#and now i’m crawling out and paving over that hole i fell through

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Leithian Reread - Canto XI (The Departure for Angband)

This chapter contains - at the reunion of Beren and Lúthien - my favourite passage in the Leithian, and one of my favourites that Tolkien has ever written, and I think part of my reason for delaying is that I wasn’t sure how to do it justice. But that’s a little farther on.

The chapter opens with a brief account of the Siege of Angband and the Dagor Bragollach. It’s a very strong section of the poem, to the point where it’s hard to know which specific portions to quote; the rhyme and cadence and imagery is all excellent, and is enhanced by a kind of triptych structure from beauty to fire to ruin:

Once wide and smooth a plain was spread,

where King Fingolfin proudly led

his silver armies on the green,

his horses white, his lances keen;

his helmets tall of steel were hewn,

his shields were shining as the moon.

...

Rivers of fire at dead of night

in winter lying cold and white

upon the plain burst forth, and high

the red was mirrored in the sky.

...

Dor-na-Fauglith, Land of Thirst,

they after named it, waste accurst,

the raven-haunted roofless grave

of many fair and many brave.

The description of the dark forest of Taur-nu-Fuin is also wonderfully evocative: sombre pines with pinions vast, / black-plumed and drear, as many a mast / of sable-shrouded shops of death / slow wafted on a ghostly breath.

One of the great recurring themes in Tolkien is the way that all evil, whatever its initial motive and impetus, falls in the end to ruin for ruin’s sake, to the destruction and defilement of all things as a end rather than a means. The image of the Anfauglith is repeated with the desolation before Mordor (gasping pools choked with ash and crawling muds, sickly white and grey, as if the mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the lands about...great cones of earth fire-blasted and poison-stained) and the ruin that Saruman makes of Isengard (trees hewn down and replaced with pillars of metal and stone, joined by heavy chains; meadows paved over; underground furnaces with vents emitting steams, like a graveyard of the unquiet dead), and even Lotho and Saruman’s harm to the Shire (from knocking down Sandyman’s mill to make a bigger one that wasn’t needed, to the mill under Saruman not grinding grain at all but only making smoke and stench and fouling the water).

It’s not as if there is a fundamental benefit to Sauron in making the ruin in front of the Black Gate, or to Saruman in his attempts to destroy the Shire; both start out at one point with the aim of “fixing” the world and putting it in order, and this degenerates into control and rule for its own sake, and then into purposeless malice against not only people but the land itself, with misery and destruction as the only aim. We see small echoes of it elsewhere, as at Losgar.

This theme provides a strong contrast to Beren’s song before his departure across the Anfauglith, which is centred on celebration of nature and creation for its own sake, in and of itself, without any thought of control or ownership. The song fits with Beren’s demonstrated love of nature in earlier chapters, where during his lone guerilla war against Sauron he eats only plants, and is friend and allues with the animals of Dorthonion and with nature-spirits (minor Maiar?) as well: and many spirits, that in stone / in mountains old and wastes alone / do dwell and wander, were his friends. (It also has some echoes in Sam’s song in the Tower of Cirith Ungol.)

The song is given here in longer form than in The Silmarillion:

Farewell now here, ye leaves of trees,

your music in the morning-breeze!

Farewell now blade and bloom and grass

that see the changing seasons pass;

ye waters murmuring over stone,

and meres that silent stand alone!

The song also evokes a lot of the themes that came up in my discussion of CS Lewis’ The Four Loves, particularly the part on eros. Beren has virtually no expectation of coming back alive; he expect to die at best, or be captured and tortured at worst. But making the attempt is, to him, better than willfully choosing a life separated from Lúthien, and better than risking her coming to harm because of him. (The latter, as she will soon point out, is no longer something he has any choice about!) Both of them prefer the very high probability of torment or death over being parted from each other.

Additionally, Beten’s song is one of the purest expressions within Tolkien’s works of the element of admiration in love: delight in the beloved in their own right, above and beyond anything that has happened or will happen or any connection to you personally:

Though all to ruin fell the world / and were dissolved and backward hurled / unmade into the old abyss / yet were its making good, for this / the dawn, the dusk, the earth, the sea / that Lúthien for a time should be!

This feels, also, like it is getting at something deep within the mood of Tolkien’s works, where so much is destroyed or fades or is lost: the existence of beauty and goodness continues to be good, to be meaningful, even when the good and beautiful things have themselves passed away. They were, and that is better than if they had never been.

And here we come to my favourite part of the entire Leithian:

“Ah, Beren, Beren!” came a sound,

“almost too late have I thee found!

O proud and fearless hand and heart,

not yet farewell, not yet we part!

Not thus do those of elven race

forsake the love that they embrace.

A love is mine, as great a power

as thine to shake the gate and tower

of death with challenge weak and frail

that yet endures, and will not fail

nor yield, unvanquished were it hurled

beneath the foundations of the world.

Beloved fool! escape to seek

from such pursuit; in might so weak

to trust not, thinking it well to save

from love thy loved, who welcomes grave

and torment sooner than in guard

of kind intent to languish, barred,

wingless and helpless him to aid

for whose support her love was made!”

Thus back to him came Lúthien:

they met beyond the ways of Men;

upon the brink of terror stood

between the desert and the wood.

This returns to the previously-stated theme around eros: for Lúthien, being captured and tirmented in Angband is a better fate than willingly parting from him, or allowing him to leave her behind for her protection. And this, I think, is why Beren and Lúthien succeed in gaining the Silmaril: be ause their goal is not the Silmaril, their goal is each other.

But there’s more to it than that. I love the passage for Lúthien’s assertion that it is not Beren’s chouce whether she can risk danger and death for his sake. He does not have either the power or the right to protect her from her love of him. (I do think it’s something of a wonder that he still decides to go ahead with the Quest after this rather the the alternative of “let’s elope and be nature-hobos together”, but a lifetime of looking over your shoulders for the forces of Angband and the Fëanorians [yes, I think C&C would’ve gone after them out of spite even without the Quest, given their behaviour in the previous chapter] and Doriathrim sent to kidnap Lúthien back home is daunting in its own way; at least this way, if they succeed it will be over.)

This also goes for friendship (philia): in The Lord of the Rings hobbits express the same sentiment in more commonplace terms, in Merry’s, “You cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo,” and Sam’s “I’m coming too, or neither of us isn’t going. I’ll knock holes in all the boats first.” Or, even more so, in another line of Sam’s during the Breaking of the Fellowship:

“All alone and without me to help you? I couldn’t have a borne it, it’d have been the death of me.”

“It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam,” said Frodo, “and I could not have borne that.”

“Not as certain as being left behind,” said Sam.

Returning to the Leithian: Beren is still reluctant to have Lúthien accompany him into danger. And has a line here whose sentiment always seems to show up in my thoughts about Maedhros and Fingon (“Thrice now mine oath I curse,” he said, “that under shadow thee hath led!”)

Huan, returning with disguises for Beren and Lúthien, uses his second of three lifetime chances of speech to back up Lúthien’s point, and to advise them to disguise themselves as Draugluin and Thuringwethil. This includes one of the more amusing lines in the Leithian, with Huan’s Lo! good was Felagund’s device, but may be bettered. Hi, Finrod, you’re being patronized by a dog. :D He thinks you get, maybe, a B+ on the tactics planning. (Beren gets an F, quite bluntly: Hopeless the quest, but not yet mad, unless thou, Beren, run thus clad in mortal raiment, mortal hue, witless and redeless, death to woo.)

Lúthien uses magic to disguise them effectively, and to prevent the terrible disguises from affecting their minds; it’s difficult, skillful, and lengthy work: With elvish magic Lúthien wrought / lest raiment foul with evil fraught / to a dreadful madness drive their hearts / and there she wrought with elvish arts / a strong defence, a binding power / singing until the mdnight hour.

It is a few days’ journey across the Anfauglith to the gates of Angband and, again, reminiscent of Frodo and Sam’s journey through Mordor; briefer, but also worse in some respects, as they have neither food nor water.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lay of leithian #leithian reread #lúthien #beren #beren and luthien #huan #the lord of the rings #frodo baggins #sam gamgee

[havens-most-wanted]

Jak 2 Opening Scene as Written by a Bot

Exactly as the title says. I plugged in snippets of the Jak 2 script into an AI text generator and got this. Bold is original script. Regular text is not. [text] is edited for continuity and clarity (doesn’t help much though). Enjoy.

Credits to: Rexy (game script, minor edits done by me) https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/ps2/914535-jak-ii/faqs/26498

AI Bot https://inferkit.com/

Warnings: Implied incest, random nonsense.

Here we go...

Samos's voice: For every age there is a time of trial.

It may be that it has happened to us and to me, but the Father tests everyone so that the just can become children of light.

We can only try to get through it with a minimum of fuss.

Like the soft - ball test.

When you're a kid, your parents throw you the soft - ball test.

They throw you the ball, and you run and run and run and run and run, and then you fall on the ground, and it's time to get up, and your ball rolls away somewhere else.

But then you remember your lessons.

The scene then shows up outside a hut in Sandover village, one of the locations in the previous game, where Jak, his ottsel friend Daxter, his female companion Keira, and her father Samos, the green sage, were seen near a large machine.

Samos: Today's the big day, Jak. I hope you are prepared, for whatever happens...

Keira: I think I figured out--

Samos: --That if I ever see you again, I'll…

Keira: W-what?

Samos: Sorry.

Keira: I think I made it pretty clear how I feel about you.

Samos: Sorry, but I can't be sorry.

Keira: You can't be? You can't be sorry you're sorry? I don't get it.

Samos: I'll just…

Keira: [Samos], it's okay.

Samos: (concerned tone) I'm sorry, but you can't just leave me like this. I'm not a man who cries over girls that he never even knew. I'm just gonna…

Keira: (muttering) Whatever, it doesn't matter anymore.

Daxter’s finger hovers in front of a large red button on the rift rider.

Samos: Daxter! Don't touch anything! Though the Precursors vanished long ago, the artifacts they left behind can still do great harm.

Keira: Or great good! If you figure out how to use them.

Samos: I've had some experience with the Precursors, Keira. They're not something I want to mess with.

Keira: Samos, have you ever considered being a scientist instead of a soldier? You're a brilliant scientist, with an education, and a lot of potential. You could build incredible things, not just weapons, but maybe something greater than a weapon.

Samos: That sounds like a lot of work. It's easier to use my powers to fight.

Keira: I'm sure you could come up with some other use for your gifts.

Jak activates the rift rider.

Daxter: Looks like Jak's still got the moto!

Keira: Interesting... it appears to be reading out some preset coordinates.

Daxter: Wow, look at that!

Then, something started to shake, and the ring started to spin before some of the bridge leading to the hut started to break away, and the skies turned dark.

Monster voice: Finally! The last anybody who is here for long. If you are seeking...The lobster roller is in the Oasis. Have a good time. See you later!

Daxter: Uh, why are you reading out coordinates?

Monster voice: This is a museum. You must have been asked to come here. I thought you would find something interesting, like one of my friends.

Daxter: What friend?

Monster voice: I thought maybe you would like to see something in the museum.

Daxter: What did you just say?

Monster voice: Do you not hear me?

Metal Heads begin flying out of the opened rift gate.

Daxter: Aaaaargh! What are those things?!

Samos: So THIS is how it happened…

The monster's head showed up from inside the gate.

Monster: You cannot hide from me boy!

Keira: Do something, Jak!

Daxter: *starts pointing at the buttons* What's this do?

Keira: Shove a building up against it!

Keira started to stomp on the monster's head.

Monster: That'll only make it madder!

Keira: Shove it back in it's hole!

Keira pulled up the floor. The monster hit the ceiling and fell to the ground.

Monster: ...You cannot hide from me boy!

Samos: ...and so it starts. I hope your instincts don't get you in trouble.

Daxter: Uh, how do we start the mission?

Keira: Go up there! It was right on the map.

Samos: Here, I'm staying out here with Keira.

They get sucked into the portal past the giant monster, leaving Sandover behind.

Keira: What was that thing?!

Samos: Hang on everyone!

Daxter: YYAAAAAAHHHHHH! I want off this thing!!!!!

Then... it wasn't long before the machine exploded, throwing Samos and Keira, and Jak and Daxter, far apart from each other.

Keira: AAAAAHHHHH!!

Samos: Find a way back to me Keira. We can't be separated this way.

Keira: I know... I'll go and try and find a way out!

Samos: Please be safe and come back to me…

Keira: I will!

The two of them were separated, and this made the story change. But they were still together, and Keira knew that they weren't really separated, so she was still fine, and they could still be together. So she went in search for Daxter, because he must be stuck somewhere. 

--

Jak and Daxter fall from the sky and crash onto a paved walkway. They looked around, and saw tall metal buildings everywhere. Daxter's face contorted in anger, he tossed a lead pipe he was holding on his hand down to the ground.

Daxter: Okay, I swear that's the last time I ever, EVER, touch lead!

Jak: Yeah, Daxter, the last time I help you, is the last time you use your lead pipe on anything!

Daxter: WHAT THE (CHECK ALL CAPS) (HEADING)WHAT THE HELL!

Then, from in front of them, a bunch of soldiers appeared, lead by Erol, a sleek man with spiked orange hair only just hidden by his armored helmet.

Soldier: There he is. Move in.

They stop in front of them both.

Soldier: Step away from the animal!

Daxter: YYAAAAHHHH!!!!!

Daxter runs between Jak's legs, and away from the group.

Erol: Forget the rat. The Baron wants to talk to you.

Daxter: Y-you ... do ... u-um, yeah …

They talk in a rough, but still kinda giggly voice.

Erol: So, the Baron wants to talk to you.

Daxter: Yeah. Well, he's standing right here!

Soldier: Then why don't we escort you into the castle?

Daxter: …

Soldier: …

Daxter: Mmm…

Erol: Yeah, but he's standing right in front of you.

Daxter: ... OK!

They split. Erol to Erol's troops to take Daxter into the castle, and Octo and Snake to take Jak back out [to the prison].

Daxter: Don't worry Jak! I'll save you before you know it!

{TWO YEARS LATER}

The scene then changes to a prison-like area, and this is where we see a completely reformed Jak with sleeker hair and a goatee on him, strapped to a  chair, where what looked like a ray gun was zapping him. Surrounding him were two figures - Erol again, and the ruler of the city, Baron Praxis.

Computer voice: Dark Eco injection cycle complete. Bio readings nominal and unchanged.

Praxis: Hhhppp. Nothing! I was informed that this one might be different!

Erol: He is surprisingly resistant to this substance. Perhaps we'll find that he too is resistant to other Eco...remodeling them.

Praxis: (picks up Jak's hand) Niiice. A different mind. Would that I could use that to draw out my other subjects. They're a lot more expendable when they don't fight back...but I guess this would be different than what they have to deal with.

Erol: The city is dying, but we can't help them if we don't take these to the Emperor. That won't happen if I'm not there. So make it happen...Master Praxis.

Baron Praxis grabs the barely conscious Jak's hair and lifts up his head.

Praxis: Aaaagh! You should at least be dead with all the Dark Eco I've pumped into you!

Erol: What now? Metal Head armies are pressing their attacks. Without a new weapon, my men cannot hold them off forever!

Praxis: I will not be remembered as the man who let you run away! I will be remembered as the man who destroyed your army!

Praxis unleashes his Juggernaut; the knight's remains are vaporized. Erol raises his blade to Praxis' throat.

Erol: I don't know what I can do to repay you.

Praxis: Do not apologize. I did what I did to protect the life of the one I love.

Erol: (lamely) So, you think that deserves a reward?

Praxis: Oh, no. I don't want anything from you. I want you to live and keep doing what you do best.

Erol: And what is that?

Praxis: Working.

Erol: Because I had to teach you that skill?

Praxis: …

Erol: If you want me to leave this world then I will. I don't need it.

Praxis: Do you need a reason?

Erol: I'm just being honest. I'm trying to save you because you can't save yourself.

Praxis: What? I don't want to die. I just want to stay here.

Erol: The first time you can't make this decision. Then you can't ever decide.

Praxis: [proudly] And now you're leaving?

Erol: (leans towards Jak) I'll be back later…

The pair leave the scene. Then... a small platform rises from down below, revealing Daxter.

Daxter: Ding, ding... Third floor... Body chains, roach food, torture devices.

He jumps onto Jak’s chest, landing on both feet.

Daxter: Hey buddy... you seen any blue wool?

Jak: Nuh-uh. That's the seventh floor. Not enough wool.

Daxter: No? Really? Well... hey... you know that purple tunnel that goes off to nowhere? You can't climb it.

Jak: Yeah? Well... I've got a plan. What if we try that tunnel?

Daxter: And what's your plan?

Jak: The tunnel leads to that room. I know where that room is.

Daxter: Hmm... I remember it. You know, how I worked with Daxter on this game.

Jak: Yeah... that.

Daxter: Well, I don't see why we have to go through this.

Jak eyes briefly flutter open at the voice, but close again.

Daxter: That's a fine hello! I've been crawling around in this place risking my tail, literally, to save you! I've been looking for you for two years! Say something! Just this once!!

Jak's eyes suddenly fly open.

Jak: I'M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THAT!

Daxter: Hang on, I know you're awake... [Bleep]

Jak scrambles to a sitting position, much faster than Daxter, and punches Daxter in the jaw with a left hook.

Daxter: Bully.

Jak then grabs ahold of Daxter's body, swinging it up in the air, causing Daxter to fall, and fling him to the ceiling. Daxter flies to the ground and lands, rather gracefully, on his tail.

Daxter: Gotcha!

Jak: Never underestimate your own hide, you little rascal!

Daxter: Slight overkill.

Jak: AAAAAGGHHH!

Jak changed into a more demon-based form, to be now known as Dark Jak.

Daxter: Or aaah... you could do it.

Jak then starts approaching Daxter with an aggressive look, his mouth pulled back into a feral-like snarl.

Daxter: Jak? Easy now. Easy buddy. It's, it's your Dad.

Jak: What?! I thought I said I didn't want to see him again!

Daxter: We'll see about that, buddy.

Jak starts backpedaling as Daxter stands and looks at his friend/father.

Jak: AAAAGGHH!...

Jak tries to attack, claws out but... he suddenly came to a stop right before striking his friend.

Jak: Daxter?

Then, Jak changed back to his normal form.

Daxter: What the heck was that?! Sheesh, remind me not to get in your face again, I don't think I can take it!...

Then Daxter gave him a friendly tap to the head.

Daxter: Hey, no problem! Why don't you tell me all about it!

Jak: Well, it happened while I was on patrol. I got bit by a crazy Mystian, so I've been recovering from it ever since.

Daxter: Oh.

Jak: I wasn't too sure how to act when you first came here, so I kind of was just acting like I normally did.

Daxter: What you mean by that?

Jak: Well, I did whatever I did when I came back

Daxter jumps on his usual spot on Jak's shoulder. The pair leave the scene together.

Daxter: I, uh, brought you some new shoes!

Jak: They're nice.

Daxter: Don't worry. You can wear them with some shorts or long-sleeved shirts.

Daxter walks off and Jak is left standing there alone.

#jak and daxter #fic #sort of

[nelllraiser]

quiet riot | layla & nell

TIMING: mid july. LOCATION: the mime funhouse at the carnival. PARTIES: @laylacooke and @nelllraiser​. SUMMARY: a trying time in the mime house leads to something even more unexpected. CONTENTS: parental abuse mention.

Nell hadn’t realized it was a Mime Fun House when she handed her tickets to the attraction attendant, having blissfully walked up the ramp to the entrance of it. Immediately, she’d realized her mistake upon entering, and tried to backtrack. Unfortunately, it seemed like that wasn’t an option. Now, she was walking along the black and white and striped hallways of the cursed house, regarding every mime painting on the wall with squinted eyes, as if on high alert should any of them suddenly somehow jump to life. As always, her knives were still in her boots, and it was taking every ounce of her self control not to draw them when she was surrounded by who she thought to be the enemy. Suddenly, movement caught her eye, and she tensed. If there were fucking mime actors in this house she was going to lose her god damned mind. “If you fucking touch me I’ll shank you in places you didn’t even know existed on your body,” she threatened to the shadow, not willing to have any sort of mime fuckery today.

Why Layla had come back to this thing was something she couldn’t explain. She had just been drawn in. Every night, since the carnival had come to town, she could hear the music floating all over White Crest and the excitement it brought out in her was like a kid in a toy shop around Christmas time. But how she had found herself in the Mime Fun House was beyond her. Maybe it had been some innate instinct to want to take the muted monsters out. Or maybe it was the doing of magic. Regardless, she entered through the narrow doorway and now she was stuck. And with each step forward, she could feel her heart racing just a little harder. Her werewolf senses had been on high alert, but luckily her claws hadn’t come out yet. At least not until she noticed she wasn’t alone and heard the creaking of the rickety old floor. A low growl, she inched closer, now feeling claws jutting out of her finger tips, until she heard the voice. Letting out a huff of relief, Layla stepped forward with her hands up, claw tips still protruding, “Whoa! Hold up! It’s me! It’s me, Layla...I��m not gonna hurt you!” She had already been stabbed once, and she prayed it wouldn’t happen again in a damn house full of mime fuckery.

It wasn’t strange for Nell to return to the carnival more than once. After all, she’d done much of the same growing up in White Crest every year, and every summer. Still, The Mime Fun House was decidedly...the very opposite of fun. And after her encounter with the Hall of Mirrors, she wouldn’t put it past this cursed place to make some sort of attempted murder or otherwise. Whether it was intentional or not. Nell herself had drawn a knife in reflex, not looking to get attacked by any sort of mime today...or ever. But as Layla stepped forward into the wan light, her shoulders lost some of their tension. “Oh, it’s you.” She hadn’t seen the wolf since their encounter at the lake, and before that, her attempt on Layla’s life in the forest. “Fuck this fucking house, honestly,” Nell cursed as her knife hand relaxed as well, though she didn’t sheathe the weapon back into its hiding spot. “Mimes are the worst part of White Crest. I’ll never get why the freaks here love them.”

When Layla saw Nell relax, it gave her some relief. She still didn’t trust the woman after their past two meetups. In fact, she would have rather been in the Mime Fun House with anyone, but Nell. Okay, maybe not anyone, but at least someone that didn’t want to kill her, “Well, we’ve got one thing in common I guess. We both fucking hate mimes.” Her claws remained out from fear of anything else that might be lurking just around the corner, but it didn’t stop her from asking Nell to put her knife away, “And hey, little suggestion, but maybe put your knife away or go in front of me, because I don’t trust you. Not after having that thing at my throat and then having you and your little hunter friend threaten to kill me repeatedly if I didn’t save this Godforsaken shithole of a town.” Hearing a noise, she jumped; claws jutting out further, until she realized it was just someone walking around above them on a different floor.

