myself, “Welp, gotta find out. I’ll go to his house!”

He had a couple little snakes in his room which I demanded to play with. He happily got them out and I was like “THAT’S the catch? Nah, this just convinces me this guy is... my kind of guy.”

I’ve had a love of snakes since early childhood. Not an interest of passion, but I truly loved interacting with and watching them. I’ve never had an innate fear of any insect, (exclude honeybee, because I didn’t know better at 6 years old), or animal. I love them all and everything they do to contribute. All they experience.

I used to catch wild garter snakes and rat snakes in nets, pet them, show them to my mother occasionally to freak her out, and release them. Then watch them.

There were a mating pair of Oteekee Corn Snakes in my HS yard. Every summer we’d see them, out and about hunting, hiding, climbing... growing. They were bright red and jet black with specks of yellow. I could tell these guys were pretty smart and maybe there was more to snakes than I really thought about ever.

So, being sold on this amazing guy, we up and moved in together. Nice. My paycheck kept going up and up. I was saving a ton. I wanted a car and an apartment as soon as possible.

I got bonus after bonus for working hard at my job and everyone hitting labor targets.

We got a place. Nice.

Both got steady jobs. Nice.

There’s uh, a lot of room in this new place. Nice.

Hey it’s my birthday and I can get myself a snake. I have more than enough for supplies and the animal itself.

I browsed on morphmarket for what felt like ages....

I had no idea that there were.... so many complicated genetics with ball pythons. I was highly interested, because if you know me, you know I’m interested in genetics and selective breeding.

I found there were THOUSANDS of genetic combinations, each with unique names. It was like alien code. The animals were beautiful but I had no idea what I was really looking at.

One night while going to our local reptile store to get feeder rats, I was looking around at all the glass window babies, as I usually do.

I made my way around the scorpions, tarantulas, cave scorpions, frogs, lizards, the store’s companion burmese python, and my eyes landed on a little... adorable puppy-eyed baby ball python. The signage stated that it was a Puma. Seemed simple enough. Easy name to remember. I looked into the glass at the lil noodle, and talked all baby talk and shit. The sweet little thing came right up to scope at me, then yawned.

I called an employee over and said I’d like to handle this animal right here. The employee obliged and I fell in love. Sexed as male. Easy buy.

I cried on the way home, It was amazing. I have one picture on here of him a few days after I got him. His name is Mallow, and he is bigger now, but still just as sweet.

So yeah. It went from there. Now, including the boa and ball python that are my fiance’s, and Mallow, we have added 3 more to our family. We are done now, as these animals may live a loooooong time. And they require space and attention just like any other pet. They’re not expensive, and they’re low maintenance care is nearly brainless if you set it up right. They’re statistically and actually safer than dogs or cats, and are absolutely therapeutic and entertaining.

This blog will from this day forward be dedicated to snake content, reptile content, and a lot more fun, actually good pictures. I will also share genetic related stuff I find relevant.

Not having a shitty phone camera is pretty great, tbh.

TLDR: No more homestead. Ex is evil (yeah yeah), New place new animal new me. SNAKES! SNAKES!!!! SNAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKEEEEESSSSS!

I know this post is just for me but whatever, if I make myself laugh. Cool. G’night.

#blog change #lifestyle change #reptile #personal #judge #don't read me #please don't read this #like its awful #seriously #my past #my present #i am good #all is well #i'm growing #chickens to reptiles #homestead to apartment

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Shifting Intentions (baon)

Summary: Edge knows his brother very well and he doubts that Red came over for a coffee and a heart to heart.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Brotherly Bonding

Notes: The urge to write the Underfell brothers was overwhelming. Sometimes we get a little reminder that while Edge is a sweet, loving husband and friend, he also grew up in Underfell and some things are difficult to leave behind.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The leaves were mostly fallen from the trees, torn down by the wind and leaving behind bare, creaking branches. They were layered atop the ground, crunching underfoot and scuffed up in rustling bunches beneath his boots as Edge moved around the chicken coop.

With the growing cold, it was time to check over the squat building to make sure it was winterized. No cracks to allow in a chilling breeze, no loose roofing to drip snowmelt down on their sleeping ladies.

And no gaps in the fencing to allow one small, sneaky chicken to escape in the night.

“There it is,” Edge murmured in satisfaction, fingering the small hole in the wires. Twice now Nugget had escaped and found her way into their house. The second time, Edge didn’t bother to wake Stretch. He carried their wayward hen back to the coop himself while she clucked unhappily at losing her place on their bed. That was last night and today Edge vowed to find her method of escape, as Stretch’s suggestion that she was learning to teleport was very low on the list of possibilities.

The gap in the wire was caused by two overlapping sections and wasn’t really visible from any angle. It was a surprise she’d even discovered it, but then, Nugget was surprisingly clever for a small chicken. And troublesome. And frankly charming, scuttling around Edge’s boots, clamoring for attention even as he sealed off her method of escape. She reminded him a little of a skeleton he knew, not that he’d name unnecessary names.

Edge mended the hole carefully, making sure to trim the wire ends closely, and he managed to not clip off the tip of his own finger when a loud voice came from above.

“playing a little handyman today, eh, boss? hope you nail it.”

It came from far over his head and likely meant Red was perched in the overhanging tree branch. Edge didn’t look up, only finished patching the hole. “Is this where I’m supposed to say screw you? I think I’ll pass, and I believe you were the one who taught me about the importance of home security.”

“ehhhhh.” But Edge knew he didn’t imagine the pleased note in that dismissive tone. “didn’t think you’d be applying it to a flock of unplucked dinosaurs.”

It took considerable poise not to flinch when his brother was soundlessly and abruptly at his elbow, crouching down to give Nugget a scratch. The gentleness of that petting was almost as disconcerting.

It was also suspicious, and Edge wondered with no little trepidation why his brother was even here, especially considered Sans’s visit the other day.

He sincerely doubted it was for same reason and still had a lingering regret for refusing Sans’s sidewise attempt at a heart to heart. It was honestly for the best. He couldn’t be the confidant Sans needed, not where his brother was concerned; Edge was the furthest thing from a neutral party. Stretch wasn’t much better, his opinions were colored as well simply by their marriage. He did hope Sans found someone he could speak to, even if it was his therapist. Stars knew Red had probably driven people he wasn’t sleeping with into counseling.

Red was not likely after a coffee and a chat, but so long as his brother was here—“Quit letting her into our house.”

Leaves rustled as Red moved somewhere next to him. He was on Edge’s wrong side, where the crack in his socket interfered with his vision. More than a minor annoyance; it agitated him to have anyone deliberately out of his line of sight and it was always better to assume everything Red did was with intention. “me? why would i do that?”

Hardly a denial. Edge continued with his repair, twisting the wires roughly. “The only reason I can come up with would be that you’re an ass, though I’m sure you believe it’s for some deeper meaning.”

