#and we use what we pull up to build 'dead hedges' along the paths/to stop people and dogs trampling the new sprouts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemonjoonah · 4 years

Text

Blood Bounty - Part 3 (M) - Finale

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, ft. Seokjin x Namjoon Word Count: 15.5K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings (CONTAINS SPOILERS): Dub-con (consent is freely given but the context is dubious), non-con vampire feeding, non-con kiss, unprotected sex, light bondage, oral sex (f. rec.), cum eating, pain during intercourse (don’t be like the OC here in the beginning and try to conceal it, you should tell your partner if something hurts), somewhat antiquated thoughts on virginity, virgin reader (it’s a flashback and there’s a small amount of blood...), death of major and minor characters, drugging (with vampire blood), murder, violence, blood, gore, sexism, blood slavery, kidnapping, captivity, forced marriage, manipulation, gaslighting, once again it’s some pretty dark shit, consider yourself warned.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me through this mini-series. I truly hope you enjoy the end of this tale (and the hints to another separate series in the works 😉).

...

Your new stead is surprisingly responsive to your commands, possibly desiring to get as far away from the predators as you. Taking you down the road to the kingdom at a startling pace, causing several branches to whip painfully in your direction. When a stinging blow inevitably lands on your brow, enough to draw a spot of blood, you pull back on the speed of your mount. You are not so far now that you worry about making it back before nightfall.

The route home becomes more populated the closer you get. For the first time in years you are among people like you again. Those who see you as just another person passing by, not a temping entree, nor a traveller to rob. Some even nod to you as they cross your path, you respond in kind, but keep your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak.

Your first few paces inside the town comes as quite a shock. The notable gathering spots are even more vacant than they were during your nighttime strolls. With the stalls of the market bare, and so many businesses closed, the only well occupied space appears to be the mounted boards on the end of every other street. You stop at one littered with official orders for curfews, new regulations, and missing souls. The most notable of all to you is the obituary detailing your brothers passing.

You swallow back your grief, and proceed to examine the document claiming that he had died of a devastating injury and no more. It seems your parents will still not admit to any weakness that might carry in the family's blood. But with each stamped flyer, there’s been an addition made, one that was obviously not approved by the crown.

‘The crown prince is dead, and our princess lost. If we let them rule any longer we will be next!’

You are stunned by the note, fearing how bad the circumstances must have become in your absence. Backing away from the board you prod your stead onward and in the direction of the public stables. Hoping to find the mount it’s own new home, while you return to yours.

“Three pence for a night,” The master grunts, looking up from his work as you dismount near the entrance to the paddock.

“I have no coin, but-”

“No coin, no stall. Don’t waste my time and move along.” He interrupts before returning to shovelling the pungent manure.

You wrinkle your nose at the odour and persist in your efforts. “I was going to offer for you to take ownership of him instead. I have no use for him now.”

“Keep him? Tell me, how did you come to own this stead? Is it truly yours? ” He leers down, placing you beneath his scrutinous glare. “People don’t just give up a worthy horse. How can I know that there is not someone out there who will come looking for it and will blame me for their loss?”

“I can assure you the last owner will not come to retrieve him. Now do you want the horse or should I go find another who is willing to take my offer? Maybe that nice family there.” You point to a couple making their way into a nearby building.

Your bluff calls his, leading the man to grimace and huff, “Fine. I will take it, now be gone with you.”

With the horse now tended to, you start to walk away, passing the entrance to the tavern, the door the mentioned pair just walked into. It’s hard not to take note of its current occupancy, for it is packed with people, all shouting and trying to have their say. With the entryway cracked open an inch you are able to catch several snippets of the debate.

“We can’t wait any longer. They are changing the narrative as we speak! Now stating they hold out hope for the princess’s return.”

“And what if she does?” A familiar man stands in argument. “Would you have us send the kingdom into turmoil when hope still exists? I would not be as I stand before you today without the surgeon she sent to us. A blacksmith cannot work without a hand. My wife and I would have been out on the street before long.”

“Can you not see what they are doing for what it is?” The first speaks again to counter his point. “It’s a convenient ploy! With an heir lost, only the promise of another, with more favour than them will quell our anger. If she was still alive they would have found her by now.” He pauses to pat the smith on the shoulder. “I mourn her loss too my good friend, but we can’t wait for a small sliver of hope when we continue to live the way we do. Taxed within an inch of our livelihoods, while the list of missing continues to grow and those who are in charge hide behind their walls, keeping secrets that affect us all. If she returns we can offer her a good standing among us. But their rule must end.”

You edge closer and closer to the door trying to get a better view of the meeting in progress, when a throat clears and grunts, “Run along lad...” Nearly jumping from the fright you turn around to find the stable master having come up from behind. Bowing your head you comply, thankful that he had not realized the gravity of what you overheard.

What had truly happened in the time you were gone? This isn’t just contempt but a full blown revolution building. Your people think you dead, and understandably so, but if they see that you are alive and well, maybe a better path can be found than one that will surely end in blood.

When considering your options you know there will be no way in through the front gates, your parents have always kept them heavily guarded, and no one will believe you are the child of the king and queen dressed as you are now. Rather than stir up trouble, you proceed to your fastest route in, the trap door hidden on the perimeter.

In your absence it appears to have remained unused. The roots of the hedge have grown over, needing to be tugged out of place until the hinges and wood are freed from their grasp. You drop down into the passage, closing the hatch behind. With no light, nor lantern you are left to navigate the abandoned hall in the dark. The palm of your hand brushes against the damp stone wall, crossing cobwebs and critters on it’s trek to lead you to the portrait door. You try your best not to think of the time spent in this place, and the company you are now left without, but the sound of your steps resonates around you. Tricking your ear into thinking it a whisper of the past, as if his promises still remain locked away down here, echoing off the bedrock for you to claim.

You are grateful when you finally reach the castle's interior, although for the time of day even the palace appears deserted and cold, you slip about the halls feeling like a stranger in your own home. Hoping to return to your old bedroom before you find anyone else, so you can at least reclaim another part of what you once were. But when you find the door and step inside someone is already there, crying at the foot of your bed. It’s too late to back away for they look up, just as startled as you. It’s your former lady’s maid who steps back from shock at your appearance, followed by a baffled stare when she catches a glimpse of your face.

“My word...” She gasps as tears continue to roll down her cheeks, “I never thought I’d see you again. He brought you back, I can’t believe he brought you back.” She runs forward wrapping her arms around you, a blubbering speech follows. “I’m so sorry, your b-brother... he’s gone. After everything that happened, everything you did, he’s still gone. An-and the threats to the crown, ever since his death everyone has been in an uproar. I haven’t dared to leave the grounds out of fear that someone will know I work here.” “It’ll be okay. We will figure this out.” You attempt to calm the maid you can only remember fragments of. She must have thought you had run off with Yoongi that night, but now is not the time to correct her with actual horrors you endured.

“Having you back now will surely pull the king and queen from their stupor. They have been pleading and praying for your return.” She looks down at your clothes with apprehension. “Court is in session right now. They are locked away until a matter is settled, but we can ready you to meet with them once they are finished.” You nod prompting her to seek out your wardrobe. “I’ve been keeping them well looked after in case of your return.” She pulls out a dark dress, a sign of mourning for your brother. “I believe this will still fit. You don’t look to have changed much.”

As she laces you in you can feel the garment tug on your ribs and chest. Maybe a little too small, but it will have to do for the time being. Once finished she escorts you to the dining room, while you continue to marvel at the empty halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Much has changed... your parents' fears have grown in the time you’ve been gone. They feel they can trust far fewer than they have before, and so, many of the staff were let go. If anyone ever even asked about you they too were sent away.” She stops at the set of double doors and urges you inside. “If you remain here and I will go and have the King and Queen informed as soon as the proceedings let out.”

“Wait, don’t leave...” You were going to ask her more questions to address the gaps in your past, hoping you might stir more than a few moments you have of her and your life here, but she has already closed the door and departed.

You are left in the dining hall, waiting only with the excessive spread of your parents forthcoming dinner. The feel of the room compared to the passage below is unfamiliar, unlike the dark narrow tunnel this place is void of memory and the feelings that come with it. You pray that such a disconnect will not last long.

Mounted up on the back wall you find your family’s portrait. Staring at it at the faces and details, you remain so until slivers of the painting's creation surfaces in your mind. You hated that gown, for its rigid seams and heavy fabric took quite a toll as you stood there for hours behind your brother. He was seated due to his condition but you were told to stand and remain still, while the prince takes the forefront of the picture.

It had been made not long before you disappeared from the kingdom. You can recall dwelling on how little blood you had left, while the painter took your likeness. Your parents look so happy in the portrait, thinking their son to be healing and ready to take on the throne, while you spent the whole time daydreaming of Yoongi’s return.

Your anger spikes as you think of him now, it is beyond doubt that he has noticed your absence. You will have to warn your parents and their guard of his possible travel to the kingdom to claim you for his clan. The secret passage will have to be sealed, taking with it your hopes to ever leave again.

Grabbing one of the many decanters and with a shaking hand pour yourself a goblet of wine. Seeking to soothe your trepidation of meeting your parents, you sip on the bitter drink while picking at the food of the central spread.

The hours pass while you take your fill, until finally, when the sky has long been dark your mother hurries first. Looking exactly the same as she once did in your memories, frantic and worried. “Thank heavens you are back. You are safe, we are safe.” She looks down at you, her face unchanged with time, and the skin of the arms which clutch you... you stare at them for a moment, perfect and untouched, but you remember... you recall deep gashes and blood, so much blood pouring down your fingers. Disturbed by the thought you shake yourself from your horrific vision and smile back at her. Expecting her to launch into a flurry of questions but to your surprise, both her and your father pose no queries.

“We knew he would find you again,” your mother cries with happiness. “We knew he would bring you back. The people, they will be so thrilled to hear of your return. The threats, the violence it will all be over soon.”

“You knew him? You asked him to find me?” The facts of her statement confuse you greatly, had they been privy to information your maid had not? For if she thought you were with him... what did your parents believe?

“My dear, are you well? Of course we did.” Your gaze once again focuses on the flesh of her forearms, as if entranced to the spot, while she brushes at your unkempt hair. Upon following your sight she pulls at the shawl of her dress in an awkward fashion, covering the length of her exposed skin. “Think not of what happened at our parting. All is well.” A painted grin plasters your mother's face. “We made all the changes necessary, you my darling, are to be next in line, not your children, but you. Your father had to work so hard to gain the approval of his lords, they thought it pointless to change the law in your absence, but here you are! Once your consort holds up the rest of his bargain your father will sign and you will be heir to the throne.”

This is all too much, you trying to keep hold of all the information while more is poured on to you. Unable to focus on anything other than their knowledge of Yoongi. Did they really meet him and make the request of him to bring you home? But to what bargain are they referring? “He did but I fear his clan has plans to remove me once again. We have to guard the old passage too, it’s already been nightfall for some time and I fear he won’t be far behind.”

“My poor girl... are you sure you are not ill?” Your mother’s head tilts in confusion. “He is already here, he has been for some time... you fled from his estate when he was just about to send for your return.”

You step away from your parents as fear tightens and grips your chest. “No, you can not mean. Not him, please not him-”

But your greatest nightmare returns to join you, with Taehyung waltzing through the double doors as if your parents castle is his own. “Princess, so good of you to join us. You shouldn’t have run off like that, you had your parents worried.” He approaches, inciting you to back into a wall in an attempt to keep your distance. Your parents don’t react with shock or fear at his sudden advancement on you, surely it is just a dream or vision then? One you are bound to wake up from soon. “But I knew you couldn’t run from me... only towards. Isn’t that right my sweet princess?” Though when his breath comes to find your ear you know him to be real. “I would have gone to find you myself, and take you back sooner, but your parents have been a rather large thorn in my side. Refusing to let me go until I-”

“And what of the other part of our bargain?” Your father calls from behind Taehyung, who grimaces and rolls his eyes at the interruption.

“They will be here shortly. My kin are acting on my behalf tonight, for I could wait no longer when I heard news of her arrival.”

“You have short changed us before,” the king admonishes. “I will not sign until I am certain the problem is dealt with.”

Taehyung turns from you entirely, the accusation leading him to snap back in anger. “That was your own doing, not mine, human. I gave you what you asked and you chose to squander it.”

With Taehyung now focused on your father, you are ready to run, to seek anything you might use against him, but your mother catches you before you can take two steps.

Shouting and jeering can be heard from just outside of the room, along with the heavy footfalls of several men, far too loud for what should be expected of the staff and guard. The procession outside bursts into the dinning hall. Your father’s lip curls ever so slightly as several men are pushed to their knees in front of him, muzzled and chained by the vampiric clan that restrains them.

Taehyung introduces them with a proud and theatrical air, as he takes a seat at the head of the table. “As you requested my liege, the leaders of the now failed rebellion.”

You recognize many of them from the tavern earlier, even the blacksmith whose hand Yoongi saved long ago. Your father after taking stock, waves them away, ordering them to be held out of his sight, until a public execution can be arranged.

You open your mouth to argue and condemn such brutal tactics when you are pushed down in the chair beside the monstrous vampire by your own mother. “You will sit still, be quiet, and do your duty for the family.” Despite her insistence your nails claw at her hold trying to free yourself from his side. As blood breaches her skin, so too does the memory of your first meeting with the vampire lord.

...

-Five years ago-

You look through the streets for hours hoping to catch even a glimpse or a whisper of Yoongi. Asking several people who pass you by, but no one knows of his whereabouts, nor has seen the distinguished surgeon in months.

With the sun ready to rise, you retire from town for the night. Stripping from the simple dress, you toss it to the side and return to bed for the hour you have left to sleep. When forced awake by duty, your day ultimately passes with you a hollow shell. Barely able to keep your eyes open from lack of rest, with a gnawing disappointment taking root in your stomach, distracting you from much else. You tell your maid of your plans to venture out again to find him, but she looks concerned by the prospect.

“You can hardly stand! What if, as a result of your current state, you cannot find him tonight? Your brother needs this and if you should fail... maybe we should tell the king and queen and let them put out a search for him?”

“No, I must do this on my own. He would not want them to be aware of his kind.” You go to take the plain gown but your maid grabs it first.

“I understand that you feel you must go. But please take an hour or two to sleep before you journey out. You look dead on your feet.” She does not relent, prodding and scolding until you are between the covers of your bed. “I will wake you once the castle is quiet enough for you to leave without being spotted.”

Nodding in agreement you submit to the coma of slumber rather quickly while she sits in the seat across from your bed. You wake hours later not by the hand of your staff, but from the hammering of rain pelting at your window.

You rise and call out, confused as to why she did not wake you earlier, but no answer responds. Lighting the candle on your bedside you find the chair empty of both her and the dress. You jump from your bed, in only your dressing gown and slippers reach for the door. When she bursts through it first, wearing the dress you intended to wear on the street.

“Where were you? Why didn’t you-”

“Princess, I found him!” Your lady’s maid exclaims happily, despite being absolutely drenched from the weather outside. “I went in your place so you could have more time to rest, and I found your friend, or I should say he found me.”

“You found him?” You breathe a sigh of relief, your brother is now safe and your plans with Yoongi can come to fruition. “Where is he now?”

“He’s with the king and queen.”

“My parents?”

“He wished to see them, mentioned something about desiring their permission. He’s already healed your brother, your mother and father couldn’t believe it.” She grabs hold of your hand and pulls you from the room, not caring that you don only your bed attire. “Come! They are waiting for you.”

Still half asleep and only semi-coherent you allow yourself to be ushered along to your father’s den. There he sits behind a desk quill pen in hand, your mother hanging over his shoulder, and settled across from them both is... someone who is not your vampire, someone who is not Yoongi.

The stranger smiles, showing off his sharp teeth as he gets up from his seat to deliver a sweeping bow. “Lord Kim Taehyung, at your service princess.”

You take a step back upon hearing the name that Yoongi warned you of so many times. “W-why are you here?” With concern immediately drifting to your lost vampire, for if his enemy has found you what could have befallen him.

Your mother scolds your response, “This man has offered his assistance, to aid in your brother's care, you will show him your respect.”

“It’s no matter,” Taehyung shakes his head at your mother. “Though I must ask, why do you look so scared princess? Your maid was looking for one of my kind, were you not seeking my help?”

“Is this true?” Your mother interjects, glaring at you. “You knew of people like him, those who could help your brother and you told us nothing?”

“I was looking for another,” you attempt to explain. “One who had been helping us in the past without your knowledge, he forbade me from revealing his kind to you.”

“What did this other tell you of me?” The lord smiles. “I should like to set my story straight, because you, princess, looked ready to flee the moment you heard my name.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask again. If he refuses to answer your question why should you obey his own. “I thought your kind did not wish to reveal their existence to humans.”

“When the situation is as important as this, exceptions can be made.” The vampire justifies, a crooked grin refusing to leave his mouth. “I am only here to offer my services to your family.”

“We already have the services of another. He was doing so for years before you came here, he will help my brother should he need it in the future.”

“Then where is he now?” Taehyung asks the dreaded question which stabs at your heart.

“He will be back...” You retort, hoping it to be the honest truth. “We do not require your help.”

Your father silences you with the stern call of your name and the hammer of his fist on his desk, before he too jumps into the argument. “I will overlook the concealment of your past acquaintances, along with the fact that you gave your brother treatment without our knowledge and consent. But I will not have you demean this man who just saved his life.”

“He is not a man!” You shout back at your king and father. “He is a monster. I have been told of his misdeeds, of his ethics. We can not trust him-”

“We have no choice! Without an heir the whole kingdom will become a place of ruin, an unclear line of descent will lead to chaos.”

“Then we wait. We wait for the one I can trust. He will be back soon, I know it.” Certain at least in this instance you know better than your parents, you plead for them both to listen.

“This is not a discussion.” Your father clarifies while the vampire takes out a bag, pulling from it two large corked bottles filled with a fluid far thicker than wine. “We called you here merely to inform you that we have accepted his services.”

“This should be enough to keep him healthy for a long span of human life. It will heal most ailments, and injuries, and when enough is consumed will even slow the course of ageing.” You watch as the vampire's attention falls on your mother during his explanation, his lip curls even further when her eyes brighten in interest over the properties of the cure.

You go to her, grabbing her arms so that she will focus on you alone, trying to convince her of the vampire's true nature. “This is a trick it must be. You can’t accept this, he will bring only ruin.”

“All that remains is the payment.” The Lord Taehyung adds, ignoring your plight.

Your gaze snaps back to him, when you hear of his charge. “What payment? What did you ask of them?”

“The cost for such a bounty of blood requires an equal sacrifice on your family's part.” The vampire beams with delight. “The blood needed for his life, in exchange for the blood of yours.”

Your stomach drops when you see your father dip his head in confirmation. They already knew the cost and still they bartered you off without much thought. Your hands continue to grip your mother’s arm. “Please... please listen to me. It doesn’t have to be like this. There’s another way, there has to be.”

“There is no other way.” She responds, her tone cold enough to match her words. “It is time you stop living in your dreams dear girl, those books you cling to, those maps you draw, they will bring us nothing in the end. You have scorned numerous suitors in the past few months alone, leaving your father and I at wits’ end trying to secure a noble future for you. If you will not have that duty, you will take this. Better to have your hands stained with blood than ink if it will at least save our prince.”

As she starts to push you towards your new fate, your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her arm, desperate to try and keep hold of your past life. Taehyung takes you by the waist and pulls you towards him leaving long lacerations down your mother’s skin as you continue to sob and beg for her to stop this. The thumb of your captor crosses your lips, bringing with it a metallic taste to your tongue. There’s a hushed order whispered in your ear to be quiet and complacent, and you do just that. Relaxing into Taehyung's arms while he carries you out and into a waiting carriage in the dark and drenched courtyard.