Trust was a two way street, and unfortunately it seemed that neither Layla nor Nell had even begun to pave that road in hopes of traversing it. Of course, with Nic’s word backing Layla, Nell was now less inclined to be suspicious of the wolf. Unfortunately, that still left her with the problem of what to tell Layla’s parents, as well as what to do with the redhead standing in front of her. “That’s because anyone who’s half sane hates mimes.” It was the closest thing to nice that Nell seemed to be able to say for the moment. With a hearty roll of her eyes, and slight flick of her knife, the witch was quick to reply. “First off, I’d never even met anyone there besides you before the ritual at the lake, so no- I barely know Athena. Secondly, we literally never threatened to kill you at the lake. Third of all, you should have wanted to fucking save it in the first place, cause that’s what any decent person would do.” Despite her words, she went in front of Layla to lead the way, shoulders squared against whatever mimes might pop out at them, knife lowered, but still drawn. “And put your claws away if you don’t want someone else seeing you and trying to hunt you.” 

The words cut to the bone, and as Nell moved forward, Layla let the sting of hot, silent tears release. Telling the teenager she wasn’t a decent person sent her mind back to her parents and the harsh words they used to say to her. So much pressure put on a child, and, now, Nell was doing the exact same fucking thing. And unfortunately for Layla, putting her claws back in wasn’t as easy as a non-werewolf assumed. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide her fingers and pushed past Nell taking the lead again, “You don’t know a fucking thing about me. And telling me I’m not a decent person, because I didn’t automatically want to play hero and save the fucking world at nineteen years old, doesn’t make you any better than me.” Her voice was low, and instead of waiting for Nell, the teenager moved through the cursed fun house at a quicker pace ignoring anything that managed to pop out as she walked further into the maze of halls and rooms.

Looking over her shoulder, Nell wasn’t sure what to make of Layla crying. Sure, she wasn’t the werewolf’s biggest fan, but she didn’t want her to cry. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just meant it’s safer if you hide them.” Did that not show how Nell didn’t want Layla to get hurt? However, she had less sympathy for Layla’s lack of drive to help people in need or the town. It wasn’t something Nell could entirely understand. But the way Layla phrased the words was enough to make Nell think back to her own conversation with Alain, and how she wished he would have responded to her, rather than the way he did. “I know I don’t. And I don’t think I’m better than anyone, so it’d probably be better to not make assumptions about me in return. I know you’re young, but unfortunately the world we live in isn’t a merciful one. And sometimes those choices just need to be made. That’s just the reality of it. And you probably would have gone down along with the town, and Frankie, too. Isn’t that worth saving, at least?” She rolled her eyes where Layla couldn’t see it as the werewolf walked away, trodding after her and glaring at anything that so much as came close to her. The maze was a bit trickier, though. It seemed that...no matter what way they moved, they always came to a dead end, even when Nell was certain they’d tried every direction. It was enough to put a sinking feeling of dread in her gut. What were the mimes planning?

Layla’s astute hearing had picked up on everything Nell had said. Yes, she wanted Frankie to be safe. No, she didn’t want the town to end, or the world, but why was this shit on her shoulders? From the day she was born, Layla’s life had been planned out for her, and when those plans didn’t turn out the way her parents had wanted, it was determined that the teenager had to die. So she ran, but her life still hadn’t been her own. It now belonged to that of the creature that bit her, forcing her into one of its kind and then leaving her for dead. She had just wanted a chance at a normal life. Sure, watching Buffy Summers save the world looked cool, but it was a tv show. Layla Cooke didn’t want to save the world. She wanted to live in it. And thrive. And have a family with the woman she loved. And as she made her way into yet another dead end, she could feel her anger welling up. So much so that she slammed her balled fist into the striped wall leaving a hole in return. A growl came from deep within her chest, before she fell to her knees defeated. Of all the places to be stuck, she had to be stuck in this hell hole with a bounty hunter that was so determined to hate her, that Layla just didn’t have any fight to go on, “Why don’t you stupid fucking mimes just come out and take me already! What do you want from me?!”

As Layla collapsed to the ground, Nell instinctively lurched forwards to try and lift the girl back to her feet. “I wouldn’t do that, I don’t trust these mimes not to do something fucking cursed. And I know a mime that stabbed someone, once.” As soon as she’d said the words, the stillness of the house seemed to break, and mimes began to crawl towards them from all angles, stripes and sharpened grins surrounding them from every side as they advanced quickly, crab-walking all the way. “Back the fuck off!” Nell yelled, magic instinctively pooling in her hands. She was not going to be attacked by mimes. Not today, not ever. The one who got closest to her earned a reflexive punch to the face from Nell’s clenched fist. Promptly, the mime’s face crumpled in on itself, momentarily disfigured before a striped finger was brought to his lips, like a baby sucking their thumb. Instead, his cheeks began to puff out, as if he were trying to re-inflate himself. And it worked. Slowly, the mime’s face pushed back into its original place. That was when Nell decided she’d had enough of the mime house. “Come on!” Nell called out to Layla, reaching to grab the girl’s hand in her to give it a tug so they could run for it. Her hand burst forward, releasing the magic and cracking the wall before them in two.

As soon as Nell spoke, the mimes had made their move. Eyes wide and back on her feet from the woman’s assistance, Layla backed into the wall frantically. It was the grip of a white gloved hand on her shoulder that caused her to scream, and without hesitating, she jerked away from the cursed creature. They were coming from everywhere, and without thinking, the redhead found herself slashing and clawing off mimes. Heightened hearing allowed her to pick up on the walls and just how many of the damned creatures were really lurking. Hearing Nell, she latched onto the spellcaster’s hand and started moving. Not stopping even as the wall in front of them exploded. Layla had just wanted to get out of there. Everything had started to close in on them as more mimes poured from the shadows, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause a mime shit-show!” She yelled out to the Vural sister while she swiped, clawed, and dodged her way through a black and white nightmare.

As Nell barreled through the wall, she did her best to pull Layla after her. They stepped into the light of the outside world, and strangely the mimes seemed to go no further than the perimeter of the house they’d been residing in. There they were, simply staring with unblinking eyes at the pair of girls, huddled around the jagged edges of the house. Nell stared back for a long moment before flipping them off, and soon the voice of the attraction operator could be heard, yelling in their direction. “Hey! What the hell?! You just ripped a hole in my mime house! I’m calling the cops!” Her head whipped towards the man that was red in the face, and coming towards them before she said, “Get a less shitty house!” Nell’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the mimes had attacked, but the mood was shifting from dire to something lighter as she once again yanked on Layla’s hand. “Run! Keep running!” As her strides carried her away from the mime house, she began to laugh, the utter ridiculousness of the situation getting the better of her. 

Bursting into freedom away from the Little Mime Shop of Horrors, Layla felt instant relief. Already, she could feel her eyes changing back to normal and her fangs and claws retracting. They had found the mimes weakness: the outside world. And as she listened to Nell and the owner exchange words, the teenager couldn’t help but bend over in the hopes of catching her breath. The word ‘cops’ floating through the air didn’t seem to make things better, and when Nell told her to run, she resumed her sprint forward and away from all the chaos of the carnival, “What the fuck was that?!” She heaved as she spoke and finally stopped running when the pair had made it into the woods away from all the insanity. Collapsing to the ground, Layla took in long slow gasps of air, “I can’t get arrested again, Nell!” She wiped the sweat off of her brow listening closely to see if they had been followed, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Once the angry carnival worker had faded into the distance, Nell stopped to catch her breath, her laughs growing stronger as the chaotic nature of the situation set in. “Oh, come on,” she teased in a lighthearted tone, the relief and rush of making a break for it pulling her lips into a grin. “Getting arrested isn’t that bad.” She’d lost count of how many times the cops had brought her in, though she always managed to get out of it— whether it was with the help of her mother’s connections, magic, or sheer, dumb luck. Of course, she supposed it depended what you were being arrested for. Either way, she was just glad to be out of that mime hell hole. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” But now that the carnival was far behind them, and her mood had been brightened by a good escape, Nell chewed on her bottom lip, readying herself to do something she hated doing, and something she didn’t do all that often. “Look- I really don’t mean any ill will towards you. And it was shitty of me to try and kill you.” That was the best apology she could manage.

Layla wanted to rip Nell a new one. She wanted to go off of her so badly, but she refrained. Their relationship was like nails on a chalkboard, and she cringed every time she thought of all the ways they would dig at each other. Yet, instead of speaking, she simply rolled her eyes while she strived to breathe in air and find a normal heart rate. It was the words that seemed to come out of Nell’s mouth towards the end that had genuinely surprised her though. Did she just apologize? Taking one final deep breath, the teenager wanted to hear it again, but knew that wouldn’t be an option. However, she did let the words play on repeat for a moment, before she spoke, “Did you just apologize to me? I mean, yeah. It was shitty, considering I didn't do a damn thing to you, but I guess I accept your apology. If that’s what that was.” She glanced around, before looking back to Nell, “I know we’re probably never going to be friends, but I mean, yeah. I appreciate what you just said.” It felt awkward. It was awkward, but she had accepted it, knowing that was probably all she was going to get.

Nell didn’t make eye contact as Layla asked for confirmation, and all the witch could offer her was the subtlest of nods. “At least my version of one.” She wouldn’t apologize for her line of work, but it was obvious that she’d been wrong to try and kill Layla, an innocent werewolf rather than one of the nastier ones out there. “It wasn’t personal, you know that.” Because it hadn’t been. It had been as personal as a barista handing a coffee to someone in their cafe while they waited for the clock to strike four, so they could get off work and go home. As for friends, it was difficult to tell if that was an option. Even aside from the whole attempted murder thing, Nell couldn’t help but feel that there were just some things the pair of them didn’t see eye to eye on. But now, at least they’d be able to ease off each other’s throats. “Great. Now let’s get out of here.”

#quiet riot #chatzy #ch:layla #abuse mention tw

[maxbradley]

Don’t Even

I can't stay here. I can't take any more of this imprisonment. I need to get out. Blindly I splash a glob of red ink onto the stretched canvas. Hot air escapes my quivering lips. I can barely breathe. I find myself searching for that box again… There's got to be something better tasting than this crap. I open a gilded window to let the thin trails slither out from my lit torch. Only when I can think clearly again I look back into the depths of my private studio. Well, actually, it's my bedroom. My dad's refused to set aside one of the countless rooms in the house for my only source of pleasure in this strange world. I take a deep token before coughing again; I keep on smoking to ease the mental tension, "I want to get out." This is only wishful thinking. I've always thought about running away, but then… I look at the stretched canvas again, running fingers across my mother's hair, deep red. I prop my hand's tips to the background and prod continuously and haphazardly to create blossoms on the leave's green. Wiping the ink away, cigarette still in my mouth, I take up a brush and dip it into oil paint, watching it create wild blue streaks around her, above her for the sky… A dove in her palm takes on a definitive look. I fight myself from changing her into an angel, wings and halo and everything. She needs to be alive.

With the color still drying I place the half finished work next to a raven, the yellow of its eyes staring me down. I try not to trip over a small stack of blank paper and pens on the floor, backing away to observe the rest. A myriad of senseless patterns and shapes and many hues overwhelms me. Yet, here in the isolation of my own little world, I'm home, away from Home. I can't just leave my art here! … I need more paint. "Master Bradley?" "Don't call me that, Yoli!" putting out the light against the window sill and striding across the hardwood floor to reach the door. I open it and poke my shagged hair out, "Something wrong?" It's a shame that my father would take this wonderful, exotic woman and reduce her to nothing more than a servant out of many in this estate. The afternoon sun glistened on dark mahogany braids and shone on her deep tan complexion. I barely paid attention to the direction of the corners of her bright red lips, "Bradley! You been smoking again??" She smelled the tobacco on me and within my room. No use trying to hide anything from her. Yolanda knows about life far more than I ever will. "Yes m'am." I about scoffed at my sad attempt at formality, "He doesn't care what I do." Her face nearly fell, "Don't say that, mi'jito." She places her sweaty palms to my face. I just realized I'm about her height now. "I'm sure he loves you very much. He just can't show it well." … You've got to be kidding me... I feign a smile. "Can you bring your dirty clothes to the laundry room for me?" She never buys it. Sometimes I wish she could. I need to work on my acting skills. ----- I force a part of my head through the iron gate and play "jail time" with my hands gripping the bars. You think I'm playing? Getting out is not as easy as asking, "Hey Dad—can you let me out? I wanna go somewhere." It's harder when you've developed the inability to make close friends that can bail you out. Whatever they spin about my dad, whatever wealth he might have—how famous he is among those big company names—I don't care. Not about what he has. Not what he is, either. I let go of the bars and whisk my way back to the mansion. My personal Alcatraz. What I wouldn't give to visit that place; we're all the way on the East Coast. New England. The place itself, where I live (unfortunately), is rather secluded. Walled in, whitewashed concrete slabs covered with ivy like an infestation. Nothing but trees with fallen leaves—a meadow practically—for a good 5 miles all around. It would be easy to follow the paved road to civilization… My dad would freak. He always wants me home, besides time away at school. His excuse? "I won't lose you like I lost your mother." I'm smiling now, peering up at the cotton clouds, shot with the brightest pink imaginable. It was almost nauseating, had it not been for the warm orange ribbons leaving their marks as well. Yeah; good plan, Dad. I don't want anything to do with you. A small breeze brushes my hair; it's in my eyes, "pfft!" … It's gotten chilly. I can't be back in there. Not now. I finally spot a foreign car parked next to our own on the opposite side of the gate… Not back there. ----- "Why are you here again?" That wasn't actually said; it was just thought out loud. A buxom woman settled in a seat a far ways next to me, I shuffling farther away. She let out a tiny pout before trying to get on my good side again, "Please, Bradley—let me get to know you this time;" I pull my hand away from hers, burning holes into her being with a leer— "You know me very well. I don't want you here!" This faceless lady flushed like the rest of them before distancing away, just in time for the host's entrance. "Is my son giving you any trouble??" I turn away from his stern face. "Not at all" she giggled. Makes me want to— Calloused, rough hands run through my hair. I can't tell whether he wants to harm me or comfort me, "Bradley. Pay your respects— One of the servants rolled in with the dinner cart and gave me a knowing look. I can't look my father in those soiled, mossy eyes. I bite my lip. "She's our guest." ". . . Yes, Sir." My appetite was long gone. My energies were spent on this lady. It was obvious she wanted to gain his intimate trust. "Business meeting" or not, she was a flirt. "Elaine" needs to get out of this house now, before she gets any ideas. Any attempts to reach me were answered by my cold shoulder. I'd only talk to her openly if he happened to be there at the table with us. I could see Elaine getting annoyed with me now. Finally; she should be going home … It was now a quarter past ten—long after our mundane meal. I've been spying on them ever since they left the dining room, after helping out wash some of the dishes (there was little else to do). What could my dad see in her? What chance could she have to be a replacement for— True to his word, they were talking about the adult world of business and nothing else, sharing their third glass of wine together. While wondering how he could ever control his drinking in front of his guests, it was time for this Elaine to leave. But not without a goodbye kiss. He returned it on the cheek before leading her out the door and into the yard; I stayed behind. To see what they might be doing now would be devastating. "Bradley?" Yoli startled me, "Why aren't you in bed?" "I don't have curfew." My baggy eyes weren't helping my cause. "Tomorrow's a school day, young man." ----- The light's still on in my room; I can't sleep. I felt a need to continue the painting of my mother. My angel. The reason why I exist! … There was no right to take her away so soon. If she had been there longer, "things could have gone differently." I had forgotten to check the time on my red digit analog clock. "Kid." My skin crawled when he opened the door. It was far too late to hide away my work, which my dad caught sight of. Clearing his throat, "She told me how rude you were being, Son." This was typical of most women. With their sweet deceitful wiles. It made me sick.

Alphonse Uppercrust is only a foot away from my perch on the stool. He strode past by me and felt around my open window, "What's this??" I continue dabbing the color back into Lillian's face. The gilded pane is shut just in time, "What are you doing?" "Painting." He grabs my collar to force eye contact—"No, kid." holding the discarded torch in front of my face, "Where'd the hell did you get this? At school?? On the street." My face is stone; I dare not say a word just yet... "Was it from one of them?" "You got a lot of nerve, Dad—bunching up your servants with criminals." He nearly threw me off the seat; I made it much easier on him and landed on my feet. He was right; a servant did sneak it to me, but only with a hefty bribe attached. We are filthy rich, after all. "You," he breathed, "have a lot of nerve to be talking back to me, Bradley Uppercrust. Don't forget where you came from, and don't forget who you're destined to become—I had to laugh at this new scrap of a monologue— "I came from Hell, and I'm destined to become another You? Not a chance—What now?? You're going to hit me again after 3 accident-free years?!" Dad was livid, hand raised and my back against the wall. The sight of my art to my left assured me that everything was going to be all right. I'm just glad he was still relatively sober for those moments. "… Son, I'm trying." No pity from me this time. "I really am." The hand goes down on my shoulder where he keeps a strong grip, "I'm not doing that anymore, the affairs. Don't worry. I've learned to control my fleeting emotions— Except when you're drunk—"Are you ever going to forgive me?" My neck still craned to see past his façade; I'm trying to see past the reddened eyes and the watering of his sockets—"No, Dad. Never." I wrench myself away from the wall and, out of personal rebellion, I fish out that box of independence, imagined freedom… 3 years of not hitting me when he's sober. That's a good record. I'm sure he felt bad after… I could see the dejectedness in his whole frame as I continued breathing in toxins, "What? You drink. I smoke. It's only fair." Immediately he resumed composure; weakness is not an option in this household if you want to survive for 16 years. "Know what, kid? I understand what you want now. You want to follow what the outside world has to offer. The common folk? I'll tell them to unlock the gate. You can get out of this house whenever you'd like. No restrictions. No curfew—I'll let you live your own life!" I've kicked off my shoes and sat in my bed, close to the backboard. My eyes and ears are open wide to this titillating information— "You've proven that you're so mature now. Let's all hope you make the best of it!!" The slamming of the door shocks the hallway. I'm puffing out rings and singing a little tune to celebrate a premature victory.

#bradley uppercrust #an extremely goofy movie #disney #fanfiction #headcanon #family #background info #prelude #family drama #teenager #bradley uppercrust iii

[thecurseoflife]

CHAPTER 11 - The Snuggly Duckling

They had been walking silently for hours. Varian was still leading the way, and the table stand was surprisingly holding up quite well. Not half of it had been consumed by fire yet. Camalia was following him, deep in her thoughts. She took out of one of her pocket the pages she wrote on while she was in crisis. It was messy, but readable. Camalia had a couple of blank pages left. She took out the burn shard she used to write and started filling a page. It was kind of hard while walking but she didn't care. The list was clear enough. It would do. Once she was satisfied, she put everything back in her pocket and... violently hit Varian's back.

-OW !

She fell on her butt and rubbed her nose. Why did he stop like that ? She looked over. The small gallery finally ended and seemed to join a way bigger one. It had timbers to hold it up and even some torches that weren't lit. It was just a bigger gallery. But the alchemist seemed frozen. Camalia got back up and landed a hand on his shoulder. The contact seemed to get him back to reality.

-Varian, are you ok ?

He shook her hand of his shoulder and continued to move forward.

-Yes, I'm fine. Let's keep moving.

Camalia looked hurt, but the alchemist couldn't see it. And even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. The music mage took a deep breath, yet again. It was going to be okay. She handled two giant black snakes for ten years, she should be able to deal with a moody teenager. Hopefully.

They took one of the torch on the wall and lighted it up with the table stand before leaving the burned wood where they stood.

And they resumed to silently following the path. The girl didn't want to bother Varian with this, but her feet were seriously starting to hurt. After all, being bare foot in a tunnel filled with pointy rocks and walking on them for hours wasn't really the best idea. Every steps was starting to feel like torture. She couldn't wait to be outside and to walk on sweet, soft grass. Or at least on a paved path. Anywhere, really than underground with an angry Varian, hurt feet and a dying torch.

After what felt like eternity to Camalia's poor feet, they finally saw a way out. They had to climb a ladder to get to it, but the light shining through the hatch wasn't lying.

Varian pushed the trapdoor. It was placed in the giant hole of a tree, in the middle of the forest. When they closed it after being out, they noticed it had a weird duckling painting on it. As soon as they were outside, Camalia jumped in a pool of water with a relieved scream. She fell on her back and started doing an angel in the green healthy grass while chuckling like an idiot. For the first time in forever, she was outside during daylight, without having to hide or go straight to somewhere. She felt free. Once her feet felt better, she happily ran around enjoying the feel of every kind of ground she met under her toes. When Varian saw that it might take a while to keep moving, and that they needed a break anyway, he sat on one of the root of the hole tree and waited, watching his totally former friend enjoying herself.

There was no friendship anymore, just two people trying to save a dad from a magical amber. It was the only reason he was with her anyway. His only purpose : freeing his dad. Those thoughts were swerling in the alchemist's head as he was calmly waiting and watching Camalia climbing a tree with a very discreet smile.

Moments later, when the music mage was finally tired out and plopped beside Varian, he had a pretty good idea what they should be doing next. He decided that it was worth it to expose his plan to her.

-First of all, we have to avoid frequently used roads, stay in the forests where we can easily hide and get to my house as fast as possible. Let's avoid any distractions, just... Getting to Old Corona.

-Get to your house ? Why ?

Varian slapped himself in his mind. With all that had been going on, he didn't even mention to Camalia what he wanted her to do. He looked straight in her eyes.

-I think you could be able to free my dad.

Camalia was caught off guard. She genuinely expected him to say something like "we need to hide". She opened her mouth but the information hadn't been completely registered yet. Resulting on a very stupid position. When she finally finished processing what just happened, she reacted.

-Okay, hum. What. Why should I be the one to be able to break the unbreakable amber ?

Varian rolled his eyes, a little bit annoyed she wasn't putting it together when it was so obvious.

-You're a powerful music mage, and if the princess' hair didn't work, you're my last chance on the magic side. But since the amber is technically magic too, I think science and alchemy can't work on it. So you're my last, last chance.

-I- Okay. Okay. Yeah okay, I-hum... I'll try. I hope it'll work but... Varian ? You have to prepare yourself in case it doesn't.

The boy got up, storm in his eyes.

-I know what to do. You don't have to tell me, thanks.

-I was just concerned-

-Well don't. Let's keep moving.

They walked on a rocky and unused path for several minutes, and yet again, silence was rulling. Camalia was getting tired of the sound of their steps, and even if the chip of birds and the wind in the trees were beautiful sounds, they were all obliterated by the girl's discomfort. She wanted to make things right between Varian and her. So, she tried to talk.

-So, uh... Where's Ruddiger, anyway ?

-I left him home to watch over Dad since he's obviously the only one I can trust.

He looked at her with anger, trying to make her feel even more guilty. Camalia was baffled by how much the alchemist wasn't letting this go.

-Oh, come on Varian ! Are you going to be mad at me forever ? We had a bonding moment at the prison ! Does that mean nothing to you ?!

Varian brutally stopped and turned around.

-I have all the right in the world to be upset. And if I am going to be mad at you forever, deal with it. I am not going to apologize for something I didn't do. The only reason you're here right now is because I need you in order to free my dad. There's nothing else. And believe me, if there was any other music mages around here, even a big and scary one, I would gladly trade him over you.

As Varian resumed to walking, Camalia didn't. His words hurted. They hurted bad. Those words and all of those before. And Captain words, and the snakes' and all of this pain and everything she had buried deep inside of her, all her feelings suddenly crawled up to the surface and the girl exploded.