Red scoffed, harsh and low in his throat. “don’t give a shit one way or another about chicken little here.”

Another crunch of leaves, vague footsteps along with ecstatic clucking and still outside Edge’s limited vision. Red was lingering in his blind spot while Edge refused to give in and move, only listening closely enough that the sharp fingertips scraping lightly over his skull weren’t a surprise. “but if i did do anything like that, might be to remind a certain shepherd to keep a better watch over his flock, little brother.”

There was a deeper meaning layered beneath that, a warning. It stung almost as much as the faint scratches left behind by his brother’s touch and Edge silently accepted both. His brother wasn’t wrong, Nugget’s escapades should have been investigated more closely from the beginning. If she’d been hurt or lost, perhaps even hit by a car, Stretch would have been devastated.

That knowledge did not make Red’s admonishment sting any less. He could feel the weight of his brother’s gaze, silently measuring Red’s current mood and weighing the correct path to take. Edge chose the route that allowed him to ask lightly, “How is Ozymandias?”

It was a distraction and his brother knew it, but he answered with a ready laugh, “he’s a shit. chewed off the heel on my favorite boots. he and sans ain’t gonna be best buds anytime soon, either, not with both of ‘em fighting over a little pettin’” Edge barely shuddered his disgust at that insinuation when Red added, slyly, ”if you’re worried about the kitty cat, you and stretch could come see him.”

That needling hit its target and it was enough for Edge to whip around and glare hotly at his grinning brother, “Don’t you dare offer him that. He’d do it to prove he could and be a mess all night for it.”

A sleepless night he did not need. Stretch was upstairs napping right now as it was. Curled up on their bed as he rarely did during the day, holding a strange new stuffed creature in his arms that was perhaps an octopus? The visible curling tentacles suggested something of that nature and Edge hadn’t the slightest idea where his husband even acquired it, only that Stretch seemed to have taken to it as an impromptu pillow. It was strangely enchanting, enough to be worth snapping a quick picture even considering the faint, worrisome shadows lingering beneath his sockets.

Checks still showed his HP as four, but Alphys stopped in about once a week to run a couple quick tests. She’d offer as much with nervous kindness, texted to Edge alone that perhaps it would be easier than forcing Stretch to come to the lab. She and her equipment both assured them that it was still rising, steadily if slowly. A few extra naps here and there would only help and Edge was happy to encourage them. And to not allow him to rise to the bait of any ridiculous challenges from his brother that would cause him to wake in the middle of the night from preventable nightmares.

To his astonishment, his brother’s grin softened. No more than a fraction, hardly visible to anyone who didn’t know him. Edge might not always understand his brother but he knew him, very well, and struggled to keep his shock hidden as Red admitted, “nah, bro, i wouldn’t do that to the honey bun.”

“See that you don’t or I won’t be the only sleepless one.” It was difficult to force the correct amount of cool sternness into his voice, but his brother would be expecting it. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“sure, why not?” Red said easily. That alone was somewhat surprising. His brother was perfectly content to raid his refrigerator at any hour of day or night, but rarely joined them for a meal.

It would either be a terrible mistake or just possibly a reasonably enjoyable meal. Red and Stretch usually got along very well…until they didn’t. Then they could squabble viciously, their insults chosen with deliberate care to draw the most blood. Worse, Edge couldn’t say that the two of them didn’t enjoy those nights just as much. His love had a disturbing cruel streak at rare times, much the same as Red, only Stretch would have regrets about it later and harsh self-recriminations.

What Edge knew without doubt was that he did not personally enjoy being in the middle of their brutal comedy routine. But the possibility of a perfectly nice (normal) meal with his brother and husband was too much to resist.

Edge gathered up his tools, shooing the chickens back into their newly repaired coop. “Come on, then, I need to get started.”

Red fell in at his heels, disturbingly familiar, as was his, “sure thing, boss.” Like falling through a thin crust of repression into bitterly icy memory. Red added on, relentlessly, “the honey bun is waking up, anyway.”

That statement was already an argument waiting to happen. Edge didn’t comment on it, though, let it go.

Because wasn’t there a dark, buried part of him that was grateful that his brother was watching out, pleased that his brother cared enough about Stretch to want him safe? In moments like these, Edge knew himself for the hypocrite he was, irritated with Blue’s incessant overprotectiveness while being comforted by the knowledge that if anything ever happened, his brother’s watchful eye would be over Stretch. Keeping him safe if Edge couldn’t.

It was better to simply not acknowledge that desire; he kept it back, lurking in the secret recesses of his soul where faint voices sometimes whispered slyly that the ring on Stretch’s finger was lovely, but he would be enchanting in a collar, marked with Edge’s colors and name, a bold declaration that none could mistake.

The words were strictly Underfell, whispers that Edge could never entirely banish, hidden ideas he never, ever wanted Stretch to glimpse. He never wanted to try to explain that he truly did understand that this world was different and the meaning behind it was not the same. It wasn’t about ownership, not the way Stretch knew it.

Anyone from Underfell would look at that collar and know that Edge was Stretch’s entirely, utterly devoted to his wellbeing and protection. A warning and a promise of dust to any who did not heed it, and not the illusion one that Red once wore for him.

But what those internal whispers refused to understand was that Edge didn’t need a collar for it to be true. His certainty of love was more than enough and it only took thinking of Stretch, of every treasured memory Edge possessed of his delight, and of his quiet, trembling voice promising to love and cherish to banish those voices back to the darkness where they belonged.

But not before they wondered with unholy glee exactly what his brother’s thoughts were on the subject, and did they concern Stretch or Sans.

Enough. Edge paused at the sliding glass door, taking a deep breath and shaking away those old, unsettling thoughts. When he pulled the door open, he held back, gesturing impatiently for Red to go in front of him.

For a brief moment they stood there, neither of them moving and his brother cast in shadow from the artificial light that spilled out from the doorway. Then Red stomped in ahead of him, the steel tips of his boots ringing against concrete and then kitchen tile. He hissing out as he passed, “there better be fucking chili dogs for dinner.”

The slight shakiness in Edge’s exhale was ignored, gone in his next breath as he followed his brother, closing and locking the door behind them.

-finis-

#kustard #spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #by any other name

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prorevenge · 5 years

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My dogs can do anything they want!

Greetings! This is my first post, and I remembered this story quite randomly after listening to YouTube voices of stories on here, and figured it would be a perfect addition.

I wasn't sure whether to put this in petty revenge or pro, but considering how it ends, I think it belongs in pro.

Also, as a trigger warning, this DOES have animal death in it.

So this happened about fifteen years ago when I was in High School, (2000-2004, can't remember exact dates), back when my mom was still alive. For a bit of background, my mom was a semi-famous dog breeder, shower, AND trainer with a certain dog breed, and absolutely loved what she did. I was raised beside that since I was born, and have grown to expect people actually TRAIN their dogs, but sadly am continuously (to this day) disappointed that people can't manage to do that. (We've even trained multiple cats, throughout my lifetime, to actually obey some commands and to listen to us. I found out that this is not the normal, and my mom and I just had commanding tones that animals listen to.)