Once out from the castle walls his slick smile falls. He may have taken your ability to speak, but not your tears will to flow. Pulling out a kerchief, he cleans your hands of your mother's blood. After removing every spot he lifts the fabric to his nose, and winces at the smell. “It is still amazing to me that one like yourself could be born of such soiled stock.” He then tosses the cloth out the window of the carriage. “That’s better.” His hand lifts up to the stream that continues down your cheeks. “Do not weep my princess. They may not see the same value in you that I do, but I promise we will prove it to them soon.”

Angered by his declaration, you look away to the door, not wanting to give Yoongi’s adversary the satisfaction of your gaze. You knew you always weighed less in your parents mind. For you were second in their hearts even before your brother was conceived, second to the mere hope of a son. Swaying their love even a fraction in your favour was and is an impossible feat, a battle you could never win.

“I know you wished to leave them, my kin intercepted a letter addressed to a royal who was willing to abscond with a vampire.” You look back at him with eager eyes. A letter? Yoongi must have sent word and this lord stopped it from reaching you. “I see that I have your attention now do I?” Taehyung scoffs and sits back in the carriage clearly enjoying your regard. “I knew of a woman much like you before I became what I am. I once travelled the land with a troupe. Entertaining both the nobles and the masses, while dressed in simple white garments, with only a tapestry as a backdrop, and the floor as our stage. It was invigorating, the life that came from holding the eye of the courts, and one lady... one princess in particular.”

Taehyung pauses to look back at your castle before continuing his tale. You can do nothing but sit there and listen, his blood and previous demands continuing to hold you in his custody.

“She too was not content with the possible suitors before her, they could not offer her the multitude of lives she wished to live, but through narratives and plays I fulfilled that need. We could become whatever she or I wished ourselves to be. I was sure to see her as often as I could, but when her parents learned of our tryst, my group was banished, and she, to the bed of a neighbouring prince.” The vampire sighs as the story takes a darker turn. “I promised I would return to her when I could offer her a better home, but my cast and I, we ran afoul of a beast one night. When another caught the scent of our tragedy and found only me hanging by a thread, he took pity and made me one of them. I was so fearful to return to her at first, it took me several years to work up the courage and restraint before I could send her a letter begging to call on her again.”

Now engrossed in the tale and the comparison of his story to yours. You stop an attempt to fight his will, too curious of the outcome.

“She agreed to meet, stealing away from the castle at night to find me at a nearby inn. It was my intent to flee with her that evening, to give her not only all the lives she had desired, but an endless supply of existence. What I did not expect was for her to deny my proposal. In the time I had gone she bore the prince a child, and no longer desired to part with her new role. I was not willing to accept her answer... lost in the heat of my anger and hunger for her, I took the princess with me. Draining her of life, I added her blood to mine.”

You stiffen in your seat wondering if this too will be your end, recalling a cautionary tale your mother used to tell you. The story of a noble lady, who was bled dry by the parasitic and sinful world outside. You thought back then it was her way to scare you into not leaving the protection of the castle walls, never did you consider it to be real, nor that she would be the one to give you to the monster of the fable.

“The smell and taste, I have not had anything quite like her since... until this night, when I caught wind of your own scent upon your maid's dress. I was already on my way to see you, but she made it so much easier, for she spoke on my behalf to gain my entrance. Such a sweet girl, and so very much in love with your brother isn’t she? A shame that she will likely feel the same pain as I once did, a love that crosses classes only to end in death.”

Seething with rage at his confession, you wish to fight back and escape from his carriage but your own body will still not comply. You knew it, you knew he never intended to save your brother, he only wanted a bargain that would play in his favour. There is still a catch that remains unseen by you and your family, one that will result in the prince’s demise.

“They’ve hitched their kingdom to a dying horse, keeping it alive by selling off their only hope.” His finger follows the path of a tear down your jaw and falling to your collar. “I can promise you I will have far more roles and lives for you to play, more than you ever would have had with them. And you, you who have so much to give in return.” He opens his mouth, his breathing heavy as he leans towards your throat. “It's been so long since I’ve had someone of your calibre... I plan to savour you for far longer than the last.” Pushing you down, until you lie on the seat of the carriage, his teeth latch on, piercing the skin of your neck.

...

You drop your mother’s arms, leaning back upon remembering the part she had to play in giving you away. “You forced me into his custody? You are the reason I was made to endure his torture.”

“We had no choice. Your brother, he was dying.”

“And where is he now?” You shout back at them, all decorum vanished from the room. “You were given the cure, so why is my brother still dead?”

With that Taehyung smiles bringing light to the answer. “It would seem the temptation was too great for their own vanity. Even your lovely parting gift to her, erased by my remedy.”

The marks that should be on your mother's arms from your own assault, the ageing that should have become apparent since your last moment with them, none of it is there. All wiped away by the blood that would have given your brother a longer span of life. “You-you used it didn’t you... I should have known. It’s always been about appearances with you. Playing the strong hand to keep both me and your people in line. And when you ran out... you asked for more didn’t you?”

“He said he would keep our prince alive!” Your mother replies shaking from the accusation, but not denying it.

“I told you that what I gave you would be enough. It is not my fault that you chose to waste it.” Taehyung counters with a wicked grin, pleased by their faults and presumptions. “They let your brother die, not I.”

“Then why return now? Why come if you already received what you wanted out of the deal?” You question fearing his answer, for what more could he want.

“I promised I would one day make them see the value in you.” Taehyung explains. “And there is always another bargain to be made.”

“With your brother dead and you gone we needed an heir.” Your father sets out his quill and ink on the table along with a rolled document he’s been clinging to. “It is as we feared what might happen. Our rivals at court have been stoking the fires of our people, without any official descendant they grow discontent and worried about the security of the country's future, we need you back.”

“Though you still belong to me as per the first agreement,” Taehyung interjects. “So you will return, the law will be changed, and you will become the next in line instead of any child you might have produced. With me by your side, living as husband and wife, the future rulers of this kingdom.

“I won’t allow this.” You shake your head aghast by the thought of such a deal. “First you give him me, and now your people?”

“Those people are currently rallied against us, they would see the end of us if they could. You witnessed the proof.” The king gestures to the floor where the captured were held just a moment ago. “We need assistance in controlling them.”

“Because you’ve given them nothing to stand behind! Instead your first instinct is to feed them to a beast. Why do you still trust this monster? He will double cross you, my brother, your son is already dead, don’t let him take any more!”

There’s a knock on the door with the return of Taehyung’s vampire kin having stowed away the prisoners. He bids them to enter, while your father looks on somewhat ruffled by the impermanence of the lord’s comfort in his own home. “My part of the deal has already been given, they cannot back out now. Unless they would like those rebels to return to their people?”

The king shakes his head. Dipping the feathered pen he signs the parchment, and hands it off to the vampire lord.

“Thank you for your cooperation my liege...” Taehyung bows his head as he takes the paper, passing it off to one of his clan, before returning his unwanted attention to you again. “Your parents will live out the remainder of their lives as king and queen. As long as I can assure that their people will not revolt while they live. The throne will pass to us, and your people to mine.” He tilts up your chin, his thumb crossing over the small scratch on your forehead from your travels. Dipping his finger in your goblet of wine he touches the cut again. The familiar itch of healing skin crosses the surface of your brow. Your stomach turns with the knowledge of what you unintentionally consumed. “It’s a shame for them though...They won’t live long enough to see the benefits of my work here.” With the brush of his hand he gives the order to his clan, “Kill them.”

Your parents both stand in alarm, attempting to reason with the monster before you. “No, you swore-”

“That I would keep you safe from your people, not that you are protected from myself or my kind.” He addresses his fellow vampires once again, “If you insist on feeding on them do not do it here. I find their smell distasteful and I would rather not lose my appetite.”

His progenies take hold of your parents, dragging them away. They scream for their guards, but when no one comes to their rescue they call for you next. Pleading with you so that you might speak up on their behalf, with all dignity lost while they come to face their own mortality. You remain silent, any words frozen inside out of fear and hate. Your last duty to them would be what they always asked of you, to be quiet and still, until their screaming comes to an abrupt halt as they meet their end.

Now alone Taehyung rises from his chair and lifts you up onto the dining table, locking you in with his arms on either side. “I told you I could give you so much more than them, didn’t I promise you that? Do you remember?”

“I never said I wanted it from you.” Your furry has reached a new level, overwhelmed with contempt towards Taehyung, your parents, and yourself for not remembering sooner. “You believe their deaths will give you the kingdom? You forget that you had them sign it off to me. I will never consent to marrying you, and we both know your blood will not force me into such a binding contract. It's why you had to make deals with my parents is it not? Compulsion will not work when it comes to such bonds in ink, and you have nothing left to play in order to sway me.”

“Such a smart girl,” Taehyung coos, while brushing the side of your face. “However, it is not I who has forgotten but you, for I have already won that battle too. Here...” He takes a swig of the wine, and firmly grasps the back of your neck. Pushing more of the drink between your lips with his, Taehyung forces you to choke it back and drown in your own past. “Let me help you remember, my princess... my bride...”

...

- 4 years ago -

You open your eyes, to be greeted by unfamiliar surroundings. A soft bed beneath you, lying between warmed sheets with a handsome yet concerned looking man sitting at your side.

“Thank heavens you’re awake. You took quite a fall.”

You lift a hand to your head trying to dull a sharp ache in your temple. The man leans in closer without hesitation, an action which surely indicates a close tie with you, but you have no memory of him. His hands are cool yet you welcome them on the side of your face, for they diminish the pain. “I don’t remember-”

“It’s okay my princess. I'm glad you are saved from the trauma of reliving that event.” He comforts you with a boxy smile, that doesn’t quite reach the sadness of his eyes.

“No, not just that, I mean I don’t remember... I don’t remember you, where I am, nor why I am here.” You strain to recall your most recent past, everything seems so long ago. There are glimpses and fragments of moments and people which you manage to pull forth, your parents and their rule, your brother and his suffering, your castle and it’s cold walls that once surrounded you. The loneliness of your past brings a tear to your eye for it is all you can recall. Everything about this man before you seems to have vanished from your mind.

“No, no, no, don’t cry.” His expression falls, as his hand shifts to wipe beneath your eyes, he swallows his shaking breath in clear distress over your loss. “I promised that I would look after you, that I would treat you well. Your parents, what will I tell them? They will rightfully blame me for letting you get hurt like this.”

The fear and sadness strewn across his handsome face is more than you can bear. You reach out a hand to his to comfort him back. “Could you remind me of your name sir?”

“Taehyung, and please don’t be so formal. There’s no need with me.”

“Then our relationship to each other...”

He takes your hand, tracing your fingers with his, before planting a kiss on your fourth digit. “We have been promised to one another. Your parents agreed to let you leave your own kingdom to be with me.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry... I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything. I can’t-”

“It’s okay my princess. It’s not your fault, but mine. You were hurt under my care. I’ll help you to rebuild what we have. We’ll start from the beginning, if we have to. I just can’t endure the thought of losing you entirely. Please just tell me what you need, whatever I can do, it will be done. I will help you to fall for me over and over, if it means I can continue to be with you.”

...

Taehyung spends the nights alongside you tending to your every desire, reciting poetry and plays to keep you entertained while you remain on bed rest for your injury. You feel bound by his kindness, and so guilty for not being able to recall your own past together.

During the day he is forced away from your side. He has a demanding role filled with travel and responsibilities, your only hope is that when he deems you well enough, you will spend that time together too. That you will be able fulfill this building desire within, to go out and journey for his role together.

But the weeks pass with no change in your situation.

Until one night when it all becomes too much to conceal. When left by his caretakers to bathe, you dissolve into sorrow over the fact that your loss of memory is holding you back. Your wedding to him was to be days from now, but he has called it off until you can recover what you lost. Your wracking sobs echo through the empty room as you commiserate alone. Questioning what you could possibly do to dispel this suffering.

You did not expect the sound to summon Taehyung, who comes bursting in without thought to your current state of dress. “Princess I-I...” He stops in his tracks and turns on his heel, shielding his eyes from your nude form. “Forgive me, I was not made aware that you were bathing.”

You press yourself to the side of the tub. Shy at first but when you find him more so, you beckon him over, just as he is about to reach for the door. “No wait, don’t leave. If you go I fear I will only feel more guilt over our situation.”

“Guilt? To what shame are you referring? Have I not made you comfortable here? Do you not have everything you need?” Taehyung abides by your call, joining you beside the tub, and swallowing as he glimpses you in the water.

“I do, and that is the issue. I remember nothing other than your care and kindness. You have given me everything you can, and I have nothing to grant you in return.”

“That’s not true-”

You press a damp finger to his lips, urging him to let you finish. “Despite not having a memory of our past, there is this need inside me... it’s difficult to express, but it calls out for someone like you. I do not wish to continue this cautionary stance, waiting and hoping for something that might not return. I do not want to hold us back. I think we should still marry, for I cannot see my life in any other way.”

Taehyung gives you a small smile along with a kiss to your hand which still lingers near his mouth. While his own reaches into the tub, his fingers twirling in the water just above your leg. “There is still much you don’t know about me.”

“Then I will learn it as it comes. Please, I long to move past this. I cannot and will not remain in this present, with you restraining yourself because of me. I truly believe that moving forward with the original plan is the best course of action.”

“If that is what you desire,” He the tips of his fingers submerge further until they draw against your thigh. “I will resume the plans between you and I.”

...

The ceremony is modest, with only you and Taehyung reciting your vows under the night sky. After signing a document to confirm your ties, he whisks you off to the bedroom to consummate the new promise between you.

The strength of the man before you comes as quite a shock as he rips the laces of your gown in his eager hunt to find the flesh beneath, until your best dress soon lays in tatters on the floor. His hunger for you appears to reach a new level, with his mouth nipping and devouring every inch he has exposed. Your situation has held you both back for so long, but at least now you will both get to revel in the path forward together.

Once bare he flips you on to your stomach and disrobes himself. His taut legs come to straddle your hips, while his hands run up your back and down your arms. Taking your wrists he pins them over top of your head. “Just a precaution my princess,” He chuckles your ear as his leather belt wraps around. Tightening them together before the strap loops the headboard and is once again threaded through the buckle, wittingly securing you to the bed. “For if I am worried over the possibility of you fleeing, I might lose myself, and consume too much of you.”

“I have no plans to run.” You muse, giggling at his passion.“But I will concede to your bondage if it satisfies you.”

“I was hoping you would agree.” He teases his index along your slit, drenching your sensitive skin, and preparing you for his swollen cock. You raise your hips eagerly towards him and he takes the hint. Laying down over top of you he guides himself in with one hand while the other loops your waist.

You gasp from the stretch before gritting your teeth trying to hide the brief moment of pain. Taehyung swears as his forehead comes to rest on your shoulder, his breath shaking as much as yours while he inhales deeply. A growl echoes in his throat which he promptly clears. “Princess, am I... am I your first?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, but you can not understand why that would be so.

“If I was promised to you... I can not see why I would have laid with another.” You answer somewhat hurt by the notion that he thinks you would have been unfaithful in the past. Your memories might be limited, but you can not believe that would be the kind of person you are, to be unfaithful to one so kind would make you a monster.

“Yes, of course.” He sighs, “I just, I had not...” He empties his throat again. Hugging you tightly as he pushes his cock in further. “My dear princess, so good to trust me with such a gift.”

You exhale with a confirmation. “I am all yours.”

With Taehyung resting deep inside he pauses for another moment. His fingers trapped between you and the bed shift down to your mound where they press and cause you to buck back onto him. “Forget the pain for now...” He whispers in your ear while the deep circles he rubs shift you from discomfort to pleasure. Your twitching responses beguile him as you clench down on his shaft. The growl in his voice returns and grows deeper, he thrusts along with you. A need inside your start to build, your breathing stutters while he continues on. “...And come for me.” Your nerves reach their peak at his words, holding you in place until the tension inside you finally releases and the warm waves run from head to toe.

As you ride out your climax Taehyung pushes forward with his own. His cock continues to swell, demanding more of you, until he comes to his end and collapses twitching with content. With a groan he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your back, while you remain trapped beneath him.

You tug on his belt wanting to touch him and hold him as he does to you. But even once he has come himself, he does not appear to be fully parted from his lustful needs. He shifts down so that his face can be found between your thighs. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you inquire for him. “Taehyung, please-”

“Don’t fret my princess, I just- I just want to- there was some blood drawn in my haste to have you, I would like to kiss it better.” He chuckles before his tongue comes to find your folds. The beastly sounds from him become far greater than before as he laps at the spot. Your hesitation is cast aside as you soon delve into pleasure once again.

His fingers clamp down on your legs as he feeds from your cunt with an even stronger resolve. “I must- I must have more.” He begs of you.

“I am yours to take.” You respond, eager to indulge more from his affectionate appetite.

But as soon as your permission is granted an unimaginable pain pierces the skin and muscle of your thigh. His mouth latches onto the source of such misery, and draws on the wound taking deep drafts. “Taehyung?” You cry out in confusion, pulling the bonds he left you in.

Your lord and husband suspends the act. Rising up to release you from the headboard, he takes your restraints in his hand. Flipping you back over and pinning you back down beneath him. You find your groom smiling while his mouth drips with blood. He chuckles lightly at your horror, taking in your fear. “Did you have a change of heart my princess? I’m sorry to have brought such a swift end to our happy scene, but tomorrow we may start over... once I’ve had my fill.”

...

After the first Taehyung proceeds to push upon you several moments wrought in passion and pain. The concealment of his identity to become your love, and of course the times when he chose purely to torture you as your captor.

You come to understand that your past with Taehyung is a series of tales, with him portraying the villain, or the hero. Going from captor, to suitor, to husband, only to break you by becoming your captor once again. He’s crippled you countless times, in so many different ways, choosing whichever act suits him in the moment, gorging himself off your emotional defeat the same way he feeds your blood, in the most painful way possible.

“A small sample of our time together, but you see princess, you are already bound to me in matrimony. I have what I need for my clan. My followers will have access to any house, any dwelling on our kingdom’s land once I give them my consent to enter.”

“Y-you have no right to do that!” You stutter, trying to push down the past to focus on the present.

“Oh but I do as your husband, as the new king I now have partial claim. My men will be able to feed within the safety of your peoples homes. Hunting them in their beds will be far easier than being restricted to the streets.”

“They are not cattle for you to feed upon!”

“How is that any different than your family's rule?” Taehyung scoffs, looking to the ornate room around you both. “Your parents in their vanity and greed bleed them dry, to the point where they were begging for a change, even if it was the rule of a young man who had barely stepped into adulthood. They will be grateful for the passing of the king and queen, and for the new rule. Remembering the vampires who will now stalk them while they sleep only as a passing nightmare.”

“That does not make what you are doing any better.” You argue, though you know it to be pointless.

“Not in your eyes, but my people will at least benefit from the sacrifice of your own. They trust me to do right by them. Can yours say the same about you? Will you bear the pain of your suffering and theirs? All that’s left is for us to choose which story we should play next. Would you like to forget it all again? To have me return to the role of doting lover and husband? Or would you prefer to recall that which has brought you pain? Your parents, your brother, and myself, knowing that soon my people will feast on yours.”

To remember would be the only chance you have in finding a weakness to him, any attempt to remove him from his position will require your knowledge of what happened in the past and what is happening in the present. Who knows what story he would otherwise weave next, but he will no doubt pull the wool over your eyes if you let him.