-I was scared, ok ?! I was scared that if I told you everything, maybe the curse would pass on to you or something ! I never experienced ANY of this. Relationship, friendship, the-the world, the unspoken codes of behaving well, all of this is NEW. I have only read about those in books. You are my first friend, Varian, so of course I make mistakes, and I mess up bad. I was raised by BOOKS and murderous giant snakes, for the king's sake, OF COURSE I am disturbed and I make bad decisions ! I mean, come on, Witheria used to throw me against a WALL when I was diserespectful ! So yes, I am sorry, I am deeply sorry, and I totally fully understood that honesty is super important in friendship, but PLEASE, try to see things from my perspective !

The alchemist had stopped again, and was staring at Camalia with deep surprise. She tried to get rid of the tears running down her cheeks but she only made it more of a mess.

-The only other person that could be more or less perceived as a friend would be Captain ! And I can assure you he's not a great reference, especially when you're a prisonner. And should I remember to you, Varian, that ten years before knowing you I made the decision to lock myself up in jail for the rest of my life ! I didn't even learn that we weren't supposed to eat with the mouth open before I was like, nine years old ! I am the queen of bad decisions ! And I should really stop yelling at you, I am so sorry, I am not even in the place to be angry at you right now. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you, I can handle this. I-Sorry, I'll just, shut up and uh... Yeah.

Camalia was awkwardly standing there, trying to wipe out the droplets, and avoiding the boy's look. She had small hiccups and bright red cheeks. For once, she really looked like a lost, confused and scared child. For once, she looked like how she felt inside. Varian opened his mouth, a bit shook by the flow of words, but the music mage cut him.

-And if you want to know everything I know, if you want to know the truth, I'll tell you. With no lying, no nothing. Okay ?

He nodded silently as she walked past him. He could hear her sniff in front of him, and it made him really uncomfortable. He still knew he was right, but maybe he went too far this time. And it wasn't true after all. Between a scary and unknown powerful music mage and sweet and messed up Camalia, he would obviously pick the girl.

-Listen-

They both spoke at the same time. The two former friends looked at eachother with surprise and let out a small giggle.

-Go ahead, Camalia.

-Listen, Varian. I didn't mean to scream at you and I shouldn't have. It's just that... Everything is so... New and overwhelming. I am out and I-I can actually live for the first time in ten years, and I am free from the curse, and I... I am just really, really sorry for lying to you. I know I am repeating myself but I... I really am. I am just a terrible friend.

Varian took the time to organize his thoughts. He was about to speak when they both heard something. Some kind of muffled voices, near them. Camalia looked behind a tree and gasped. There was a tavern, with the exact same symbol than the one on the hatch. The music mage turned an excited look to Varian.

-We should go !

-What- No ! We said no distractions ! Straight to my house !

-Yeah, but I'm hungry, you're hungry, we're both tired, and there is a place that could give us rest and food just there ! It would be a shame to miss it. Plus, there's the duck thing, so they must be friendly to people that burst out of jail.

-I don't know, Camalia, this seems like a bad idea... At least we should hide our identities.

The girl had a smile ears to ears, happy to go to a place with other people and to finally merge. She looked around and took a black thing that was laying there. She got closer to Varian that took a step back.

-Wowowo, I thought you had some kind of melody for this !

-Nope !

She spread the black stuff in his head, hiding his hair strip. Satisfied, she took a step back to admire her work.

-Seriously ? I don't think it'll be enough.

Camalia frowned and put the boy's googles on his chest instead of his head before nodding knowingly. She proceed to put a single mole in her cheek and she was done. Varian let out a very long sigh.

-This is going to end badly.

The music mage shrugged it off and ran toward the tavern, her heart pounding in her chest. The alchemist had a bad feeling about all this, but he followed her anyway.

-Come on, Varian ! Hurry up !

She was waiting in front of the door for him, stomping her feet with impatience. Once he was finally there, she opened the door wide and stepped in. The tavern that was noisy a minute ago brutally fell silent. Everyone was staring at the two kids with suspicious looks. One of them, a giant with two reduced human skulls on his chest, got up and approached them. He detailed them carefully and pulled out a wanted poster with both of their faces on it.

-I knew this was a bad idea...

Varian just whispered that, and seeing how close the man was, he probably heard it. But he didn't seem to care and taped on the paper, making Varian jolt a little.

-Have you seen those two ?

The alchemist stared at the colossus with disbelief. Was he serious ? It was obviously them. He looked over the guy's shoulder, and everyone else in the tavern seemed to think the same thing.

-I- uh... We... We didn't...

Varian stuttered, incapable of making a coherent sentence.

-Nope, we haven't seen them. Sorry guys.

The man grunted in disappointment and went back to the table with his "pals". Varian slowly started to breath again. Beside him, Camalia was waving and smiling to all those terrifying criminals. That girl was definitely insane. No normal human being should have been able to keep this calm in this situation. She pulled the boy toward the counter, and he could see that everyone had lost interest in them.

They sat in the chairs and Camalia ordered two drinks while the alchemist was trying to relax, surrounded by all those people that obviously thought of nothing else but getting them to the guards. It was a terrible idea, they should have never entered here. But if they left now in a hurry, it would have just been more suspicious. Beside him, unaware of the swerling thought in her friend's head, Camalia was having the time of her life. She was looking up and down, side to side, eager to understand, to see and to know everything there is to know about this place. It was the very first public place she'd ever been too, and for her, it was amazing.

The drinks finally arrived and Varian drunk all of his at once. It had a weird taste, but it immediatly relaxed him. He had a small hiccup when he put his empty cup down. Camalia was taking it slow, the strange aroma not really bothering her. Even if each sip was making her feel a little odd. But she thought it was normal, so she wasn't really alarmed by it.

Very soon, they both were completely drunk. Neither of them had never took alcohol before, and it was really effective. Varian started to see something was off when his sight became blurry. He had a moment where he thought they'd been poisoned, before realising it wasn't going any further than having a blurry sight, small hiccups from time to time and difficulty to actually think things through.

He frowned, like he was in deep concentration, and turned to Camalia that was just finishing her drink.

-Camalia, I think... I think we've just drank alcohool.

The guitare girl giggled stupidly.

-Oh, we did ? So that's what it taste like... I don't know if I like it though.

-Camlaia, this is serious ! We, hum, we're on the run, and it's a -hic- terrible time to get drunk.

-Relaaaax, Varian, we're going to be okay, it'ssss just a lil' bit of alcohool, and nobody know we're on the run here ! Isss just fine.

Varian scrouched his nose and pouted. It was probably not okay, but he couldn't keep focused long enough to actually find a decent solution to this, so he just shrugged it off.

-Hey, Camlaie... Camalai... Cam... Wow, your name is really hard to say when we're drunk.

They both started to chuckle until laughing uncontrollably, one of them often trying to say the girl's name and failing hilariously. At that point, with two completely wasted teenager hurling in his tavern, the barman was starting to reconsider his life choices, especially the one of mindlessly handing them two full cup of strong liquor.

When they finally calmed down, to the relief of the poor tavernier, the alchemist could finally say carefully, very carefully, what he wa meaning to say.

-Why was one of the snakes calling you "little plant" ?

Camalia considered him for a moment.

-Really ? Of all the questions you could ask right now, THIS is the -hic- the one you chose ?

Varian shrugged. Oddly enough, it was the first one that popped into his mind. It was probably the ethanol that was making this thought emerge from all the others.

-Well, at first it was because of the color of my eyes, because their insanely green, y'know... But it was just an occasional thing, most of the time she was just calling me "dear" or something... Then I grew giant stuffs of grass alllll over the cell and suddenly, BAM ! It was the official nickname ! Like, really ? But you know they kind of also threw me against walls and stuffs so uh, I guess it was the least of my worries. But I had a moment when she first called me that. I was like : well, uh... well that's... that's surprising, you know ?

The boy snickered and faced the girl, a big smile on his face.

-Wait so that mean she started to call you that because you -hic- you smashed everything in jail with a... a ding ding of your guitare ?

-Yeeeep...

He laughed again, finding it hilarious for some reason. She chuckled softly and took a sip of the water the barman carefully put in front of them. She really missed that. They may be completely drunk, and in a terrible place with poor disguise, and Varian may still be mad at her, but she felt great. Not just because of the alcohol. She just... she felt great.

-Oh, oh, did she have a nickname for me ?

Camalia focused on her friend again, and she tried to remember if she did...

-Well... If I remember correctly -wich I probably don't- she called you "alchemy boy" like... hic, once.

He thought about it for a minute or so, before nodding, like he was approving it.

-I guess it's a better nickname than "sburben", heh.

Camalia chocked in her drink, not expecting the joke and they both laughed at the top of their lungs. They were having fun, as much as back when they were in jail and hanging out. Camalia shuffled Varian's hair in an affective way and smiled at him.

-What can I say, Ball, my curse was great at finding nicknames !

Varian suddenly stopped laughing and he looked at his friend with emotion, hardly expressing the punch in the stomach he just felt. But for once, it was a good feeling. He felt his eyes water a little but he refused to become that emotional over a single word. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, emotion drowning his words as effectively as if he was in deep sea. He concentrated, and after long enough, a sentence finally crossed the barrier of his lips.

-It's... been a while since you called me that.

Camalia grinned, warmth and affection in her eyes. She raised her glass as if to salute him and took a sip before answering.

-It's been a while since I could.

Another wave of emotions hit Varian and he took deep breaths. Everything was messy in his head, and he didn't really know where he was at that point. He leaned of the counter, his head in his hands. Camalia wasn't worried, she knew he wasn't in actual pain. She kept drinking the water with a small smile, looking around the tavern and waving at whoever crossed her eyes.

The alchemist could hardly think, between all those feelings and the alcohol slithering in his veins. But he wanted to speak, and to actually express what he really had in his heart. He wanted to talk.

-Listen, I want to forgive you but... You shouldn't have done that. Not at that moment, not when I was in that state. A friend wouldn't have done what you've done.

He looked up in her eyes, and she could see that for once he was sincere. Camalia didn't look hurt or anything. She was listenning. And it encourage him to open even more.

-But on the other hand, to be honest, I... kind of consider you as a "best friend" ? I-I guess ? Because you are still sticking around despite me being a jerk around you, and... and you still have my back, you... you don't give up on me, and I think that's what friends do. But I still feel awful behaving like that around you, but I-I still can't forgive you... I...I don't know, I'm just...

He hid his face in his hands and sighed. He felt lighter after speaking, but it felt like it wasn't enough. It felt like he couldn't stop the flow of words, after holding them back for so long. It felt like he could say his deepest secrets and not regret it. But he shouldn't, he had to keep quiet, to keep it to himself like he always did.

-I'm just so confused...

Camalia winced a little. To be honest, she wasn't really seeing clear either. And it was not a pun with the fact they are currently drunk. The guitare girl didn't really know where she was in life at that point. What she was supposed to do, to say, how she was supposed to act, to behave, to walk... But all of that she already expressed it earlier. She didn't know what to do of her life, but she knew she wanted Varian to be a part of it. Camalia really wanted the scientist to be friend with her again. With all that in mind, she was about to answer when Varian suddenly sat straight up and continued talking.

-And I just realised that I am making the mistakes I did with Rapunzel all over again ! We were friends, now we aren't because of something you did that hurted me, I am trying to use you to free my dad... What's next ? I try to kill you with a giant robot and I fail, and I'm put back in prison again ?

Suddenly it was as if all the weights in the world was put back on his shoulders, and tiredness spread on his face. It was like all of what he had done, all of his mistakes and guilt were back after Camalia chased them away months ago. It was as if he remembered what he never forgot.

-I'm... I am just a mess, Cam.

Varian was avoiding her look, staring at the wall across the tavern. The girl softly brushed his arm, making him look back up. She had a weak smile before taking his hand in hers. She hesitated, biting her lips as if it costed her to say it. She frowned and made up her mind, looking straight in her friend blue eyes.

-Well, I am a mess too. Maybe... maybe we could try to stop being messes together ?

Varian squeezed slightly her hand, and not really knowing how to answer, he just smiled gently. Camalia could see this whole situation was really overwhelming for both of them, so she decided to break the crushing mood. She put her arms around his neck and hugged a very confused alchemist. Suddenly they were back in the tavern, even if they never left, with all criminals, the dimed light and the alcohol in their veins. Out of nowhere, Camalia climbed the counter and pointed her guitare in the air as if it was a sword.

Does any of this really matter, after all ?

We have other thing to worry about, Ball.

And really, maybe you'll be the best friend I'll never be.

Varian chuckled and clapped along, even if it meant dragging all attention onto them. Well, if they had to go down, the least they could do is go down with style.

And we jump, and we spin, around and around,

Not worrying about what might come next

Because what use to open the wound

When really you're the best friend I'll never be

But Camalia was already in the song, spinning and jumping like she was saying, hoping down the counter to jump on a table, talking like a bard spreading the best ballad of the moment. All of the bad guys in the tavern raised their heads, listenning to the teen, most of them seemed really invested in the song, even to move their foot in rythm. Some were so much into it that they grabbed whatever they had under their hands and started to provide background to the song. Camalia was dancing, from table to table, singing, and pouring her emotions out, laughing and smiling like it was all that mattered.

Because you're smart

Because you're great

Because you never give up, no you never do

And because you're kind

Because you're the best thing that ever happened to me

People were dancing all around the tavern by now, playing whatever instruments they made or singing along, some just moving around. The alchemist jumped on the same table Camalia was on and sang the last line with her, grinning ear to ear.

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Happy to see that Varian was as much into the moment as her, Camalia danced with him on the table while the song carried on in the crowd, each client of the tavern passing the song to another.

I used to throw fires at people I didn't like

I used to scare people away because I was too buff

I used to do some mountain bike

I used to collect handcuffs

I used to sing but it was too deep

I used to make some tasty cakes

I used to sell stolen things a bit cheap

I used to dive in frozen lakes

The two teenagers jumped off the table and danced around before taking the song back.

I used to threaten kingdom and royalty

And I used to be in jail for all eternity

And in a strong chorus everyone was singing at the top of their lungs the two sentences, as if they will never sing again.

But none of this you ever cared,

Because you're the best friend I'll never be !

This time Varian took over, driven by the song, the piano someone finally started to use following his voice and steps as he danced through the tavern, incapable of stopping, the beat in his heart, the melody in his head, the lyrics in his mouth, and the great happiness in his soul.

Because you're sweet,

Because you can play some melodies,

Because you're curious about what is all around us

And because you're cool,

Because you're one of the best thing that ever happened to me

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Everyone was lead by the song, smiles were all over the place, laughter resonated from time to time, and everything was just joy and music. The beat, the piano, the chorus, the voices, the moves, the tavern, the people, the heat, the lights, the moment, everything was perfect. Everything was fine, so fine you could get lost and never emerge from it. But they would get out of there. They always did and always will.

And it's because you're strong

And passionnate

And considerate

And it's because you play like a god

And sing

And swing

And it's because you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me,

Yeah the greatest thing that ever happened to me

That's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

The song ended but nobody moved, heavy breathing being all you could hear for a couple of seconds, before someone snicker in a corner and the whole Snuggly Duckling exploded in laughter. Slaps on people's back you didn't know five minutes before were distributed and friendship that weren't even a thought formed. Varian and Camalia finally exited the happy tavern arm in arm, grinning and snorting, completely unnoticed and overlooked. It may be because of the song still beating in their ears, or the alcohol still flowing in their blood, but they were both really relaxed and glad to be right there, right now, with the right person.

The day was warm, with a gentle wind brushing the skin, avoiding any burn. The grass was fresh and the birds singing in the trees. After walking a while in the forest, away from the path and tavern, laughing and stumbling, Camalia and Varian plopped down in the grass, under a tree gracefully protecting them with it's shadow. They stayed like that a while, laying peacefully in the grass. A few insects passed by, wondering what those two humans were doing here, then going on with their day.

-Hey Varian, can you guess what a lycaedes melissa samuelis is ?

The alchemist felt his heart warm up and tears built up in his eyes. He brushed them away, smiling like a kid, and thinking about what she asked. His brain was really slowed down by the alcohol, and he couldn't keep focus on searching an answer. Distractly looking at a squirrel jumping from branch to branch, he shrugged and gave the first thing that came in his mind.

-I have no idea why, but it makes me think of a butterfly.

-Woah, no way, you guessed !

-Really ? You're not messing with me ?

-No no, I swear ! It's probably the only insect's name I remember but it's because there was such a pretty drawing of the butterfly in the book, it just stuck with me.

He snickered, proud of guessing the right thing. He started thinking about a question to ask his friend, when his train of thoughts stopped on something.

-Hey, Camli- Cam ?

The music mage was surprised by the serious tone of his voice, and her throat tighten. She feared she had taken a step too far and now he was mad at her again for some reason, and she would be all alone again. Thankfully, it was not what happened.

-Before we enter the duck tavern, you... you said you would actually tell me your real story if I wanted to. Well... I do.

Camalia took a moment to actually register the information and calm down from the rush of adrealin she just had. It was always difficult for her to talk about her past. No, it was the first time ever she would actually talk about it to anyone. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Varian, and, if he couldn't trust her... she knew she could trust him.

-Okay. So I don't remember anything before waking up in an alley in Corona. I was around 1 I think, so it's really blurry, but I do know that Witheria and Decaiera were with me. Not the giant scary snakes you saw, they were... two sweet and small white snakes that took care of me until I turned 4. That year, I can not forget. They were there, and then POOF ! Gone ! The day I turned 4. I never understood why that day, but I did understand where they went not long after that. Wait I-hum... That's not in the right order. Hold on, backing down.

Varian giggled as silently as possible, but he still got a tap on his head from an annoyed Camalia.

-So I turned 4, they were gone, I was all alone without a house or anything, with nothing but a guitare and a stolen shirt I used as a dress. I never had to worry about sleeping soundly or... or food, With' and Decaiera were always providing. But then, I had to think about those. I didn't want to steal at first, So I tried performing in the street so people would give me money and I could buy something. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well, until that guy I told you about came and wrecked my guitare on the ground. I got really scared that the horrible pain would go back if I tried playing and singing again for money, so I... I just stopped. But I still had to eat. So, after three days without eating, I stole something. It was just an apple I think. Anyway, I was really tired and weak, and the guards catched me really quickly. I went to court, and I was terrified. I was holding at my guitare like my life depended on it -which, heh, it does- in the middle of all those giants talking about what they should do with me. When one of them mentionned raising me and giving me a home., I got scared. Yeah, I uh... I forgot to mention -I am terrible at telling stories- that I had a crisis during the time I was starving myself.

The alchemist frowned and was about to ask a question then shut his mouth. He would wait until she's done opening up. It was for the better.

-I knew I was super dangerous, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. So I asked them to put me in a place where I couldn't. That's when Cap' spoke up. I went in prison, and imagine, going from a dirty alley, using the rain to shower to Corona's prison ? That was amazing for me ! I had a bed, and space, and a ceiling above my head. I felt safe for the first time in a year. I was so excited ! The king and queen accepted to let me stay there. I met Masha that day, she was the one to bath me and make me eat when I was a kid. So the years passed, I had a crisis every single years, sometime more, but never less. I was still happy with what I got, but at ten years old, it was starting to feel a bit... small. And lonely. Cap' often came by to talk or play with me, he was like a friend to me... But there always been a...a distance, you know ? Like I wasn't really part of his world. So, I tried to have friends in prison.

Camalia took a break there. She didn't really like to talk about how lonely and distressed she felt all the time back then. But she wanted to be completely honest to Varian. She just needed some time to get this right.

-Most of the times the baddies were just ignoring me, some used me to escape, and some were actually really nice to me, until they got out and forgot all about my existence. That was a fun part of my life. But most of the time, I was bored and alone. I knew I had a key to get out, but I was always terrified that it would be when I was outside the snakes would "possess" me or something. So I stayed in jail, reading an insane amount of books, playing with my guitare and doing some stupid stuffs whenever I could. Cap' often came down to yell at me because I exploded something or sang to loud. Oh, I remember I used to go in the castle, back when the curse wasn't as strong as today. I met a lot of people, and I think they liked me ! But never enough to go see me in prison. I never saw the king or queen again, don't really know why. And about the prisoners, there was that guy, Flynn Rider, that really stuck with me because he had the exact same name as my favourite book character ! He was also really nice to me whenever he came by. Which was a lot. It took him a while to actually remember my name, but once he did, he got it. He always waved at me whenever he passed by to go to his cell. Really nice guy. Now that I think of it, I haven't seen him in a while.

Varian was about to inform her of the wereabout of the book character, but he changed his mind once again at the last moment.

-Anyway, I grew up, and Cap' was spending less and less time with me, until he didn't come at all, except to be angry at me. I never understood why, but I shrugged it off, there wasn't much I could do. And then, YOU showed up ! I was so happy to see that there was someone my age in the cell right across the corridor ! Of course, at that time, you weren't really "in the mood". But I always hated to see people down and I really wanted to cheer you up. Blah blah blah, we became friends, gnagnagna, I lied to you because I was afraid, blah blah blah, you learned about the curse, got mad at me, we escaped, and HERE WE ARE !

Her voice faded away and the birds, wind, insects and soft brush took over what was their. The sounds mingled together in perfect harmony, the only melody they wanted to hear right now. The melody of nature. Varian had thousands questions, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out for Camalia's hand and hold it tight. The sun was warm, the shadow was cool, the tree was chanting, the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, life was all around them and in their heart and soul. They silently contemplated everything.

Maybe it was already fine. FIRST / PREVIOUS

#varian #the snuggly duckling #tcol #the curse of life #camalia #the kingdom of corona #varian the alchemist #tangled #tangled the series #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #drunk #fanfiction

[detective-keen]

ZzzZzz Flop - Agatha & Lucas

Where :  Some city in the sky / Agatha’ s mind When : Last night Who : @lucastheunlucky & yours truly @detective-keen

What: Agatha & Lucas share a few thoughts in Agatha’s mind.

Agatha sat on a bench, a book in her lap. She watched as a zeppelin passed, high above her, her hand toying with a pleat in her skirt. The hem grazed the paved floor, dancing above it as she stood up. A stray strand of her hair fell on her shoulder, and she placed it back in her Gibson updo, as she made her way toward the city hall. She was not sure why she was drawn toward it, but this was where her steps where taking her. She passed by a statue of a man with one arm, and if she could feel her guts twist as she turned her back on it, she assumed that this only meant one thing : she was hungry. 

The woman stopped at the bakery to buy a raisin viennoiserie, but the feeling in her guts did not go. From the corner of her eye, she had caught it, once again, this shadow of a person. This was not the first time she saw it. She couldn’t place where she had seen it before, but she knew this was not the first time she was seeing it, and that was a fact. “You,” she exclaimed, ignoring bypassers turning to look at her, clearly disapproving. Unfortunately, the shadow was gone, once again. She searched around her, and found herself tumbling forward. When she stood up, the town in the sky had vanished, and she was getting into a car, with the man from the statue. The one armed man. This does not make anysense, she rubbed at her eyes and sighed with relief as she found herself, once again, in what she thought was her reality. A lively town in the sky, with zeppelins and joyful people passing by.