Throughout High School, we lived in a five story house, which we rented out and had a LOT of acreage to work with. We ended up getting a lot of chickens to have fresh eggs from, as well as for insect purposes (where we lived we had flying ants and to this day ants in general are still a phobia of mine, but that's another story lol).

My absolute favorite breed of chickens were the silkies, because not only were they incredibly sweet and loved to be petted, but their feathers felt like actual fur. We had a few of them because they made good mothers and sitters, and had just gotten a few other breeds of chickens because they 'looked cool' and we wanted a variation.

We only had the chickens for a good week or so, and was getting used to them/they were getting used to the area -- before we heard a RUCKUS outside. The chickens were absolutely squawking and freaking out, and both mom and I come tearing out thinking that there was a bobcat or wolf or something terrorizing them -- only to find TWO DOGS tearing into the chickens INSIDE their pen, and a bunch of carcasses of chickens that they had ALREADY GOTTEN TO.

My mother was absolutely LIVID. I was heartbroken, because NONE of the silkies had survived, and one particular female that we'd had for YEARS was gone.

Now, my mother being an absolute Force to be Reckoned With, had the know-how of how to grab the dogs, and both of them had collars on with the information of their owners on their actual tags. So she got the information, called up the owner, and he said he'd be right down.

I remember VERY CLEARLY to this day, how the guy drove down our driveway in a brand new SUV with a Martial Arts logo on the side of his vehicle. The way he was dressed also clearly stated that he was not left wanting for money, and when he talked to my mom, he took the dogs, and my mom did not look the least bit happy.

I don't remember much of the conversation because it was so long ago, and I was just a kid, but I do remember her saying that he was lucky she hadn't taken them to the pound because they were intact males, and to keep them either in kennels or on leashes. I also remember her telling them that if she found his dogs on her property again, she WOULD take them to the pound.

He laughed in her face, because he didn't believe her, and basically told her that his dogs didn't cause that much damage, and that they could go wherever they wanted, because they always came back home.

I found out after they'd left, when she told my dad, that she demanded he'd pay for the chickens that the dogs had killed, but he'd scoffed at her and told her instead, "I won't do that, but I'll help you build a new chicken coop." This didn't sit well with my mom at ALL. I could see the gears turning in her head, and I knew instantly that she was planning something.

It was a few days later that the dogs returned, and my mom yelled for me to come down and help her, which I did. I had a bit of trouble catching one, but once we caught them, she told me to put them in the empty kennels in the living room. They went in easily, and neither of the dogs were bad, they were just UNTRAINED. Both were about a year old, and had basically just been left to their own devices, and allowed to go wherever they wanted. They were sweet, but they were obnoxiously rowdy -- as puppies usually are.

We held them in the kennels until nighttime, fed them a little dinner (my mom had really high end dog food because dog trainer, etc) and I perk up when I hear a loud whistle at the top of our driveway. I have sensitive hearing, and I heard it right away, unsure of what it was. But my mom, with a devious grin, turned to me and asked me, "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah, I hear that."

"He's calling for his dogs. That's why he laughed at me, he didn't think I'd be able to keep them overnight. Other people weren't able to... but other people aren't me."

God, I loved my mom. She may have been a pain to deal with sometimes when I got older, but I do remember moments like this fondly because she was one hell of a force to be reckoned with.

The whistling continued around for another thirty minutes or so, and then it stopped with the owner going back home. That morning, we took the dogs to the pound, and dropped them off, not having to pay for a fee once we explained our side of the situation -- we knew full well that the shelter was 1) a no kill shelter, and 2) the information to contact their owner was still on their tags.

I could still see the cogs turning in my mom's head, and wondered just what exactly she was up to.

A week passed before I found out the conclusion of what my mom had done. Once the owner had been contacted, he went to the pound to pick up his dogs, only to throw a FIT once he realized how much he had to pay, because his dogs were still intact.

An intact dog means that they aren't fixed or neutered, which ups the price quite a bit from shelters and the like. So instead of paying for the replacement of our chickens that his dogs killed, he had to pay out the nose to get his two dogs out of the pound.

In conclusion -- Price to replace chickens: Around $100 or LESS.

Price to get both dogs out of pound: Around $300-$500.

I'd say that's a win in my book.

And the best part was? We never saw his dogs on our property again. My mom was doing her dance of satisfaction for weeks.

(source) story by (/u/Fethaire)

#prorevenge #by /u/Fethaire #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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icyhotheartwritings · 4 years

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Long and rambly post about the Camp Fire ahead. Skip to the bottom to avoid my rambling and just see the pictures.

[[more]]

One year ago today, I woke up and started getting ready for school. At 7:47, the girl I carpool with asked if I was still going to come get her because there was a fire near me. I step outside and everything seems fine. I can’t see anything, I can’t smell smoke, and my lips don’t burn like they always do when there’s smoke. So I keep getting ready.

A little while later, my mom tood me the fire has spread and I’m not going to school. All of Pentz road was being evacuated. That’s where my grandma lived. So we started packing.

We pack edeverything that’s important. My DBZ figures, my whole electronics collection, my Pikachu plushie, my concert t shirts, the souvenirs my mom’s best friend brought me from Sweden, the hand crocheted horse and cat my aunt made me, my mom’s signed hockey sweater, the ashes of our recently lost dog and the mane of the horse we lost a week before the dog. Everything. We packed it in our RAV4, Torey, and sent my mom down the hill to get the horses out while my dad and I packed our indoor animals. We couldn’t attach the trailer to the RAV, but the live in caretakers had a truck they could hook up.

My mom never made it to the barn. A half hour after she left, we got a text from my grandma.

“Don’t go down the hill. It’s on fire.”

By that time, my mom was trapped in the fire. They kept making her turn around, back and forth, as flames surrounded the road. A drive that normally took 15 minutes took 3 hours. Eventually, they made her get out of the car and walk. She walked for three miles until she reached running traffic and found someone to give her a ride to Chico.

Meanwhile, my grandparents had packed up their cat and dog and some of their possessions, taking separate cars just in case. They figured they’d come home in a few days, just like every other time. We were later told by a neighbor their house was in flames at 9:30 am. My grandma was the first to reach the roadblock on Pentz. They told her to turn around. She looked in her rear view mirror and saw my grandpa and the cat behind her, and fire coming up behind them and all the cars past them. So she drove through the roadblock. I’m certain she saved lives.

My then boyfriend was in a jam. He was home alone with his 4 year old cousin while his mom went to get his sister and her boyfriend and get gas. He was in charge of packing for the entire family and getting their kittens. His mom was gone for a long time, and by the time she got back the house two doors down was in flames. At the time they left their place was going up.