“I will give you until the end of this night to choose, if you don’t I will do so for you. But I am so very ready to return to our routine. These past few weeks have been a torment without you to entertain and fulfil me.” His finger traces an x on your neck, marking the spot he intends to bite. “I will never again allow us to be parted for so long.” The point of his teeth make contact with your skin, when the door opens and one of his keepers calls for him. “What?!” Taehyung shouts back in frustration. “What could possibly be so important that you must interrupt my dinner?”

“There is a hunter demanding entrance at the gate.” The vampire informs, looking rather shaken for having displeased his lord. “Says he won’t leave until he sees proof that you received your princess. It seems that he was trying to deliver her when she ran off in the daylight earlier today.”

“So someone did find you... that would explain...” His hands soften on your neck running his fingers over the previously tortured flesh. He then turns to the vampire waiting for his answer. “What is the hunter’s name?”

“Agust, my lord.”

Your head snaps up with your eyes wide. Yoongi is here, and he knew to call himself Agust? That can only mean, the secrets kept from him by his clan, the truth that would break you, it was the knowledge of Taehyung’s presence here.

“Is this the case my princess? Did this Agust find you and intend to bring you here?” You bite your tongue but he pushes his power over you again. “Tell me the truth of this matter.”

“He did.” You can’t be sure of what Yoongi intends to do once inside, but at least your forced honesty did not betray his cover.

“He has my permission to enter. Bring him to me now, I owe him my gratitude for taking such good care of my princess.” The vampire guard leaves to grant the other access.

Taehyung traces his teeth with his tongue. Appearing unusually happy despite the fact that his meal was disturbed. “You will remain seated and quiet, while I reward this hunter for his deeds, is that understood princess?” You reluctantly nod, submitting to his compulsion.

Yoongi, accompanied by four of Taehyung's kin, enters the dinning hall and promptly bows. “My lord.”

“Agust... I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking before have we?”

“No my lord, I’ve dealt only with your keepers. But it was my honour to retrieve your princess as requested.” You meet his eye when they flicker in your direction trying to decipher his plan, but are unable to see a way out that could have possessed him to take such a risk.

“Yes, I must thank you for bringing her most of the way. I am surprised that you knew to find me here though, I thought that was kept confidential from the hunters.”

“It was my lord but I learned of your occupation here only recently, such a large group of vampires in a human city does not go unnoticed for long.”

“Then I commend you, for doing what many of my other hunters could not.” Taehyung smirks at his own kin’s expense. “Tell me who was your maker, from which line do you descend?

“Your caretaker Egan, my lord.” Yoongi offers, his tone flat and even. “Though I don’t know if he would recall me, I am one of many.”

“Egan you say?” Taehyung pauses, with a raised brow and pout, which soon fades into a smile after a moment's hesitation. “He has created a fair few hasn’t he?” He chuckles. “Now you were not able to finish my task to completion, but I will still grant you the reward of becoming a keeper if you can complete just one other challenge.”

“Of course my lord.” Yoongi promises, watching adamantly with his hand twitching at his side.

“There is someone I need you to find, one who has been haunting me for quite some time. Before my princess met me she fell in love with another of our kind. A vampire who works for Lord Hoseok, and goes by the name Min Yoongi. It took me a year to find the full extent of the boundaries in her memory that relate to him, I needed to empty her of love for that fool, and take it for myself. I was successful in the end of course.” He tips your chin with his finger delighting in the pained expression you bear at the thought. “But I would like to see the end of him, and purge anything that might hope to take her from me.”

“I understand...” Yoongi responds through a clenched jaw. Peeking a concerned glance at you when Taehyung's back turns to him.

“I think she might be able to help you start your quest. You know where to find this Yoongi, do you not my princess?”

You dip your head, as a tear slips from your cheek and falls to your lap. You bite your tongue in an attempt to hold back your answer but Taehyung presses again with the compulsion of his blood. “You will answer me, out loud.”

“Yes,” you confirm, your eyes meeting with Yoongi’s again, pleading for him to go now, and escape before you reveal anything else.

“Do you think it will be an easy task for this vampire Agust to find him?”

“I do.” You utter with a reply stolen from your lips.

Taehyung mutters in your ear for his final question. “Is he the one who stands before us now my princess?” Panic instantly seizes you, with every function of your body coming to a halt, wondering how he could have found out. The moment your mouth starts to open, Yoongi launches himself at Taehyung, but his attack is quickly brought to a halt by the vampire lord who draws his own stake. Shoving Yoongi across the room and into the arms of his guard.

“You thought you could fool me after so many of your brethren tried and failed?” The cruel lord chides with a low chuckle. “There have been too many errors on your part, the greatest of which was the name of your false creator.” He approaches his new prisoner dragging the point of the stake along Yoongi’s chest while he is held in place. “A misstep of Egan’s allowed for her to escape, and so I sent the order for him to be disposed of. I knew the deed was done mere hours ago when I watched a progeny of his wither away before my eyes. If you were of his blood you too would have perished.” Taehyung explains before he paces away twirling the stake between his fingers. “What a wicked curse we must endure is it not? Though it does have its advantages... I wonder how many will I wipe out with your death?” Your heart beats wildly in your chest longing to run forward and prevent such an event. “It will come soon, of that there is no question, but not before I take every ounce of information you hold about Hoseok’s current plans.”

“You will get nothing from me unless you let her go,” Yoongi growls.

“Let go of my own bride?” The restrained vampire flinches at the comment as Taehyung grins and prods further. “I suppose you didn’t know. You must forgive her for not informing you, she couldn’t recall it herself until a few minutes ago. Regardless, I have no plans to free her, for I believe the closer I am to your beloved the more I will get from you.” Taehyung joins you at your side again. “What do you think princess? Would you like an admirer for our performance? I’m sure even the steadfast Min Yoongi would bend to my will if he witnesses you in my favourite roles.”

Taehyung’s attention is drawn away from the pair of you when more of his keepers enter the room greeting him with a nod. “Alas the show will have to wait. I have permissions to grant, and a story to feed your staff,” The vampire lord sighs and acquiesces to their needs, grabbing the decanter from which you took a glass. “The rest of your people will come after.”

Taehyung gestures to one of his men. “He will take you to your room, and you will remain there until I return. I look forward to having a more fulfilling reunion between you and I come dawn.” His fingers brush against your cheek one last time before addressing the vampires holding Yoongi. “Keep him locked up along with the revolutionaries for now. I will call upon him later.”

Yoongi continues to lash out as you are both dragged in opposite directions. Barring his fangs at those who hold him, but he is soon subdued with the addition of another clan member and carried out of sight.

Your own escort doesn’t say a word as he takes you through the empty halls, and staircases with one hand grappling your upper arm. Any attempt to pull it from him is met with a snarl and tighter hold. As you pass the rooms of the hall you wonder where Taehyung has the remaining staff kept and despite the lies forced down their throat you hope they will remain untouched.

The guard opens a door and pushes you in, sending you to the ground before locking it behind. The dimly lit room is unfortunately not your own, consisting only of a bed, washstand, and shuttered windows. Rising from the timber floor you find a stain on your hands and dress originating from the spot on which you landed, a spill, red enough to be the remnants of a vampire's meal. You start heaving at the thought, running to the filled basin desperate to remove the sticky scarlet substance. With hands shaking as they are submerged in water, your entirety follows suit, quaking in fear of what has just transpired and what is left to come.

Your parents are lost, they dug their own grave, but your fellow citizens, and Yoongi... you have to find him, before he too is lost and your people are reduced to a mere spattering on the floor.

You pull on the shutters of the window, releasing them to peer out and see if there is any hope to scale out of this one too. The height from the ground might be manageable, but a pair of glowing eyes looking up to you from the garden stops your attempt. The gaze from below continues to watch until you retract and close the space between you again. Taehyung's caretakers and keepers are as eager to keep and feed on you as he is. Visions of past attacks start to flood your mind, making you regret your venture to look out. You tried to escape so many times in your past captivity. Each one with the exception of the last was foiled by his keepers or caretakers, some brought you straight back to your room, while others... others were swiftly intercepted by the lord of the fortress, but only after they landed their first bite.

Retreating to the corner of the room, you set yourself down at the furthest point from the door and window. Left alone to stare at the crimson puddle, as you wait for Taehyung’s return. There is no question that you have to bear the weight of your memories as painful as they are, you can not afford to forget the past. Not now, not with Yoongi nor your people in jeopardy. You wonder if Taehyung will strike such a deal with you. If you promise to abide by his command without his blood, will that be enough to buy at the very least Yoongi’s safety?

The minutes pass while you consider your options, distracted only when there comes a thump from the shutters. You rise from your spot and move closer to the door. The boards made to conceal the daylight shatter inward with another hit, knocking over the solitary candle and casting you into darkness. The shadowy intruder leaps in, their gleaming eyes holding you in their sights.

Figuring it to be one of the Taehyung’s progeny’s come for a taste, you draw breath to scream. Until the vampire collides with you, holding you down, and covering your mouth.

“I told you to stay in the room.” The hushed tones of Yoongi greet you to your immense relief. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why did you run?” He waits there for a moment, removing his hand only when you finally relax beneath him.

“Yoongi...” You gasp in relief. “I overheard you and Seokjin. When I saw you give into the demands... I-I didn’t know, I didn’t realize-”

There’s a knock interrupting your explanation, the vampiric guard no doubt alarmed by the commotion. You both fall silent, but that does not seem to satisfy the sentry, who proceeds to unlock the door. Yoongi jumps up ready to meet him with a stake. As the barrier opens, the vampire tries to step inside, making it only far enough in for the wooden weapon to reach his heart. Yoongi grabs the enemies throat in the last moments, committing him to silence until death before tossing the corpse to the side. Treating the newly dead as nothing more than a bothersome distraction.

Yoongi turns back to you but keeps his distance, a growl rattling in his throat as he takes deep breaths. “I told you before, I would never take you there. I had no wish to abide by the request from my lord. I could not tell Seokjin of my plans to disobey while we remained in his house. I was going to take you as far away as I could after learning the whole truth behind your capture, but your stunt put everything in jeopardy, including yourself.”

You start to sob upon hearing his deception, you should have guessed that with such a reveal from his own clan he would try to deceive them too, like the others he dealt with on your behalf. He closes the gap between you, pulling you in close, allowing your tears to fall on his chest. “How-how did you escape just now? I thought for certain he had us both in his grasp.”

“I kept hold of the tainted blood, and those holding me were in desperate need of a drink. One sip and they were at my mercy instead.” He lips grace the top of your head with a kiss as you cling to him. “We’re going to get you out of here okay? We’ll go down to the passage. I have already released those he captured, if he has a mob on his hands, we might slip out undetected.”

“I can’t leave, not yet-”

“Why, because he compelled you to stay?” Yoongi questions, attempting to dismiss your concern. “I will carry you out if your own volition fails to do so.”

“It is not that alone... he was not lying when he told you I was his-his-” You stall on the word unable to say it yourself. “In those five years, he played with my mind, he made me forget you and desire him instead, a-and I fell for it. It is because of me he now has a claim to every home in the town. This is my error to fix. I will not leave those who dwell here to feed his own.”

“You are not to blame for his actions.” He counters, his own voice cracking in desperation. “Your remaining here will not change that.”

“I only wish to remain so I can bring an end to him, to kill him.” You promise. “Either way, whether successful or not I will not exist here long.

“No, I am not letting you near him again. If we must do this then let him be mine to kill.”

“He thinks me in here unarmed and broken to his will,” You open Yoongi’s jacket to find another stake that he must have stolen from Taehyung’s followers. “I will have a better chance. It would be better for you to ensure that his clan has not brought harm to anyone else.”

“And leave you here to face him? If he falls so do his own progenies, which includes most if not all of his keepers. There will be no point in my leaving to dispose of them, if your main goal is to defeat him.”

“If he sees you he will be instantly aware. When he is as strong as you say then even you won’t be able to defeat him without catching him off guard.”

“I am not leaving you alone with him even if you are armed, and that is final.” Yoongi takes his firm stance, while grabbing at the stake in your hand. “I will not lose you again...”

You look down at the deceased on your floor, fearing the same fate for Yoongi should he remain here with you. Taehyung has proven time and time again that none can fool him for long, not Yoongi, not his clan members, even those who disobeyed him attempting to draw blood from you were cast aside... with Taehyung throwing himself between you and them. “If you will not leave then... I need you to bite me.”

Yoongi follows your gaze in confusion, “What is it you are plotting your highness?”

“He will no doubt come running if he smells my spilt blood. He has before. If he thinks I am in danger from his own, I will be able to get close with his guard down.” You take the stake back from him while he considers your plan, gripping it in your fist behind your back. “All you have to do is play the threat.”

“Will you not wait for another alternative? My clan could be here in a day to deal with them.”

“He is hungry, and all too confident of victory.” You plead with your vampire. “If we wait-”

“If we wait he will be more likely to catch on...” Yoongi growls confirming your thoughts, as he begrudgingly bends down to take the cloak of the defeated guard. Tying it around he pulls the hood over his head. “This is unbelievably reckless you know. I should just take you from here this instant.”

“But you won’t.” You reply with a sad smile reaching up to touch his cheek with your hand, and press a kiss to his lips. “You long for an end to this as much as I.”

With his back to the door he takes you into his arms. When hunched over you Taehyung should not know who he is until it is too late. Yoongi places his mouth ready to sink into your neck. “Are you sure you want to be the one to-”

“I have to.” You cut him off before he can even try to change your mind again.

With a deep sigh his teeth pierce your skin, the blood starts to flood from the wound and Yoongi lets out a low pained groan as he resists the urge to feed. For the more blood that escapes and is left to the air, the sooner that Taehyung will come running to investigate your situation. After a minute passes, you start to feel light headed and grip your weapon tighter.

“If he doesn't come soon I will have to put a stop to this.”

“He will come,” you gasp. “Just wait.”

Right on cue there comes a shout from down the hall along with the thunder of footsteps. Your door crashes open to reveal the ferocious monster.

Yoongi is thrown to the wall, and promptly disregarded in the moment by Taehyung, whose immediate attention is more occupied with you spilling out before him. “She is mine,” he seethes looking ravenous after not feeding on you for weeks. His hunger distracting him from the arm you have tucked behind your back. While pulling you closer to take a taste himself, you draw your own weapon, stabbing him through his heart with the stake.

He looks down to injury with a sobering disbelief, his words heavy on his lips with a low chuckle as he forces out his final thoughts before his demise. “Well played princess... you had me thinking I was to be your hero again.”

“You were never my hero, only my assailant.” You shove the stake deeper into his chest. “And now my fatality.”

Taehyung gasps and delivers one last cruel smile. “A fitting end, though I can think of one better. Why part here, when you can join me in death.” He launches at your throat ready to strike and bleed you further, when his actions are cut short by another.

With the stake pulled from the other vampire, Yoongi pierces him through the back, and takes hold from behind preventing Taehyung’s last threat. The vampire lord's eyes go wide showing a brief moment of fear before he finally succumbs to death. Pulling yourself from his clutches you take a deep breath and rejoice in the freedom, though the feeling doesn’t last long.

Already dizzy from the loss of blood you are in no way prepared for the surge of memories that flood back. With Taehyung dead his physical hold on you diminished, but the pain of his manipulation, the trauma and loss he has inflicted on you hits as a wave, and pulls you under.

Yoongi is there to heal the wound on your neck, he calls to you repeatedly though his voice along with your vision of him are clouded amongst your thoughts. Your heart pounds and head races as it continues to try and register the influx of everything you lost.

There’s a soft touch to your temple, as a whisper from him finally makes it through. “Be strong my love, you can conquer this too.”

You can feel yourself being lifted as the room moves around you. Clinging to his coat you utter your wish to leave, unwilling to spend another moment in this castle. Fully slipping as he draws you in closer.

...

When the haze lifts you come to find yourself in another bed. Not one of the castle’s no, it seems Yoongi had observed that request, but the location is still worrisome for it is the same room you had shared with him in Seokjin’s house. You immediately sit up, panicking over your last memory of this place, and fearful of Yoongi’s clan’s intent.

Your vampire sleeps on a chair beside you, though his head and chest are slumped over on the mattress and his hand encasing yours. Stirring the second your grip leaves his and you attempt to get from the bed. He grabs at your shoulder pushing you back down with ease, “What do you think you are doing? You are in no state to be running off.”

“Yoongi... why are we here? If Seokjin-”

“This was the only safe place I could think to bring you. You have nothing to fear here now. Seokjin will not do anything, he knows he was in the wrong to suggest such compulsion, and Namjoon has promised retribution on your behalf if he continues such behaviour.” Yoongi briefly smirks at the thought of the pair, though his expression soon darkens as his hand brushes your hair from your face as you relax back into the bed. “I thought- I was worried I lost you back there.”

“I-I couldn’t control it, there was so much that I had lost and most of it difficult to bear again...” You grimace at the pain of it, prompting Yoongi to lean in to kiss your blow and pull a small smile from you again. “I should never have returned. I should have trusted you more, I’m so sorry for putting you in danger like that.”

“It was not your fault. You had every reason to doubt me given your past and what you knew. I can’t imagine what it was like, but...” He looks down avoiding your eyes as he rubs your hands, the words that follow are just as tentative and soft. “If you should- I don’t know if- if you need me to help you discard any memories I will do so. Doesn’t have to be now or ever, but if you ever need me to... don’t feel like you have to carry the weight of it alone.”

You nod your eyes tearing up with gratitude for his offer. “Thank you, there will be some moments that I- that I will be glad to be rid of.” Yoongi’s warm smile comes with his arms to wrap around you in a tight hug. You wince as your muscles stain to return the affection, feeling as though they have seized from lack of use. “How long have I been under?”

“The longest two nights of my existence.”

“Two nights?” You exclaim pulling out of the embrace in shock. “What has happened since? Was anyone else hurt before I-I-”

“No one else, but the castle,” Yoongi sighs looking hesitant to tell you the rest. “The castle was set aflame in an act of defiance. It was sentenced to burn once the staff and resistance had cleared it of everything of value.”

“Good,” you whisper.

“There is more... Seokjin has been keeping a close eye on the situation.” Yoongi discloses. “But, when word spread that you returned only to vanish again, many believed your appearance to be that of an imposter rather than their former princess. They thought you a tool of the mysterious lord attempting to gain power.”

“And their plans to create a new form of rule?” You ask, the focus of your question leading Yoongi to tilt his head in confusion.

“Going forward without much backlash, but-”

“Then they have every right to think so. I am very different from their lost princess.” You smile to Yoongi’s surprise. “I am a threat to them now, a threat to the future governance they plan to install. Any version of me might sow the seeds of discord in progress if I was to return. If this story of me being a deceiver will help them to rebuild, then let them think it. I will make no plans to return.”

Yoongi nods in understanding, though his expression still holds regret. “I am sorry I was not able to deliver you home as promised.”

“That place was not my home for so long, not since you-”

A loud knock comes from the front door of the small home, reaching you all the way in your upstairs room. Yoongi stiffens in the seat next to you as muffled voices are soon heard too. Your vampire stands going to the door where Seokjin appears a moment later with news. “It’s Lord Hoseok. He’s here, and he wants to see you.”

“Don’t you dare let him in.” Yoongi pushes back. “Not with her here, not now.”

“I can’t exactly deny him entrance,” Seokjin scoffs. “This is his house-”

“Fine, then I will.”

Seokjin puts a hand on Yoongi’s chest and prevents him from storming off into a confrontation. “You know you can’t stop him. If he wishes to see her he will, but right now I think his main concern is you. Do not anger him if there is no reason to. See what he wants then come to a judgement.”

The same loud knock you heard below then arrives at your bedroom door, breaking off the disagreement between the two vampires.The guest you know not to require permission, but it seems that he would rather enter on your terms rather than his own.