Lucas kept feeling like these passing people should have faces. They blurred in and out of focus, taking on people he saw once or twice when he had been in the precinct when he was arrested by Officer Roland. Everything in him wanted to push that memory from his mind in well practiced denial and survival. Someone snickered from his left shoulder and he looked over and two people dressed in pleated skirts with police badges hanging loosely on their neck. They were talking behind their covered mouths, eyes darting towards him briefly before they turned slightly to keep talking to themselves. He felt a hint of despair, knowing they were bad talking him, no, someone else. But that emotion burned away as did the environment when a statue in the distance rose up. His heart pounded, but someone on the streets handed him a cold drink and it was warm this high in the sky. He sipped it, noticing it was a milkshake that he hadn’t been able to enjoy with Nic before his attack. “Do you want one?” He asked the person next to him, now having two in his hands. “Drink it quick though. Something bad might happen.”

Drink it quick though. Something bad might happen. The voice sounded familiar, and Agatha immediately found herself tearing up. She had not heard this voice in years, and she thought that she had forgotten the sound it, but no, the moment she heard it, she knew who it belonged to, she knew she had to find him, and to find him, her mind told her that she had to run across these people. That someone in the crowd, somewhere, was her father. Perhaps she dreamt of him because for months, she had hoped that he had gone missing, disappeared, and that the few bits of him they found were proof that he managed to run away, but that Agatha grew out of that quick, coming to term with the terrible mistake he had done, the deaths he had caused. Still, she ran, bumping into people, hoping to catch the messy salt and pepper head of hair her father used to sport. Her chase came to an abrupt halt as she ran headfirst into a man, spilling milkshake on her formerly spotless, wrinkle free blouse, and gasped in horror. “Can’t you be more careful?!” The nerve. She knew damn well she was responsible, but she was pissed off. Not paying too much attention to poor Lucas, she looked around, searching again. Come on, where are you dad? Show yourself, please, she begged, her hand pinching at her nostrils as she felt tears running down her cheeks. 

Lucas watched the milkshake explode in his hands, and he glanced almost eerily calm over as a crossbow bolt exploded the other one and sent it flying into the clouds. “Told you something bad would happen,” as the chill of the ice cream stung his hands, his eyes were a bright, molten ring of gold. Wolfish features gave his bone structure higher peaks, and sharper lines down his jaw. The scent of tears drew his gaze towards Nic who lost his milkshake. Would he cry over it? Luke felt sad about losing the milkshake again too, but it was strange seeing the man tear up. He looked towards the truck that pulled up, seeing men pile out of it, and glanced over to see a woman instead. “Hey, this place is dangerous, you better duck behind something,” Lucas warned, cracking his knuckles ready to fight, “I’m not letting these people get hurt.”

“What?” Agatha looked over her shoulder, looking both offended and disbelieving. “Bitch, I’m no damsel in distress.” The truck that had just arrived looked completely out of place, in the middle of all this late 19th century streets. Her hand instinctively went to her right side, where she usually had her gun holstered, but all she could feel under her finger was the wet fabric and her ribcage. “Shit.” Running out of the street into a home that wasn’t hers, she went straight to where her dream took her, and when she walked out back in the street, next to Mr. Saviour, it was with a loaded blunderbuss in her hands. “Who the fuck are these people,” she asked, taking cover behind a wall.

The city in the sky shuttered, the clouds disjointed into a starry sky then back again like a pixelated rendering. Lucas’ brow twitched, and he frowned as an overwhelming feeling surfaced that he did not want to go through this again. “No, wait-- this isn’t-- right,” he watched her come back with a weapon and with her motions a dense cloud blew in easily, shrouding the place for a second as the truck was suddenly dented and half destroyed when he looked at it. Lucas stood in the middle exposed when she asked. “Hired muscle,” he muttered, “fuck.” He subconsciously tried with all his might to change this, but he could only see a crowd of people happily milling about like there wasn’t any danger. No one else here was reacting to what they were seeing and it was disjointing. “I hate this--” A ring of darkness came out in the far distance and started moving and consuming the happily and peaceful place in a slow threatening crawl. His fists closed tightly. “I have to stop this, all of it. Where are we?”

“Well, no shit Sherlock,” Agatha spat, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. “Who the fuck hired these guys,” standing up, she aimed and shot one of said guys in the leg. It was hard to get information out of dead men after all. Squatting down, she loaded the blunderbuss again, a frown on her face as she watched people around them walk by as if everything was fine. What the fuck, she thought, standing up again to shoot another of these guys. That would be when she saw this dark, weirdly circular cloud coming their way. “Looks like we have a storm coming right our way,” a frown on her face, she took a step back, carefully. “And how exactly are you going to stop … this?” She motioned to what she referred to as clouds. “Where are we? Are you…” She stopped mid-sentence. Where were they? She had no idea. And yet, she knew this place. She felt as if she had spent hours in this city in the sky. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Ivor Gotch,” Lucas couldn’t stopped himself from finishing the answer, stress was making his hands shake and the beast was clawing under his skin, and he actually slapped his hand over his mouth as if that would have stopped it from being said. She had taken some good shots, but the firearm’s explosive sound made him sick, and he instinctively flinched. Lucas didn’t know either where they were, it didn’t feel like a place he’s ever been. Though it was beautiful, and it felt if he wanted too, he could make up his mind and go enjoy a nice lunch should he wish it. The looming statue in the background held the person he feared the most. “I don’t know how to stop it, I just know I have too before it’s too late.” He looked at her, the horrid wound on his arm from his wrist to his elbow open and bleeding, a line from a hole near the side of his temple drew a single trail over his eye and down his cheek. Two stains came under his shirt, bleeding through. Luke closed his eyes, always in his nightmares came such profound hopelessness. “Heh, it’s going to be too late. No one saved me the other times. What’s this one matter.”

“What?! That’s the guy from the hospital?!” Agatha remembered reading that name on the papers they had sent her back when Miles spoke to her at the station. What the fuck was going on. Why was she obsessed with this Gotch person ? And who was this guy ? She was pretty sure she did not recognize him but she felt like she had seen him before. “Well that’s great,” and things seemed to be getting greater. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood. “You are bleeding?!” Well no shit Agatha? “Why are you bleeding? When did they…” She was pretty sure that she did not see him getting shot. This did not make any sense. Any other time, she would have been starting to get a headache. “What do you mean? You need bandages, you need help,” she exclaimed. It was not in her habit to panic, but she had no idea where they would find a medic here. The streets were now eerily empty.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Lucas looked down at the wounds and felt nothing. “I don’t feel anything.” Numbness surfaced to these experiences, not ever wanting to relive them, his mind always pushing it away, making it seem less serious than it honestly was. Maybe it was a problem. He glanced at her, confused-- why in the world would this stranger help him? He wiped his cheek, smearing the dampness of red, disoriented from the this entire scene. “Why?” Lucas had said the same thing to Jared, to Winn, to Ariana. So many people that word was directed at, never understanding that he was worth saving. That he didn’t have to keep suffering. “If you help it's just going to end bad for me. How could you stop someone who already got away with so much?” A slightly broken huffed laugh. The statue in the distance rumbled, shifted like its face was turning towards them. Luke shook his head. “I promised to stop feeling like this and it always surfaces anyway.”

“How?  Those look really bad,”  maybe it was bullshit, maybe it wasn’t, but she was going to trust her guts here and call bull. Agatha, taking off her belt, did her best to stop the bleeding with a tourniquet, then getting a handkerchief from her breast pocket, placed it on the wound. “Put you hand on this.” That’s when she noticed  the wounds on his chest and covered her face. “When did you… Why are you bleeding? When?” She did not understand. She was pretty sure that she did not see him get shot, which meant that…. Either he was lying, either she was dreaming. 

A floating city in the sky, the fact that she wore a Gibson hairdo on a 1910’s outfit, the goddamn blunderbuss, hostile people showing up for no reasons, people acting weird? This was definitely a dream, and it was time for her to wake the fuck up.

The world around them was shuttering, like a ripple on the surface of taunt water. Lucas’ subconscious didn’t want to thinking about any of this, and in his bed, he was stirring in familiar ways, trying to wake up. The dark swirl in the distance came closer, an impossible black that seemed to be staring straight into the universe. He dabbed things with the handkerchief, but he knew it wouldn’t really matter. He quickly put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, listen-- whoever you are, just thanks for sticking up for me there, shooting those guys,” Luke seemed conflicted. With that he left the world they had created, and Luke with a start sat straight up in bed. Breathing heavy, but his hand mocked holding something in his hand.

Lucas blinked a few times, and turned the light on. That face. It was clear in his mind, and something more clung to him. A feeling about his situation he toyed with but never had hope on. 

#wickedswriting #ignore my bad pun #zz flop #chatzy #para #para lucas

[platypanthewriter]

Stories of the past:  Billy

The Keg-King of Elfland’s Sword, Ch. 8 for @ihni​

Here are links to the other chapters

As they approached the docks, they could see flashes lighting the night sky up dark blue from across the lake, showing the the legs of an enormous spider crab overarching the lake, silvery in the ferry lanterns, but black against the sky. The gleaming light shone off the flank of Wheeler’s white deer, tiny against the backdrop of waves, mountain, and lightning.

“The Lady of the Salt Lake,” said one of the boys, pointing, and Max stared. “She rides it, when she fights against the Nuckelavee.”

“Now she rides against us,” said the little one, Will Byers, the one who ought to sound angrier, Billy thought, after escaping with a body full of crustaceans.

“She can try,” said Max, readying her sword.

“They’ve been herding us here,” said the curly one, with the club. “Because we’re children. Makes it easier to find her, at least.”

Harrington snorted, and held a hand out for his club.

“I can stop her,” said the little girl—Ellie, Billy remembered, the one who’d been held captive by the men with cannons. The spindly-legged crabs spilled over the stones at the river’s edge as they ran, and Ellie turned, set her feet, and whipped her hand through the air at them. The crabs scattered like a glittering pile of mica in wind, and Billy’s mouth fell open. He nearly tripped, then registered Harrington’s voice in his ear.

“She may be one of the Fair Folk herself,” Harrington whispered. “That’s—that would be why she believes she is the child. The one the Lady seeks.” She’d escaped, somehow, and Billy abruptly wondered whether it hadn’t been the Nuckelavee, but her, causing the skeletons. He would have been tempted to ask, if the children, even Max, hadn’t been sending him glances like he was some storybook bogeyman: He Who Strikes From Behind.

“You can’t go with her,” one of the assorted boys took Ellie’s hands. “She can’t make you leave—”

Billy, who was trying to place him, thought he might have been at the Ball. There were too damn many children, as far as he was concerned, though he was fairly certain this was neither the one who puked crabs, nor one of the two who had held weapons on him, so if he needed to save any, he decided, he’d be the first after Max. Ellie, apparently, could handle herself.

“I’m the one she stole,” said the one Billy believed to be a fellow William, the crab-puker. “It’s me she wants, Ellie, you don’t have to—”

“What would she want with any of you,” Steve groaned, and Billy resisted the urge to nod.

“The Fair Folk like children,” said the one with Billy’s sword. “She’s not hunting one of us. She hasn’t given Callie back. She’s herding us all here—”

“We do not— we don’t all steal people—” said the hitherto Least Objectionable Child, and Billy raised his eyebrows, wondering who he was.

“She’s never taken children before, either—” Curly said, and Ellie spun on her heel to yell “I will stop her.”

Harrington set his jaw, swallowing. “They were coming anyway,” he told Billy, under his breath. “I—I couldn’t let the little goblins come alone.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Billy whispered back, with a snort, and yanked Harrington’s head closer to kiss his temple. “Hero Harrington. Max can be hard to—”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to be a hero—”

“You aren’t,” Billy pulled him close again, licking his ear, and Harrington shoved him, laughing. “That’s why I—want you. Wanted you. When I heard about you, at the Ball.”

“...I thought it was my looks,” Harrington said, snickering, and the children stopped to glare back at them, white-faced, tight-jawed, and teary-eyed.

“I thought you two hated each other!” wailed Curls, and Max swiveled to fix her fury on him.

“Billy’s staying,” she hissed, and Harrington yanked Billy close, pressing warm kisses to his face.

“You intended to stay,” he whispered, laughing. “Even—even—after. Before.”

Billy hadn’t, and yet, he couldn’t imagine himself having left without fixing like a post under Harrington’s chamber window, standing in wind and weather until Harrington let him speak. “I could hardly leave without you hogtied over my saddle,” he whispered back, and Harrington burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the silvery night.

At just that moment, there was another crash ahead, and a scream. Little Will-of-the-crabs shoved away, running to the docks, and the others followed, their footsteps smacking loud against the paving stones over the sounds of the rushing river. Billy stopped, squinting, when his footsteps changed to hollow thuds on boards, but Harrington drug him forward across the dock, to where they could see Ms. Byers, Will, and Ellie trying to keep the Sheriff from sinking in the roiling foam. In the darkness, the dock looked too short, and Billy realized it was broken, the jagged edges breaking away as Ms. Byers tilted forward with another scream, and Max charged in, throwing her sword to the side.

Billy dodged back as Wheeler’s white stag clattered up, joined by Buckley and the others, and the children gathered around trying to help everyone out of the water as the ferry jutted up sideways and slammed into the docks hard enough that the horses staggered and reared.

Thomas fired off a crossbow bolt at the dark shapes above, then fell as the great silvery tree trunk of the Lady’s steed-crab’s leg came down on the docks, amid shrieks from the children. Billy nearly fell to his knees, supporting Harrington.

“I am here, children,” said the Lady, and the silvery light around them grew. It was bluish, and the small hairs on the backs of Billy’s arms and neck lifted. “This town that harms children will be washed clean. Come.”

“No,” cried one of the boys, and Billy wished him luck. “You’re the only one hurting anyone! Give Callie back! And my sister’s friend, Barbara Holland!”

Harrington hauled him closer, as Billy tried to find Max. Buckley was standing next to Wheeler, with another crossbow, and Carol alongside, the three of them placing themselves between the Lady and the panicked confusion over the disintegrating dock. It looked like everyone was out of the water, crawling away from the building waves.

“These people have frightened children,” the Lady told them, her hair lifting and crackling from her head. “They have stolen from me. Ellie,” she held out a hand. “Dear one. I saved you. Why did you run?”

Ellie shook her head, sniffling.

“She wanted to be with her real mom,” the boy holding Ellie’s hand yelled back.

“I will wash this place down to its stones,” the Lady told him. “I have fought for them. Every spring, for their sakes, I have fought the Nuckelavee back into its lair. I have—I have suffered for them. We—” she held a long, pale hand out to Wheeler, who shook her head, raising her crossbow. “We of the mountain have protected their fragile lives, and in return they captured a child—” she waved a graceful hand at Ellie, “—and threatened her into breaking a hole between worlds. Much sadness will come of that,” she whispered, staring over them all with fixed eyes that shone with their own inner light. “Many of their lives will be further shortened. Animals, running in fear. But come, it needn’t all be grief. Come, children. You shall be harmed no more.”

“No!” Ellie yelled back, trying to stand as the roiling sea shook the dock.

“Wait,” Thomas shouted suddenly. “What did we steal?”

“Shut your mouth, Tommy,” Billy heard Carol hiss, but he ignored her.

“No, really, we didn’t blow up her house, but I know what she means—but what exactly did we steal?”

“Me,” said Ellie, and Will nodded.

“Ellie left her, and then came with us,” Thomas yelled. “What did we steal?”

“My own child,” the Lady hissed, swiping her hand around her, and the deep, chill water pulled back to leave a sphere of crackling air around the docks, leaving only glistening rocks, mud, and gasping fish. The darkness was split by surges of light from the Lady, dazzling their eyes and reflecting off the wall of ocean growing taller than they could see.

“What did those letters say, Steven Harrington,” Thomas turned, holding his hands around his mouth to project his voice. It quavered. “Madness in his blood. Witchcraft, from a woman who thought she was a fae princess. He’s looking for his mother.”

“Shut your mouth, Thomas,” Carol yelled, raising her sword, and he bared his teeth at her.

“It’s important,” Thomas yelled, “Young Master Harrington. He’s lied about everything. He’s brought her on this town. Give him back to her.”

Billy felt as though he’d gone numb, his brain trying to take in the phosphorescent shape of a floating woman, and the towering cliff face of water, lifting over Hawkins.

“...Billy,” Steve whispered, clenching his hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“No,” Billy shook his head. “No. I can’t—Harrington—”

“What nonsense to you speak,” the Lady asked, with a snap in her voice they could taste. “The people of this place will hurt no more children—”

“When I was a child, a wave took the lower town,” Harrington whispered, staring at Billy. “When we were children. Billy, how old are you? When did your father move to Australia?”

Billy shook his head, swallowing. “No! I—I’m two and twenty—I was six, but—”

“She’s here because of you,” Harrington said, and Billy flinched, shaking his head. Harrington ran his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths. “She—she called the ocean, and sixteen years ago, she took the lower town. Because her lover took her child... very, very far away. She couldn’t find him—”

Billy shook his head, swallowing. He could hear Max yelling something, obscured by the rushing in his ears. “No. She—she tried to drown me, she—”

“She doesn’t understand humans,” Harrington stared into his face. “She thought she was helping Ellie. She’s the Mother of the Sea, Billy, she thought you’d be able to breathe water.”

“No,” Billy shook his head harder, feeling Harrington pull away as he stood. “No, Harrington, I can’t—”

Thomas hailed the Lady. “This is him. Your child,” he waved a hand. “He came back looking for you.”

“...no,” said the Lady, stepping off the crab to land in the middle of the ferry with a loud crunch of wood. She jerked her foot back out of the broken decking, and walked across the water and collapsing wreckage to stare into Billy’s face. “You are not he,” she said, and his eyes burned, as though, he thought, he’d wanted, just for a moment, to be claimed. He staggered forward at a grating blow to the back and sides of his neck, and she stepped back, a gleaming trail dangling from her hand in the uneven light, the chain of Billy’s necklace broken from his neck. “Yet you have my gift.”

“No,” Billy forced his voice through his raw throat. “No, the-that’s mine—”

“You are not my child, you are another thief,” she said, energy crackling around them, and Billy shook his head, unable to find his words. In the dazzle, he felt hands on his arm, and heard Harrington’s urgent voice.

“It’s the necklace you gave him! It’s been twenty years! Babies grow!”

“...that is so.” The crackling light dimmed, and Billy could see again, a little. His throat ached. “But it cannot have been so long. This stranger—”

“I’m sorry,” Billy breathed, reaching for the necklace, as she clicked it. Harrington’s voice came out, and she threw it down, leaving a blackened hole in the dock.

“You traded my voice,” she whispered, as Billy watched it fall, dropping to his knees next to the hole. “Was it so valueless, to you?”

“...he recieved it with no voice,” Harrington said, and Billy jerked back to attention, standing up.

“Lies. I sang to my child,” she said, stepping close, so every hair on Billy’s body lifted, and his clothed fluttered as though there was wind. “I could not keep him safe, but I told him of his home, and of my love.”

“...he—he must have—wiped it clean,” Billy whispered, shaking. “My—my father. I carried it as a gift from—from you, but I had no—I thought you had...nothing to say.”

“I had the world to say,” she whispered back, and his eyes blurred. Harrington’s fingers were bruisingly tight in his shoulder.

“I didn’t steal it,” Billy told her, glancing past her at the enormous wave suspended over the town. His voice shook. “I’ve always worn it—”

The great silver crab crushed another piling holding up the dock, and Hopper swore as the boards under them juddered and creaked. He and the Byers woman were dragging the children ashore.

Buckley shouted, “—we didn’t steal him. Can’t you—can we—take him back, if that—”

“Wait, we only have his word he didn’t know,” Thomas yelled over her. “He probably knew all along. Only the Lady can control the Nuckelavee, Harrington! The Sea Mither. His mother. He was never in danger at all, he probably called it—”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Harrington said through gritted teeth.

“Why have you never sent word,” the Lady asked Billy, reaching out. “I would speak with you, my own. Dear one. Where came you these bruises? Who has assailed you?”

Billy fought to talk, his muscles spasming at her closeness. His jaw wouldn’t open until she lowered her hand, and he wheezed deep breaths.

“I knew he was hiding something else,” Thomas laughed, and Harrington yanked Billy closer, but the Lady turned her gaze on Thomas.

“My child’s blood is upon you,” she whispered, floating higher, and raised her hand. The wave began to fall.

Everyone ran to get off the dock, stumbling, screaming, and swinging up on horses—except Thomas, who stared out at the wave, then swung around on Billy, grabbing his shirt. “You’ve killed him,” he hissed. "You've killed us all."

Billy swung at him, trying to free himself, but Carol, Robin, and Harrington started hauling them towards the town.

“There’s no time!” Carol screamed, shoving at Tommy’s hands.

Tommy reached past Robin to grab for Billy, teeth bared, and Robin staggered at the edge of the dock, when Carol shoved past Thomas to grab Robin around the waist, hauling her bodily back towards town. Thomas hung in the air for a moment, and then the water struck.

Billy heard a yell from Harrington as the air was smacked from his lungs, and tried to kick towards him. The roiling foam was white, and bright turquoise, and a green so dark it was almost black, and he was knocked sideways by the coils of the eels and the tree-trunk-sized leg of the Lady’s spider crab steed. He couldn’t find anyone, any frantic flailing arms, or limp, drifting bodies. Harrington’s voice rang in his head, saying ‘she took the lower town, one day.’ And Thomas’, ‘You’ve killed us all.’ The water numbed his skin, and the remaining air in his lungs went sour. It was as dark with his eyes closed as open, and he closed them against the sting, curling into a ball as his shoulder thudded and scraped against something else, knocking bubbles out of his mouth. He saw something glint, and reached out, feeling the shape of a shell, and the broken chain.

He kept swimming, though he didn’t know which direction to go.

#harringrove #harringrove bang #platypan #platypan fic #Not a Six Sentence Sunday #But something to post #Next chapter not quiiiiite ready #Gotta get the ending right #Steve wants to believe in Billy #Billy wants to believe in somebody #Everybody gets really wet

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 5

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.9k

Part 4 <<< >>> Part 6

MASTERLIST

                The week after his last visit to Emmeline as Spider-Man, he noted no changes in her behavior. He was hoping for something, but she was her usual self. She smiled at him when they saw each other in the hallway, she sat next to him in D.E., she studied with him on Thursday mornings before the first wave of students came in and started whispering around them.

                At least, she acted like her usual self until the next Friday. Three months since their meeting on the lawn, and she finally realized that she didn’t have to keep everyone out of her life in order to preserve her feelings. She had this epiphany while watching Peter walk out of his dorm with Tessa on his heels. She spotted the leash she had bought him, and it made her smile a little.

                Peter was a good person. He was a profoundly decent person, he had heart, he was kind, she had never heard him be mean to anyone, she should be lucky to even have met him. Sometimes she remembered the way she had treated him the first time she saw him, and it made her want to crawl into a hole and never talk to another human being ever again.

                Why was she hiding from him? She feared she knew the answer to that question but quickly dismissed the idea.

“Hey! Peter!” she called after him, running to catch up, despite her heels. “Peter wait!”

                He stopped and turned around, watching people’s faces over his shoulder until his eyes fell on her and his entire face lit up. Her heart leapt in her chest.