The friend who texted me that morning thankfully went home before the fire got to the church where we were going to meet up. Her family and animals all got out. She had to see a friend’s blind horse run into flames and die in front of her.

My aunt and uncle were heroes that day. Down the road from them lived a family. Three kids, their dad, and their grandma. My aunt drove the kids out. Their dad and grandma died that day, they were the first casualties discovered. I’m going to say this right now: Don’t you dare look for pictures of deceased people after a tragedy. I saw people begging all over looking for the video of them in their car. That’s someone’s family they lost. The internet knew they were dead before the kids did.

The power went out shortly after our last phone call with my mom, where she told us she had to leave the car sans one mirror that a cop took out. We were about to use my dad’s circular saw to overkill-cut a hose to siphon the gas out of my undriveable truck when it went out. I got my multitool and cut the hose, and used it for a number of other things that were frankly so mundane I can’t remember. I will never be without a multitool again.

The power being out meant we didn’t have any communications. The cell towers were down too. The very last communication we got was word that the stables were on fire. We ended up having a gathering of neighbors in front of our driveway, chatting about nothing and everything to distract ourselves.

Now, I’d never been a religious person before. But that day I prayed. I prayed to every god I could think of. It may seem weird, but most of all, I prayed to Hephaestus and Poseidon. I prayed for them to keep the fire away from my horses, to let them live.

My 3 horses were part of the 5 that got out of the stables on trailers. A family friend made it before they closed the roads. She packed up her horses in her trailer and got the caretaker’s son to hook up his truck to our trailer and get our two young horses out. But that left our old man horse. Our friend waved down trailers coming from further down the road. Soon she found one that had a space open. She actually knew our old man already, and she got him in the trailer and down to the fairgrounds. Before she left, my friend let out the other 15 horses. Four of them made it on the news, running side by side down the road with flames on both sides. A few days later firefighters found 20 horses at the stables, all of ours and some of the surrounding stable’s horses, rounded them up in the arena, and fed and watered them with my family’s stuff that somehow made it.

My dad and I didn’t leave the house for a long time. We left at 3:14 pm. Our car didn’t have a lot of gas, so we waited for Skyway to clear up. We had the cats packed up real quick after mom left, so we took them to our chicken coop for food water and a litter box and still be in quick grab range. It was strangely peaceful in a way. It was completely quiet. My dad and I decided to have breakfast, he had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I had a strawberry pop tart. I almost left my retainer on the TV tray when we left.

Somewhere in the 6 hours my dad and I were without communication, I decided to pack up some more stuff in my backpack. I grabbed our old laptop and its cord, all my handwritten writing, and my textbooks. Then, I decided to sort through my old movie case. There, I found my old box set of Dragon Ball GT and a few DB movies. I decided to take it with me. Before we left, I grabbed my favorite blanket too.

We left the house at 3:14 pm. My old man dog rode in the floorboard. I had to sit cross legged on the seat. Me and my dad, 3 dogs, and 9 cats went up and around. At 4:30 pm, I got service back. At around 5:30, we were safe at the family friend who saved my horse’s house in Oroville. I got to go to Walmart and get new clothes and a toothbursh, take a shower, and then we were evacuated again. This time, we went to my friend’s husband’s family’s house in Bangor. We stayed there for the night and returned to Oroville the next day. We were evacuated from there again on November 10 and returned the next day.

On November 15, I got to see my old man horse again. That was also the day we found we were one of the lucky few who secured a rental house until we were able to return to our house, which was just outside the fire line. We cleaned it ourselves and moved in on the 17th. On November 18, we got to return to the stables and retrieve our stuff. On November 25, we got photographic confirmation that Torey the car and our stuff was burned to a crisp. The VIN and all but 4 characters of the plate were gone, which is why it took so long. Another family friend had to call in a favor from an old high school friend who became a cop to find it.

On December 8, at 3:17 pm, we were able to return home. We were fucking lucky.

View from down my road that morning

Old man cat out for a potty break

View of Paradise from Highway 32

RIP Torey

Found my 2DS. Lightly crisped.

Here’s my grandma’s house. Can you find my bed? Hint: it’s under the AC unit

It’s messy and old, but it’s home.

#camp fire california #paradise california #long post

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runicrigel · 4 years

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The Dead Hen

Author’s Note: In November of 2019 I went to live off grid and work on an organic farm outside of Austin, Texas for a month. I stayed in a camper from 1973 I renovated and wrote small memoir blurbs. This is one of the most poignant.

MEMOIR POST 2 - THE DEAD HEN

“They’re dead,” I announced sagely. "Everything and everyone dies.“ It was a finite statement made desperately upon a patch of sandy earth in southeast Texas. I loosed a guttural, "Huuuugh!” Into the sky, literally hanging my head back for additional dramatic effect. For a moment, I was vaguely self-conscious about this display but no one was around other than the chickens at my feet, clucking and strutting. One chicken crowed and stomped a single foot. It flapped it’s wings as though acknowledging the death of the grey hen crumpled at our feet. I stared at the odd ritual, then back to the corpse.

I understood both then and now that this level of gravitas is likely not befitting the life of a nameless hen. She is just, “chicken.” But I have no direct experience with dead things, or escorting them to their final resting places. When I was young I had a small dwarf hamster named Tutter that had died. My dad had gently carried him into the computer room, cradled in a large, callous palm, and offered kindly, “Do you want to see him?”

“Nooooo!” I howled, and ran out of the room. Death is natural, but there was something terribly unnatural about it to me. I wish I could say that uncanny feeling vacated with age and maturity but it didn’t exactly. All I know is that I couldn’t bare to see my little Tutter lifeless, even if he was but the size of a pair of cotton balls.

Those strong but tender hands that had once cupped my little dead hamster were cold when I wrapped my own hands around one of his palms. "His hands are so cold.“ I’d remarked through a shutter and then tears broke free as I stood by the casket that made him seem so small. I didn’t sob. I just cried, hard, like a helpless person does. When my father died we knew he had wanted a close casket funeral but somewhere along the line that idea had received an override by those left to grieve. He hadn’t wanted people to remember him that way, and after the funeral, I had an inkling as to why.

As I stood both staring and trying to not look at this chicken memories flooded me of pets I’d known to pass. I was there for my boyfriend when his cat was put to sleep, and when the other began to labor and then died right in his arms. More than once I had considered how grateful I was to Spooky and Baldric that they had let me be there for them at the momentous occasion that is the end of a life. Yet, when each feline was buried I had let Jason go alone, unable to look on their corpses. Afraid of what I might see as they disappeared underneath a bed of loam.

I had always been this way. When I was a girl and our dog delivered a stillborn litter I sobbed outside on the suburban sidewalk of our street in my nightgown while my younger sister (who wanted to be a nurse) helped my mother deliver the unmoving pups. When my step-father’s brother killed himself I cried terribly at his funeral and was a ghost of myself for weeks. It didn’t matter that he and I hadn’t been close. I barely new him. At a young age, every one of Death’s intrusive visits were otherworldly and bitter.