“Yoongi?” You call to him, witnessing the dread in his face when he turns to look at you. “I should like to speak to him too.”

Yoongi’s reluctant hand turns the lever, letting his lord inside. Your own vampire stands between the two of you preventing you from getting a good look as the first words are exchanged.

“My Lord.”

“Tell me it is so, that it is true. Is Taehyung- ” The vampire lord immediately launches into the heart of the matter. The weight of his tone sends shivers to even you.

“Dead, my lord.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I am in your debt.” The tension in his voice quickly falls away.

“It was not I alone who defeated him sir. The credit also goes to the woman who you thought you would contain to your fortress.” Yoongi mutters with malice.

“I app-” His lord steps further in, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of you. He pauses for a moment as he takes you in, his mouth hangs open and a single word falls in greeting, “Mansin?”

Though the word is foreign to you Yoongi reacts in an instant, returning to your side, he growls and his superior in defiance while positioned in your defence. “She is not-”

Lord Hoseok seems to catch himself and apologises. “A mistake Yoongi, an honest mistake, I see that she is bound to you. You must forgive me,” He whispers while giving a sad smile in penance. “Something in your expression reminded me of someone I once knew.” He politely touches upon his error, but leaves you with no reason for Yoongi’s reception. “I must give my thanks to you as well then, for you saved me the pain of having to kill my own creation.”

Alarmed by the confession you try to stand but Yoongi’s hand once again comes down to your shoulder. “Then Taehyung was yours? You created that monster?!”

“It was not my intention to have him turn out in such a way.” The vampire lord growls at the censure, causing Yoongi to grow ridged next to you. “I found him as an innocent young man dying, whispering the name of the one he loved, the one he was bound to. I took pity on him, would you not have done the same?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow as he throws his choice back at you.

You swallow and nod in response. “I suppose I would have.” The swift changes in mood of the vampire lord keep you on guard, intimidating in one moment and considerate in the next. It’s easy to see why Yoongi might be wary of him around you.

“I chose to banish him from the clan when he killed his former mate, your ancestor, for I could no longer trust him. He sought revenge on both your family and mine, and it is my fault alone. I knew that Yoongi would prefer to keep you as far away as possible, but Taehyung would likely have tracked you down sooner or later. I wanted to make up for that by offering you a safe place at my fortress but I can see that it was misconstrued.”

“Thankfully your assistance with my residence is no longer required.” You convey, hoping that he has abandoned the notion, since the threat is no longer stalking you.

“Yes... thankfully.” Lord Hoseok reiterates with a weak grin.

“If you are in our debt as you say then I would like to make a request of you.” You ask much to Yoongi’s surprise, resulting in his head snapping in your direction.

“A request?” Hoseok blinks, a grin twitching in his lips. He grabs the chair from the desk, turning it to face you before taking his seat. “What have you to ask of me?”

“My old kingdom, I want to ensure the health of the people. I ask that if your clan goes there to feed they use the tactics that Yoongi has been operating under.” Yoongi finally exhales and relaxes, as you explain your wish, a small smile crosses his lips with what looks to be pride.

“I understand your position, and would agree immediately if there were to be no recourse, but to put such limitations on my clan without any amendments or accommodations to offer in return... many would turn rogue.” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, if I ordered that, we might find ourselves in another situation like before.”

You consider what you have left to give with nothing left from your family to offer, you have only what you may have acquired through matrimonial bonds. “Tell me when a vampire dies, what happens to the ownership of their residences.”

“It will go to whomever they deemed a second who was not created by their own lineage. Yoongi was once my own. I don’t know if Taehyung- ”

“But if they had taken a wife who survived them?” You ask.

“They would be yours...” Yoongi mutters beside you in understanding.

You nod grimacing at the prospect of owning his land. “I want no part of them. But if they will help you to convince your clan to adjust their feedings and continue to help those of my former kingdom they are yours.” You offer to Hoseok. “Every fortress, waypoint and house that belonged to him will all be transferred to your own clan. ”

“Then I accept your terms,” Hoseok nods in agreement. “But where will you go?”

You look to Yoongi to give the answer. Caught off guard he pauses before responding with the simple direction of, “East, we plan to head east.”

...

...Two months later...

Yoongi stops the horse and dismounts beside an overgrown field, looking at the land with a deep contented sigh. “This is it.” He lights a lantern for you before treading into the long grass, in search of the foundation of his old home.

He was right, there is little left, but regardless of that fact you help him by clearing the roughage from any remains you can find. Pausing only when he does, while uncovering what seems to be a rotting wooden board laying on the ground. Upon further inspection you find it to shield a substantial cavern below with steps leading into the darkness.

“If that’s the cellar... Then that must mean.” Yoongi mutters, before taking a few steps away, counting his paces as he goes. Hunching down over a higher patch of ground, he tears away the long weeds, until a stone hearth reveals itself. He takes the rotting wooden board, and breaks it apart into several pieces. Building them up before he sets them alight with the fire of the lantern.

He lowers himself to sit in front of the burning wood and beckons for your hand, kissing you knuckles, raw from the cold wind of your journey as you take a seat next to him. Despite the lack of walls and roof, you are overwhelmed by Yoongi’s peace as he looks into the fire, feeling that same comfort and warmth within yourself. “I never thought I’d see this place again, but now, it feels right to return. Perhaps-” He meets your eye before expressing the rest of his tentative question. “Perhaps we could stay here for a while?”

“I would like that.” You answer with a nod, prompting him to beam back at you.

While Yoongi moves to lay on the grass relaxing in the light of the flame you pull out the new map you’ve been working on since the start of your journey east. The other still remains, not entirely forgotten, but of little use in this region. The fresh start on parchment comes as a much needed reprieve, the chance to begin again.

“You are marking this place down for me?” Yoongi asks as you draw with your quill pen.

“For us,” you correct him.

Looking down at the new point on the map now labelled with your description, he smiles at the sight of the single word you had written. “Have I fulfilled my duty to you then? Should we part ways here?” He jests pushing to rise up until you tug him back down by his long coat.

“You have,” Shaking your head at his joke, you explain your true feelings behind the word. “But if you leave, this place ceases to be so. It only exists as such when I am with you.”

“Then I must stay by your side, or risk breaking another promise?” He continues to tease you, with a twitch to the corner of his lip.

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to conceal his eagerness. “So it would seem. How long do you think you can keep your vow?”

“For eternity.” Yoongi whispers, leaning in to kiss you over the setting ink of, ‘Home.’

...

-The End-

...

#bts smut #taehyung smut #yandere bts #yoongi smut #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts thriller au #bts fanfic #bts vampire au #yandere taehyung #min yoongi #kim taehyung #bts blood bounty

847 notes · View notes

hard-boiled-criminal · 3 years

Text

Planetary Magick: 2

(Twisted wonderland x reader)

Masterlist

_______________________

Unedited

“Yeah…charming.” Apparently, by ‘charm,’ the headmaster meant ‘dilapidated and might have asbestos.’

An old Iron fence surrounded the perimeter, the bars mangled and twisted, as if something rammed into it over and over at each possible section of fence. You could only hope that whatever did that was no longer here. Unsurprisingly, the fencing was rusted in many places and had dead vines draped around them, no doubt having tried to survive on the fence but to no avail. What stood out as odd to you though, was the gate: it had an intricate design reminiscent of the black skeletal structure of a stained-glass window. Though it was odd to see these graceful curves and patterns on the gate compared to the arrow-headed fencing, it was something else that put you off. The gate itself was in pristine condition—no rust or dents whatsoever. You noticed an old, rusted padlock on the ground nearby, which was most likely used to seat the gate once upon a time, but that only lead to more confusion about why only the gate was so well taken care off.

The grounds themselves were mostly barren, save for a few vertical hedges and some dead trees. The dorm building itself sat atop the small hill and was in pretty bad shape. All the windows had been sloppily boarded up and patches of shingles were missing from all over the roof.

“Right, right,” Crowley brushed off your comment and lead you up the stone stairs towards the dorm. “Please come inside.”

‘Maybe it’s not that bad on the inside?’

Scratch that, you felt like the guy on the receiving end of “Sike! That’s the wrong number!” You didn’t think it could get even worse, but the interior proved you wrong. It was a complete mess inside; furniture stained and overturned, firewood and books scattered everywhere, cobwebs and spiderwebs in every nook and cranny, paintings and pictures either crooked on the wall or on the ground. The wallpaper was peeling at the seams with patches missing all over, and one of the wall sconces was completely broken, both the lightbulb and glass cover missing. And while the floorboards looked okay, there was no doubt in your mind that some of them were definitely rotted and would collapse under your weight in a heartbeat.

You turn and blankly stare at the headmaster. Did he really believe these were suitable living conditions? You were almost positive there was mold in this run-down dorm, and who knows which ones pose a threat to you since you’re an alien? “Does OSHA not exist here or something?”

“I’m sorry, but I do not believe I have heard of this ‘oh-shuh,’” Crowley replied, sounding honest.

“The Occupational Safety and Health Administration?” You got a blank look from Crowley. You sighed, “figures…” ‘Note to self: learn how to establish a government-funded fantasy OSHA so you can pile Crowley with violation fines. Or at least threaten him with them so he’ll fix up the damn place.’

“Staying here will at least keep you out of the rain,” he rushed to get his sentences out. Maybe he got nervous when he heard you say ‘safety and health?’ “I’m going back to do more research. Make yourself at home. Don’t go wandering around the school! Goodbye!” With that, Crowley rushed out the door in a hurry.

‘Well fuck. First order of business: cleaning up lest I die of never-ending sneezing fits.’ You were only able to get all the furniture upright before it started to rain, making you lose all focus and run to peak out a window, trying to get a good angle to see the rain, and hopefully lightning, through the boards.

You’ve always loved the sounds of rain and thunder. More importantly, there was finally something normal. Hearing the rain pattering against window and seeing the occasional flashes of lighting in the distance relaxed you. Out of habit, you counted the seconds between the lightning and thunder to estimate how far away it was. You counted eight seconds before you heard the low rumbling of thunder.

You sighed, content, before you remembered, “It’s storming! I can collect storm water!” You ran to the first door you saw and flung it open to see what looked to be a kitchen. Excited to finally get a round of good luck, you searched through the cabinets, grabbing any jars and bowls you could find. You found a total of three glass jars, which you removed the lids from, and two large bowls. You stacked the bowls and placed the jars as best as you could inside the top bowl before heading back out the front door. You walked out from the covered entrance into the rain and placed the containers along the side of the stone path so they wouldn’t be in the way. The rain started to fall heavily, forcing you to run back inside before you were completely drenched. Luckily, the large hooded cloak you wore kept you dry for the most part. You carefully pulled off the partially-singed wet coat and draped it across the back of the rocking chair you righted earlier to dry.

“Hyii! It’s really coming down!”

Startled, you snapped your head to face the direction the voice came from, only to be met with that same bakeneko (monster cat) that tried to incinerate you.

“Gyahaha! You’ve got this stupid look on your face like a spider being attacked by a water gun!” The bakeneko cackled at you. They must have snuck in when you set out the bowls and jars. “I’ll have no trouble sneaking back into school. If you think getting thrown out is gonna make me give up on getting in, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Mm, well good luck little bakeneko. It might help to not set the school on fire,” you gave them some helpful advice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. All that matters is that I get into this school,” the bakeneko brushed off your words. “Afterall, I’m a genius who is destined to be a great magician! I've been waiting for the Ebony Carriage to come pick me up. But... But... Hmph! The Dark Mirror just doesn't have an eye for this. So that's why I came here on my own. Not letting me in would be a loss for the world; humans just don't get it.”

“Well, I have to agree with you on the Dark Mirror part. Afterall, it decided to kidnap me, and I can’t do any of that flash-bang-boom magic you’ve been throwin’ around.” ‘But I can do other magick… I wonder if they have my kind of magick here… I’ll have to do some research later…’

“Wha? You can’t use magic? Pfft! You’re useless!” The bakeneko shrieked as a drop of water fell on him through the ceiling. “So cold! The roof is leaking!” He didn’t move out of the way before another drop hit him. “Fgyaa! It keeps coming! My adorable ear fire is gonna go out at this rate!”

‘Instant karma, bitch.’ You sighed, “I guess I’ll go get one of the bowls.”

“Magic should fix this leak up real quick, but you don’t got any.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t make things go boom, I get it. If you’ve got such a problem with the leak, why don’t you fix it yourself, bakeneko?” You said over your shoulder as you walked to the door to collect one of the bowls from outside.

“Huh? Help you? No way! I’m just a regular monster staying in a rainy place. You better get a can of tuna ready before I do any work.”

You shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” You felt a drop of water land on your head this time. ‘Looks like I’ll need to get both of the bowls.’ You grabbed your damp cloak from the rocking chair and quickly threw it on before running outside towards the bowls. They had already collected about half a centimeter of storm water, and not wanting to waste it, you poured the contents of the bowls into the closest jar. Sprinting back inside, you first placed the bowls down at your feet so you could quickly peel off your now-soaked cloak and hang it back on the rocking chair. You placed the bowls under what looked to be the worst leaks in the lounge area. ‘I wonder if there’s a cleaning bucket or something in a closet somewhere.’

“Yo, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got a bucket somewhere,” you notified the bakeneko, not getting an answer, as expected.

You peered over into a nearby hallway, suddenly much more nervous as you stared down the long, dark hallway. ‘This feels like a horror game and I hate it.’ You tentatively took a step forward, and then another. You made it about five slow steps in before the floor loudly squeaked under your weight. ‘I just had an interesting thought: Actually, fuck this.’ You spun on your heel with false bravado, your entire body now tense. As you stiffly walked back towards the lounge, you froze in place as you felt the familiar tingle of eyes watching you. ‘Okay. Don’t look back. Just. Just keep walking. Put one foot in front of the other.’

It turns out it didn’t matter if you looked back or not because three ghosts suddenly appeared in front of you. They… didn’t look how you’d expect ghosts to look like. These ones looked more… cartoonish. They weren’t half as scary-looking as some of the monsters you’d seen in Scooby-Doo.

One of the ghosts giggled while the other two spoke, “We haven’t had a guest in so long…” Said one.

“I’m itching for some action,” said the other.

“Yeah, no, I’ll pass. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, thanks,” their completely underwhelming appearance circumvented practically all your initial fear, leaving you with only pure exhaustion. You didn’t have much of a filter in this state, but you didn’t really give two shits about what you said when you were tired anyway.

“Why are you talking to yourself…” the bakeneko walked around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. “Gyaaa! G-g-g-g-ghooosts!”

Looked like someone was afraid of the cartoon ghosts.

“The people living here got scared of us and left,” a ghost explained.

“We’ve been looking for more ghost pals,” another spoke. “How about you guys?”

“Deadass? Fuckin’ go for it.”

The ghosts and bakeneko looked a bit shocked that you blatantly agreed to let them kill you to turn you into a ghost.

“Wow, you guys aren’t up to date on humor, are you?”

The bakeneko was the first to snap out of disbelief and shouted, “Grim, the Great Magician, isn’t scared of some ghosts!”

‘Heh, I ain’t afraid of no ghost.’ You had to mentally remind yourself to not start humming the ghost busters theme.

Grim, as you now learned his name was (you think), spewed more of that bright blue fire, completely missing all of the ghosts.

“Where are you aiming?” The ghosts mocked him and laughed. “Over here, over here!”

“Shoot! Stop disappearing!” Grim uselessly shouted at them and continued to be a living flamethrower.

“My mans, please, stop. At this rate there’ll be no dorm left to keep us dry.”

“Shut up! Don’t try to give me orders!”

“…I’m too tired to deal with this shit anymore. Fine. I’ll get you a can of tuna if you win without burning the house down.” You mumbled the first part before speaking to Grim.

“Wah? Mm, I-I’m a genius. I won’t let one—” Grim tried to keep his stubborn pride but was interrupted by the ghosts’ mocking laughter. “Bunch of cowards, ganging up on us!”

“Two cans. Take it or leave it.”

Your new offer seemed to change Grim’s tune in a heartbeat. “Hey, you! Tell me where the ghosts are!”

“’Kay. On your left,” Grim followed your orders and managed to singe one of the ghosts with his flames.

“I hit it!” Grim shouted, now sounding excited. “Alright, let’s chase them all outta here!”

Cue you shouting directions at Grim and him spewing fire in said directions. In all honesty, it felt like a pokemon battle. Except your pokemon was a talking cat with a holier-than-thou attitude. And you were fighting actual ghosts—not ghost type pokemon—actual previously-living-human ghosts. After a few minutes of Grim burning the ghosts, however that worked, they eventually fled the scene of your would-be murder.

“E-eh? We…won?” Grim spoke with the disbelief of someone who has never won in life before.

“Yup. Good job bakeneko Grim.”

“Ha-heee, that was scar—No, I wasn’t scared at all!” Oh Grim, what caused you to act like your pride is what matters the most? “This is nothing for the Great Grim! How ‘bout that, ghosts? You done?”

“Hey, don’t taunt them, bakeneko. If they come back, I’m not giving you directions.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘bakeneko?’ What’s that even mean?”

“Mm, it’s because you’re like a bakeneko. They’re mononoke, yokai, that resemble cats,” Grim looked ready to protest, but you continued before he had the chance, “and are extremely powerful. If you anger a bakeneko, your chances of getting out alive are slim to none.”

“Hmmph, well, I suppose The Great Grim will allow you to call him by such a title.”

Before you could continue to talk about bakeneko and other mononoke or yokai, Crowley came in through the front door just as you and Grim made it back to the lounge.

“Good evening,” he greeted. “I have graciously brought you supper.” That’s when he noticed Grim beside you. “You’re the monster that ran amuck during the entrance ceremony! I threw you out of the school! What are you doing here?”

“Hmph! I exterminated the ghost problem! Be grateful!” Grim puffed out his chest as he spoke, continuing to act high and mighty.

“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

“…There were ghosts here that wanted to turn us into ghosts,” you blandly explained to the headmaster.

“Now that you mention it, there were some prankster ghosts living here so students keep away from this dormitory. And that's why it is now empty. I'd forgotten that.”

You half-heartedly glared at the headmaster. ‘Oh, how convenient. You put up the broke alien in a haunted house with killer ghosts that you just so happened to forget about.’

“However, hmmmm…” Crowley either didn’t notice or acknowledge your glare. “For you two to work together to get rid of them.”

“I'm not gonna overlook that "together" comment. They were just standing there watching. And I did this for a can of tuna—Ah! I haven't gotten that tuna yet!” Grim spoke, still holding on tight to that attitude of his.

‘Grim, I swear to whatever deities rule this place that you aren’t gonna get those cans of tuna if you keep up this habit of pushing others down to raise yourself up.’

“I'd like the two of you to show me how you exterminated those ghosts.”

‘Crowley, no—'

“But we already got rid of all the ghosts! Before that: Give. Me. Tuna!” Oh Grim, so we can agree sometimes!

“I shall be the ghosts. If you beat me, I'll give you tuna cans. For I am gracious.”

“Uh, no, wait, Mr. Crowley, please—”

“Now then, Transformation Potion!” Crowley pulled a vial of liquid from his coat and downed it in one go. It didn’t take long for him to become transparent and ghost-like.

“Eeeeeeeh, I don't wanna. This is a pain and I have to team up with them again…” Grim whined.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Bakeneko, maybe if you show him how strong your magic is, he’ll let you be a student.”

“Grrrnnuuu,” Grim grumbled, annoyed. “This is the last time! You absolutely, absolutely have to give me the tuna!”

And you found yourself in a pokemon battle once more; this time, it was you and a bakeneko versus an actual living breathing person that can turn into a ghost.