                Emmeline crashed into his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, much to his bafflement. He didn’t expect this kind of physical display of affection, she wasn’t one to be so demonstrative.

 “Em!” He laughed at the way she clung to him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion? No occasion, just saw you and thought I’d walk with you.”

                She let go, much to his chagrin, and went to stand beside him, but not without slipping her hand around his elbow for support. He had noticed she did that whenever she wore heels. She could walk in them, she could even run in them, but it didn’t stop her from holding his arm when they walked together, and Peter wasn’t going to call her out on it.

“Were you walking home?”

He knew she had an extra class on Friday evenings, she signed up for Art classes or something – he wasn’t sure because she stayed very vague about her whereabouts, in true Emmeline fashion. Maybe he was reading into things a little too much – she probably wasn’t hiding anything from him in particular, she was just used to having to be extremely cautious with her private life because she wasn’t safe from a public scandal.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind taking a walk, I’ve been sitting in the same position for two hours,” she told him with a groan, stretching with only one hand because she didn’t let go of his arm. “And I’m a bit hungry. I could eat a hot dog.”

“Yeah? A hot dog sounds good,” Peter agreed with an approving nod. Tessa whined softly next to them.

“It’s not actually dog meat, Tess,” Emmeline chuckled, booping Tessa’s nose. She too had to wear a muzzle when going out, and it broke her heart the same way it did when she had to put the muzzle on Bella. “Our dogs have never met,” she suddenly told Peter.

“I’ve never met your dog,” he pointed out. “Then again, you live off campus, which explains it,” he added, quickly looking ahead of him.

“True. And she doesn’t like strangers anyway, she’s a guard dog,” Emmeline hummed quietly. The sound of her heels on the paved paths circling around the lawn in the middle of campus gave them a walking rhythm.

                It was then that it hit him. Peter couldn’t meet Bella, because Bella was supposed to be wary of strangers, but she would immediately recognize him as a friend because of all the time he had spent petting her as Spider-Man. How could he not have thought about this? Talk about shooting himself in the foot.

“Where were you heading?” she questioned, turning her head to look at him.

“Nowhere in particular, just getting some fresh air and maybe grab some takeout on the way back.” Peter shrugged; he didn’t have plans when he walked out, but he sure wished he had made some now that Emmeline was at his arm. Some people stared as they walked past, probably having recognized her – it must be that because now one knew him. “Unless you want to go somewhere?”

                He congratulated himself for asking; her face lit up and he knew it was the right thing to say. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“I’m trying to think of something where Tessa could come with,” she said, already deep in thought, leaning a bit more against him.

“We can drop her off at my room again,” Peter told her. “It’s not a problem.”

                Emmeline laughed and glanced at him, a cheeky half smile dancing on her lips.

“Shush now, Peter. Don’t sound so desperate to spend time with me,” she teased him though if she were being honest with herself, it was the other way around. She had been the one lurching at him the second she spotted him and almost jumped on his back like a clingy koala bear.

                Her banter was answered with a tense laugh and Peter put his free hand in his pocket.

“Maybe I am,” he simply said. “You’re pretty fluky, you know that? I barely get a glimpse of you some days.”

“I’m keeping things interesting between us! Routine is lethal,” she argued, whispering the words so close to his ear her breath tickled him slightly, as if to prove her point.

                Goosebumps erupted on his skin, but he tried to keep it cool. She hadn’t noticed the effect she had on him yet – which was a miracle Peter had every intention to take advantage of. He wasn’t entirely socially inept; he could carry a normal conversation with her if he would just quit acting like a fool. She’s just a girl, just a regular, normal human being of the opposite sex. A very pretty representative though.

“I call bullshit,” Peter scoffed, finally regaining some control over himself. He got this. “Maybe you’re just not that interesting?” he deliberately provoked her, smiling smugly when her jaw dropped a little and she poked him in the ribs.

                They had an easygoing friendship despite Emmeline’s efforts to keep Peter at arm’s length. It made his heart drop a little every time, but he could tell she was doing her best. She wanted to spend time with him, she wanted to be close, he could tell as much. But somehow, she couldn’t do it. She didn’t allow herself to. He had yet to figure out what the reason for that was, but he figured it had something to do with her family – she simply never mentioned them. If he hadn’t googled her, Peter wouldn’t even know she was the daughter of the mayor.

“See, that’s why I like to hang out with you, Parker.” She sent him a sarcastic smile. “You really know how to sweet talk to girls.”

“Thank you. It’s a skill.” He winked at her, wondering where this sudden smoothness came from but thanking heaven it did come after all.

                They ended up walking for hours, until Tessa called it a day and began to tug on the leash to go back to Peter’s dorm room. They still hadn’t made plans for tonight, but neither of them was going to go their separate way yet. The night was still young.

 *

                 The change came slowly – so slowly that Peter didn’t see it coming and was simply smacked in the face when it hit him.

                It happened when he sat on the floor in the corridor right outside the door to Emmeline’s last class of the day. He arrived fifteen minutes early and decided to read through some of his notes instead of scrolling through his phone to keep his hands busy.

                He realized that four months ago, he didn’t know when, or where her last class of the day was. Four months ago, he didn’t wait for her so they could go study together or grab coffee before walking his dog. Four months ago, she didn’t know he existed.

                And now? Now her number was in his phone under the name “M” – it took him forever to figure out it was her; she had put her number in it herself so she could send herself a message and have his number too.

                A fluttery sensation in his chest made him feel light all of a sudden. For the first time in forever, he really felt like things were going his way. He wasn’t stuck in a weird unrequited crush on an uptown girl. She actually liked to hang out with him; she stayed on campus way longer than necessary just to keep him company when he walked his dog, even though she would have to go out again later to walk her own dog.

                It just hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized that maybe, she had opened up a little to him since he had stopped visiting her as Spider-Man. She hadn’t told him about the attempted assault yet, but she shared pieces of herself still – which was good enough for now.

                When the bell rang and the door swung open, Peter jumped on his feet and Emmeline was the first one out. Her beaming smile when she saw him made his heart skip a beat and he wished they lived in a world where creeps who assaulted girls in dark alleys, and superheroes who had to intervene didn’t exist. He wished they lived in a world where he could kiss her hello and goodbye, and nothing was complicated.

                She approached and grabbed his hand on her way past him, pulling him with her.

“Come on, we have to hurry,” she told him with a laugh, urging him to pick up his pace.

“Where are we going?”

                She had asked him if he was free this afternoon and he had said yes. Peter had no idea what she had planned but he was ready for just about anything. She could have announced that they would be skydiving, and he would have just nodded.

                Ned had been wrong in saying that Emmeline would never even look at Peter, but he was spot on when he had told him he was a love-sick fool who was going to end up in trouble for this girl’s pretty eyes.

“Have you ever been ax-throwing before?”

                Well… he didn’t expect that, but he was down.

“I have not,” he laughed.

                She had let go of his hand and they were now running towards the metro, attracting curious glances as they dashed across the lawn, Emmeline leading the way. Peter tried to not outrun her even though he easily could have.

“Why are we running?” he asked when she stopped at a red light once they reached an intersection.

“I booked a target, if we’re late they are gonna give it to someone else,” she explained, giving a light tap on his stomach and making him bend slightly forward. “I know you’re fitter than you let on, don’t lie to me. If we run, we can make it.”

                And they did. She was completely out of breath by the time they reached the front door or the place, and Peter hadn’t even broken a sweat – he could have pretended to be worn for her sake, but after her little comment on his shape, he wasn’t going to.

                To be frank, he hadn’t expected this afternoon to take this road at all. He thought maybe she wanted to have coffee, to visit the zoo, to go shopping, or whatnot. But he did not consider they would end up listening to some guy dressed like a lumberjack giving them safety instructions before showing them the right way to throw a tomahawk and explaining how the points system worked.

                Peter sent a suspicious look to Emmeline who looked way too comfortable here, and he wondered if she had done this before. He wouldn’t put it past her to throw axes in her spare time. Hell, he wouldn’t even put it past her to know how to use a katana, and ride a horse, and play the organ. People with money made their children learn all kinds of freaky stuff. Shit, maybe she fenced too. He would have to ask later.

                He couldn’t say he was surprised when she grabbed the ax from the guy’s hand and threw it at the target. Four points: it landed in the second ring from the inside out.

 “Did you bring me here just to show off?” he asked her, accepting the weapon she handed him.

                She shrugged while he took position, one foot on the line drawn on the ground. He had never done that, but he thought it couldn’t be that hard, he just needed to put the adequate amount of strength into it… right?

                He missed the target completely, but the ax still got stuck in the wood panel behind it, sending Emmeline into a fit of laughter. She had to wipe away tears of hilarity while Peter glared at her, hands on his hips in an attempt to look stern but having no success whatsoever.

“You-“ She was still laughing too hard to talk. “You can’t just-“ No, she really couldn’t speak yet.

                Peter gave her a moment to laugh it out and calm down.

“You have to aim first, Peter,” she finally said when she was able to articulate a full sentence. “Not just throw as hard as you can.”

“Well, it’s my first try and it’s stuck in the wall, I wouldn’t call it a total failure.”

“Here, try again,” she said, pulling the ax out of the wall and giving him again. “Don’t let go before your arm is fully extended,” she explained. “Maybe take a step or two back. You really got that arm strength.”

                He did as she instructed and after the fourth time, the ax was finally in the target. Nowhere near the center, but it was in it.

“How long have you been throwing axes? It’s not a conventional Tuesday afternoon activity.”

“A girl needs to let out some steam once in a while,” she said offhandedly.

                She got into position, aimed and threw, hitting the bull’s eye.

“Whose face are you picturing when you throw that thing?”

                Frankly, he expected another vague answer funny enough to distract him from asking more inquisitive questions, and nearly missed again when it was his turn to throw and she gave him an honest answer.

“My father’s, most of the time.”

Peter stared at her, the ax barely grazing the outer circle of the target. Emmeline shrugged again. She did a whole lot of shrugging and Peter was starting to think it meant the opposite of what she wanted to convey. It wasn’t something she should be shrugging off.

“You never mentioned him before,” he said, licking his lips. God, he was beginning to sweat. This hoodie wasn’t made for physical exercise.

“We have a complication relationship.” Emmeline pursed her lips and thought about it before continuing, eyes trained on her shoes as if they were the most fascinating sight she ever beheld. “I can’t just talk shit about my family to vent,” she explained. “It had consequences whenever I did it in the past. This led to a lot of resentment between us, and I’ve never been close to my parents in the first place. So yeah… I don’t mention them that often – or at all.”

                She shrugged again and this time Peter was sure it was a physical cue of her unease. He forgot about the ax and turned to her, but she seemed to need to throw it again. The mere mention of her parents lit a fire in her eyes, and he saw now why she came here. To exorcise her rage.

                The angrier she was, the better her aim apparently.

“They are not your biological parents, right? I heard you speak to that doctor…” Peter trailed off, not entirely sure it was a good idea to admit to having eavesdropped but too curious not to ask.

“So, you were listening that day,” she said, letting out a bitter laugh. “Whatever. I don’t care if people know, only my parents care about what the public opinion.”

                She was about to throw another ax, but Peter took ahold of her wrist to stop her.

“Does it make you mad?” he asked, staring into her dark, troubled eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. Hiding it would be lying,” she stated, lowering her arm. “I think it’s enough for one afternoon, what do you say? Should we head out and go sit somewhere? My arms are killing me.”

                He wanted to insist, to ask a thousand questions, to know more. However, she had told him more about herself this afternoon than she had in the past few months, and he considered himself lucky enough for one day.

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Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @of-virtuoso

#peter parker #tom holland #marvel #spider-man #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man far from home #peter parker imagine #peter parker x oc #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #marvel imagine #aged up!peter parker #fluff #college au #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #writing is hard #feedback is important #reviews are important #support writers #peter parker fluff #family drama #mutual pining #skinny love #canon divergent #tony stark is alive

[imjustthemechanic]

Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late Part 6/? - The Mystery of the Missing Time Machine Part 7/? - Underway Part 8/? - The Sierra Bunker Part 9/? - Cross-Country Part 10/? - The Pit

Peggy opened the driver’s side door of the delivery truck.  She was hoping to find a map, or maybe one of those GPS things – something that would tell her where they were.  Before she had time for a proper look, however, she heard Howard’s shout.

“Peg!  Company!” he said.

She took a step back to look, and saw the red van, which must have fallen behind on the mountain road, pulling in behind them. For a moment Peggy looked right into the eyes of the astonished driver.  Then the man hit the brake, and six more people piled out, with weapons in their hands.

“Into the truck!” Peggy ordered Howard.  She climbed in the driver’s side as bullets began to fly.  Thank goodness the driver had left the keys.  She started the engine, and since the van was blocking the way back, Peggy went forward.

The main road had been paved and the turnoff was gravel.  The road Peggy took now was little more than a dirt track.  Trees and bushes had been cleared to leave a path wide enough for a vehicle, but stumps had been left, which were sprouting again, and grass and weeds were starting to grow between the wheel ruts.  It was a very bumpy ride for no more than half a mile through the woods, and then they approached a wooden gate.

“Look out, Peg!” said Howard.

“I see it!” Peggy told him.  She had no intention of slowing down.  Instead, she pressed the pedal to the floor, and they went right through the gate.

This turned out to be a mistake.  On the other side of the gate the road continued only a few yards, and although Peggy hit the brakes, they crashed right into the front steps of the building on the other side.  The impact jolted both of them quite badly and knocked down one of the wooden pillars that supported the roof overhanging the steps, bringing a shower of shingles down on top of them.

“I’m starting to see their point about seat belts,” said Howard.

Peggy threw the door open and climbed out.  If there were nowhere left to flee to, they had to find somewhere to hide.  The building would have been the obvious place, but that in itself might make it a bad idea – the HYDRA men would know to look there, and might well be familiar with its hiding places.  Peggy ran around it, cursing her lost shoes as she stumbled on the thistles and stones. Behind the first building was a second. Both were long and boxy, with white siding and small windows, and sat on top of the ground rather than on a foundation.

Behind the second building, the fence surrounded an area that had been hurriedly cleared, much like the track they’d followed in, and like on the track things were starting to grow back.  A sort of giant birdcage of metal beams had been built over this, with a few plastic tarpaulins tied to the top of it to keep the rain out of what was below – a giant dark hole in the ground, about the size of the Sierra bunker’s helipad.  Peggy stopped short.  That could only be the Pit Smith had mentioned. What in heaven’s name was it for?

She heard an engine approaching.  The van was coming.  They couldn’t go back out the gate without being seen, and there didn’t seem to be another exit.  With no other options, Peggy headed for the Pit.

“What are you doing?” Howard asked.

“We can’t get out,” said Peggy.  “We have to hide.”  Some of the metal posts in the giant cage had rungs on them for climbing. Peggy started up the first one, and then swung herself up on top of the horizontal portion that held up the tarps.  Once she wiggled in between it and the plastic, she would be invisible from the outside.  On her right, she saw Howard squirming up the next pillar.  The handgun he’d taken from the truck driver was falling out of his pocket.  As he got himself situated under the tarps, it dropped, bounced off the ground, and tumbled into the pit.

Peggy waited to hear it hit the bottom.  It did not, or if it did, it took so long that the faint sound was drowned out by the slamming of vehicle doors as people climbed out of the van.

“You two – make sure they’re not inside the truck, then check the trailer,” a voice ordered.  “You, come with me back to the road, they might have gone that way.  The rest of you, go around the outside.  They can’t go far into the woods on foot.  If you find them, shoot them.  No hesitating, no bathroom breaks!”

From her hiding place, Peggy couldn’t see what anybody was doing, but she could hear it. She could hear the dull clunks of vehicle doors opening and shutting, and the hollow sound of footsteps on what was left of the wooden stairs, heading up to the building.  Gravel crunched as booted feet treaded on it.  Twigs snapped on the other side of the fence.  Peggy hoped they wouldn’t take too long – she didn’t want to stay perched up here above that hole any longer than necessary.

What could the point of it be?  Why did anybody need an apparently bottomless pit in the middle of the mountains?  It certainly wasn’t a mine, and it couldn’t be a well or she would have heard the splash when the dropped gun hit the water. Did it have something to do with die Glocke?  The apex of the birdcage had a ring welded to it, as if to hang something over the hole.  Was that for die Glocke?  Was it a weapon that had to be set off underground?  It had been developed in an underground base.

One particular set of footsteps came closer and closer, and Peggy realized one of the men was walking right towards the pit. She held her breath and gripped the beam for dear life.  Although she didn’t dare move her head to look, out of the corner of her eye she could see a man come up to the edge of the birdcage and lean forward a little to peer down into the pit, as if checking to see if they’d already fallen in. Would he look up?

“They’re not in the trailer!” somebody shouted.

The man below straightened up and looked back over his shoulder.  “Are you sure?”

“It’s not exactly full of hiding places.  They’re not there,” was the reply.

“Then let’s stand guard at the door, just in case.” The man below picked up a pebble and tossed it into the pit, then turned and walked away.  Peggy let out the breath she’d been holding.

Again, she heard a set of footsteps climb the wooden stairs.  If both of them were now on the other side of the building, they might have a chance. She began to shimmy down the beam again.

“Where are you going?” Howard whispered.  “They’re still out there.”

“Follow my lead,” she replied.

The two of them climbed back down to the ground as soundlessly as they could, then crept around the back of the little building. When Peggy peered around a corner, she could see one of the men standing on the near side of the delivery truck, idly brushing falling shingles off its hood.  The other was at the top of what was left of the staircase, leaning on the door. Both of them were carrying weapons rather more deadly than the truck driver’s simple handgun.

They needed a distraction.  Peggy picked up a rock, and threw it towards the birdcage structure. It struck one of the bars with a dull metallic sound.

“Did you hear that?” the man on the porch asked. He hopped back down the steps and vanished behind the truck as he went to see what had caused it – but his companion, rather than following him, went the other way.  Straight towards Peggy and Howard.

The only thing they could do was meet him head-on. Howard got there first and tackled the guy, who began firing his repeating rifle wildly – Peggy barely had time to drop to the ground and avoid being hit.  She crawled a couple of yards to where the men were struggling, then jumped up, wrested the gun from the thug’s grip, and hit him in the head with the butt end of it.  He fell, his scalp bleeding from the blow.

“Looks like we don’t have to worry about the other one, either,” said Howard.

Peggy followed his gaze.  The second man had come running to see what the gunfire was about, and was now lying face-down in the dirt.  She thought of checking to see if he were alive, then thought better of it.

“The rest of them will be here in a minute,” she said.  “We’d better go.”

The van was still between the truck and the gate, and there wasn’t space to go around it.  It was therefore the van that Peggy climbed into, and started the engine. If she were an evil mastermind, she thought, she would definitely fire any minions foolish enough to leave their keys in the ignition.  No second chances there.

Howard climbed in the passenger side.  “I wish I had that phone still.  We could find out where we are.”

“We’ll just have to drive until we find a place with a name,” said Peggy.

“And a phone, to call Toulouse,” Howard agreed. “I wonder if she found anything in the hotel.”

“Obviously we should have looked there first,” said Peggy.  “Pity there’s nothing we can do once we get back to tell ourselves that.”

Howard shrugged.  “Maybe this had to happen for a reason,” he suggested.  “Maybe that hole is really, really important.”

“We can only hope.”

Peggy had to back up and then go forward again several times to turn around in the tight space, and she twice scraped the side of the van against the corner of the truck before she made it.  They drove through the remains of the smashed wooden gate, and bumped and rumbled off down the road.

Could this all be meant to happen?  When Peggy thought about it, that was actually a rather comforting idea.  They could be sure, for example, that they wouldn’t die on this adventure – they couldn’t, because history recorded that they made it back and went on to do things like get married, have children, and prevent nuclear holocausts.  It was too bad they couldn’t say the same for Toulouse or anybody else they might meet on the way.

“Here they come!” exclaimed Howard.

As Peggy had expected, the men who’d been searching the woods had heard the gunfire and engine noises, and come back to investigate.  They were now gathered on the road ahead of the van, with their weapons raised.

“Heads down!” said Peggy.  She grabbed Howard by the hair and forced him to duck, while she slipped onto her knees on the floor so that she could still just barely see over the dashboard.  The men ahead opened fire.  Bullets shattered the windscreen and tore off one of the side mirrors.  They pinged on the van’s sides, and one tire blew out with a bang.  Peggy did her best to keep them going straight ahead, to drive right through, and right over, their enemies if necessary.  At the last possible moment, the men realized she wasn’t going to stop and dived into the bushes.  She couldn’t tell if the thump as they passed was just a dip in the road, or somebody who hadn’t made it in time.

They kept going.  A few more bullets followed them.  Peggy did not stop.

Howard climbed back into his seat.  “I’m alive!  Are you alive?”

“So far,” said Peggy.

The burst tire made the van quite difficult to control.  It kept wanting to veer off to the left, and Peggy had to keep the steering wheel pumped to the right in order not to drive into the bushes.  When they reached the gravel turn-off that led back to the main road, Peggy realized there was no way she was going to be able to turn right in order to go back the way they came.  She eased off on the steering to let the van turn in the other direction, then pumped it over again to straighten out.

“Look for signs!” she ordered Howard.

He pointed.  “There’s one!  Ginger Creek Falls, eight miles!”

Even HYDRA couldn’t kill them in a town full of people, Peggy thought.  They would have to find a place with plenty of witnesses, and call for help from there.

They weren’t going to make it on a flat tire, though.  Within a few minutes, Peggy could smell burning rubber – they’d ridden it all the way to the rim, and the metal on the asphalt was throwing off sparks.  Then, at the worst possible moment, there was a second bang.  One of the other tires must have also been nicked in the gunfight, and driving like this had worn it through.  What little control Peggy had managed to gain over the van evaporated, and before she could do anything about it, they were off the road and right into a narrow, stony creek.

“Bugger!” said Peggy, and thumped on the steering wheel.

“Big fan of seat belts,” Howard said.

It had so far been merely misty, but as they climbed out of the van again it began to rain properly.  The droplets were small but freezing cold, and fell with enough force to sting.  Of course, Peggy thought.  Because this was precisely what they needed right now.

They couldn’t stay where they were, though – if they did, HYDRA would certainly find them sooner or later.  The only thing they could do was walk along the side of the road and hope somebody would be willing to stop and pick them up.  At the sound of an engine they stopped, and put their thumbs out hopefully as a boxy yellow car slowed down for a look at them.

The driver was an elderly fellow with sunglasses and a bushy white mustache.  He frowned at them as he went by, then sped up again and was gone.

“Did that guy look familiar?” asked Howard.

“Keep going,” Peggy told him.

It was at least another ten cold, wet, minutes, of walking down a stony, thistly roadside with Peggy in her stocking feet, before another vehicle came along.  This one was a small blue car with a white stripe painted down the side, its back seat full of cardboard boxes.  It pulled to a stop and the door opened, and a young East Asian man peered out.

“You guys okay?” he asked.

“No,” said Peggy.  “I should say not.  Could we get a ride?”