And now there was this nameless chicken, it’s death incomparable to my father’s own. This defiant chicken, who had decided to die during my journey of healing and renewal. Rude.

She had been refusing to sleep in the coop for days — opting to hide under it at night instead. While the others piled into the coop to be stowed away from the jaws of coyote or other predators, she scrambled under it to take her chances. Only when the sun warmed the sky and the coops were opened to let the others flutter out to feed, did she enter to perch alone.

Looking back on it, this behavior was likely indicative that she was nearing the end of her life. That night she had died under the coop and now she was laying there so still — like a pile of slate feathers. Morning dew glistened on her neck. When I’d come upon her I’d gasped in surprise. It was apparent immediately that she was dead, lying in a completely unnatural slump unachievable in life.

I knew right away that it was unsanitary for her to stay lying there. It was also my first day completely alone on the farm. There was no one I could defer the task of moving her to. No one to set upon this task that I myself had always avoided. So now here I was howling into the sky, trying to convince myself that this chicken was dead and that no matter how much I didn’t want to touch it I had to touch it and move it out of the pen.

I stood in the sand trying to force my brain to reckon with the fact that the chicken was not going to move. "It isn’t sick or debilitated. It’s dead. It’s not going to move now or ever again. Really? Are we sure.” I had to process, “No it’s really never moving again and nothing I do can change that. It’s final.” I felt cold some where deep inside.

I’m on a farm. And chickens die on a farm sometimes. "Where there’s livestock, there’s deadstock,“ John (the farmer and my host) had warned me with a chuckle.

"Goddammit.” The sentimental, mostly vegetarian in me, wanted to say something to mark this occasion which I’m sure my hosts, now callous to chicken death, would’ve have groaned or laughed at. This chicken didn’t even have a name. It’s just a chicken. And now it died. It’s no one’s fault, it just died and that’s how things were. "You were a good chicken,“ I finally decided on with a gulp. Was she? I have no idea.

I reached down with my work gloves, the body felt heavy and everything in my body crawled. I stepped back. Another five minutes explaining to myself things die, and this was my task. I was going to hold my own on this farm, so help me.

Another round of my mind flashing back to the pets I’d watched surrender to darkness and what I had learned from those moments. I thought of what it might be like when my dogs pass. Would I be so remiss then to cradle their small bodies one last time? My heart broke a little at that thought but I knelt down, took a deep breath and very gently lifted the hen from the ground.

It’s bony feet were curled. It’s tiny head and bushy neck lulled back almost delicately. I rested the little body in a tote and found myself adjusting it so that it wouldn’t lay on its head or neck, as though it might find that uncomfortable. I had to remind myself that she no longer felt anything. I carried the tote away from my body illogically anticipating the chicken might spring out at me, and then as my boots crunched up the hill I huddled the tote more comfortably to my body. I trekked along in resigned silence.

I got to the house in time to see that John was just pulling out. I hadn’t missed him after all. He lifted the creature by its feet and rest it in the back of his truck. "It took everything in me to pick up that chicken.” I confessed. He gave me a smile that was both sympathetic but rueful.

“Sometimes chickens just die, it probably won’t be the last time.” I nodded and wished him safe travels. He bid me a good day. I crunched back up the hill and stowed the once again empty tote in my Jeep.

I embarked on this journey largely in part because my father’s death had left me feeling changed, hollow and wounded. Stowed in the confines of a suburban household I was listless, heavy. The walls became a reflective chamber with no tunnels or corridors towards escape. There was only rumination of thought like chewing on already regurgitated cud. I could not obtain peace through anything side of me, it was time to reach outward.

During my walks among the rustling leaves and cool nights however, I had felt free. Something called me beyond the shores of a linear lifetime spent roaming a cage of drywall. I yearned to — if not attain my father’s joy for life and those he loved — then to at least strive towards it. I wanted to work with my hands, feel fatigue in my body at night and go to bed satisfied with my day’s work.

I thought of my Zazen Buddhist practice and studies. I recalled, as I often do, the stories of the Buddha, sitting in meditation, legs crossed with his fingertips pressed to the earth. It’s called the Earth Witness mudra. The story goes that as Siddartha obtained enlightenment under the bodhi tree he reached down to touch the earth, quite literally grounding himself, and the Earth cried, “I am his witness.” Fibers of carpet and scored linoleum did not offer the same effect I yearned for. I wanted to go to bed with dirt under my nails. I wanted to touch the earth.

So I embarked in a camper that’s older than I am and took a chance on this gorgeous farm in southeast Texas ran by one of the most generous married couples I have ever encountered.

The stages of grief and the stages of enlightenment share a certain quality. The pursuit of acceptance. Part of life is sitting with death, and I am grateful to this nameless chicken who taught me another lesson. As I took that small body into my hands, and lifted it from the sand I believe I cradled acceptance there too. Maybe there isn’t as much gravitas in the death of a single bird as I wanted to assign to it, but maybe there was just enough.

#woofer #grief #buddhism #memoir #writing #life #inspirational #motivation #poet

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drublood · 4 years

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Today, I mourn my mama on her birthday, and I celebrate what she has inspired in me.

Tomorrow, I go back to work for the first time since my move. I imagine resuming a routine schedule will add an additional layer of “real”ness to this place where I have ended up. This place I now call “home.”

This house feels so new and old to me. I haven’t lived in a multi-story home since I lived with my mom and family, and it’s alarming but somewhat comforting to experience acoustic memories. The echos of doors closing on a different floor. Low rumbling conversations from the kitchen. Footfalls on staircases. Dog barks.

I can barely remember the journey we took to get here. It’s all been a bit of a whirl. The house sold quickly. Much quicker than we expected, but still somehow perfectly timed. And then there was a road trip to Maine, via St. Louis, Chicago, Oberlin, Flemington…and a few other points in between.

We went looking for a house and then we found a house. We lost that house and found another house, which we also lost, so we found another house, and in the midst of deciding about that house, the second house came back and that is the house we chose. The house that chose us. The house that circled back.

We headed back to Texas with fingers crossed, slowly packed the POD with the random crap we couldn’t bring ourselves to part with, including 2 cats and 1 dog (the other dog went, with the car, with the other (adult) child.)

All of the states and places between Austin and this place in central Maine where we currently reside are a jumble in my memory. There was good food, and fun adventures. Wilbur, the Great Pyrenees, learned about elevators and mastered hotel rooms.

We sadly lost one of our cats at the end of the journey. She disappeared inside the new house. We miss her. There is talk of future kitten(s).

And chickens

And the building of chicken coops

And gardens

(most of this talk is coming from me)

But I didn’t want this to be a play-by-play. I just wanted to say…I am home. I am very satisfied. The right house wasn’t at all what I was expecting it to be, but now that we’ve been here a month, I know it is the Right House.