‘If it’s a pokemon battle, might as well use pokemon rules.’ You pointed at the see-through headmaster, “Grim, bite him!”

“Hah? You really are a stupid human!” Grim shouted and spewed fire instead, though he missed like before.

“Fine, we’ll use your fire, but I’m explaining the pokemon system to you later. On your left!”

Turns out, pokemon battles can get boring when it’s just the same thing over and over again. Eventually, it seemed the effects of the potion wore out and Crowley returned to his usual opaque self.

“Hee-haaa…” Grim was panting, trying to catch his breath. “How 'bout that!”

“I can't believe… There is a person who can command monsters,” Crowley spoke in mild awe mixed with disbelief.

‘…Does this world not have pokemon? Should I?... No, I shouldn’t… but what if—what if I introduced myself as Gary Oak and just… no I can’t do that. I can’t tell people “smell ya later.”’

“Hmmm... Actually, my teacher senses were telling me since the uproar during the entrance ceremony that you have talent as an animal or wild beast trainer.”

‘…This man is really making this a cliché pokemon plot… Is this how it all started? Am I the original trainer!? Nah… Unless—’

“But, no matter how…” Crowley began muttering to himself, to quiet for me to make out.

“Hey, just let him stay here,” you were exhausted at this point and the bakeneko had honestly grown on you some. Plus, you needed him around in order to explain pokemon to him.

“What now? Let a monster live here?” You couldn’t see Crowley’s face behind the mask, but you were sure he was giving you a judging look.

“Well, I mean, he did just show you the magic he’s got, which is a whole lot more than I’ve got, and you’re letting me stay here. So why not let him stay? He still a magician, he’s just, well, in the shape of a cat.”

After a few seconds, Crowley sighed, “It can’t be helped.”

“Funa!? Really?!” Grim’s eyes widened and lit up as bright as his flames.

“However, I can't simply allow someone, let alone a monster, into school who wasn't selected by the Dark Mirror. Also, I can't let you be a freeloader here until you return to your own world.”

“Talk about short-lived joy…”

“Listen until the end,” Crowley then turned to you. “Concerning the fact that your soul was called here, the school has to take responsibility as the owners of the Dark Mirror. For the time being, you'll be permitted to stay in this dormitory for free, but other necessities you will have to provide for yourself.”

‘Uhhh what? I don’t even have my own clothes. How the hell am I supposed to live with no money or ID?’

“Seeing as you have nothing to your name,” he gave a slight chuckle for reasons unknown, “here is my proposition.”

Your mind immediately jumped to all the horror stories you’ve heard of what comes from owing shady people favors. The growing panic must have shown on your face according to Crowley’s next words.

“No need to fret, I'll have you do maintenance and odd jobs around campus. From what I can see, you're pretty decent at cleaning,” he said after glancing around the room. “Would you two like to become the "handyman" of the school? This way you will receive special permission to remain on school grounds. You'll also be able to research going home or study whatever you desire in the library. For I am gracious. However! Only after your work is done.”

“Eeeh!? I'm not okay with that!” Grim complained. “I wanna wear that fancy uniform and be a student!”

“It's fine if you're unsatisifed. I'll simply toss you out again.”

“Ffgnnaa!? I get it! I just have to do it. Just do it!”

“’Kay.”

“Wonderful,” Crowley clapped his hands once in delight of our agreeance. “Then, you two starting tomorrow, endeavor to be the best handyman at Night Raven College!”

“Cool, now that that’s settled, headmaster,” he turned to face you. “I’m, like, about to pass out from pain. I’m covered in bruises and burns, plus my vision is blurry and I can’t focus on anything. My eyes are like a camera lens that twenty children smeared their greasy fingers on. You’re magical in that flashy, immediate results way, right? Doesn’t that mean you or someone else can help me not feel like I want to peel off my skin? It’d be cool for my skin to not burn when I get cleaning solution on it tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh, yes, of course,” Crowley almost seemed sheepish, as if he were embarrassed to have not truly noticed the state you were in until now. “While healing magic is not my forte, it should be enough to heal the wounds you have.”

He pointed his palmed towards you and you watched as it began to glow a pale yellow. Slowly you felt your burns and bruises dull themselves to just faint aches. He kept this up for about a minute before he extinguished his magic and pulled his hand back.

“Now, the worst of your wounds are still be a bit tender, but they should be completely healed after a good night’s rest. So, off you go then; sleep now so you’re ready for work in the morning,” He shooed you off with a hand gesture.

“Thank you, headmaster. C’mon Grim, let’s get going.”

As you and Grim headed up the stairs, the headmaster turned around and walked out of the building. Each step creaked under your weight as you trudged up them. While the pain was all but gone, your fatigue was still all-consuming. You followed Grim down the upper hallway, since it seemed he already picked a room before, probably when you went to find a bucket. You followed him into a room in a similar condition as the rest of the dorm. Across from the door sat a fireplace in the center of the opposite wall, a large mirror mounted above it. There were tall windows stationed on either side of the fireplace, almost as tall as the room itself. Towards the left side was a chair covered by a gray dust-cloth, and on the right sat a simple twin-sized bed. You pulled the duvet off the bed and shook it out, watching as you made a cloud of dust dance in the air. As soon as you placed the comforter back on the bed, Grim jumped up and curled himself up in the center of the bed. You were too tired to do anything about that; you’d just have too try and sleep around him. After shaking any dust off of your pillow, you slid yourself under the covers, one leg dangerously close to sliding off the bed. You fell asleep in record time that night.

. . .

You had a rather rude awakening the next morning consisting of Grim yelling at you and pawing at your face because the ghosts were back. Streams of blazing blue fire almost singeing your face made this one of your worst morning experiences to date. With a final warning of there being a one-sided prank war, the ghosts phased away.

“We’ll get rid of you eventually!” Grim shouted after them, but there was nothing but thin air left.

“C’mon, bakeneko. Let’s go see if there’s any food in the kitchen,” You beckoned Grim with a small wave.

“Hmph. Fine. But there better be tuna!” Grim said with a harrumph and trotted out the door ahead of you.

As you went down the stair at the end of the hallway, you saw Crowley standing in the lounge room, waiting for you and Grim.

“Good morning, you two,” he greeted when he noticed you. “Did you sleep well?”

“I was sprawled out then fell out the bottom! Just how ramshackle did you let this place get?” Grim shouted, equally as upset about the state of the dorm as you were. “Then the ghosts woke me up, this is the worst!”

“Like the dead,” was your response.

“Even though you just got tossed from another world you can still be cheeky, wonderful!” Crowley was as upbeat as ever. “I came to speak to you about your work for today. Today you are to clean the campus, but campus is quite large. Cleaning it all without magic is impossible. So, I'd like you to clean Main Street to the main gate to the library, understood? Please watch Grim closely so he doesn't cause a scene like yesterday.”

“I’ll try best,” you said and shrugged. You didn’t know what you’d do if Grim went out of control; you’re not fireproof, after all.

“I'm counting on you. You have permission to have lunch in the school cafeteria. Take care of your work enthusiastically,” and with a flutter of his feathered cape, Crowley took his leave, presumably going back to campus.

“Tsk, no way I'm doing any cleaning,” Grim scrunched his nose at the thought. “I wanna go to class and, bang! Boom boom boom! Use a bunch of awesome spells!” He punched at the air with his ‘booms.’

“How ‘bout we just go to the library after we finish cleaning. Besides, libraries are where they keep all the old forbidden knowledge!” Yeah, under lock and key so no one can read them, but you weren’t about to tell Grim that. “Imagine just how much the other students will revere your power if you master ancient magic!”

“Well, what are you waiting for, human? Let’s get going!”

“Okay but let me collect my storm water first. If I wait too long, it’ll all evaporate.”

“Hmph, fine, but make it quick!”

You quickly jogged over to your bowls and jars that each held a good two inches/five centimeters worth of storm water. You poured all the water you collected into one of the jars before carrying everything back inside. You set them all down on the kitchen counter, then checked the cabinets for a lid to the jar. After finding a lid and sealing the storm water in the corresponding jar, you met back up with Grim in the lounge.

“Alright, let’s get moving.”

“About time,” Grim sauntered off, sass radiating from him with each step.

. . .

The campus was bustling with life, students with hair every color of the rainbow going every which way. After a couple minutes of walking towards what you hoped was Main Street, the crowds began to thin out, students having made it to their respective classes. It wasn’t all that hard to find Main Street, seeing as it was the busiest and largest street on campus. What you weren’t expecting was the street to be lined with seven statues of iconic Disney villains.

‘I thought… I thought I was supposed to be on another planet or world or something? Why are there Disney Villains? Are you telling me that Walt Disney himself was able to expand his franchise across all of time and space?! And maybe across dimensions and alternate universes too?! Hey Walt? You’re taking it too far, man.’

“Uwaaaah~ Amazing. So, this is Main Street. I didn't get a good look yesterday but what's with these statues? All seven of them look pretty scary. This granny looks especially snobby,” Grim said, making a face at the Queen of Hearts.

“You mean the Queen of Hearts? Yeah, she played croquet with flamingos as the mallets and hedgehogs as the balls. While they were alive. Not cool if you ask me. Or most people. Animal cruelty is bad.”

“Ehh?! Why would this lady do that?” Grim looked appropriately confused.

“Who knows? Besides, the Cheshire cat is way better. A true chaotic neutral, that one.”

“Who’s that? And what does a cat have to do with this granny?”

You were about to answer before you were cut off by a new challenger approaching. “You don’t know about the Queen of Hearts?” They had a boyish appearance with short, messy orange hair and a red heart stamped over their left eye.

‘Actually, we were just about to discuss the Cheshire cat, but go ahead and assume, I guess.’

“You know her too? Is she important?” Grim asked the redhead, his attention easily being grabbed by this newcomer.

“In the past, she was the queen who lived in the Rose Maze. She was someone who valued rules and discipline above all, strict in all things from the march of the Card Soldiers to the color of rose bushes. It was a land of madness where all submit to her rule. Why you ask? Because or else it was off with your head!” The heart-eye boy monologued with some dramatic flair.

“That's terrifying!” Grim shrieked, probably at the thought of someone chopping his head off.

“It's cool! I like it. Nobody would listen to a queen who's just nice all the time, right?”

‘Uhhhh, that queen is a tyrant, and tyrants are what lead to revolutions so… vive la révolution.’

“I suppose. A strong leader is better.” Oh, Grim, you sweet summer child who doesn’t know the difference between strength and fear.

“By the way, who are you?” Grim asked.

“I'm Ace, a fresh-faced first year. Nice to meetcha~” The boy, Ace, said with a musical lilt.

“I am Grim, a genius who'll become the greatest magician. The dimwit over here is (y/n). They're my henchmen.”

“Bakeneko, don’t you dare put me on the same level as a Scooby-Doo villain’s underling.” You glared at Grim who gave a sheepish chuckle in response.

“You've got an odd sounding name.”

“People from different places have different names. It’s called culture.” You said blandly, trying to cover up your growing anxiety.

Ace shrugged. “I guess. Just never heard your name before.”

“Hey, Ace,” Grim grabbed his attention; you could feel your shoulders sag in relief. “The lion over here with the scar, are they famous?”

Well, Ace seemed to have this handled, and you didn’t need to hear him summarize the Disney villains. Instead, you ignored him and went over to the statue of Hades and looked at him.

‘If this confirms that Hades also exists in this world, does that mean I can work with him? I know many witches back on Earth work with Greek deities, with Hades and Persephone usually being the best of them to work with. Hmm… I’ll have to do some more research.’

You then crouched down to read the stone plaque engraved in Hades’ pedestal. The large plaque read: “The lord of the underworld and guide to the wandering souls of the dead. He carried out his fearsome duties with diligence and care, m…ing even the de…t to offer their aid.” Some words had eroded away, becoming mostly unintelligible sans a few letters.* You tried to make out those two unknown words, tracing your fingers around the grooves in hopes that just maybe you’ll be able to figure out enough of the letters to piece the word together.

“No matter how long you stare at it, you’re not gonna get anything out of that, y’know,” Ace said from behind you.

You sighed and stood up, your momentary reprieve from your anxiety over. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to check.” The plaque didn’t have any information you didn’t already know, except for maybe the words you didn’t know.

“Anyway,” Ace cleared his throat, “He's the Lord of the Underworld! He rules a land crawling with evil spirit on his own. No doubt he is extremely skilled. Even though he's got a scary face, he did that detestable job without ever taking a vacation, and his sincerity won over Cerberus, the Hydra, even the Titans, to fight for him.”

“Hmmm, Hmmm. So having talent doesn't mean you get to be haughty.” Grim hummed in thought.

‘Oh, my sweet tiny bakeneko, you’re learning about manners; I’m so proud.’

“And the last one, with the horns?”

‘Oh hell yeah, Maleficent! We stan an absolute queen. Besides, who doesn’t love dragons?’

“That is the Witch of Thorns from the Magic Mountains,” Ace said, addressing Maleficent with a title rather than her name. “Noble and elegant, even within the Seven, she is top class in magic and curses! She can summon lightning and storms, cover an entire country in thorns; her magic is on a whole other level. There was even a time she transformed into a huge dragon!”

“Oooh! A dragon! All monsters look up to them!” Grim shouted excitedly.

“They're all so cool~” Ace spoke, almost dreamily, before his tone did a 180 and turned snide. “…Unlike a certain raccoon.”

“Pfft... Ahaha! I can't bear it anymore! Ahahahaha!” Ace broke out into laughter. “Aren't you the guys who went crazy at the entrance ceremony? You were summoned by the Dark Mirror even though you can't use magic, and you, a monster, weren't called but still trespassed. Yeahhh, it took everything I had not to lose it at the ceremony.”

“Whaaa!? You're a rude one!” Grim fumed, his ear fire growing in size.

You just stood there and narrowed your gaze, your anger and anxiety fighting each other for full reign. Anxiety won out in the end, keeping you silent when met with his jabs.

“And now you aren't allowed in and got regulated to be a janitor? Haha, how lame,” Ace continued mocking the both of you.

‘It’s not like I had a choice in the matter…’ You clenched your jaw while Grim growled. You could feeling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, beginning to rise.

“On top of that, you don't even know about the Great Seven,” Ace just didn’t know when to stop. “How ignorant can you be? As I recommend you go back to kindergarten before coming to Night Raven College.”

Grim’s growls got louder as Ace continued. You, on the other hand, couldn’t bring yourself to speak and defend either of you. You felt your throat begin to close up.

“I thought I'd just mess with you a bit, but you really blew my expectations away. Unlike you two, I actually have classes to attend. Keep this school squeaky clean, you two~” He gave you a patronizing wave before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

“This jerk! He's just gonna say that and leave! I'm ticked off!” Grim opened his mouth wide.

“Wait, don’t—” You weren’t fast enough to stop Grim from using flamethrower, for a lack of better terms, on Ace.

“Oh! Watch out! What're you doing!?” Ace angrily yelled at Grim, having just barely dodged in time.

“It's what you get for making fun of me! I'm going light up that fire-head of yours!” Grim matched Ace’s volume.

“Fire-head, huh? Heeeeee. You've really got guts picking a fight with me. I'll turn you into a puffy, little toy-poodle!”

Grim spewed more flames at Ace’s threat.

‘Nope, fuck this. Fuck this. I can’t breathe, dammit!’ You hid behind the nearest statue, which happened to be Maleficent, and kneeled on the ground, trying to steady yourself and calm down enough for your throat to reopen. You bent over to rest your head on the cool grass, closing your eyes and covering your ears, trying to block out the sources of your near attack. You focused on the feel of the grass against your forehead, feeling the separations between the different blades. They were still a bit damp from the morning dew. The more you distracted yourself from the thought of Ace: stressor of the century, the more your throat relaxed and allowed you to draw breath normally once more. You jumped when a shriek pierced through your ears, completely bypassing your hand barriers and reversing all the progress you made towards calming down. Worried that the shriek meant someone got hurt, you jumped out from behind the statue. Instead of someone being hurt, to your relief (you weren’t excited about being an accomplice to assault), the Queen of Hearts’ statue was blackened.

“Crap! The Queen of Hearts' statue is charred!” Ace yelled, the dread on his face matching the shriek you just heard from him.

“It's because you're blowing the fire around! Just let me fry you!” Grim shouted back at him.

“You really think someone is just gonna let you fry them?”

“Enough!!! Just what is going on here!” The voice of Crowley boomed at the three of you, making you flinch.

‘…Fuck,’ looks like you’re not going to be able to avoid an anxiety attack after all.

“Guh! Headmaster,” Ace went rigid.

“He's going to tie us up with the 'lash of love'!” Grim yelled. “Get outta here!”

Though they tried to run, both were caught by Crowley’s whip, foiling their escape plans and making them both yelp in pain.

“Hurts just as much the second day in a row!” Grim whined.

“This is my Lash of Love!” Crowley was furious, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon. “It'll be another hundred years before you can outrun me! I told you just yesterday to 'not cause any trouble', didn't I? Then you go and char the statues of the Great Seven!” He directed his words at Grim before turning to Ace. “I very much would like to see you expelled.”

“Wait! Not that!”

“And you,” Crowley looked at you, making you freeze in place. “This is not how you supervise Grim.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, unable to gather the breath to form a single word. How could you talk when you were struggling to even breathe?

“My goodness,” Crowley huffed in indignation before turning to Ace. “You, what's your grade and name?”

“Ace Trappola, first year.”

“Then, Trappola, Grim, and (y/n), as punishment, I order the three of you to wash 100 windows around campus!”

“Nyaaa!? It's all cause this joker was making fun of us!” Grim protested, his fur standing on end to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It didn’t work.

“Eeeh!? Me too?” Ace looked at the headmaster in disbelief.

“Most definitely! After school, meet in the cafeteria. Understood?”

“Fiiine…”

“Nothing but misery since yesterday!” Grim complained.

Soon, both Crowley and Ace left, and you felt your body slump in relief, your knees buckling under you.

“Wha—hey, human! What’re you doing?” Grim ran up to you, genuinely confused.

You held up a finger to say ‘gimme a minute’ while you caught your breath. “Sorry…Grim…” you said after a minute, panting between words.

“Why are you out of breath? It’s not like you were running or anything.”

“This…this just happens… sometimes…” you shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged, leaning against the statue of Maleficent behind you. “I’m not very good with yelling… or with people, for that matter.”

“Hmmm,” Grim hummed in thought. “You humans are weird.”

You gave a soft chuckle at that, “that we are, Grim. That we are.” The two of you sat there in silence for a minute or two as your attack gradually faded away. “Hey Grim? I have a proposition for you.”

“Hah? What do you mean human?”

“What if we skipped lunch so we can make Ace suffer a bit?”

“Heee! Now you’re talkin’ my language!” Grim grinned widely, showing of his shark-like teeth.

*That was all I could make out from the plaque you can see in the seven statues background image.

A/N: Life’s been pretty shit recently hasn’t it.

25 notes · View notes

meteor-writes · 4 years

Photo

Death Threats For An Astronomer

A short story about two cousins venturing along country lanes to solve the mystery behind the death of a Victorian gentlemen a century earlier.

Rating: Teen Wordcount: 4446 Buzzwords: Exploration, Mystery, Cousins, Country Lanes, Abandoned Houses

Please enjoy!

In the countryside, roads ran into field as easily as concrete ran into carparks. Walking in tire tracks, you could be sure to land somewhere, but whether it be amongst yellowing bales of hay or meandering mooing cows was less obvious. All Zoe could see below the crystal blue sky was towering grass banks. For all she knew, this path she walked was a crop circle and her cousin Callum was actually an alien about to abduct her. It wasn’t like they looked that similar, her skin brown like the woods, his an olive tone, her hair falling in pencil-tight ringlets, his the windswept mess of a seasoned surfer. Could she really trust anything this boy declared?