#fanfic #agent carter #peggy carter #howard stark

[sagethewriter90-blog]

Hunter Tales: Trolls

Chapter 3 : Three, Two, One: The Hunt is still on. Hunter stopped at the mouth of a large pond in front of a large cliff that stood tall at six thousand feet. He let out a sharp whistle as he stared at it. He squatted low to the ground and took off with a sprint up the cliff's face. When he made it to the top he jumped and landed in front of a dilapidated log cabin. The cabin sunk down on the right side, there were deep and tiny holes on the logs and a red door hung loosely from the frame on rusty hinges. Hunter took a step forward and a loud shot rung and a fast projectile came toward him leaving a golf ball sized hole through the door. Hunter ducked out of the way of it he stayed low and looked at the cabin with apprehension. The door fell from the frame and a grey cloaked figure barrel rolled out of the tiny house aiming a slingshot at him. The hood of the cloak shadowed the person’s identity, Hunter tried to stand up but stopped as the figure fired another shot from the sling at his feet. The shot left a nice size crater behind curious he looked inside the hole and saw a tiny white pebble inside. The figure reached inside the chest pocket of the cloak and pulled out another pebble. They loaded it into the sling and took aim, “Those last two were warning shots you move again and this one goes between your eyes. Now who are you and what are you doing here?” asked the figure in a deep voice “My name, I go by many, but the elf at the Brisbane inn decided to call me Hunter and I am on a job from said elf to kill the threat here.”, he said. The figure lowered the weapon, and placed inside the chest pocket it removed the hood to reveal a dark skinned blind elf woman. She had a short afro, two large gold hoop earrings in both of her pointed ears, and she had a pair of bifocal glasses hanging around her neck from twine. Hunter stood up and watched her cautiously as she walked closer towards him. She grabbed his wrists and a smirk appeared on her face which only grew when her hands trailed down his body to feel the belt. She took a step back and let out a long relieved sigh, “I see it’s been twenty years since I felt my creations follow me.” She turned around and walked back toward the cabin she ducked underneath the door frame and disappeared into the house he followed soon after. He entered the cabin and saw the woman standing in front of a red brick furnace, an oak barrel sat in the middle of the room next to an anvil and on top of the anvil was a small sledgehammer. “Now for introductions my name is Laura Rosina and I was the blacksmith and inventor of the kingdom before the attack. I created the items you are currently wearing. ” she said. Hunter sat down and asked, “How… How did you harness elemental power.?” Laura turned and reached into the furnace she pulled out a small gray burlap sack that was tied closed by a piece of twine. He opened the bag and emptied its contents out on the ground before him. The sack contained ; a pair of talons, snake skin, and the skeletal remains of a fish. “Me and Tatianna used our elven magic to infuse the elemental attributes of those items into the gems in your belt and bracers.” He picked up the talons and inspected it, “What about the talons?” he asked. Laura let out a sigh and sat down she reached out and took the talons from his hand, “This I used to infused the element of air into a… I forget.” she placed the talons back on the ground, “Now since you are here let's get started.” Quick like a rabbit she jumped into a standing position, he looked at her with confusion “What are you talking about?” She smiled “I'm talking about me making you a weapon for your journey anything you want.” He reached into his pockets and removed the golden eyeball and he untied the string he reached out and placed the items into her hands, “Dealer's choice.” He said she nodded and placed the items on top of the barrel, Laura pointed toward the door, “You wait outside I work better alone.” Hunter stood up, bowed his head slightly and exited out of her workshop he walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down. He placed his hands on his knees, closed his eyes and started to meditate a few hours later Laura stepped out of the workshop with a burlap wrapped up and tied with twine. He stood up and walked over “So, how much do I owe you?” Laura shook her head, “It's on the house I want to help you in your mission.” Laura reached out with her left hand and grabbed Hunter’s wrist and placed the wrapped item in his hands. Hunter nodded and carefully removed the twine and burlap to reveal a pair of golden grappling gloves. Both of the gloves had an ankh symbol etched on to the metal surface, “So, What do you think?” she asked Hunter looked over the gloves and smiled Hunter stepped back and took a knee to her, “Thank you.” Laura chuckled lightly, “No thanks needed. Now on the other side of my cabin a few yards out are some giant walls that lead to the troll’s castle.” Hunter stood up, shook Laura's hand and then took off towards the shack in a sprint. With a single bound he cleared a hundred yards in two seconds he landed on the ground in a barrel roll and sprung to his feet in front of a giant set of oak wood doors that were flanked by giant white walls. Different images of trolls of many different sizes and shapes danced around images of people tied to poles with pain and anguish on there faces. “Halt!” yelled out a two high pitched voices the ground in front of the doors started crumble apart and a long two headed green snake like creature crawled out of the hole on eight giant spider legs it balanced itself on it's tail and looked down at Hunter. “Who? You?” said the thirty foot tall black eyed creature it sniffed the air and it stared at Hunter with hatred. The left and right head shouted respectively, “MURDERER! KILL!” the creature scurried toward him and head butted Hunter into the air from the end of it’s tail it launched a string of gray webbing at Hunter. Hunter stopped his accent his eyes glowing orange, a tiny flame appeared around his middle finger and he curled it underneath his thumb. Hunter flicked his finger and he unleashed a huge flame arrow that turned the web to ash and pinned the creature’s tail to the ground. The snake-spider let out a yell of pain as the flames of the arrow consumed it. Hunter landed with a barrel roll to his feet and stared at the anguished beast, “It's time to end this.” Hunter said he formed two flame swords in his hands and sprinted towards the creature. The creature stared to chuckle menacingly and it’s skin split open and Hunter's wind was sent bouncing across the ground from a tail whip. In a flash the creature constricted itself around his body Hunter freed himself by unleashing a giant explosion of flames which sent the snake-spider through the door and walls Hunter popped his neck and activated the belt and bracers and walked through the hole. He entered onto a long paved road that was made of human skeletons he looked forward and saw the creature surrounded by six million trolls all armed to the teeth and all staring at him snarling and gnashing their fangs. The creature toward over the others and asked “What? Do?” Hunter smirked and slammed his hands on the ground causing a giant explosion of steam to erupt from the ground. The steam died down revealing gold statues of every last troll Hunter stood up and jumped over the statues he landed in a squat on the other side and continued to walk. A few hundred yards away Hunter walked up to a path that on either side were twenty concrete pedestals that had metal bat sculptures on top of all them. Hunter walked on the road toward a giant crater filled with rubble and a giant throne made of bones. On the right side of the throne was a great sword made from gray tungsten in the middle of the sword was a giant white diamond. A tall pale skinned woman with neck length long matted brunette hair and lifeless eyes sat on the bone throne. She looked to be in her late twenties and was clad torso to toe in tungsten armor when she spotted Hunter she gripped the hilt of her blade the diamond lit up and she stood up she asked, “So! Are you to blame for killing my comrades?” Hunter nodded and with great speed she unleashed a giant vertical slash towards him. He jumped up and landed in the crater and aimed a finger gun at her he unleashed a fire hose blast of water at her. The water hit her in the chest knocking her into the throne two hundred thousand blocks of cement levitated from the ground and were launched at her she in a blink of an eye the bricks turned to dust and fell around her in a perfect circle. She stood in the middle with her blade on her shoulders “So you sure are flashy but now I must cut you.” In a blink of an eye she stood behind Hunter with her blade on her shoulders his body fell on the ground in fabulous gory fashion. The armor clad woman jumped backwards over the bloody chunks and stood in front of her throne. Just then a loud snap rung out and the pile of flesh exploded in flames the shockwave from the explosion knocked her through the bone throne. Her body skipped across the ground and she slammed back first on Hunter's torso the bracers and belt gone from his body. He wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up and slammed her down on the ground with a German suplex. Hunter got to his feet and the woman sat up and asked her voice full of confusion and irritation, “How are you still alive I chopped you up what are you?” He shrugged and replied, “I don't know I just don't die that’s why I'm a hunter.” The woman shook her head, “No! That's not an answer what are you?!” Her lifeless eyes turned dark grey and in a graceful motion she removed his head from his body. His head fell to the ground and turned to ash and as his body fell flames shot out of his neck hole and a new head appeared which he then used to head butt the blade out of her hand. The sword landed few feet behind him and then he kicked her in the chest and launched her backward a few hundred feet she slid to a stop and stared at Hunter with a crazed look. Hunter took in a huge breath in and let it out slowly then his eyes turned orange. He snapped his fingers and stomped his feet and the skin on his waist and wrist glowed green and blue respectively. A few of the stone blocks levitated off the ground and started to melt he clenched his fist and the slag covered both of his arms up to his shoulders then turned to steam. Hunter slammed his hand on the ground and stood up then he flipped the bird to the woman. Her grey eyes showed anger and she sprinted at him Hunter watched her get closer and closer and tilted his head from side to side chuckling. With the blatant show of disrespect the woman let out a roar and lunged at him just then giant geyser of steam erupted from the ground and engulfed her melting the armor from her body. When the geyser subsided she fell to the ground soaked. She wore a leather tank top and pants that clung to her body she writhed in pain from the blisters on her exposed skin. She stood up her hair was wet singed and patchy and her face full of blisters. She layed on the ground flailing her arms trying and failing to hit Hunter the blisters started to pop and thousand white and green tendrils shot out from the pustules and it cocooned itself around her. The top of the shell exploded and a white and green striped creature that was two feet taller than Hunter stood inside the shell ankle deep in a slimy white and green liquid. It had three fingers on both hands and two toes on it’s feet. It had a great white shark fin on top of it's head, it’s eyes were glowing with grey energy, and it’s teeth were sharp and serrated like tiny saw blades. “To answer your early question I am the troll leader and I am your end.” It said in deep and raspy voice and in a blink it grabbed his neck tightly and lifted him up eye level. Hunter ignited one of his hands in flames and he brought it down across the wrist of the creature. It yelled in agony and fell to it’s knees and whimpered as it cradled it’s cauterized stump. Hunter landed on the ground on his feet and removed the hand from his throat and burnt it to ash. Three tiny holes opened up on each digit of the troll’s hand and tiny sharp needles poked out of the holes the troll pointed it toward him and fired a hailstorm of needles at him. Hunter performed a few backflips and dodged the fast moving projectiles. The creature ran toward Hunter with it’s hand balled into a fist. When it got close enough a long tendril of stone shot out of the ground and wrapped around it’s wrist and feet bringing the tall beast to it’s knees. Hunter lifted up his arms and chunks of stone enclosed around the troll's body leaving only the head exposed. It struggled and shouted expletives at him. Hunter walked closer to it and stopped in front of the captured troll. It started to gnash, snarl and bite at him “What the hell are you I killed you, you come back it makes no sense!” the troll yelled in frustration Hunter's eyes and arm started to glow brightly and two giant flaming wings exploded from his back and two water spikes formed on the back of his wrist. The troll's eyes widened in shock, “You're ….” It was quickly silenced as Hunter jammed his water spikes in it's temple the water entered the creature's body when his wings exploded and entered into the rock that surrounded the troll the rocks exploded in a pillar of flames and the creature yelled in agony. When the flames and screams subsided there was nothing left but a ring of liquid gold that surrounded a sphere of water that was enclosed around the armored lady. Her leather outfit was in tatters and on her left cheek was a faint scar. He lowered the sphere to the ground and snapped his fingers and the glow on his arms deactivated. The water around the woman dispersed and layed on the ground on her back coughing up water she rolled on to her stomach and she slowly stood up. Hunter walked over to help her up but she held up her hand and stopped him he took a step back and the lady got to her feet. She tilted her head to the right and tiny droplets of water splashed on the straps of her top. She looked around and she fell to her knees bawling loudly she looked at her shaking hands and she started to vomit. Hunter ran over and held her hair back as she barfed a few minutes later Hunter and the lady sat down on the ground sniffling. Hunter stood up and he held out his hand, she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet “Anything’s wrong?” he asked she nodded and said “It’s my fault.” “What’s your fault?” he asked she waved her hands around, “This if it wasn't for my pursuit of power none of this would've transpired.” “What happened here?” asked Hunter the lady chuckled “That's a long story but first my name’s Gwendolyn Elysium princess of this wrecked kingdom and I would like to thank you for killing the troll menace and saving my life.” She said with a curtsy Hunter waved his hands in front of face and said, “Don't mention it I was on a job anyway and when we fought I noticed something off when I didn't answer those questions.” “Yes I was possessed by the troll king on my eighteenth birthday my mother and father the king and queen had two children me and my little brother Atticus on his second birthday about sixty of the kingdom’s armed guards rushed inside the throne room with a woman who was complete covered from head to toe in a red shawl only a pair of red eyes were visible and she came with a prophecy that said that the trolls will rise and be defeated by a person of royal blood and his protector. When the woman was finished my mother and father started to ask her questions which were which one of their children were the savior. She pointed to the both of us and then she was escorted out of the throne room. So for a few years me and my brother trained to protect our kingdom and we received gifts from our parents for our training the gems, my armor, and my great sword with a note that read these will help in the future.” Gwendolyn looked at Hunter's glowing limbs and said “I see that the gems are in your body.” He looked over himself and chuckled “Yeah it happened when you chopped me into pieces.” She shook her head and said, “You are a strange man. Anyway while we trained our bodies and minds my father took a ferry to the blacksmith and were she infused the gems with elemental power and embed the diamond into the sword.” . Gwendolyn walked past Hunter toward her sword and she lifted the blade up with one hand and placed it on her shoulders she took a breath in and out before she finished “So on mine and my brothers eighteenth and sixth birthday respectively we were by the river we were both supposed to read a book about how the gems worked, I finished my huge book and started to lift weights while my brother read from two giant books. A few minutes into my session a three legged, flea ridden, and malnourished dog hobbled over to me it looked at me with lifeless eyes and spat a small drop of white and green phlegm on my arm. The mucus started to burrow itself in my skin painfully I dropped to my knees but I managed to tell my brother to run before I blacked out. When I came to I could only look on in horror as I slaughtered the entire kingdom.” The ground started to shake and a giant slimy muscled arm emerged from the shell and came down toward Hunter and Gwen. They both jumped out of the way as the hand crashed down onto the ground. Then a large white skinned green striped muscled creature emerged from the shell and it stood tall at thirty feet, “DIE!!!” The troll yelled. Gwen she launched herself at the troll with a gust of wind. She grabbed the blade with both hands and with a powerful slash she unleashed four tornados that surrounded the troll on either side. The tornados converged on the troll pulling pieces of it inside and shredding the slime unleashing a geyser of gold. The wind tunnels dispersed and the woman dropped her blade and fell to her knees tears started to stream down her face as she smiled, she turned her head to look at Hunter and said “I have to undo the damage the trolls did to the land.” “How are you going to do that.” She gripped the hilt of her blade and she stood up. “Come stand by me.” Hunter walked over and stood at her side. “Now I need you to float us up.” Hunter nodded and he lifted his hands up the skin on his waist glowed and a huge portion of the ground they were on levitated out of the ground and above the tree line. Over the horizon Hunter saw a wall of water that surrounded an of dead and living trees. “After the slaughter of my kingdom the king used my wind power to seal the island inside a barrier of water and since my brother escaped he set trolls at every place the bracer and belt was located at trying to tie up loose ends and rule.” She looked around and slapped the under side of the blade and the gem deactivated and the water quickly rushed in flooding the entire island. A large rumble sounded and from the water a giant tree sprouted from the drink, a few miles away from the tree a long serpent like creature appeared from the depth and let out a roar. Gwen smiled, “Laura and Tatianna made it out.” “You know them?” Gwen nodded “Yeah Tatianna was my maid and Laura crafted my armor and sword.” Hunter twitched his fingers and below them a two thousand foot tall watch tower was formed out of splintered trees and stone debris. He landed the chunk on top of the roof of the building “So is there anything else you need me to do?” He asked she shook her head, “No with those two's help this place will be just as it was.” Hunter nodded and then jumped off the tower into the raging water below. Gwen stared at his antic with a smile and shake of her head “What a strange, strange man.”

[cutegirlmayra]

Emotion Sonamy Prompt

Couple: Sonamy

World: Sonic X (loosely based off of. Mostly for Sonic’s character traits.)

Go!

“No!” Amy’s head shook, her fists up towards her, as electrical waves sparked different parts of her mind, coming from a secret mechanism that was tucked under headband without her knowing.

In her frenzy, unable to control her words or emotions, Sonic slowly advanced to her, seeing she was getting dangerously close to a cliff.

“Amy... Just think a sec..” Sonic was taking the moment very seriously... He knew something was wrong with Amy, she may be dramatic sometimes, but not hysterical.

He held a hand out, but she once again, in a violent movement, shook out her body to try and get him away, stepping back as some pebbles fell the depth of the cliff behind her foot...

“Urk..!” Sonic bit down on his teeth, a sweatdrop dripping down, seeing that this was getting dangerous fast!

He couldn’t talk her out of it, she was too far gone in... in whatever was wrong with her!

He had to move fast, to where she couldn’t react fast enough to fight back.

He narrowed his eyes and waited a second...

Something in him not wanting to have it come to this...

“Amy,.. just calm down. What’s wrong?” Sonic held out his hands, trying to talk to her.

Her swinging of her body never stopped, as she gripped her head, and then finally remained still. “Leave me alone.... alone... all alone...” She was muttering nonsense, so far as he was concerned.

He lowered his head.

“GO AWAY!” Amy’s abrupt shout made the ground under her begin to crack, and Sonic’s immediate instinct couldn’t be held back anymore.

“You leave me no choice..!” Sonic dashed forward, fast enough to get a hold on each arm.

“Let me go! Let me go!” She wasn’t even able to look at him, it seemed, as her whole body fought against him, moving back towards the edge.

Sonic used every bit of tension in his body... wishing he didn’t have to be rough with her... but she wasn’t making being ‘the nice guy’ easy!

He quickly tried to thrust her behind him, but her stance was unmovable. There was some sort of frenzied power she was summoning up, and she was even proving a challenge for him!

“Erk...A-Amy...” he suddenly saw her jolt, and looked up to notice a spark from her headband. “Huh..? Hmm.” he glared, realizing his next move.

He pulled her arms forward and himself back, using her energy against her, as she fell forward and grabbed her headband.

Since the mechanism was connected underneath it, he saw it slip a little, with chords and without thinking, immediately disconnected it, ripping it off her head.

The result of which was painful, as the chords were sucked off her skull and started flinging around sparks in the air, before Sonic let Amy stumble forward.

Her headband in one hand, and the mechanism in another, he quickly threw down the headband and broke the mechanism with his knee. “Ruah!”

Amy breathed heavily, as she followed the energy of being pulled forward and ran into the forest.

Sonic looked back to see she still wasn’t herself, and put a hand forward to rush after her, before hearing Tails...

“Sooooniiiccc!” Tails waved, flying down, and watching Amy disappear into the dense forest. “..What’s going on?”

“....” Sonic looked down, worried.

“Sonic..?” Tails turned his attention back to Sonic.

“Take this.” He gave Tails the device.

“Ah,..! This..?”

“I’m going after, Amy.” Sonic took off into forest.

“Wait! What is..!? Aaand you’re gone.” He sighed, before feeling a spark on his hand. “Ow! ...huh?” he looked at the device, and then nodded, turning around and flying off. “Knuckles! New plan! Meet me back at my place!” he spoke into an ear piece.

“But what about-?”

“Not now! I think something might have happened between Sonic and Amy! And I think this device might have a connection to it.” he held it up in front of him, and then narrowed his own eyes in conviction. “Hang on, Amy! Sonic!”

Furthering her run, the effects of the device started to wane, and she looked around her, before breaking down in tears, falling and losing all the adrenaline she had once had. Being able to think clearly, she looked around, gripping her head. “What... why did I do that..? Why was I...?” she felt so vulnerable, clinging to her arms to hold herself, she just wanted secure shelter, something to help her calm down.

As she cried, she looked around and started to get back up, clumsily, and dashed away.

Falling again on her face, she slowly looked up through the pain of the impact to faintly see a tree with a dark hole just under it.

She crawled to it, seeing some form of protection and comfort in it, and immediately brought her knees up and held her hand near her face. She was confused, not sure what had just happened, but was extremely upset about something, and couldn’t understand why.

“What would have Amy dash off like that?” Knuckles asked, as Sonic raced through the forest, taking any path, any direction... Amy’s headband held tightly in one of his hands.

“I don’t know... all I do know though, is that this device-” suddenly, his readings zinged to life, and he quickly looked up to his monitors. “Ah! Of course!” he quickly dashed to another monitor, typing things fast as a blue dot, moving wildly around the board, side to side, and a pink dot blinked a while away from him.

“Tails..?” Knuckles walked up to him, “Care to let me in on your discoveries?” he folded his arms, and made a bit of an offended face.

“R-right, sorry. It’s just...” he quickly turned on his communicator.

As Sonic dashed to and fro, he heard the mic on his ear turn on, and Tails’s worried voice flicker on. “Sonic! I found out what happened to Amy!”

Sonic turned to look back to the sound.

“Amy’s somehow gotten this thing to latch onto her head, it then sends pulses like sparks into certain parts of her brain, triggering emotional distress. Amy’s having an emotional episode she can’t just naturally come down from! You have to her find! She’s probably slowly coming too, but that doesn’t mean her body still won’t be suffering from the effects. You’ve just gotta make sure she’s okay, Sonic!”

Sonic, with every bit of being in him, ran quicker.

“I have her on my monitor, move west.”

As if on command, Sonic kept his face forward, and immediately turned to the direction.

“Now Southeast! Not so fast! Stop! It says she’s right around there somewhere.”

Gripping her headband, Sonic walked around and couldn’t see anything. “She’s not here, Tails.” Sonic kept a low tone, before his ear flickered at an odd sound. “Wait.. I’m getting something..”

He clearly... was hearing sobbing.

“!” his eyes widened quickly, and he took out the ear piece, “Found her. Keep the garage open, I’m bringing her in.”

“Sonic! Be careful! She’s still in a lot of emotional distress and discord! You need to be patient.. and... please, be kind! She can’t think straight, nor control what’s she feeling!”

“...Thanks for the heads-up Tails. I’m going in without you.”

“...R-right.. be careful...”

The communicator flickered off, and Sonic stopped right in front of the tree.

He slowly bent down, and moved under.

Her whole body quaked at the sight of him, and she kicked herself further into the tree. Her eyes looked terrorized, and shifted over him a billion times.

As he watched her, he completely forfeited the whole ‘talk it out’ strategy from before, and slowly moved in closer.

She duck her head down, “Don’t!... D-don’t come near me... I... I’ve never wanted to be alone... as much as I do right now.” she had her hands under her, as they shivered and she couldn’t control their shaking. “I... I want to be alone.. I want to be shoved under this tree and never come out! G-go away!”

“....You’re never alone... Amy.” Sonic just normally moved into the space available, and watched out for any resistance.

Surprisingly, she only flinched and brought her knees up again, trying to keep as far from him as possible.

“Ohhh... oooohhh...” Tails paced back and forth, clearly agonizing over the scenes of what Amy must be going through, according to his data.

“So... Amy’s having a bit of a crisis... and turning into a mess. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, right..? She’ll be alright, the thing’s off her head, anyway.” Knuckles, not doing a great job of comforting, was trying to point out the positives to him, hoping to calm him down. “And this is Sonic we’re talking about. You know how Amy is.” he shrugged, as Tails furiously whipped around.