It is the right place. And I am quietly and continually overjoyed.

youtube

All Secrets Sleep in Winter Clothes Today, I mourn my mama on her birthday, and I celebrate what she has inspired in me.

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kusunogatari · 5 years

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[ ObiRyū October | Day Eight: The New Chicken Coop ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Suigin Reiji ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ] [ Previous || Next ]

“Reiji!”

Mind urged from a book he’s reading, perched on his belly atop his bed, the boy looks up at his father’s voice in his doorway. “Tōchan?”

Obito gives a grin, and Reiji already knows what that means: they’re going to get into mischief. “Hey! Come with me for a minute - I need your help.”

Brow wilting just a hair, Reiji considers his book for a moment before marking the page, shimmying off the bed and crossing to the door. “What are we doing…?”

“We need to get supplies.”

“...supplies?”

“You and I have a project today. We’re going to build something in the backyard.”

That gets him to perk up. Build something…? He’s never built anything before! “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Oh, he’s heard that before. Tilting his head with a skeptical look, Reiji asks, “...does kāchan know what we’re doin’...?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if she did, right? Come on! We need to get everything we need so we can start!”

Heaving a light sigh, Reiji follows and puts on his shoes before the pair head into the village proper. It’s a pretty day, and Obito soon leads them to a lumberyard, discussing requirements with an employee. In the meantime, Reiji looks around curiously at all of the stock.

“Hey! We’re all done.”

...well that was fast. Moving dutifully back to his father’s side, Reiji pauses. “...where’s the stuff?”

Obito holds up a scroll. “In here!”

“...huh?”

“It’s a sealing scroll. You can store things in it with sealing jutsu! That way we won’t have to carry it all by hand.”

“...oh!” Still in the Academy, Reiji hasn’t learned that much yet. But...it does make him wonder why he had to come along if a person can carry it all by themselves… Either way, he trots obediently beside Obito, doing his best to keep up with his father’s longer strides.

Soon enough, they’re back in the yard, and Obito unseals all of their things. Wood, nails, hinges, some roofing shingles, and even some wire fencing is soon laid out in the grass. Crouching beside it, Reiji looks up. “...what’s all this for?”

“We,” Obito announces, tucking away the scroll, “are going to build...a chicken coop!”

“...chicken…?” Dark greys widen. “...really?”

“Yes!”

“...is that okay?” He’s never seen any chickens inside Konoha before...just out in the farms beyond the village wall. Dogs and cats, sure...even owls like his mother’s summon. Maybe a chicken isn’t that different from an owl…?

“Bah, it will be fine,” Obito counters, waving a hand. “You sound like your mother with all of your worrying.”

“I don’t wanna get in trouble!”

“We won’t get in trouble, Reiji. It’s not like we’re going to have a big farm in our backyard! Just a few. No one will even notice!”

That...doesn’t totally reassure the boy, but...well, hopefully Obito knows what he’s doing.

“Now, you will be my little helper. I’ll do most of the building, and you manage our supplies, all right?”

“O...okay.”

“Now, first, we have to build the walls…”

As Obito follows a guidebook that was in with the wood, Reiji eagerly fetches whatever his father asks, watching with curious eyes as he slowly begins to put everything together. What starts as piles of parts soon transforms into a little house…!

Nailing on the shingles, Obito holds a few tacks between his lips, hammering as Reiji keeps him supplied with the strips. They took a short lunch break quite some time ago, and he knows it won’t be long until his mother gets home. They’re almost done...maybe they’ll finish before she arrives?

“Ne, tōchan…”

“Hm?”

“So, how are we gonna get chickens for the chicken house?”

“Just buy some, of course. We’ll get them as little babies, and raise them up!”

“...babies?” His eyes go round. “Will they be small…?”

“Very small. So you have to be careful with them! We’ll have to keep them inside for a while until they get bigger, and it gets warmer. If they get too cold, they’ll die.”

The blunt mention of death makes Reiji jolt a bit. “O-oh…”

That earns a glance from his father. “...we might still lose some regardless, but...we’ll do our best, right?”

“...right.”

“And...what do you two think you’re doing?”

The pair both turn to see Ryū standing in the backdoor frame, arms loosely crossed with a perked brow and weary smile.

“Kāchan!” Reiji chirps, smiling at his mother. “We’re making a chicken house!”

“Oh, are you now?” Ryū’s eyes move from her son to her husband, still smirking. “Funny...I didn’t know we had any chickens who needed a house…”

Obito pouts. “Well, not yet…”

Ryū heaves a light sigh. “Is it even legal to have livestock in this part of the village?”

And...there it is. She’s echoing her son, as per usual. Obito gives a small groan and a roll of his eyes. “I think the village has bigger worries than a handful of chickens in someone’s backyard! You and Reiji both worry too much.”

“It’s to make up for your not worrying enough,” she counters with a laugh, only half serious.

“...I worry about plenty of things.”

“Oh?”

“...well, two things.”

A white brow perks.

After a slight pause, Obito points. “One,” he offers, pointing at Ryū, who goes pink. “Two,” is the addition, pointing to Reiji.

Something seems to still in Ryū for a moment, gaze suddenly miles away. As Reiji looks from her to his father, he sees a similar look.

...what’s going on…?

But then the moment passes, and they seem to snap out of it. “...oh, all right - fair enough,” Ryū concedes, shrugging. “But if Kakashi comes knocking with a warrant of arrest for your chickens, that’s on you.”

“Bakakashi has far bigger problems than my chickens.”

“...I wanna pet a chicken!” Reiji then blurts, earning looks from both his parents...and then laughter.

“Well, I’ll bring some home soon,” Obito promises, ruffling the boy’s two-tone locks and eliciting a giggle. “For now, we still have work to do!”

They finish up the roof, and then work on stringing up the fence and putting up a gate to get in. By sundown, the coop is pretty much done.

“Now all it needs is some chickens!”

Busy with work for the next few days, Obito finally has time to visit one of Konoha’s outlying farms, and returns with a box, grinning widely.

Excitement evident, Reiji swiftly hops from foot to foot as his father sets the box down in the sitting room. He can already hear soft peeps, and a small flutter erupts in his chest!

Then off comes the lid, and an assortment of little chicks startle at the movement. They’re so small…! A few red, yellow, brown, black...about a dozen little birds stare up at them curiously.

“...oh…” Crouched beside the box, Reiji looks up in wonder to his father. “Can...can I hold one?”

“Be very careful - they’re fragile.” Reaching in, he scoops a little blond chick, depositing it in Reiji’s cupped hands.

Ever so gently, Reiji brings them up toward his chest, resting on the balls of his feet and staring. The little chick bobs its head, looking around and stumbling with novelty over the palms of his hands. Having never held anything so small before, Reiji sits still, diligently watching to make sure he doesn’t drop them.

Watching his son for a moment, Obito asks, “So…? What do you think?”