Then again, her Auntie never failed to mention the curiosity in their cat’s eye at every single childhood scolding and she pinched their cheeks with equal success so there was evidence to suggest some sort of relation. Plus, a vague idea of a house could be observed if you focussed past the garden growing with neglect and remembered that by all logic ivy had to be attached to walls. Still, Zoe would have liked a road sign too, just to be safe. But then who would sign post an abandoned mansion nestled between even more abandoned fields?

If you were a foreigner to Buckfield you could be forgiven for assuming that this place was just another area left to go wild. A last outpost of human-nature solidarity. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Had there been a less gruesome tale attached to this house, Zoe was sure it would be in the hands of a plucky young couple with jobs in the city and heads in the clouds. But Zoe wouldn’t be visiting if that were the case.

“Zoe, horse shit.”

The squelch sounded before Zoe could react. Beneath her, a huge pile of dung splattered the grass like cannonballs, and Zoe realised with disgust, her boot was lopped centre of attention. She grimaced.

“Coulda told me sooner.” She muttered, easing her foot out and gagging as the smell released like a bomb.

Callum shrugged. “M’not your keeper.”

Then, instead of stopping to offer help, Callum continued lumbering up the path as if nothing had occurred, picking grass off the bank and casually scattering the seeds like a gremlin reaping mischief.

Zoe fought against a growl.

Callum wasn’t just irritating. He was insufferable. There was always an excuse. Always a way out. The perfect thing to say that would take responsibility cleanly off his shoulders and slam it down on Zoe’s. Because, no, he was not her keeper, and no, it was not his fault she stepped in horse excrement on the daily, and yes, he did say something, but by God couldn’t he have said it a little sooner!? Wasn’t there some sort of cousin code!? A common decency between relatives! Zoe was sure in all Callum’s laidback, child of the woods, we’ll get there when we get there attitudes, there was a little weasel waiting to get out, and it just so happened to make a break for freedom every time Zoe was about.

The rest of the trek was made in simmering silence. Zoe kept her eyes pinned to the earth, making sure to stamp around any dung piles present. It seemed this path, whilst barely being a path, was a frequent haunt for horses. Maybe even cows if the smell was anything to go by. Or perhaps that UFO from before hadn’t come down to probe humans and instead simply used Earth as its personal toilet. Zoe shuddered at the thought. At least the extra traffic meant the hedges were relatively kempt. Callum couldn’t flick her in the face with stray brambles.

“We’re here.” Callum announced.

Where the boy stopped was in no shape or form a house.

Zoe folded her arms, stepping up suspiciously to the roadside, where Callum stood, hands on hips, staring at a hedge. She toed at the brambles with her boot. There was some sort of rusted metal pole poking through the undergrowth. Zoe determined it to be hiding tetanus.

“Expand.” She said, pressing her weight into the pole and finding more than a little give.

“We’re here.” Callum repeated. Zoe was not amused. But after a brief cold war of blank stares, the boy sighed. Pulling the sleeve of his waterproof over his hand, he crouched down and stuck his hand into the nettles, forcing a clump aside like a curtain. Zoe leaned closer. There seemed to be a large headstone sitting in the undergrowth. It was a little moss covered, but she could just about make out letters carved into the lump of grey.

“orho, ar?”

Zoe’s tongue knotted just trying to form the words.

“Manorhouse farm.” Callum said easily, dropping the weeds. And before Zoe could ask how he knew, there was a loud clang and the boy threw himself over the hedge.

“Wha- Cal! What are you doing!?”

A puff of brown hair popped over the greenery. “Going to the house?”

Zoe squeezed her nails into her palm. Don’t rise to it, she told herself breathing deeply through her nose, it’s just what he does.

“Just grab onto the gate and climb over.” He said, already heading off.

Zoe wanted to yell. Of all the cousins in the world, why did hers have to be Callum? Just once, she’d like to explore as a team. Instead she was left tearing ivy out a hedgerow, trying to find a hidden gate just so she can jump over it without getting dismembered. Obviously, Callum didn’t have to since the weasel was protecting him.

Zoe dropped onto the other side and a sharp pain shot up her shins. It seemed Callum had forgotten to mention the path this side was nestled into a ditch. How kind. She kicked the nearest fern.

“This really the way?” Zoe yelled, wrinkling her nose at the smell of earth mixed with cat pee.

“To the murder house?” Callum asked, swinging around with his hands in his pockets. His mouth twitched with mischief. “Yep!”

Murder house was not it’s given name. That was Manorhouse farm – not too far off really, but far enough for the last innocent dwellers never to have suspected a thing. Of course, the house itself was not murderous. Neither was the setting. Buckfield saw its fair share of petty theft, sure, and the strange incident of ’06 where a man claimed to receive death threats from Mars, but cases of serious crime were few and far between. Murder certainly was not to be expected. Especially not involving this particular family who resided in Manorhouse farm circa 1893.

The Winter family were a respectable family of three, one daughter, two parents and a domestic servant who was paid kindly. They visited the village every Saturday, sparing change for root vegetables and home-brewed mead. Their farm was kept by local hands, all of whom spoke fondly of the landowners. That was until the 23rd night of November 1893.

It had been an evening sitting just the wrong side of bonfire night for sparkle and fizz. A chill permeated the air and the maid pulled on her gloves as she set out to gather firewood from the garden. Cornelius Winter entered the orangery. A keen astronomer he simply could not resist peaking at the stars on a clear night. His daughter, Mary, held a disdain towards the hobby a “mere woman” could not understand. She remained in the drawing room, practicing her scales on the grand piano, as her mother listened on, wishing that for once in his life, her husband would listen too.

Then there was a crash.

The women came hurrying. But it was too late.

At eighteen minutes past nine on a normal Thursday evening, Cornelius Winter dropped dead.

Zoe hadn’t found her Uncle’s ghost story of much interest when she was twelve. The Coroner reported an impact to the head. The police suggested a faulty roof tile. The family left and never returned. In her eyes it was a case closed. Worse happened on a Friday night in the city. Fortunately, her Uncle held a grudge. And on Zoe’s thirteenth birthday gifted her the age-appropriate book: ‘murder, mystery and malice, what the history books won’t tell you about Buckfield’. Here the story became far more interesting.

Because the roof tile was never found.

And a quick flick through the Buckfield Press returned a less than picturesque story of the Winter family. Accounts of a father over-indulging in ale, a maid but skin and bone and a daughter screaming bloody murder whenever she was told to act like a “proper woman”. Bitterness. Strife. Resent. It was all brewing under the thin veil of class at Manorhouse farm. Eventually, it had to break.

But by who? And how?

Zoe had to know.

Which brought her to her own investigation numerous years later. And a begrudging partnership with Callum.

The two waded their way up the path, dodging overbearing ferns and nettles that grew high enough to sting Zoe through the rip in her jeans. She wondered whether this path really would lead them to the house. And whether it was visible from space. Between the large mounds of earth and megafauna sprouted on top, Zoe hadn’t even seen a chimney spire in the last half an hour. And when Callum disappeared around the corner, Zoe was convinced she had entered a labyrinth. But then, she followed.

Around the corner, the path immediately opened up. Gorse spread in sheets and brambles crept out from underneath, thin branches interlocking like barbed wire. And what it protected was the dilapidated mansion itself; Manorhouse farm. The building sat like a single brick thrown out a Giant’s castle, lumped onto the landscape with only its two tiny antennae keeping it the right way up. Any exposed brickwork was moth bitten and water stained, rust dripping down the walls like blood from a wound. Vampiric ivy clung to the masonry, winding around the arches of the porch before spilling across the front door where broken bay windows sat miserably either side. Through them, Zoe could just about make out the ceiling collapsing under hefty beams. She pressed closer, rising on her toes, but the spikes were unforgiving.

She fell back, clicking her tongue.

“How exactly are we supposed to get through that?”

Her cousin was nowhere to be seen.

“Callum?”

The house was far more overbearing when it stared at just one. Zoe edged back towards the path, the quiet disconcerting. She peaked back around the corner but there was only grass waving back at her. Tugging on the strings of her hoodie, Zoe began toeing at the gorse, the unhelpful image of a pair of rotting feet slowly manifesting in her mind.

“Here!”

Zoe had to catch her heart when it sprang out her chest. Callum’s face had popped out from nowhere, right in the thick of the brambles.

“What are you doing over there!?”

Callum disappeared again. Zoe could feel the wind on her neck like the breath of a stalker. Then, like a Jack in the box, Callum jumped out again right on the edge of the thicket. He nodded back towards it.

“Path.”

“Right.”

Zoe’s heart had trouble sitting still.

“Come on.”

Zoe frowned. Was this going to be another shin-splitting tetanus gate? Because seeing the house was enough really. Callum could go ahead, how important was evidence to a century old crime? Being amongst nature, that was the real treat. All the fresh air, the peace, the emptiness, the feeling of being watched when no eyes were visible except that of the ghosts trapped inside a murder scene. Zoe miraculously found her feet.

Hurrying up to the boy, Zoe discovered some sort of path, or more accurately, a semi-traversable gap between the gorse. It curved towards the rear of the house and was mined entirely with thistles and thorns. At least none reached past Zoe’s knees. It was not ideal. But equally, it far surpassed the other option of getting shredded to pieces hiking through spiky gorse. Or being left alone. Zoe shuddered. Zipping up her hoodie, she tucked her trouser cuffs firmly into her socks, and proceeded to stamp on any thickets that tried to get in her way.

As it turned out, the back of the house had fared no better against time than the front, ironic for all the dandelion clocks. Overgrown butterfly bushes sprawled higher than the first floor and knotweed was the only lifeform to launch counterattack, leaving behind countless twigging trees that appeared like zombies dragging themselves out the grave. Past the foliage, or lack thereof, Zoe’s eyes were drawn to the shiny shards sticking out the side of the house. Although the glass was cracking, and the wood rotting, Zoe gasped as if witnessing Venus herself. The orangery. The exact scene of the crime. It was there at the end of this golden path.

Zoe stumbled up to the white door. The paint peeled in thin lines and the metal handle was rusted red, but Zoe pulled the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand and attempted to turn it.

“It’s locked.” Said Callum helpfully. Zoe tried forcing it with her shoulder.

“You’ll have to come up here.” He added. Zoe glared at the door. She doubted Fort Knox had better security.

Stamping around the side of the conservatory, Zoe found the weasel in control once again. Callum was balancing on the very tips of his toes on the thin lip of brick that acted like a windowsill. He wasn’t standing still either. The boy eased his way along, poking at each waxy window until one gave with a mighty shriek.

“This one.” He said, sending Zoe a mightily pleased grin. “Just step up here and-”

The boy slipped inside with the ease of a slinky.

Zoe stared at the space he left. Those instructions were… less than par. But she had no choice but to follow them.

Shoving a foot onto the barely-there ledge, Zoe launched herself upwards, catching the open window and immediately losing her footing. Slipping towards the ground, panic struck her like a shot, and she kicked off the sill swinging wide. It was brief respite before she noticed the gleaming of the glass and let out a screech, squeezing her eyes shut just in time to crash through the window like a battering ram.

“Shit!” Callum yelped. Zoe winced at how loud and unblocked his voice was. “Guess that’s one way to do it.”

Zoe tentatively opened her eyes. The entire table was covered in tiny diamonds.

“You okay?”

“Uhh…”

Zoe looked back at the window smirking with its new bite. Those teeth. They were sharp. She curled her toes, rolling her ankles. No pain - luckily. She shuffled around onto her knees, pulling at the frayed fabric of her hoodie to check for cuts. Nothing more than hairline.

“Yes.” She said finally, sitting up straight.

Now, the heat hit Zoe. Like the blast of air expelled from a bag of crisps left out in the sun. It smelt the same too; stale and vaguely reminiscent of potatoes. Though, looking around, Zoe doubted any vegetables were ever grown here as underneath the doming windows and vines dropping through like a jungle canopy there was a telescope. Complete with tableside reading and a dusty velvet stool, it stood proud at the centre of the hexagonal room, painted with gold trim and delicate cursive font. Cornelius Winter’s true love. The cause of his undoing.

Taking Callum’s hand, Zoe picked her way across the bench, avoiding the insect carcasses and dead leaves that lay scattered like blossom of the underworld. Falling more than jumping onto the floor, she hissed out a thanks and let Callum go to poke around the old telescope. What must it have been like? Observing the sky. Cornelius alone, in his study, under the watch of the moon and the stars and the murderer waiting in the dark.

Zoe tugged her sleeves over her hands. In all the fuss getting here, she’d forgotten about the murder. Now, the splotch of blood on the concrete had her immediately wanting to forget. Maybe there was an argument for letting nature take over? Free this place of all its ghosts.

Sufficiently unnerved, Zoe went back to inspecting the room itself. There was something growing– aside from the mould – in the back corner, a fuschia bush, thriving under the abundance of light and water dribbling out a broken pipe. It was almost a comfort to Zoe. As if the incident all those years ago had a bright side. It returned the land back to nature. Set it free from human hands. That was, until Zoe noticed the mattress propped up against the far wall and the bleached magazines stuffed down the back of it.

“Oh nice!”

Zoe jumped. Having almost forgotten Callum was exploring with her, it was a surprise to find the boy, butt in the air, scraping for something on the floor next to the rusted door.

“What!? What’s nice? What’s going on?”

“This.” Callum flipped something shiny into the air and span around. “A coke bottle top. From the 90s.”

“The 90s!?”

Had people really been exploring Manorhouse Farm for that long? Nature didn’t stand a chance.

“Are you sure?”

Callum hummed in affirmation and Zoe moved closer. The red cap was severely rusted, but the swirly logo was unmissable. It was certainly cola, but not quite the same as usual. A bunch of ingredients were printed below and although the stamped-on production number was severely scratched, Zoe could see at least one of the characters being a nine. All the evidence, it pointed somewhere. Zoe took the cap and turned it between her fingers. Some teenager, some twenty years ago, had held this cap too. Had used this place as a hideaway. Or a hangout. Or an exciting adventure they could reminisce about on this future day. Zoe’s stomach went warm.

“Add it to the collection.” She said firmly, placing it back in his hand. Callum’s eyes sparked. He grinned widely, stuffing it into his pocket.

“I’m gonna look for more.”

With that, Callum hurried back to his corner. Zoe watched him a moment, bobbing about the greenhouse making little hisses and whoops as he picked at the seams. She thought of the collection, sitting on the wonky shelf in Callum’s bedroom. It was something to behold. Gnarly old beer tops, outdated sweet wrappers, questionable magazine ads, even an unsteady Homepride man kitted out in black bowler hat and suit found at the back of their gran’s shed. Every time Zoe visited, a little bit more space was taken up. And every time it felt a little less like Zoe’s. Granted, the shelf was in Callum’s room, in his house, but still… when was the last time she’d added to it?

Zoe turned around. There was no use in watching. Callum was far beyond her in terms of collecting. So, she had to find something worthy. Analysing the gaps between the weeds where the stone met the walls, Zoe felt like a hawk stalking it’s prey. A bottle top? But they already had plenty. A dead beetle? She didn’t fancy picking it up. An old crisp packet? It didn’t hold enough presence. She wanted something grabby. A show piece. Something with drama. Perhaps, a vintage murder weapon? The idea hit Zoe like the slap of a recoiling branch. The roof tile. It had to be here.

Zipping about the orangery, Zoe dived under the benches and rifled through vines. She whisked about the telescope and hauled aside the mattress. Nothing but mould and debris. Zoe threw it back with a huff. Then she made a beeline for the fuchsia bush. There was no way a roof tile could have fallen in at this angle, but, given the right throw, a weapon could almost certainly be hidden in the growth.

Zoe dived in.

Immediately she was met with the smell of soil, followed by a sudden hit of memory. It was of the afternoon she spent planting sunflowers with her cousin in her Auntie’s back garden. Dripping with sweat, Zoe had been desperate to finish and watch cartoons. The problem was Callum had been digging for hours. With a spoon. Finally, she’d had enough and waltzed over to yell. But she didn’t even finish the first word as, when she looked over the boys shoulder, Zoe found Callum holding an old Roman coin. Bastard. He had been one-upping her from the start. With renewed vigour, Zoe ploughed forward, snapping twigs and crushing leaves.

The greenery was surprisingly thick. Even squinting didn’t aid Zoe’s view as she buried herself deeper. So, shifting onto her side, Zoe tugged a miniature torch out her jeans pocket. Her uncle had gifted it her before they left with a very strict: ‘don’t come back without a ghost’ and a rather less strict: ruffle of the hair. With a click there was light, and Zoe grinned at the circle, crawling further in at a more leisurely pace. She took time to peek inside a pile of ripped tires, finding criss-crossing spider webs and unfortunate flies. She ran her light along the lines of pebbles. And the gravel that got stuck to her palms. None of it seemed particularly sinister. But, in the back corner, there was something bigger.

“D’you think they were looking at Mars?”

“What?” Zoe flipped around and winced as her hair tangled with the branches. Callum was sitting at the telescope, flicking through the little book on the table beside. He lifted it up to her, pointing to a page she assumed was describing Mars.

“I don’t know, look?” She suggested, leaning back to uncurl her hair from the bush’s spindly grip.

“Oh!” Callum’s face popped with idea before melding into a grin. Dropping the book, he swivelled around, lowering his eye to the lens. Zoe rolled hers, opting to break the branch rather than her hair.

Then, she resumed her investigation.

The ground grew muddier as she crept closer, and she did not enjoy the way the slime slithered between her fingers. But, in the yellow light, the mound was taking form. A tantalising lump of something. Zoe licked her lips.

“Mmm.” Callum’s hum was like an echo in Zoe’s head. “Yeah. That’s totally Mars. Has to be. No doubt. Zoe? You think it’s Mars?”

“I dunno!” Zoe called, dragging herself closer to the dirt pile. There seemed to be something hiding underneath. “Is it red? Wait.”

She stopped and grabbed a handful of leave, ripping her head around to face Callum.

“It’s daytime! There’s no way you can see Mars!”

“Oh shit yeah.” Callum laughed to himself. “Must have been a cloud.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. Stupid Callum, asking inane questions. She had important business to attend to. Namely, playing archaeologist as Zoe had just landed on top of the mud pile and there was definitely something hiding.

Zoe brushed away the dirt.

Underneath was a rock.

It was the colour of charcoal, but the consistency was smooth and undulating. Like someone had smelted it with their thumb. She brought her torch closer, missing how the magnet on its end swayed until it snapped suddenly, attaching itself to the rock. Zoe peeled the magnetic back, testing the field. It was magnetic. So not a rock at all. Zoe grabbed it now. It was cool to touch. Picking up another stone, she tested the weights. The magnetic one was far heavier. Like a lump of metal.

“Hey, Callum?” She called. The bushes rustled. Then a slash of light slapped Zoe in the eyes.

“Yeah?”

Zoe growled. “You trying to blind me?”

Callum had the decency to look sheepish. He offered Zoe a hand and she hauled herself up, fuchsia flowers spilling onto the floor around her.

“Look at this.”

Callum leaned in close enough for his lashes to brush the stone. “What is it, a rock?”

“I think…” Zoe said carefully, a warmth bubbling in her veins. “I think, it might be meteorite.”

Callum’s eyes blew wide. “Whoa!”