“NO! You don’t understand at all!” he quickly moved over to the broken device, and put a plastic bowl over it.

“This is Amy’s brain.” he explained, and then hit something on the keyboard.

Suddenly, A thousand sparks, mostly centered in one general direction, flew up at random moments, striking similarly to the same area.

Tails looked more serious than ever, “If this thing wasn’t broken, I’d calculate it’s speed to be 20 shocks per minute, which is mostly aiming for the trauma side of the brain. Whoever implanted this here, wanted this to cause a meltdown in it’s victim. In other words-! Even Sonic hasn’t deal with this kind of fragile imbalance Amy must be displaying! Her emotions are taking over and draining her. This literally is trying to simulate stress! Do you know what happens in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Tails was almost shouting these things now, making Knuckles worried, seeing as Tails was also losing it over this.

He looked at the machine, seeing it’s effects burn a small portion onto the plastic bowl...

“The brain naturally creates a channel, literally carving it into itself, for stress that can’t be naturally released. Amy couldn’t naturally release this strain on her side of the brain, and because of where it was aimed, it literally PAVED A HIGHWAY in her mind! Making it easier for her to suffer from it again and again! Messing with the brain is never an easy fix! Sonic-!”

“Will find a way!” Knuckles finally blurted out, dropping his hands in the exasperated gesture. “Look. I may not be as fancy with mechanics as you are, Tails. But I know Amy. She’s tough. And I know she’ll find a way to... release or whatever you were saying, the stress from her head.” He put his hands on his hips, and waited for a reply.

“...But it won’t go away that easily...” Tails looked down, doubting...

“Let’s face it. Sonic’s probably not there for an easy fix, either...” Knuckles folded his arms. “He’s probably just as worried as we are... he’s just trying to stay calm and think things through. Isn’t that what you’re always telling us?”

Tails closed his eyes, accepting that this was as much help he could give Amy right now, and there was nothing he could do. “You’re right.” he lifted his head, and looked back to the screen. “If anyone can set Amy, even just a little bit back to her right self... then... she’ll be okay.” His eyebrows bended back, afraid his friend may suffer longer than just the coming out of the moment... it was an episode alright.. and he had no idea how long that thing had been on her head, and how long it had kept her from wondering about it...

“...Amy? Do you remember that time you were scared to jump... over the ravine?”

Sonic was laying on his back, hands under his head, as Amy continued to try and breathe calmly to the side.

“.. I... I don’t.” she admitted.

“Huh? Really? Oh... well, you were very brave.” Sonic smiled, remembering the fond memory.

“I told you not to look down, but of course, you did anyway, and even then you trusted me to catch you. It wasn’t a long drop or anything, but I held onto you tight, and in the end, you thought it was fun.”

He turned back to look at her, “You sure you don’t remember that?”

“My head hurts.” she quickly responded, clutching her hand to her head.

“...Hm.” Sonic got up a little, moving over to her.

She flinched, “No-!”

He caught her hand gently, “Just... relax... Amy. I’d never hurt you.” he didn’t like having to say that. It left an uncomfortable feeling throughout his being...

He normally would never have to say that, it would have just been obvious.

He reached a hand and noticed the spots where the wires must have gone... and frowned deeply, seeing they had singed her hair.

“I... I remember... Metal Sonic.”

He moved his hand, immediately looking down to her.

She still was clutching her head, “I.. I remember his eyes... I remember how scared I was... I... I’m afraid. Even now I can see him!”

“Amy!” Sonic put a hand down, “Calm down!”

“No! I want to be alone! I want-... I want my head to stop throbbing!” she tried to push him off, but he ended up just embracing her.

As she fought him, he held her there.

The kicking, screaming, and crying was definitely not her, but from what Tails said, this was her body’s reaction to the mind’s distress. She didn’t have much control over herself.

When she finally lost the energy to go on, he lowered his head, his eyes completely shut and unseen in the darkness.

“...I remember that. I rushed in and saw you huddled up, much like this, and I remember the second you saw me too... and how fast that smile came on to your face.” He pulled back, and noticed she was exhausted.

He thought maybe she passed out, and even though that made his heart beat a second faster in panic, he had to say this... at least, it could be the last bit of comfort she hears before completely falling out of consciousness.

“... I would do anything... to keep that smile on your face always... Amy.”

He had to hold her under him as he crawled out, but after doing so, he felt her squirm, and realized she wasn’t completely knocked out yet.

“Amy?”

“Ughh...” she blinked her eyes a bit, and then held onto him tight.

“...I ...” she breathed out, eyes still closed, as one hand found his arm, and held onto it with the last of her strength. “I remember this... you holding me... after all that... I felt so happy... so relieved.. for once in my life... I had someone to help me when I was scared... or lonely... or depressed... I felt... safe...”

Her head dropped.

“Amy..? Amy!” Sonic shook her, but she didn’t seem to be responding. “Dang it!” he quickly looped her around and held her over his shoulder, moving so fast that bridal style would have been a hassle.

Getting her to Tails, who did in fact open the garage door as he was told to do, rushed her in and immediately checked for drama signs.

For a few days, the team would keep one member with Amy, while they finished the adventure.

When Sonic finally found out the reasons behind the device, that it was a test to see if it could work, he was fuming with rage.

Needless to say... that adventure ended quickly.

It was Sonic’s turn this time, and as Amy walked out of her room, she saw him reading on Tails’s couch, before looking up and stumbling to his feet, and then slowly rising off his knees, having falling off the couch in his surprise, and the two stared at each other.

“...Morning.” Amy loosely smiled, before it faded quickly.

She was leaning on the frame of the door, and one arm gripped the other.

She still looked a bit timid and frightened, unsure of herself or her surroundings, but Sonic took a deep breath and tried to not let that get to him...

as it... did before.

“Heh. I think you mean afternoon.” he gestured to the window. “You’ve been out and back a few times from sleep, Amy... you never stay up for more than a few minutes... but... I am glad to see you moving again.”

“...I’m sorry.” Amy turned her head away from his. “I caused you all so much trouble... I made the adventure suck, didn’t I?”

“... It wasn’t an adventure, more like a nuisance.” Sonic folded his arms, and Amy squinted her eyes more shut. 

“But that wasn’t because of you. It was because someone had done that to you.”

Amy opened her eyes and looked back to Sonic, feeling uncertain.

“...Does that mean.. you found out..?”

“Yeah. But we can talk about that later.” Sonic walked up to her, “Hungry?”

“Famished.” she smiled.

For the next few days, Sonic was almost gentlemenly. He would move her chair out for her, act out funny scenes to make her laugh, and even bring her food. “Chilidogs! From the best place in town!”

She giggled, and Tails finally confirmed her emotional trauma was being treated well.

“It may always be a scary thing in the back of your head... but now,” He smiled, relieved at the results. “At least you can laugh again. And not feel like you’ve got something firing a railroad through your skull.”

For some reason, after that moment, Amy felt Sonic be more protective of her during Eggman attacks, but would always smile when she noticed it.

Not only was it showing that the trauma may have affected him as well, but it also showed he meant what he said.

“...You’re never alone...”

(I wrote this starting at 2 Am, it’s 3:30 am, goodnight everybody!)

#sonic #sonamy #amy rose #sonamy prompt #sonic x #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prompt

[nikki-writes-stuff]

This Weekend

Jack sat at the hotel bar Friday evening, playing out the upcoming days in his mind while he considered the variety on display before him. He just arrived at the Holtsville Residence Inn by Marriott not even half an hour ago, after having left his office at Ranger Capital, LLC in Queens when the sun was still up. Lane closures due to motor vehicle collisions and the legend-inspiring Rush Hour traffic on the I-495 expressway had slowed his already-arduous commute to a crawl; he barely even unpacked his bags before casting off his tie over the nearest chair and heading to the bar to try and relax. His mirrored aviator sunglasses still sat in his sport jacket’s front pocket.

He would have to sneak in whatever relaxation he could get over the weekend before he returned to his luxury rental in Commack sixteen miles west, which he could just barely afford after bills, groceries, and his gym memberships were paid for. He once considered downsizing to a studio, but enjoyed the bragging rights he as a young professional was granted by living where he did. It came with the lifestyle, he told his peers. As division supervisor for a high-profile firm like Ranger, he had the makings of the dream setup—the mid-size sedan and cozy living space with enough leftover income to go out every so often, or really splurge and buy himself a very nice suit once a month. He of course omitted the long hours, uninteresting work, and weekend conferences with the heads of the parent company—Nassau Holdings—like the one tomorrow that he just checked in for today.

And of course there was the fact that he was still, painfully, single. Through it all, Jack couldn’t help but dwell on how much this weekend was going to suck.

Her voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “Hey there, traveler,” she said to him. “Can I buy you one?”

He instantly recognized her voice. Anne, his immediate superior only a few years his senior, took a seat next to him. She was much more relaxed than he was, and dressed in something that was much less than appropriate for the workplace. “Sure,” he said. “As long as Chuck is paying.”

At this they shared a chuckle. “Please,” she said, “you think he’d be that charitable? We were lucky the rooms didn’t come out of our checks.”

“At least the bar is well-appointed…” He got the bartender’s attention. “Maker’s Mark, please. Neat.”

Anne nodded. “That sounds great, I’ll have one too.”

That hadn’t surprised him. In the eight months he’d worked directly under her, he’d learned she could drink any of his friends under the table.

Of course, opportunities to socialize outside of the office were rare, and usually came in the form of Happy Hour gatherings at the watering hole nearest to the office to commemorate someone’s retirement. They could never really let loose together in front of their colleagues for fear of being judged—or worse, separated—by Chuck. But they’d found their fun in other ways.

Familiarity and commiseration paved the road for openness to bloom between them. Jack once boldly said if they were ever sent to a regional conference together they could save a few bucks by sharing a room. At the time Anne replied, much to his surprise, that the room service they ordered together would end up being more expensive. They flirted playfully like this for months, but he always let her lead it. He would allow her to set the tone and make sure he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries.

“Shame about that room service, huh?” Anne said raising her glass and grinning.

“Damn shame.” Jack brought his glass to hers and they shared their first drink.

Three rounds and ninety minutes later their conversation toured through topics from their previous jobs to the universe and their place in it, but inevitably returned to the two of them as it always seemed to.

“So, you got anything planned after this?” Anne asked. “Surely you’ve got more going on in your life than work.”

“I’m afraid not,” Jack said. “The pay isn’t enough to allow for much of that, and this month’s get-out-and-have-fun budget got blown last week… I’d have thanked Chuck for that in person if he’d come out here tonight like we did.”

“Oh, fuck you, Jack,” she said in jest, hitting his arm playfully as she did. “You’re no fun..!”

He resisted the urge to respond to her fuck-you remark with where and when. “Now, I never said that– just that loose funds are tight right now, and that the job ruined another perfectly good weekend.” 

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow you to let work ruin this weekend—I’m taking you out somewhere. You live nearby, right? What’s there to do around here?”

“Well,” Jack confessed, “the night life out here is pretty dismal. I imagine this is as good as it gets around these parts.” He gestured the two of them and their now-empty glasses.

“Huh,” Anne added, running her finger along the rim of her glass. “Shame… How ever will we kill time during this terrible work-related getaway?”

Jack could swear he heard her suggest that they make good on the share-a-room offer he made all those months ago. “Well, we’ve got rooms here, right?” he said, only half-serious.

“Yes, we do… So,” she said, slipping a few $20 bills under her glass for the bartender as she stood up. “Mine or yours?”

Anne took his hands in hers as she led him through the doorway and toward his bed. He let his sport jacket roll off his shoulders—no sooner had it hit the floor than he pulled her in for a sensuous kiss. He was perfectly content to savor this slice of perfection, letting his hands run on their own up her sides and back while her arms found themselves wrapped around the base of his neck, resting atop his shoulders as she caressed the back of his head. Their lips held their embrace for several-second intervals, briefly breaking contact between kisses to let a giggle free, or allow their tongues to get familiar with each other.

Gently, he tugged on the zipper running up the back of her dress and slowly lowered it all the way to the bottom, down the small of Anne’s back to just above her rear as he kissed her still. In response, she moved to undo his shirt one button at a time, un-tucking it from his slacks and taking time to appreciate his musculature as her fingertips ghosted up his stomach and chest, finding their way around to his back. He reached up to her shoulder straps, slipping them over her shoulders and taking the time to let his hands explore her feminine curves as he helped gravity do what it did best.

Anne broke away from him, flashing him a coquettish grin as she backed away closer to the bed and snaked out of her dress entirely. Jack took in the sight—her divine figure clad in a matching set of dark lace lingerie—and wondered to himself how the hell he got so lucky. She shot him another sensual smirk as she turned slowly and allowed her hips to sway, knowing full well he’d be admiring the way her derrière moved as she did. Anne took a seat at the bed’s far end and kicked off her stilettos. She seemed to glide backward toward the headboard as she crossed her legs and beckoned Jack libidinously.

Anne bit her lip as she watched Jack roll out of his shirt and reach down to undo his belt, flinging them to opposite ends of the room as his slacks fell to the floor. An Adonis in his own right, Jack smirked as he watched Anne’s eyes move up and down all six feet of him, pausing at the growing bulge in his boxer-briefs. He strode up to join her in bed, fitting perfectly between her legs as she uncrossed them for him. They took a moment to feel each other’s warmth through the thin layers of fabric separating them. Jack’s eyes met Anne’s, holding the gaze for a solid three seconds before she reached up to pull him in for more hungry kisses.

Jack was not in any hurry, like most men his age were. He wanted to take his time and make sure Anne was enjoying this just as much as he was, if not more. He moved his kisses from her lips to her jaw, and down to the side of her neck. She let him know she liked what he was doing—she tilted her head back a little to expose more of herself to him and pull him closer to her, encouraging him to indulge in her as her breathing slowly, but noticeably fluttered and accelerated.

His hand moved slowly up along the inside of Anne’s thigh, stopping where he knew she was most sensitive and teasing her through the fabric. It didn’t take long for her to move the fabric aside and coax him further. He took her invitation, sliding his fingers into her wetness and curling them upward into a hook. At this Anne’s chest and shoulders heaved, her eyes shut tight and mouth hung agape. Jack curled and straightened his wrist in a slow, rhythmic pattern, moving Anne’s body almost all on its own. “Yes..!” she breathed into him.

He steadily moved his hand quicker, and listened as Anne’s breathing accelerated further to match the pace of his movements. A quiet moan escaping every few breaths let him know he was hitting all the right notes perfectly. And if he needed further confirmation…

Jack froze as he felt her fingers move up around his waistband and begin to pull down on his shorts. Anne explained, as she caught her breath, “You know I’ve never been selfish.” She continued to work on his waistband while he reached over to the bedside dresser with his free hand. Jack rifled through the top drawer feeling around for the condom box stored there.

Anne placed her hand on his wrist. She leaned up and gently bit his earlobe. “No need for those, handsome,” she purred, the warmth of her breath tickling his ear. She shepherded his hand back to her and reclaimed his lips with hers, moving aside the fabric that once separated them and guiding Jack into her.

Their foreheads met as their hips rolled in concert together, their breathing intensifying as the temperature rose. Jack’s hands, now free, found their way to Anne’s and their fingers interlaced. This was something they both wanted but neither had the courage to make anything happen before now. And not that they were living it, it was better than anything Jack could have imagined.

Anne lifted her hips off the bed and rolled Jack onto his back, quickly claiming her spot on top as she straddled him and tossed her bra aside. Immediately they got back into their rhythm, hips moving in unison and eliciting more than a few quiet moans from both of them.

“I’m close,” she whispered between gasps. “I’m really close.”

“Anne…!”

“I want it Jack..!”

“Anne, I’m—!”

“I want it all..!”

“Anne—!”

The rush. Time stood still during their ultimate moment together. She tightened around him and arched her back as he released into her in a shared cloud of passion and emotion that could be recorded in history as absolutely unforgettable. When the seconds began to pass again, Anne collapsed into bed beside Jack, looking lovingly into his eyes before burying her face into the side of his neck. Glowing as she seemed to, she was never more beautiful to Jack than she was in that moment. He briefly considered the possibility that it was her who bedded him, not the other way around as he previously thought. His grin widened as he realized he actually preferred to think of it that way.

They repeated their actions once more before drifting off to sleep that night.

Anne opened her eyes the Saturday morning to a sweating glass of cold water resting atop the night table on her side of the bed. She smirked to herself as she rolled over and sat up, finding Jack straightening his tie in the mirror.

“Didn’t take you for the love ‘em and leave ‘em type,” she said in jest.

Jack grinned as he turned around to acknowledge her. “Yeah,” he said carrying the joke. “I had hoped to be gone before you woke up.”

“Fuck you, Jack,” she laughed.

Now he was free to respond however he liked. “Maybe after the conference.” He strode up beside the bed and leaned over her. “I don’t want to be late for the pitch this morning.”

She grabbed hold of his tie and pulled him in for a deep kiss. “Make me proud out there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jack left to meet out-of-state investors for breakfast and pitch Ranger’s business model to them. He made it back to the Residence Inn right in time for the regional conference that afternoon, taking a seat between Chuck and Anne. When the time came for his input, he was thrilled to report to the Nassau representatives that his pitch went beautifully, and that they would have all the funding and more needed for the year’s expansion.

He and Anne checked out shortly after the conference was over. They returned to Jack’s apartment where they spent the rest of the day ordering takeout and watching old movies. Anne spent the night with him again.

A cozy breakfast in Huntington village is where they spent their Sunday morning, and they shared their afternoon on Fire Island before having to part ways that evening.

And when Monday morning finally came along, Jack decided the weekend couldn’t have gone better.

~written by Brendan M. Lubin, 2017

___________

Fucking... Brendan, how dare you destroy me like this? Thank you SO much for submitting this beautifully written smut! I wanna be Anne when I grow up, I swear to God. Guys, if you loved this piece (and I know y’all did) then check out @the-original-b; his poems are absolutely amazing!!! 

#submission

[nottheoccult]

oblivion access: except it’s poetry

Social self-obsessive species, everything is peachy

Having cyber interactions, get erections from the TV Vocal bout opinions bout elections up in DC With a total lack of knowledge, rope around your neck was easy Chemical complaint, deformity machine Skin eraser, loss creator, poison that you breathe Traitor, parasite, xenophilic golden boy Seen him with a soy product, wrote the Village Voice about it Tell me conclusions to stories I don't have time for Situations with the information missing, misinformed We've seen the same rain through separate systems, different storms We're stacking bodies up in boxes in a distant war I eat my vegetables, I like the broccoli What is more fictitious, the gods or you and I? You needs a court's admission, you think the cops comply? I don't acknowledge systems, I never found it wise I wasn't born to just support the shit that's palpable I don't see Earth as disproportionally valuable If there's a god, I'm sure his name is unpronounceable If there's a hell, I'm sure we'll all be held accountable I drew a portrait of Abraxis on a napkin Sex has never given me an ounce of satisfaction Life throws a lot of questions but I never ask them Facts are human arrogance, we barely know a fraction I don't know anything (This is the way the world ends)

From the inside of my corpse, 30 seconds is like a century Imprisoned in necrotic flesh Cognizant beyond my death Paralyzed and frozen in this carnal penitentiary Lucidly projecting hellish spectres Ghoulish architecture, enveloped In a darkness far beyond my mind can measure Suffocating violent pressure It just goes on forever, are these electro- Magnetic hallucinations? Is this everybody's afterlife or something I've created? Abandoned and dismissed in a flaccid Impotence with the cold illumination that I no longer exist In a grave within a grave It was the first time I prayed, no one There to tell me that I shouldn't be afraid Falling endlessly deeper, yet immobile and still In this infinite aethyr washing over My filth, neither angels or reapers or ghosts were fulfilled Just a cavity to soak up my guilt In my depravity, the flowers Up above me wilting down so they can laugh at me To think we spend our lives Convinced we understand agony, a familiar Voice: "He's finally at peace" Shrieking through the silence to remind me I'm deceased I tried to answer but the dead can't Speak, the biggest prison in the world's underground six feet

I got soaked through the rainiest days They made me this way Should have left the street but it paid me to stay The path that I walked on was paving my pain So I strayed and laid bricks for the opposite lane If you ain't rich you don't play about that gwop I view the city like a section of a swamp A lot of shit grows but nothing that you want A lot of shit gross and that's just being blunt Bitches acting foul and bitches wanna stunt But nothing ever change until you willing to confront Crooked cop, crooked cop, yeah, I see him too Erry' person has autonomy, we ain't got a clue I know it sound hazy when I twist that J That Richtown way, these dummies catch a 6 round fade And yeah I know them hunnies got them big round things But really don't give a fuck about that blasé blasé I play the resurrector like the Tribe cassette Cuz your third eye is just a fucking hole in your head I play the resurrector like the Tribe cassette Cuz your third eye is just a fucking hole in your head Gallon after gallon, brain's wet Seeing dead shit, morning never happened I'm still somewhere in my head space Walked for blocks, never figured out my destination 40 Glock pops, talk a cop into resignation I'm a mental patient, safety's not a strong suit Wrongdoer, safety off, one chambered, I'm dog puke Tell them shoot or just get off me, sociopathy probably Shit that bothers y'all probably never bothers me Told you not to follow me, newspaper's a shit show "Idiot with a slit throat stuffs coke in his pisshole Kills family with missiles" "Politician fucks bitches with issues" Everything I read is just a sick joke It never really registered as funny Rather figure out the time they fill the registers with money It never really registered as funny Rather figure out the time they fill the registers with money

I'm blowing on a backwood stuffed with psychiatrics Coughing with a hack like a playa out of practice 20 in my nose whatever get it done the fastest Eyes closed praying for apocalypse disasters No gods no masters no befores no afters Ugly mane will make you disappear just like a rapture Dodging destiny still the coffin like a bed to me The voices spoke incessantly My pride is what they fed to me Tried to read the messages but words was wrote illegibly Hennessy suppressing all my memories Mirror showed me glimpses of the enemies possessing me Toxic thought telepathy Living legacy Rocking weapons like accessories, dying for supremacy Really we're as significant as centipedes Crawl around the earth with no identities You're not special, don't pretend to be Your tendencies are so predictable it's difficult to remedy I could read a billion books still not know what pill I took I could have a million guns still walk with Achilles foot

HE USED TO LAUGH THE LOUDEST/NOW IT NEVER SHOWS HE TRIED TO BE THE TALLEST/BUT HE NEVER GROWS HE WATCHED HIS BROTHER DIE AND NEVER TOLD LOOKED AROUND AND KNEW HE HAD TO GO HE KNEW HIS FATHER HAD A BETTER DREAM BUT YOU CAN’T LEARN FROM WHAT YOU NEVER SEEN HE TRIED TO MINGLE WITH THESE JEALOUS THIEVES WATCH A HUMAN INTERACT WITH A MACHINE WATCH A HUMAN INTERACT WITH A MACHINE WATCH A HUMAN GET ABUSED BY A MACHINE WATCH A HUMAN GETTING USED BY A MACHINE NOW HE’S USELESS AND HE’S STUPID AND OBSCENE HE NEVER LEAVES HE NEVER LEAVES HE COMES AND HE GOES BUT HE NEVER LEAVES HE NEVER BREATHES HE NEVER BREATHES HE INHALES AND HE EXHALES BUT HE NEVER BREATHES