There’s a pause...and then a small sniff. Bringing up his face, Reiji startles his father with tearful eyes and a trembling chin. “It’s...so small, tōchan…! I...I love it a lot…”

Obito blinks, not expecting such an emotional reaction. But...well, he is Ryū’s son, and something tells him she’ll be just as overwhelmed by them when she gets home. And...he might’ve sniffled like that when he was Reiji’s age. Watching as the boy gently nuzzles the chick to his cheek, Obito gives a soft huff of a laugh. “Yes, they’re...very small.”

A few hours later, handing Ryū one of the reddish birds, he watches as she too gets misty-eyed. “...oh my gosh…”

“...why is everyone so emotional over chickens?”

“Because they’re tiny and cute and soft!”

They remain indoors for a little over a week, and then get moved out, a weak heat lamp (wary of fires) in one corner to make sure they don’t get too cold. Every day when he gets home from the Academy, Reiji hurries to the backyard to check on them and give them pets.

“...sooo…?”

Standing out a window and watching, Ryū turns to see Obito smirking at her cheekily. “...what?”

“Admit it.”

“...admit what?”

“It was a good idea.”

She gives a soft snort. “...all right, all right. It was a good idea.”

“See! I have lots of good ideas!”

“You do! And then you have some iffy ones,” she retorts with a grin, laughing as he pouts and latches onto her waist, chin on her shoulder. “...but yes, this one was good. But you do realize this means teaching him later about what it means to eat one, right?”

“Of course. He’ll do fine.”

“...you told me he cried when he held one the first time. It’s not going to be easy.”

“So did you!”

“But I’ve also prepared my own food from that level before! Just...be gentle with him.”

“Bah...it’s part of growing up.”

Looking to him thoughtfully, Ryū murmurs, “...I know. I just...don’t want things to be as...difficult for him as they were for us, ne? I want him to be able to take things slow. Be a kid for a while. No need to rush him into being an adult so fast, right?”

Obito half-hums, half-grumbles. “...we’ll see.”

Another snort, leaning her cheek to his. “...everything’s going to be better for him.”

“...it is.”

“...we’ll make sure of it.”

Ehehe, fluff x3 So this is sort of just...expanding on a few asks on the subject: adding a little more substance and some additional context. I'd say Reiji is about...six or seven here? New in the Academy and still a pretty small kiddo. It's about time Reiji has something along the lines of a pet! Even though...he might end up eating some of them. But hey, that's part of life. He'll have to learn about mortality one of these days. And this is a lot easier than OTHER methods. He doesn't get Suzume until he's a few years older, so...chickens will do for now lol Buuut yeah, not much else to say: just some famjam fluff, which is always good x3 Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #suigin reiji #white hands of healing [ canon verse ]

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charlienick · 6 years

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riley & maya, 6

things you said under the stars and in the grass

okay babe, i didn’t give you grass, but i did give you (fingers waggle) so much more.

ao3.

“C’mon, dude, it’s cold.”

“Lucas, stop being a fucking wimp,” Maya sighs from her place beside him on the trampoline. “If you’re gonna keep bitching and moaning, go back inside and measure your dick to Farkle’s again or something else equally stupid.”

“We’ve never done that!”

“Sure you haven’t. Or better yet, go make us some pasta. We’re hungry, aren’t we Riles?”

“Mmm.” Riley only snuggles closer into Maya, burying her head even further into the warmth of her skin.

“Whatever. Farkle’s right, we’re just getting eaten alive by mosquitos out here and will probably get frostbite.”

“Lucas, it’s April in Upstate New York. It’s like 45 degrees out. We’re not gonna get fucking frostbite.” Maya snorts when she turns her head to find Lucas laying next to her, arms crossed with his hands shoved underneath his armpits in an attempt to keep them warm, back rigid. “What, a li’l Texas boy like yerself can’t handle the fearsome outdoors?”

“Yeah, Lucas,” Riley giggles, voice muffled by Maya’s skin. “What’s a country boy t’do?” The accent she uses is significantly worse than Maya’s, but it makes Lucas and Maya smile anyway. Riley could do pretty much anything and it would make Lucas and Maya smile.

“You, too, Riley?” Lucas asks, eyebrows raised.

“Maya’s right! You were so used to hot weather for so long, and it almost never snows in the city. All that smog has you spoiled.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely spoiled,” Maya agrees with a conspiratory grin. “Save yourself, Huckleberry! Go on without us!”

“Please, Lucas! You must make it to dry land and tell our story!” Riley cries.

“Okay, I’m going,” Lucas laughs as he gets off the trampoline, jostling the girls. “But not because you told me to. Spring Break Lucas does what he wants and is not bossed around by his friends like he usually is.”

“Sure. As long as Spring Break Lucas still makes that delicious Three-Cheese Chicken Penne that Regular Lucas is so fond of.” Lucas just shrugs, but he’s grinning, and calls out to Farkle who Maya can see reading on the recliner to start boiling water. Riley and Maya hear do it yourself, I’m not your maid! from inside, and they both laugh as the door opens, flooding them with light briefly before submerging them in darkness once again.

Without Lucas, without anyone else, when it’s just Riley and Maya, it’s usually quiet. Hushed voices, soft touches, everything draped in fabric that mutes the outside world. They don’t notice the cars backfiring outside, or the yelling from the Morgensterns down the hall, or the sycamore tree scraping outside the window. Usually when it’s just Riley and Maya, they’re in the Bay Window, and the drapes and curtains always make the world seem softer somehow, safer.

Or maybe it’s just Riley and Maya that do that.

Maya thinks for a moment about how safe she feels right now, wrapped up in her best friend at her step-father’s house upstate. Riley talks sometimes about how this place looked before Maya ever saw it: drab, lifeless, boring. No pictures on the walls—not even any that Shawn took himself—no area rugs, no interesting furniture. It looked like a house and not a home. But then Cory started visiting more once Riley was old enough to take the train without getting nervous, and Topanga would stay home with Auggie while Cory and Riley would visit Shawn. They’d always bring something along when they went. Something permanent. A photostrip from the boys’ childhoods, or a drawing of a cat Riley made on the train ride up, all jagged lines and the kind of innocence they all thought she’d have to lose eventually.

The picture of the cat Riley drew at age nine is still up on the fridge, and it has the same lack of finesse that her art still has today. But that’s the thing Maya admires most about Riley: she never lets being terrible at something stop her from doing it. Maya knows if she hadn’t had a natural talent for art, she would’ve never pursued it, even if she knew how much she loved it. Fear of failure and rejection runs so deep in her that she thinks it must be paramount to her personality that this point. She doesn’t know who she’d be without it.

But she doesn’t need to; at least, not for the next four years. She is going to the Tisch School of the Arts in the fall, and this is their group’s last spring break together. Maya, Zay, Lucas, Farkle, Riley and Smackle have all been going to Shawn’s cabin every spring since their freshman year of high school. The first two years, Cory demanded that Shawn come along to “babysit.” Shawn ditched them to go hiking both years, and once Cory caught wind of this and the fact that nothing even remotely scandalous had happened while Shawn was absent, he allowed the six of them to go the next year unsupervised.