She hadn’t really believed it before, but after seeing Callum’s reaction, Zoe’s chest began to ripple with her racing heart. She turned the rock over in the light, observing how the nooks caught against her thumb. A stone from space. That was pretty cool - a decent substitute for a murder weapon. Callum seemed to agree too, if the way his knees were bouncing was anything to go by. Zoe was getting giddy. Deciding it was too much not to share, she went to hand over the rock when she stopped.

There was something stuck to it. Like the remnant of a label on the back of an ornament. Ignoring a crestfallen Callum, Zoe brought the meteorite closer to her face. Scratching at the strange overhanging, Zoe was relieved to find it was not stuck to the rock but rather more suspicious when she realised it was something buried inside. Taking the scrap between her nails she tugged. The remnant became a piece and it grew larger as she pulled, until she was able to catch it between her thumb and forefinger and pull it all the way out. Shifting the stone into the crook of her elbow, she unrolled the scroll, breath hitching as she realised a curling script had been drawn over the paper, all in a bright aqua.

It read: ‘Quit watching us, human.’

Zoe read it again. And again. And a third time as an unease crept into her stomach. She looked over to the corner where the meteorite was hiding. Followed the line back, past the telescope, up to the hole in the roof and beyond to the sky. Mars. That’s what Callum had said. And if this were a meteorite…

“Oh my god.” Zoe breathed, hearing every puzzle piece snap into place. “It was a murder.”

“What!?” Callum jumped back like the thing was a bomb about to go off.

“Manslaughter at the very least.” Zoe muttered, shoving the note and the meteorite into Callum’s un-awaiting hands.

“Cornelius Winter was looking at Mars,” she continued, walking over to the table and sliding the book towards herself. On the open page was a diagram of the planet, instructions for spotting it highlighted and indecipherable scrawl surrounding every line. What was the headline in ’06? Death threats for an astronomer? Zoe felt the eyes watching her again, the breath tickling the hairs on her neck. She didn’t dare look up as she finished her sentence.

“And Mars was looking back.”

#writeblr #short story #original writing #countryside #abandoned house #storytime #story 37

1 note · View note

atc74 · 5 years

Text

I Wanna Go Back

Square(s) Filled: Firefighter!Dean for @spnaubingo - Joshua for @heavenandhellbingo - Afterlife!AU for @spnfluffbingo2019

Warnings: Major character injury, description of injuries (not graphic), regrets, doubt, and a heaping dose of fluff

Summary: Dean is badly injured on the job and gets a glimpse of his past that makes him realize a few things.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2652

Written for: @spnaubingo @spnfluffbingo2019 @heavenandhellbingo

Beta’d by: @iwantthedean - I miss your face! @hannahindie - thank you always! and @muchamusedaboutnothing - thank you so much for your kind words!

A/N: I have admired @muchamusedaboutnothing for a while now and I used her as a beta for the first time on this piece, but with comments like this, I just might use her ALL THE TIME! This was fantastic! I love how much depth and characterization and story you were able to comfortably fit into a story of this length. And the inclusion of all the other characters just rounded the whole thing out. Thank you so very much for letting me have this sneak peek. I absolutely adore this story! You rocked this, girl.

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Winchester! Do you copy? I said get out of there!” Chief Singer screamed through his walkie.

“I’ve got the kid Chief, I’m on my w-” Dean coughed then his radio cut out just as an explosion rumbled through the four story apartment building, bringing most of it down.

“Winchester?” Chief Singer screamed into his walkie again with no response.

Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother, ran toward the burning rubble, Benny, Cas, and Jody hot on his heels. Chief Singer shouted at everyone to stay back, but none of them listened. Typical of his crew.

~*~

“Dean, baby, if you can hear me. I’m here, okay? I’m not mad, I just want you healthy and back home with me,” Y/N whispered. She had been sitting by Dean’s bedside since he got out of surgery. The prognosis wasn’t good.

“Dean has a pneumothorax, or a collapsed lung, and a broken sternum caused by a section of a wooden beam that had penetrated his chest. That caused a hemothorax, or bleeding in his chest cavity,” Dr. Shurley relayed the extent of Dean’s injuries to his family. “We’ve repaired the damage and reinflated his lung. His heart stopped while we were operating, most likely as a result of the trauma, but we were able to restart it. We’ve induced a coma to help his body heal, but Dean is strong and in great physical shape. All we can do now is hope and pray.”

Dr. Shurley turned and left the room, leaving the family alone with their loved one. Sam had resumed his seat on one side of Dean’s bed while Y/N remained on the other. John and Mary chose to stand, holding one another. The beeping from the machines gave Y/N comfort that his heart was strong and he would come back to them, to her. She lay her head on top of their hands and closed her eyes, the tears spilling over.

“Hello? Y/N? Sam?” Dean’s voice rang out. When he woke, he found himself in a garden, but he had never been there before and nothing looked familiar. He must have hit his head. “Where the hell am I?”

A low chuckle broke the eerie silence. “Not Hell. Heaven, son.”

Dean whipped his head around to find a man of small stature behind him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Joshua. Welcome to Heaven, Dean Winchester,” Joshua smiled and started down the walking path.

“Hey, why am I here? Am I dead?” Dean questioned, quick to catch up to the man.

“No, you’re not dead. Not technically, anyway,” Joshua replied.

“Then why am I here?” Dean demanded.

“You were dead, Dean. Your heart stopped allowing your soul to leave your body and come here to my garden in Heaven,” he explained.

“What do you mean I was dead?” Dean asked.

“While your corporeal form is still on earth and functioning, your soul remains here. Until you make a decision, that is.” Joshua revealed cryptically. “You can stay here if you wish. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“So while I’m here, my family is worried sick. My brother, my parents, my...oh God. Y/N.” Dean’s voice faltered as he thought of her.

With possibly the exception of his immediate family, Dean loved Y/N more than anything. They had been together since he had first laid eyes on her at the Fire and Ice Ball nearly five years ago. She was the only child of his boss, Chief Singer. While the chief wasn’t exactly happy that his daughter was dating a firefighter, he admired Dean’s work ethic, his dedication and he treated his little girl right.

“They’ve got to be worried and I bet they’re really pissed,” Dean muttered. He had a tendency to rush in any situation on the job, regardless of the dangers. He didn’t have time to think when people’s lives were at stake. Now, his personal life? That was a different matter entirely. He did nothing but think. He over thought every little thing. Especially when it came to his relationship with Y/N.

He knew he loved her from the moment they met, but he wasn’t the best with words. Dean Winchester considered himself a man of action and even if he didn’t say it, he showed her every day that he loved her. But did he? Did he show her how much she meant to him? How much he loved her? Did she know that he would lay down his life if it meant saving hers? Did she know he had gone out and bought a ring after their first official date because he knew she was it for him? Nearly five years later, that ring was still in his brother’s sock drawer. She didn’t know, because he chickened out every time he had tried to pour his heart out and tell her.

“Dean, you’re here for a reason. Think of this as your greatest hits,” Joshua chuckled and laid two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Memories flashed before his eyes.

Their first date. Dragging Sam to a dozen jewelers until he found the perfect ring. The first time he made her dinner. Introducing her to his mother. The day the chief pulled him into his office and ripped him a new one about dating his little girl. Five minutes after that when Dean confessed his love for Y/N to her father. Anniversaries, birthdays, lazy Sundays.

Picking out the perfect house where Dean had dreamt of raising a family with Y/N. Surprising her with a trip to the shelter because she wanted a dog to keep her company when Dean worked long shifts and settling on the name Blaze.

“I’m an idiot,” Dean whispered.

“That remains to be seen, son” Joshua responded nonchalantly as he trimmed one of the hedges on the edge of the path.

“I’ve made my decision, Joshua. I wanna go back and do it all over. But I can’t go back, I know. Things would never be the same. But I wanna go and do it right now,” Dean blurted out. “I’ve got to make it right. I’ve been so asinine.”

“You’re sure this is what you want, Dean?” Joshua looked at him pointedly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes! I have plans and I need to act on them. Please,” Dean begged the gardener.

Joshua snapped his fingers and everything went black.

~*~

Y/N sat in the same chair hour after hour, day after day. She watched the machines that told her Dean was still there. She watched the clock that ticked by the minutes of their life together, the dreams they’d yet to share. The memories they’d yet to make. She only left when someone forced her to shower and eat, but she was never gone more than thirty minutes.

After three days, Dr. Shurley had taken Dean off of the phenobarbital, but he had not regained consciousness. Every hour he stayed still, Y/N feared that he would never come back to her. Every hour she surprised herself by crying the tears she didn’t think she had. Alone with Dean in the middle of the night, she talked to him.

“Blaze is going to be so excited to see you when I get you home. He’s staying with Jody and she has been bringing him to the station with her. My dad pretends to hate it, but we both know he loves that dog,” she laughed for the first time in days, even if it was half-hearted.

“Baby, I know you probably think that I’m going to be mad and yell at you for being so reckless, but Sam told me...he told me how you saved that little girl’s life and kept a family together. I’m not mad, I’m so proud of you. I’m lucky to be able to call you mine and our children will be even luckier to have a daddy like you, Dean. But I need you to wake up, baby. Please wake up for me,” she pleaded. Her sobs echoed quietly off the sterile walls as her shoulders shook. Y/N laid her head back down on the bed, next to Dean’s hand, still clasped in hers.

It had been ninety-eight hours and twenty-seven minutes since Dean’s surgery and more than twenty-six hours since the doctors had lifted his medical induced coma. The clock on the wall continued to tick. Along with the beeping and the steady hum of the machines sustaining Dean’s body, it lulled her to sleep, too fatigued to maintain the schedule, despite the obscene amount of caffeine she was forcing on herself.

Blaze raced around the backyard chasing a ball while giggles bounced off the fence. Y/N sat back in her chair, the sun bright and warm on her face. She was in her happy place. The home she shared with Dean, living the life they had built together.

“Sweetheart,” Dean whispered in her ear, his rough fingertips gently caressing her cheek. “Sweetheart? Y/N, you gotta wake up for me.” His voice was a soft plea in her ear. “Y/N?”

Her head shot up off the side of the bed and her eyes locked with his. “You’re awake. You came back to me!” She didn’t think she had anything left, but tears of joy streaked down her face.

“I got plans for us,” Dean whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“Dean, baby. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” she whispered words of encouragement. “We don’t need to talk about the accident right now.”

“Not the accident, Y/N. Me, you...us. I’ve been an idiot and I should have told you how much you mean to me, how much I love you. But I thought you knew,” Dean voice cracked and his eyes welled up.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I know, Dean. Baby, I know how much you love me,” she cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to it.

“But I don’t tell you enough. Nowhere near enough. What if I died and you didn’t know? I didn’t tell you how much you mean to me? That would be the worst thing I could imagine,” Dean admitted.

“I’ve been here imagining the worst, Dean. For more than four days, I have been sitting here, thinking you might never come back to me. That was near the worst for me. I’m so glad you came back to me,” she cried.

“I had to. Heaven was nice, but it doesn’t have you. I had to come back to tell you all the things I’ve been taking for granted and assumed you know,” Dean informed her.

“Heaven?” Y/N asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, but that can wait,” Dean said.

A knock sounded at the door before it was pushed open. “Mr. Winchester, it’s nice to officially meet you. I’m Doctor Shurley. Welcome back.”

The doctor did a full check on his healing. Dean’s prognosis was good, and after all the phone calls had been made, Y/N finally let herself relax a little bit. She pulled out her laptop and Dean’s favorite movie, Tombstone, when another knock sounded at the door, Sam peeking his head inside.

“Hey!” Dean greeted his brother.

“I just came by to bring you both a change of clothes,” Sam set the bag he was carrying in the corner by the restroom. He took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Tombstone?” He groaned catching what was on the screen.

“You love it,” Dean jabbed.

“Yeah, sure I do. Right now, I’ll watch anything you want. It’s good to have you back, brother,” Sam smiled up at his older sibling, feeling whole now that Dean was awake and recovering. “Anyway, I’ll let you two crazy kids get back to your movie. It’s good to see you awake, Dean.” Sam stood and shook Dean’s hand with a brotherly pat to the shoulder. Until he was up and about, that would have to do.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, his hand squeezing around Sam’s hand.

“I’m your Huckleberry,” Sam laughed and headed for the door.

“I fucking knew it!” Dean shouted in victory. “I knew he loved this movie!”

“He loves anything his big brother loves, Dean,” Y/N pointed out.

“And I’ll give him anything he wants and needs. That’s my job,” Dean agreed. “But that’s not what this is about. I asked him to bring something for me.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” Y/N sat up, concerned.

“No, everything’s fine, Sweetheart. But I had a very interesting conversation with an angel named Joshua while I was out. He gave me a rewind of my life and I realized a couple things,” Dean started, taking a deep breath. “But the most important thing I realized is that I should have done this a long time ago.” Dean opened his hand and picked up the shiny gold ring with two fingers. “When I’m on the job, I don’t have time to think because I could lose someone in the time it takes me to make a decision. I rush into danger without pause.

“But when it comes to us, to you, it’s all I do. I think about you when I wake up and you’re the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep at night. I put so much thought into each and every decision I make and the ones we make together, that I tend to overthink and talk myself out of my first instinct. I decided I need more balance. I need to take a bit more time on the job to think about how my decisions affect my crew and think a little less when it comes to our life. I mean it took us three days to name our dog and I want to spend more time living my life with you than planning it.

“After our first date, I trusted my gut and went shopping, but I let my brain talk my heart out of something that it really wanted, because I thought it was something that I had to plan out. But then I got hurt and in the process, so did you. I don’t ever want you to go another day without knowing, without a doubt, that I love you more than anything,” Dean paused, his voice breaking and his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I wanna go back to do it all over. But I know it wouldn’t be the same. All I can do now is do better, be better for you. For us. Y/N, will you marry me?” He opened his hand that held the ring he’s had for almost five years. The diamonds still sparkled even in the dim lights of his hospital room.

“Dean, I know every morning I wake beside you that you love me. I know each night that I fall asleep in your arms that you love me. I can feel it in every single thing you do, every time you hold me. I feel it when you make me soup from scratch when I’m sick. I feel it when you pick up my favorite takeout, when you hold my hand when we walk Blaze. I feel it in my bones and you’re the only one that could ever make me feel like that,” Y/N smiled, her eyes locked on Dean’s as she spoke.

“Is that a yes?” Dean asked, his nerves taking over.

“Yes! God yes I will marry you!” She shouted, throwing her arms around him, mindful of the wires and tubing still attached to him.

“Oh thank god! I was starting to think I waited too long,” Dean pressed his lips to hers quickly before he remembered the ring. He slipped it on her finger, then admired the perfect fit.

“You think too much,” she laughed, pulling him for another kiss.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

#spnaubingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #heaven & hell bingo #dean winchester #dean winchester au #firefighter!dean #dean x reader #dean x reader au #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester supernatural fanfiction spnfanficpond spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural au

270 notes · View notes

bts-write · 6 years

Text

Secretly a perfect date- Chaelisa Oneshot

A/N: My third fanfic for Pride Month and ...my first lesbian fic for this blog??? Yayayayay.

Written for a request from an anon: “Can you write a chaelisa one shot where they get stranded somewhere together, because of bad weather or something?”

Chaeyoung peeked at the sky, half hidden behind the veil of dust on her windscreen. She scrunched up her nose.

“It’s gonna rain.”

“Good, your car needs it.”, Lisa laughed from the passenger seat.

Chaeyoung teased a punch at Lisa’s arm before pulling the keys out of the ignition. She turned, ready to grab her coat from the back seat. To her dismay, the bench was empty.

“It’s fine, Chaeyoung,” Lisa reassured, seeing her expression. “There are literally two clouds in the sky. They said it would be cloudy, but nothing about rain. Trust me.”

Chaeyoung studied the girl’s eyes, trying not to blush at their intensity. Eventually, she had to laugh it off and look away:

“I would, but you’re the least organised person I know.”

The two of them stepped out of the car and into the slight breeze of the afternoon. Their hair danced before them, as if mimicking the ruffled trees of the car park.

“I’m so excited!” Chaeyoung bounced on her tiptoes as the two of them approached the arched entrance.

“I told you I was going to take you to a botanical garden. And I kept my word.”, Lisa answered smugly, trying not to let her own excitement show. “But what’s so special about all these plants?”, she teased.

“They’re so pretty! There are so many colours everywhere, it’s amazing.”

“It is.”, Lisa whispered to herself, watching Chaeyoung run ahead.

After stepping through the towering gate, they found themselves under a tall, green canopy. Patches of light flickered on the path before them, shifting as the leaves above swayed in the wind.

Lisa took photos while Chaeyoung squealed about the different plants. They smelt flowers and walked through greenhouses and all the while, Chaeyoung talked, explaining whatever she had read to Lisa.

Eventually, they reached a maze.

“We’re gonna get so lost.”, Lisa warned.

“Exactly! It will be fun, come on.”

Chaeyoung grabbed Lisa’s hand, pulling her through the entrance in the hedge. The narrow path twisted and turned. Chaeyoung never stopped to consider, she went with her first instinct, pulling Lisa along so fast that the maze became a blur of colours, green mixing with the pastels of the roses.

They slowed down, breathing fast, Lisa struggling to keep up with Chaeyoung. Just when she through Chaeyoung might switch to walking, the girl turned around.

“Let’s make it a competition. If you get out last, you buy the winner something from the cafe. It’s all on the loser.”

“Chaeyoung-”, Lisa tried to protest, but the other girl was already skipping away, leaving gravel dust in her wake.

After what seemed like hours of dead ends and wrong turns, Lisa finally walked out into a big gravelly space. It seemed oddly empty for a botanical garden, a barren space in the middle of it all. The only things rising out of the dust were a pretty fountain and an old fashioned building facing the maze. Lisa groaned when she saw Chaeyoung sitting on the steps of the mansion.

“This is a museum”, Chaeyoung announced, victorious. “The garden was built around the mansion. The people who used to live here hundreds of years ago donated the land, and now their things and other cool objects from the era are on display in the museum. But it’s being renovated right now, so it’s closed.”, she pouted.

“How do you know so much about this place when I’m the one who actually brought you here?”

“First of all, I drove us in my car. Second of all, I read up on it online before we came because I was excited. Third of all, you lost!”

Lisa sighed, but despite her fatigue, couldn’t help smiling at Chaeyoung’s pride, her excitement. She was enjoying herself, and that was all that mattered.

They walked around the mansion, across more dusty gravel and towards more flowery hedges, where the garden began to show signs of life again.

“Lisa!”, Chaeyoung shouted, making her jump.

“What?”

“It’s raining!”

Chaeyoung was covering her hair, squinting at the sky.

“Barely. It’s just a few drops, it’ll stop soon.”

But the gravel turned dark wherever the droplets landed, the ground changing colour before their very eyes.

Chaeyoung ran back to the mansion, squealing as the water started pouring down, defying Lisa’s words. Admitting defeat, Lisa followed, squeezing next to Chaeyoung beneath a narrow ledge.

Water sprayed Lisa’s toes through her sandals, splattering onto Chaeyoung’s bare legs. She pressed herself against the wall, trying to hide from the rain.

“It’s pretty heavy”, Chaeyoung observed.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.”, Lisa said, her shoulders drooping. “I should’ve planned better. It was supposed to be warm and dry and sunny and we were supposed to walk through the garden all day. It’s ruined now.”

Chaeyoung looked at her, incredulous, the shadow of a smile on her face.

“Lisa! Nothing’s ruined.” She put her hand on Lisa’s arm. “Hey, look at me. This is beautiful! Can you smell that? All the plants in the rain? And it will stop raining soon and everything will be even prettier. It’s even pretty now. I love rain.”

“Then why’d you run from it?”

Chaeyoung made a face at her. “Just because I like rain doesn’t mean I want to get wet and shiver all day.”