I fell apart and took my mind with me. i have been barely sustaining My pain just marinating. i fell apart and took my mind with me. just a Ghost cloaked in lies with a broken spine. i fell apart and took my mind With me. just an unrecognizable creature caught under an avalanche I fell apart and took my mind with me. my presence unnerving. im a Shadow always lurking. surrounded by death. even the towel rack Reminds me of the handles pallbearers grip tightly on the way out of Church. what they use to lift you up into the back of that hearse. i see A woman tighten grip on her purse. can’t be offended. she doesnt Know my intentions. she imagines the worse. around here. the Conditions severe. around here. you tightrope between detachment And fear. between the shattered fragments of existence that collapse And appear. never changes. just exacerbates depression deeper year And year. pain weaving in. pain weaving out. heartworms. sharpturns Sparsewords. scarsburns. i spent a long time dying. dont wake me up Yet. public executions. you’ll never see me upset. forcefed myself with Blow but now i settle for sedatives. no longer in the street. i belong in The crevices. positively negative. popular ive never been. hard to be a Person when you lack the mental requistes. emotionally deficit Consumed with all the wretchedness. not optimist or pessimist. my Politics are in exodus. spouting countless fountains out while drowning In the brine. my lifes the foulest algorithm science can't define. they Trap you in these systems that are phallic in design. because they fuck You in the mind. boy. they fuck you all the time. i fell apart and took My mind with me. being strung up at the ligaments with cultural Derivatives. i fell apart and took my mind with me. pronounced dead By a nemesis. a doubt without a benefit. i fell apart and took my mind with Me. just a cluster of atoms thrust deep in a chasm. i feel apart and now Your mind is with me. smoke in your eyes. the worlds a joke in disguise

Funny how the hours stretch and melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Everything is very temporary except decisions Just a navigation of this future I envisioned Humoring these people that too stupid to be living An arbitrary figment A movement that I never was Obvious when people seem different than the rest of us Or think less of us Only hoes I care about Pumping in the pipe fumes Car running, windows up Hoping I'll die soon Night time Eyes dilate bigger than bike tubes That's the reason that I stay up past the sunset "I liked your record! Where's the new one? Is it done yet?" Problems that I run from impossible to sublet You don’t want them either There's a fever in the subtext Boiled all the mercury I questioned what it's worth to me Hard liquor fire breath Slurred dialect In the mist like Bix Beiderbecke With overdose side effects Probably take a Prilosec and try to get some rest Cut the Midas fingers off and never sign a check "What about your future?" I-D-G-A-F World so cold I can see they breath Feeling like distance is a bitch to express Pissing upstream when your dick is erect Or when you're picking up steam and get a fist in the chest

I'm dead meat, I'm dead weight Dragging my body, holding my chin straight Probably never make it home again at this pace Waking the Devil up cause I've been staying at his place I'm dead meat, I'm dead weight Dragging my body, holding my chin straight Probably never make it home again at this pace Waking the Devil up cause I've been staying at his place I'm dead meat, I'm dead weight Dragging my body, holding my chin straight Probably never make it home again at this pace Waking the Devil up cause I've been staying at his place I'm dead meat, I'm dead weight Dragging my body, holding my chin straight Probably never make it home again at this pace Waking the Devil up cause I've been staying at his place

Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory Funny how the hours stretch, melt away my empathy Persistence of a memory

Back when I was 15 it seemed Ugly was untouchable What, they gonna throw me in the juvy for a month or two? Try me, I still ain't doin' nothing that you want me to Cuttin' and disrupting every classroom discussion Cussin' out my mom, puffin' blunts, gettin' dusted Overwhelmed with distrust in everything that I wasn't Things I know now (I guess I felt 'em back then): Power and control reflect fear among men The shit that they condemn you can see amongst them So I never ever ever want to be amongst them See a landscape littered with the blisters of potential People letting ghosts govern most of they mental The opposite adults your folks hope you'd resemble Doomed from the get like a goat in the temple Hard to not dwell among fear Knowing that the court treat crime so severe But I'm blowin' smoke out the window being so cavalier Sh-shakin' up the bottle when I open the beer Only obligation is to prosper in my operations Money motivations stay gaudy ostentatious Ain't even a challenge cuz the rap game basic I ain't heard talent since ["Incarcerated Scarfaces" Sample] Face it, it's fact not assumption Rap sound like shit like "ship" with the fronts in Hate getting lumped in, giant next to munchkins Catch me on the other side wildin' in the dungeon

You got sativa, ignite it World stiff as arthritis Dreaming about a crisis, all I fucking hear is sirens Climates turn to ice and your life turn to lifeless Sitting on my throne, I'm alone in the silence First hit the wax then you exhale the vapor Economies collapse and your stack just some paper Running round a maze while they laugh in your faces Rather burn down the city get me fucking 50 acres Slugs are just snails without shells The perception: evolution fucked them over and failed But they survive without protection in this jungle they dwell With giants throwing salt on all their people Can't consider them frail Spit vinegar in sour times Live under the power lines I'm just a bag of tumors full of alkaline All you do is carve them out and sew up any abscess Go about your business, keep your distance from the dragnets Backseat driving, passenger traveling Bumming a ride in my own brain Pointless meandering, using the vanity mirror to break up the cocaine Loitering, lost in a memory somewhere between a first kiss and a dope vein Nursing myself as an infant and in the same instant I'm shackled and cuffed and restrained How does this fucking pertain to anything other than coping with pain? All of the time I spent hoping to change Just an obsession with stoking the flames Haunted, something hovers over me I feels its breath The skeletal projection of accumulated stress

That could be our teenager, that could be our kid doing that. How could that possibly happen?

I got bad news Nothing really changes We just wander aimless Friends turn into strangers Chalk up my exchanges and discard the conversations As just carcasses for vultures in decomposition stages Endless entertainment for these culture commentators Stylish innovators that just vanish minutes later Say "his style is very painterly" But painting's not an art Art is tricking you with statements that the painter's painting art Without an explanation, it's just pretty little marks The market sold imagination just to keep you in the dark Like you bitches need a cosign to rock a fashion Like you can't see a bigger picture without a caption Until some critic go and write it out A long winded trite amount of words That you can slide around some websites and fight about Meaning's what your life's without Surf until you're wiping out Conservation activist You're living with your lights out

What's it all mean? What's he saying when he says it? What's the underlying topic? What's the motive in his message? But what if he was bored and there was no between the lines It was a way to pass the time, he liked the way it rhymed What if he was bored and there was no between the lines It was a way to pass the time, he liked the way it rhymed

What's it all mean? What's he saying when he says it? What's the underlying topic? What's the motive in his message?

You know what the rattling pieces are in this, don't you? Some little pieces of buffalo chicken

[lotsasmilesphoto]

I’m taking a slight break from the Bryce posts to bring you a local photostory.  As the weather continues to improve, we’re getting out more, and I’m taking more pictures of the beautiful Pacific Northwest.

The trip involves closed paved roads, easy trails, tough trails, tunnels, scrambling, and really nice scenery.  The distance is 5-6 miles.  Elevation gain is approximately 800 feet.  There will be ropes.

Equipment: – Layers of clothing you don’t mind getting dirty – Sturdy boots with good traction – Flashlight (yep) – Work gloves – Sunglasses for protection against branches – Spare clothes to change into afterwards – Definitely bring camera gear, but keep it light.  Tripods are recommended.

The Duane-venture

We have a friend.  His name is Duane.  He knows a lot of the local hikes, and he’s kind enough to share those with us.  He likes to chase waterfalls.

He’s also familiar with many “off-road” trails – ones without parking lots or paved paths or crowds.  Most don’t have bathrooms.  Many don’t have officially marked trailheads.  Some don’t even have well-established paths through the underbrush.

These are the hikes we’ve dubbed the “Duane-ventures.”  And these are oftentimes the highlights of my summers.

The hikes

These hikes are not for the faint of heart.  They’re steep, muddy, meandering, and difficult to get to.  We’re commonly asked to bring ropes, gloves, water shoes, headlamps, and a spare set of clothing.

Sometimes they’re merely exploratory, and we don’t really find much worth shooting.  The lighting is harsh, the day is hot, and we’re left only with wondering why we put ourselves through the ordeal for nothing.

Other times, the hard work is well worth the effort when we reach a completely secluded waterfall few ever see.  And as we sit on cool, mossy rocks, breathing deep of the ionized air as a gentle mist cools our foreheads, we’re filled with a profound sense of wonder at the magnificent world around us – the sheer power of Mother Nature.  It is here that we find our place in the world, our wild home.  And our aching muscles don’t stand a chance at reclaiming our attentions.

One such venture

We went on such a Duane-venture recently, and we brought an unsuspecting out-of-town guest with us.  We were told the hike would include ropes down a steep incline, some caves, and – of course – a waterfall.  We tried to prepare our guest as much as possible, but we barely knew what was in store, ourselves.

This is just how these things go.

The trek began innocuously enough.  We parked near a closed bridge and made our way across and up the service road it led to.  About a mile or two up hill, we left the road, and the real adventure began.

Over rocks and through brambles, we made our way down the elevation we had just gained.  We eased our way backwards down the steep hillside, using ropes and roots (“veggie-belays”) to ease our descent.  The work gloves we brought came in handy.

The old trail

Just as the river below came into view, we hit the old trail.  But we didn’t get far before discovering it had been buried in a fresh landslide.  But would that stop us?  I shouldn’t even need to answer that.

Our unsuspecting guest – who we thought might be overwhelmed by all of this – was in fact leading the charge, the brave soul.

Over logs, under logs, crawling across jagged rocks and across precarious ledges, we survived to find ourselves at a damp tunnel, with the river falling away into a depressed ravine.  Rivulets of water seeped out of the moss embracing the entrance of the tunnel, dripping onto our path and lending a musky smell to the earth within.  I’ve always tried to photograph these green dripping walls with little success.  They should really just be enjoyed in person.

Beyond the cave, we descended further, following the water to its bed.  There was a lot of bushwhacking through the thick underbrush, and we fell to a log at the bottom to eat a snack and regain some energy.

But it wouldn’t be a Duane-venture without a waterfall.

The waterfall

Now to the water’s edge, we followed it back upstream – back toward the tunnel overhead – locating the object of our journey.  Waterfalls in the Pacific Northwest are just beautiful, and this one was no exception.

Unfortunately, the sun was bright in the sky, and the shadows made photographing it difficult.  Furthermore, a sharp turn in the river meant a sharp edge against which mist flew freely.  The light actually caught it in a magical way, but with so much water in the air, it was a challenge to keep my lens clear.  Water droplets on the lens can have an interesting effect, but it took away from the scene in this case.

Still, I shot.  From this angle and that, I wanted to capture this mystical scene.  After all, this was the whole point of the hike, right?  We waited in vain for some cloud cover, and I didn’t stop shooting.  The clouds never did roll in, but I can’t complain about the results.

The ruins

Our waterfall craving sated, we backtracked downstream until we reached a meadow.  Interestingly, we came upon some old ruins of beams and metal pipes.  Much like the mining equipment found along Opal Creek, it’s intriguing to photograph nature reclaiming manmade metals.  I also have an insatiable fascination with ruins; decay can be incredibly beautiful.

Half of our group decided to take another break, including our guest.  The selfsame leader of this Duane-venture pressed onwards, and I wouldn’t be left behind.  We somehow located the hairline path, ducked under some low-lying branches, and came to an old bridge.

Besides the waterfall, this was probably the highlight.  What a cool structure!  Full of holes and draped in moss, it offered details, beauty, interest, and history.  I was tickled pink to be there.

I shot the moss; I shot the pipe that ran the bridge’s length.  I shot the river; I shot the river through the bridge.  I shot the beams, and I shot the the mossy underside.

I love old structures.

Turning around

We went only as far as the unofficial campsite beyond before turning around, though there was still plenty to explore.  Our adventure quotas were full for the day, and we were ready for a real meal.

After a splashing initiation of our guest back at the meadow, we scrambled our way back out of the canyon.  Up was easier than down, though it was still a workout.

Returning with only sore muscles and a memory card full of pictures, we called it a day.

Another epic adventure: achievement unlocked.

We have a friend. His name is Duane. He takes us on #adventures. This is one of them. I'm taking a slight break from the Bryce posts to bring you a local photostory.  As the weather continues to improve, we're getting out more, and I'm taking more pictures of the beautiful Pacific Northwest.

#adventure #Hiking #Oregon #Pacific Northwest #photo challenge #photographer #photography #photos #Photostory #waterfalls #Weekly Challenge

[lalobalives]

*An essay a week in 2017*

I haven’t been able to write for days. For two long weeks, I haven’t been able to write anything beyond a few sentences. Fragments.

Something is shifting in me. This something is heavy and dark and painful. This something is necessary..but shit, it’s so much when we’re in the shifting.

“…Transformation has some very harrowing phases. This full moon will exaggerate all that gets in the way of the balance we need to strike . This full moon illuminates the truth that balance isn’t static.

“Balance is a constant state of recalibration.” Chani Nicholas: Today’s Full Moon in Libra: Beauty Bound 

Yesterday, on my deck, after hours on my couch, I wrote this:

There is a hole where my words are. In the hole lives grief. Stealth and quiet with the fury of winds that can destroy. Annihilate. It is warm in NYC. I am on my deck smelling and tasting spring. Wondering when these seeds will blossom like those on the tree that peek into my window. Just yesterday they were tight in their buds. Today they are busting green. Aflame like my envy.

My hands cannot grip a pen. Those lines on the page stare. I grab my phone. I finally rise from where my body has made indentations in the cushions. They rise slowly, searching for space to be full.

Me…I miss my brother.

***

Today, I went to The Women Writers of Color group’s final installment of this year’s Breakaway Writing Workshop Series. The featured artist was Yesenia Montilla, who led a generative writing workshop inspired by women writers of color. She had us read poems by Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Aracelis Girmay, Valzhyna Mort, Mary Oliver, Audre Lorde, Laurie Ann Guerrero, and Natalie Diaz. After each poem, she gave us prompts and had us write for ten minutes. It was magical and hard and wrenching and necessary. So fuckin necessary.

***

Yesenia started by talking about duende, the term Lorca is said to have stolen from the gypsies of Spain. Duende is the idea of creating art that comes from darkness, from the ground, from the connection of the bottom of the feet to the earth. It is art created from the body.

Lorca visited Harlem in the turn of the 20th century. That’s where he first heard blues, which he said was the closest thing to duende he’d ever heard.

Yesenia had us hear Kathleen Battle singing “Summertime” at the Met. Then she had us hear the Janis Joplin cover of the same song. 

The idea here is that there are two places an artist pulls from, and Battle and Joplin were examples of both.

Battle pulls from the ethereal. From the heavens. “A voice from God,” Yesenia said. 

Joplin pulls from the soles of her feet. Her voice is gravelly and gritty. She is tapping into her ache.

My discovery: I pull from my feet. From the mother that is earth. I pull from my pain, like Joplin. I listened to her sing as I typed this.

***

I bought a new journal at an art supply store steps away from Pratt where the workshop was held. I bought new pens. Paid $10 for a mechanical pencil. 10 fuckin dollars for a pencil?

I was inviting duende. Calling duende. I know that now.

Truth is I thought I’d left all my pens at home. I chastised myself on the train. If you know me, you know that I only write with the blue Pilot Precise V5. I found it in the fall of my freshman year at Columbia, back in ’93. I’ve been writing with it since. I thought: How can I write without my pen? I sulked. Then I thought: “I’ll find one.” Sure enough I did. Later, I found that I had brought a pen. It was tucked into The Body Keeps the Score, which I’ve been reading slowly and quietly, digesting the mirror it holds up, annotating it heavily.

***

Inspiration: “Song” by Brigit Pegeen Kelly

Prompt: Start writing using the few words of the poem: “Listen: there was…”

Listen: there was a girl lost in the woods lost in the spring the earth just beginning to burst with life… the wet of it a pungent, mossy smell in the girl’s nostrils… she searched for the hawk whose cry she heard loud through the canopy.. She thought she felt the whisper of a wing on her cheek, but when she turned, nothing was there… just trees and brambles and bushes not yet fully green but trying for life… reaching for it…

She walked on, this girl who was lost in the woods… she followed trails that had been made by the feet of souls long gone… they too lost… they too, searching…

She, this lost girl, stayed off the paved paths… she didn’t/doesn’t trust paths laid down by men… she needed to feel the dirty under her feet, she needed to be cut by the thorns that tore at her bare legs…

Listen: this girl who is lost, felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around quickly, “Who’s there?” she yelled. The wind shook the trees. A blossom, only days old and still trying for life, fell at her feet. She picked it up, sniffed its sweetness and walked on…

She came to a river. There, she stripped down to her underwear, and walked into the water. She felt something pull her head back, a soft tugging. “This is a baptism,” she thought, as the water rushed into her ears. She opened her eyes and saw her, blurry, hair dancing in the current. “Hija,” she mouthed, bubbles floating out of her mouth. The girl reached, cried out, “Mamá.” She swallowed water, gagged as she felt a push from the soles of her feet, pushing her body up so she could breathe…

When she came to, she was on the shore. Her dress back on her body. A garland of flowers on her head.

***

Inspiration: “Kingdom Animalia” by Aracelis Girmay

Prompt: How do we imagine loss? How do we process death? Start with a line from the poem: “One day, not today, not now, we will be gone from this earth…”

In the red woods where they took me that first day, when my brother died, I looked up at the trees, their long, hairy trunks… I learned that these trees entangle their roots with one another to keep themselves upright… These giants can’t be giant without other giants…

I think of my brother. I think of the last words he said to me: “You have to go write our stories, sis.”

I think of my second mom Millie, who when I told her on her death bed, “Millie, I think I wanna write a book,” she propped herself up on that arm that was perpetually swollen after the mastectomy, and said: “Pero negra, you’ve always been a writer.”

In some forests, trees keep stumps alive by feeding them sugar through their roots.

One day, I will be gone. I know this… I don’t want to. I think: “What will I leave my daughter?”

What did my brother leave me? Permission.

What did my Millie leave me? Validation.

What will I leave my nena? Stories. Love. The knowledge that I loved her like my mother couldn’t, wouldn’t love me…

I leave her knowing that she will hurt, she will ache, and with that, she can make sancocho that will/ can feed. She must gather her own viandas, herbs and meats to make her own sancocho. Mamá will leave her the broth.

***

Inspiration: “Belarusian I” by Valzhyna Mort

Prompts: This love loved to visit us… -or- I was born with… (An Argentinian poet wrote “I was born with red lipstick on…”)

I was born with sugar on my lips. Crystallized and syrupy, I was born with honey on my lips. But mommy was no bee. Mom was salt and glacier. Mom was too much vinagre in sofrito. Mommy was a love song on Super KQ — one of those corta venas ballads that she scream sang, her head thrown back, the King Pine scent snaking up her legs, underneath her bata… to where I came into the world… This girl who was born with honey on her lips.

But didn’t I tell you Mommy was no bee? She’d swat them away with her heavy, little hands. She’d go to their hives and snatch them out, her skin impervious to their sting. She pulled their wings off and cackled as they cried… scurrying over the earth they were made to fly over.

I am the girl born with honey on her lips to a mother who killed bees… I have spent my life trying to lick that honey off. To banish it from me. An exorcism… But bee killers smell honey from far away. Their sense of smell keen Iike a dog’s. They smell honey and think — kill, think — destroy.

These days I am building a hive for this honey on my lips that I was born with. I watch over it, tending and coddling. This hive. These lips…

***

Inspiration: “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

Prompt: Think about forgiveness and accepting forgiveness. Who have you not forgiven? Imagine the day you forgive that someone. -or- A blue door appears in the room. You go through it…

(I didn’t want to think about forgiveness. I wanted to stay mad…so, of course, she who I have not forgiven showed up, despite my resistance.)

Blue door beckons and says: “Come.” The words like a growl, teeth clenched and grinding. It calls to me. I should be scared but I’m not. I was born with sugar on my lips, pero that was a front. Honey to hide the growl in my throat, the howl like the sirens that coaxed so many men to their deaths.

Beyond the door is a field, there are flowers of all variety and color, they sway in the soft wind. They are like whispers beneath my bare feet. I’m not surprised when I feel the roots start to tangle around my ankles. They pull at me. They snare. I look down and I see her– the weaver. She who I want to but can’t forgive. I grit my teeth, the siren crawls out of my throat. I want to whirlpool her.

I wonder how that happens — how you can go from loving someone and protecting them to wanting to destroy them. To curling your lips when you speak their name, and so you don’t. That poison doesn’t mix with your honey.

You think of the girl you were who invited betrayal and disloyalty because you didn’t love yourself. Couldn’t. This was before you grew to own that honey. And even now, some days, when the roots wrap around your ankles and pull, the thorns dig in and you begin to bleed, heavy drops beading into the earth. You let your skin be sacrifice. You drip honey into the open wounds. You call your siren back into the flower of your throat.

You look back at the blue door and smile. “Remember,” she whispers back at you. “Remember.”

***

Inspiration: “From the House of Yemanjá” by Audre Lorde

Prompt: Think of mother figures. Think of the gods and goddesses we worship. Write an open letter to him or her.

Diosa,

Mi madre is my alter and my abyss… Why did you give me this mother who could never love me? Was there no other way to teach me these lessons I need to learn in this lifetime? Could the lesson not be gentler?

Don’t answer that. I know.

I am one who learns through trials. I have to drag my body across fire stores, feel their scarring, ripping at my organs. This is the way for us girls born with honey on our lips. Pero, mamá, madre eres, why could you not gift me a mother who could love?

My mother is TNT. She is dynamite. She detonates and erupts. She destroys everything… but me. Me — she couldn’t. Me — I didn’t let her.

My mother whose body knows the claws of rape, who knows the fangs of hunger. My mother who has wished for death since she was 15 — my mother…

I sit like her One knee propped under my chin The other leg tucked underneath. I hum like her, absentmindedly, while I cook and clean and stare off, into nothing. Here, but not. I didn’t know this until I was 40, after having left her house at 13…

I carry my mother under my fingernails  like dirt… This woman who is TNT.

***

Yesenia gave us time to share one piece we’d produced that day. One writer, a beautiful young woman with a hoop in her nose and tattoos on her arms, prefaced her piece with: “This poem is about my mother. All my poems are about my mother.”

And I said “Yasss.” And I felt that shame and anger in my body move and subside…that exhaustion with the altar and abyss that is my mother.

Why the fuck do I always have to write about my mother?

***

I listened to Janis Joplin as I typed this. In the gravel that is her voice, I saw myself, this woman who pulls from her ache in her joints, from the earth, from the soles of her feet…

Today, duende pulled at the siren in my throat. Today, duende grabbed and yanked at my pen. Today I surrendered to duende, and I’m so glad that I did.

Thank you Yesenia Montilla. You be magic, sis. Word.

Relentless Files — Week 66 (#52essays2017 Week 13) *An essay a week in 2017* I haven’t been able to write for days. For two long weeks, I haven’t been able to write anything beyond a few sentences.

#duende #writing #writing workshop #Yesenia Montilla