Most of the time, when the six of them are together, it’s chaos. They’re all loud personalities, and being cooped up in a tiny house for five days doesn’t usually go swimmingly. Last year, they nearly burned the place down when Zay and Maya got into a “flaming sword battle” with burning marshmallows on sticks. The year before that, Smackle and Riley got into an all-out fight over whether or not Buzzfeed quizzes were stupid or not. Riley told Smackle she doesn’t know how to have fun, and Smackle called Riley shallow, and Riley cried, and it took two whole excruciating days for them to start talking again. Lucas, their mediator, couldn’t even solve it. It ended up being Zay who finally out an end to it by telling them he was sick of needing to choose sides. They’re all friends, and they need to act that way. Riley apologized first, which still infuriates Maya to this day, and that was the fight that caused the biggest rift between Smackle and Farkle. He confided in Maya that he couldn’t stop thinking about how torn apart Riley was by being called shallow by his girlfriend.

Things became even more strained between the two of them after that, and their breakup came ten months later and was more drawn out than anything Maya has ever seen. Worse than when Lucas thought there was something romantic between them. Worse than her crush on Josh that was strung out to its last dying breath until Alan fucking Matthews sat her down and asked if she was okay and if his son was hurting her. The reality of the situation sunk in then, how she had been chasing him to ignore a much larger truth, and her come-to-Jesus moment about her sexuality came shortly after.

Worse than… anything.

It’s still bad even though it’s been a full year. They’re all still friends—Smackle is currently inside watching Animal Planet with Zay—but it’s strained. Maya can tell that Smackle feels more left out than she did when she was on the outside of the group looking in, even though they all invite her wherever they go, and Lucas has been dancing around both Farkle and Zay with long looks and stolen glances—the same long looks that Farkle himself gives to everyone he’s friends with, falling in love more easily and freely than he’d ever be able to quantify scientifically. The same long looks that Maya has been giving Riley since the day they met.

Maya is tired. She just wants everything to be alright. She wants to paint and see her friends happy and kiss Riley. Apparently, the world only wants her to do one of those things.

But even if she can’t kiss her, Maya is happy with Riley. She always is. Being with Riley in any state is better than being with anyone else. Even without the Bay Window, without cars backfiring and people screaming, they’re still safe. There’s stars to blanket them now, and bullfrogs from the pond just through the woods to talk back to them. No matter where they go, they’re still Riley and Maya. Riley is Maya’s best friend on earth, she always has been, and she knows that will never change.

Which is why she should’ve known that kissing her wouldn’t change it either.

“Hey, Maya?” Riley says sleepily from her place on Maya’s shoulder. Maya hums, lost in her own thoughts. “Why are cicadas so loud?”

“Why are you asking me?” Maya snorts. “There are two scientists right inside that I’m sure would be happy to ramble for hours about the etymology of cicadas.”

Unlike anyone else, because Riley is very much unlike everyone else, she doesn’t note Maya’s usage of a two-dollar word. Instead, she ignores the answer entirely, still trapped in her thought process. “Do you think they’re screaming?” It almost makes Maya laugh that Riley continued on as if Maya hadn’t said anything until she realizes that Riley knew all too well what Maya had proposed and how awkward it is for her to talk to both of those scientists right now for much different reasons. She sees the long looks Riley has been giving Farkle for years, and she sees the crafty ways she avoids conversation with Smackle. Maya notices more about Riley than she does anything else. If Riley were an academic subject, Maya would be a scholar in the field. “It kind of sounds like they’re screaming. I worry about them whenever we come up here. They only make noise at night. Do you think they’re hurt?”

“No, honey. I think maybe…” Maya sighs, pushing Riley’s hair away from her eyes so she can look at the night sky better. Riley’s hand tightens in the sweatshirt she borrowed from Shawn’s closet and turns her head slightly to watch the stars move while Maya thinks. “I think maybe they’re singing.”

Riley hums happily at that. “I hope so. Singing in their own special cicada language.”

“What songs do you think cicadas would like?” Maya is always glad to distract Riley from the negative thoughts that flit through her mind.

“Oooh… Bad 80s pop songs with weird beats. Yeah, definitely. Like, you know that one that Lucas is always playing?” Riley hums a little bit of it, and then starts singing it choppily. It’s a bit off-key but she’s clearly trying so hard, just like the way she always sings. Maya recognizes it immediately as Dela. Riley’s right, Lucas played this song non-stop when he discovered it in his venture into genres that weren’t the country music forced on him his entire childhood. She’s missing a few words here and there, so Maya joins her to fill in the spaces.

“I’ve been waiting for you all my life! Hoping for a miracle. I’ve been waiting day and night, day and night!” Riley suddenly sits up and clambers to her feet in that innately clumsy way she always seems to move with and begins jumping as Maya attempts to join her whilst still singing. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life! Waiting for redemption. I’ve been waiting day and night. I burn for you!”

Maya bears down hard on the trampoline at the right moment, and Riley sails high into the sky as they loudly finish the chorus of the song. She collapses onto her back with a shrill giggle, momentum bouncing her several times before she comes to rest. Maya joins her once again, a bit breathless, and then Riley looks over at her with her perfect toothy grin and Maya wonders if she’ll ever be able to breathe again.

And then Riley leans over, cups her cheek delicately in the cover of night, and kisses her. Simple, like they’d done it hundreds of times before, and for a moment, Maya thinks maybe they have. Maybe she’s met Riley before this life, with no bay window but the same amount of safety. Maybe they kissed then, too, and this is just a continuation of everything they’ve done before. It somehow feels more believable than something this natural being their first kiss. Distantly, Maya can hear Dela playing from the portable speakers inside, and she smiles into the kiss. She cradles Riley’s cheek, and Riley’s other hand rests against her steadily beating heart, and it’s perfect. Maya feels like she can finally breathe again.

Riley pulls back only slightly to look at her, and while Maya knows she’s blushing, Riley is not. Her smile is sweet, candy, like spun taffy that Maya wants to pull at until her smile is all that’s left of her. She wants Riley to be this happy always. It makes her a bit dizzy to know that she has the power to do that for someone who is constantly pushing aside her own happiness for others.

“Always wanted to do that,” Riley says in that quiet way she gets sometimes, but only ever around Maya.

Maya nods, and matches Riley’s grin. “Me, too.”

And perhaps it was always as simple as that. Their friends are still a tangled mess of unspoken feelings inside, but under the cover of darkness, her and Riley are just fine. There has never been anything tangled about them, and Maya feels foolish that she convinced herself there ever was.

#ask #amelia #rilaya #fic #girl meets world #is amelia your tag now? your url is too powerful #masterpost

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