“You’re cold?”

“Oh. It’s- it’s fine, I-”

But Lisa was already taking off her jacket. Chaeyoung looked at her feet.

“Are you sure? You’ll be cold.”

“I’m fine, Rosie.”, Lisa said, wrapping the jacket around Chaeyoung’s shoulders. “Besides, I wear clothes that actually cover most of my body, so I don’t have problems when it comes to things like these.”

She pointed at her jeans, then at Chaeyoung’s high waisted shorts and crop top, poking her belly in the process.

“Hey!” Chaeyoung laughed, blushing. “You’re such a bitch.”

Lisa shrugged. “I know.”

The sound of the rain deepened, taking over the silence. In front of them, where the ledge of the roof ended, the water fell like a curtain, a wall of rain squeezing them into the small, dry space.

“You were right”, Lisa admitted. “It really is pretty.”

Chaeyoung nodded, half lost in thought. “Rain is really-”

“Romantic?” Lisa suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Chaeyoung’s incredulous smile returned as she searched for words. “Will you stop with the teasing?”

“I’m not teasing. I gave you my jacket, that’s pretty romantic, Rosie.”

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. “Next you’ll be saying that this whole thing is basically a date.”

“Now, you brought that one upon yourself.”

“You were gonna say it!”

“Nope. I guess you just want it to be.”

“What? A date? I don’t!”

“That’s a pity, it would’ve been a great one.”

Chaeyoung wanted to wipe the smug grin off Lisa’s face. It was infuriating. “Well you’ll be taking me to the cafe next. And you’ll be paying, so that’s definitely date material! And I’ll make sure to eat as much as I can.”

“Touché.”

After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of rainfall, Chaeyoung looked back to Lisa, the indignation on her face softening to honesty.

“Thank you for this, Lisa.”, she said shyly.

“For the date?”, Lisa teased.

To her surprise, Chaeyoung nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah. And thanks for the jacket too.” She pushed her arms into the sleeves. Pressing against the wall slightly, leaning away from the rain, she hugged herself, her hands hiding in the sleeves.

“It looks great on you.”

Chaeyoung finally met Lisa’s eyes. Nervously, endearingly, she held them. And Lisa couldn’t resist the pull, the way Chaeyoung challenged silently. She moved closer, her hand meeting Chaeyoung’s hair, fingers slowly intertwining with the locks.

Leaning forward, she pressed her against the wall, lips meeting Chaeyoung’s with the softness of a blush. She smelt of rain and roses, and she kissed back gently, her hands finding Lisa’s back, wrapping around her, pulling her closer.

They pulled apart, and Lisa smiled at their closeness. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you”, Chaeyoung blushed.

“In my jacket, I mean.”

Chaeyoung’s nostrils flared. She pursed her lips and pushed her hands against Lisa’s shoulders, sending her stumbling backwards into the rain. Then she followed, jumping over the steps and squinting in the rain, laughing at Lisa’s scandalised expression.

“You cheeky bitch!”

Chaeyoung only laughed and ran at her, softening the impact with a hug, and sealing the hug with a kiss.

“Kissing in the rain?”, Lisa murmured against Chaeyoung’s neck. “This really is a perfect date. I outdid myself.”

“You did.” Chaeyoung answered, letting go and grabbing Lisa’s hand, pulling her through the rain.

She ran because there was no reason to, and smiled because she felt like smiling. There were puddles and there was mud, and Lisa had been wrong. It had rained, and because of that, she had kissed the girl she liked on a date that she had planned.

#chaelisa #blackpink #blackpink fanfiction #lisa blackpink #lalisa manoban #park chaeyoung #blackpink rose #chaelisa fanfiction

67 notes · View notes

snoozing-but-not-losing-blo-blog · 7 years

Text

Geometrical simulacrum

Life is often described as a head-scratching ascending and descending differential graph; a marathon where you have to knuckle down, climb up some lofty slippy-slide hills, cascade down them and well, keep going. I do not resent this sentiment. I actually think it’s quite a delightful description and have actually written as so about it. I was just thinking though that maybe, just maybe, along those curves, on a higher dimension, that there’s also a maze you have to enigmatize through - a maze, be it a standard, circular or other known type. Considering life’s path like this may aptly frame the facet of choices, questioning and challenges most people’s experience every second, minute, hour, day and so on– you can go on and on with this standardized time thingy. A curve/vector is a tempting metaphor because magnitude and direction are conventionally employed aspects and we get to see the bigger picture; the trend, like the ones we see/learn about in class; but singular lines alone slay realistic acumen. A curve/vector like element superimposed with a labyrinthic maze may be more appropriate to the dimension we perceive and could be the host platform we lucidly seek to paint reality with all its shades of colour and adventure (Deverich, 2013).

We are unexpectedly brought when born, probably by those storks (not pelicans Mr and Mrs Pedantics) we see in cartoons carrying babies, into a point of time and space in this maze- a point/section where most of the time our parent(s)/guardian(s) are. We are then bound to follow them until we develop the ability to stand, egotize, fall, inquire and explore. Obviously, a certain percentage of individuals cling on longer to others than others, doing the first four but not independently inking out the definition of “exploration”. This classic scouting may initially be driven by pressures of parent(s)/guardian(s), norms of society and sometimes simply by the blind hoisting of time but it can be steered by needs and wants (Deverich, 2013). Of course, you’re certain to take wrong turns, hit dead ends, lose time, meander in all types of traps and twists to unexpected places; unless you’ve somehow studied the fates of time or have unprecedented luck. This maze doesn’t have clear signs, maps or guides. How could it, as the options seem infinite. We can however try to learn about how to navigate it by the various learning methods enforced or availed when living (Emberton, 2017) or at least understand when we’re progressing uphill or tumbling down the curves.

Now some people for whatever reason are satisfied going down the first independent pathway they encounter, simply because it seemed easier and logical at the time, with others going down the alternatives up ahead. The thought that it’s their own choice and/or hence the right one at the moment is enough to accept the outcome irrespective of what it is. The choice could be defended by intuition, impulses, hopes or a scratch of knowledge but the idea that it may lead down to a dead end has to be accepted. The dilemma comes if they reach such a point. To go back suggests failure: that our judgement was flawed, that time was wasted, that the other paths could also have worse twists and turns and round-and-round in circles you will have to go. And the painful thing is – that’s usually agonizingly true (Emberton, 2017). The maze just is agonizingly unfair. An unknown number of people settle despite this, not glancing back, be it for effort or pride, with the aspect of not even glancing over the surrounding walls/hedges. Others back up, turn and refuse to live in such a trap, going back into the labyrinth to try other routes. The latter choice might be tedious with turn backs, repetitive outcomes and mistakes but the possibility of finding a unicursal path and route to whatever life is about still remains elusive and learning the jest of this I think is key to individual development. As people, I know we’re really good at soaring for miles forward but we hate or are literally fearful of backtracking (Emberton, 2017). The choice concludes with your alludes: Is it going to be constancy or a puzzle to liberation? Sometimes we cling on to others or follow the bread crumbs of successful people who “made it”, but the conclusion might not be the same. It might never be. Some of those people worked or had been granted opportunistic openings in their times and space which will remain closed or shifted when others come. The walls or hedges were also short enough for others to jump over and take shortcuts but grew taller and can only be pole vaulted over now. It’s a predicament but I still think the greatest mistake is standing still especially if you haven’t fulfilled the true end goal. Do not unnecessarily be an immovable object when there are no strict unstoppable forces around you. You’re allowed to snooze this time, try making the best of such a rare gifted opportunity and restart.

So, what is this end goal? Certainly, we are oriented to seek comfort zones and materialistic resources. Become rich and/or famous. But what if these were just simply geographic locations in the maze— a great tourist site to live or visit? We are all looking for such places but these false trajectories or accolades alone will only satisfy impulses, desires and ego stroking. I think the most important end goal, irrespective of whether you reach such places is knowing that the movement in this journey is to find awareness, enlightenment, appreciation, wisdom and conjure your true self and calling - all true tools for the exploration notion. No location within the maze without this can be the end goal/purpose because time will taper you off, the walls/hedges might close down and the undisputed heavy weight champion Death will knock you out whenever it feels like, even if your physically, mentally and socially not ready for this. This nevertheless won’t be such a painful loss if you have discovered these named aspects and truly may have figured out part of the maze (Deverich, 2013).

The maze indeed continues to thwart, push or pull but sometimes supports voyaged progress. Our progress is cut short or blocked by all the -isms, prejudice, self-esteems, knowledge barriers and discouragement. When we start out, very few of us know exactly what, when and where we want to end up. We spend time a lot of time hopelessly floating, fulfilling others’ expectations, exploring career and relationship paths that may be accidental, abrupt, futile, or disappointing cul-de-sacs. Sometimes we are pulled “off the track” to help others, get scarred, damaged or heartbroken but these detours and escapades may actually build you and direct you to divine paths. Even if we know what we want and how to get there, we are not always given the necessary resources and access. Exploring all the nooks, crooks, crannies and hidden alcoves to do so I think gives more reason for existing, breathing, moving, and living. Awareness gives rise to questions of self which is believed to distinguish yourself from other animate and inanimate things. Sometimes defining self is an outwardly active process, building a family, pursuing a career, attempting a physical feat or giving in to relationships. Other times it’s an inward process, listening and learning what is authentically you and what is projected onto you from others and society. Are you this, that or are you what other people called you? Generated enlightenment, appreciation and wisdom also help answer these, as well as the existential question of who we are and what does it matter? It’s all basically a daunting quest but let’s start to like the challenge. Discovering your calling can also give deeper and richer meaning to your experiences. It can also stop the wandering and provide bona fide guidance to your next move (Deverich, 2013).

Life’s maze does have more inception-like complexities in it. Take our labyrinthic minds: They are mazes within this maze and others, that of course allow us to experience everything but only after our trapped thoughts, opinions and creativity pick outlets within unconsciousness and subconsciousness to be channelled to consciousness. Another example is our lost souls finding a story in their catacombs and fiddled riddle of love also add deeper reconnaissance.

I don’t know if there is a true entrance or exit to this maze but the purpose of this writing, like others have tried is to help with journeys. There could also be a “centre” to this maze; a sort of godhead core of knowledge, centre perspective, outcome to salvation, where one could as well experience life like no other like the way the man in black in the Westworld show thinks there is. I’m once again not sure. I guess you have to strap your boots and gloves tight and continue to fight to find out. Life has a maze. You were meant to live, to see that the challenge is felt and meant to be (Tracey, 2015). You have to try, not settle easily, because of you don’t try, well, you may, have not lived life at all (Meet Joe Black, 1998).

-by Pavanraj Singh Chana

References

Deverich, A. (2013, Sep 26). Life’s Path Is a Maze, Not a Straight Line. Retrieved from

HuffPost: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/amanda-deverich/life-lessons_b_3994327.html

Emberton, O. (2017). Life is a maze, not a marathon. Retrieved from Oliver Emberton:

https://oliveremberton.com/2014/life-is-a-maze-not-a-marathon/ Meet Meet Joe Black (1998). [Motion Picture].

Tracey, A. (2015, Aug). The Maze. Retrieved from Family Friend Poems:

https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-maze

#spilledink #creative writing #writing #maze

1 note · View note

therearemonstersinthedark · 5 years

Text

Book 2 Luciferous

Chapter 10: Like a stone

A Guardians of the Galaxy Fanwork

Pairings: Peter Quill / Gamora (one-sided), Peter Quill & Nebula

Genre: Adventure, general

Word Count: 5k

Rating: T to be safe, mild gore in later chapters

Links: Fanfiction.net || Ao3

Summary: The first night on Ego’s planet and some quiet talks in the dark.

Author’s Notes: Title is from ‘Like a Stone’ by Audioslave

Chapter 10: Like a Stone

Ego led Peter down a new path through the endless gardens. This one wound its way down to a large open court. The floor was a faded sea-foam marble that his boots made soft scuffing sounds against, and the edges tapered up like an absurdly shallow colosseum until they blended back into the strange plant-life around them. Out here, the decorously arranged flowers and hedges of the upper gardens had morphed into a wilder landscape of trees and bushes. Peter knew if he went out far enough in the other direction, he would find the desert that Gamora had wandered off into the first time, the one Nebula had come crashing down in, and the caves that lead to the mass grave of all of his countless half-siblings.

"Have you tried to access the light since coming to this universe?" Ego asked him as they approached the center of the court.

"No, not really," Peter answered, his hands shoved in his pockets as he followed along.

Ego stopped and turned to face him when they reached the center. "Probably for the best," he hummed. "You have more power than you do control, and not much of either, so even if you did manage to summon something so far away from my core, you're more dangerous to those around you than useful right now."

"Didn't know you cared about the safety of others so much."

"Make no mistake, Peter, I couldn't care less about these mortal parasites of yours. Whether it takes a matter of days or a hundred years, they will all be dead, and you will live on. I have waited countless millennia to not be alone in this universe. A few centuries won't matter much now."

Peter narrowed his eyes at the celestial before him.

"You weren't feeling this patient the last time we met. Why the sudden Ghandi act?"

The wrinkles on Ego's forehead deepened at Peter's reference, but after a moment he must have decided he simply didn't care and brushed it off.

"Do you know what happens to a Celestial when they die?" Ego asked.

"What?" That wasn't quite the answer Peter had expected.

"We draw our powers, our life force, our very sense of being from what could be considered another plane of existence. The Light has existed since long before this universe burst to life, and it will exist long after Entropy has pulled the last thread that holds this reality together. It is what makes us immortal. The reason time does not touch us, and why the stones, other vestiges of existence before... existence, can interact with our powers, rather than consume it. In a way we are made from the same stuff, and the power within them recognizes its own.

"My core is like a doorway to this alternate plane that allows the Light to shine through into this universe, and my consciousness here exists as a projection of that light. That light shines on you, too, and grants you your powers and immortality through me. When you destroyed my core, you shut that door."

"...And trapped you on the other side?" Peter asked slowly.

"Yes." Ego's eyes had a strange misty quality to them as though he was looking into this other plane of existence as he spoke.

"What was there?" Peter breathed.

Ego suddenly shook himself and returned his attention to the immediate reality around him.

"Not much." His usual arrogant drawl had returned, and again Peter had the sense he was hiding something. "The last of the Celestials before me died eons ago. Whatever individuality they may have once possessed has long since been consumed."

"Wait, you said that when you died, this door or whatever shut. But I thought my connection to the Light was why I remembered things the others didn't?"

"Something like you has never existed before. It seems the rules where you are involved get a little blurry. When the door shut, your connection to me was like a little piece of rubble caught in the jam, wedging it open, and a tiny sliver of the Light must have still been leaking through. Enough to hold you together and anchor you in place even as the reality around you was torn apart and sewn back together.

"When Thanos unraveled the last universe and rewrote the time stream, he flung the door back open and I was able to step back through. Like you, my memories returned, and here I am." Ego spread his arms out as he grinned at Peter.

"And we're just so happy to have you," Peter grumbled, stifling a yawn.

"You will be," Ego promised. "In time."

"Can we just get on with it?" Peter snapped, growing increasingly uncomfortable with Ego's dark optimism

"Of course." Ego raised his arm and from the seafoam court beside him a bubble of light bloomed forth, twisting and contorting before settling back down into the shape of the celestial himself. A much larger stone likeness stood in the court now, hands held proudly on his hips and clothes frozen as though rippling in some imaginary breeze. "Let's begin with something simple."

"Simple?" Peter asked dubiously.

"Stone is the easiest element to begin with. Not as volatile as some of the others, and you're not ready for anything as finicky as a plant."

"Great, so... How do I do this exactly?" He had made things before, during his battle with Ego's core, but his memories of that time were tinted and blurred through emotion, and he couldn't really recall how he'd done it.

"Begin by summoning the Light," Ego instructed. "You won't have enough to make something this large yet, so just summon as much as you can."

Peter frowned down at his hands. They felt clumsy and hampered by the bandages wrapped around them. He'd done this before. He could do it again. As he focused on recalling the feeling of the Light dancing between his palms, tiny tendrils of bluish light, like a miniature lightning storm, began to take form. Just like the last time he had been here, and he had made the ball that he and Ego had tossed around the court. A spark of anger flared up at the memory, and the ball of light forming between his fingers crackled and burst outward in a small but violent explosion.

"OUCH!" he yelped, shaking his hands and patting his clothes and hair to make sure nothing had caught fire.

Ego narrowed his eyes and frowned at Peter's failure. "Try again," he ordered. "Focus on your goal."

Peter took a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth and raised his hands back up.

After several breaths, the lightning began to flicker back into existence and form into a ball in his hands. When the ball had reached the size of a softball he glanced up at Ego to see what he should do next, but Ego said nothing. He was watching the ball of light with silent intensity and Peter took this as prompting to continue drawing on the energy within. When the ball had reached the size of a cantaloupe, at least what Peter remembered a cantaloupe being, he was panting hard and struggling to maintain the shape. This time when Peter looked up Ego met his eyes, but rather than give him any help, he raised his eyebrows as if to say 'that's it?' Another wave of dark emotion washed over Peter and the bubble in his hands again burst like an overinflated balloon. The blast was enough to rock Peter back a step.

Ego let out a deep sigh as Peter recovered his feet.

"Again," he said. "You'll need more than that to create anything worthwhile."

Peter couldn't help the scowl as he recovered his breath and started again. Do it for your friends, he reminded himself. Ego didn't matter. Whatever scheme he was pulling off here, and whatever enjoyment he was getting out of this didn't matter. Peter just needed to stay here long enough to learn to use the Light and then he was gone. The quicker he learned, the quicker this would all be over.

The next time Peter looked up from his work, there was sweat pouring down his face and the ball in his hands was easily the size of a basketball.

Ego studied him for a moment through cold eyes before relenting. "I suppose that will have to do."

Peter didn't have the breath for a sarcastic reply, so he focused on holding the basketball of light together.

"Now focus on what you want it to become," Ego instructed. "Build the image in your mind, then feel it with your hands. It will exist because you will it so."

Peter's eyes were beginning to sting as he stared into the bright light and tried to 'will it so' into a rock. For a moment it seemed to be working. The burning orb shrank and condensed and somehow grew heavier in Peter's hands, even though he wasn't actually touching it.

"Aha!" Peter gasped in elation.

The orb in his hands immediately rippled and shuddered and for a third time blew apart in his arms. This time, at least, Peter thought to shield his face and brace himself so the blow didn't strike him down.

"RRRRRRRRGH!" Peter grunted in frustration, glaring at his empty hands that stung like they'd been slapped. "D'ast it! Why does that keep happening?"

Ego let out a snort. "The Light is nothing more than an extension of yourself. It will be shaped and molded according to your will. If you are distracted, or your will is weak, you will lose control. Try again."

Ego and Peter spent the entire morning and then some in the seafoam court. The sun had crept past the center of the sky and begun its slow descent when Ego finally announced a break and Peter collapsed to his knees. Small, disfigured clumps of dirt and stone littered the ground at his feet. They ranged in size from pebbles to hunks as large as his fist. Some were solid and unyielding to the touch, while others were already crumbling apart. All were equally hideous and formless.

"I think that's plenty for now," the celestial said, kicking several stones out of the way as he approached to stand over Peter. "I believe Mantis and most of your friends are reconvening for lunch. Why don't you join them for now? The Nova Corps should be hailing us soon. I'll come back for you then and we can pick up where we left off."

Peter struggled back to his feet. "Okay," he grunted.

-x-

As Ego had predicted, Peter found most of his team in the same greenhouse dining room he had left them in.

Drax was the first one to notice his entrance and called out a loud greeting.

"Peter! How did it go?"

"Fine," Peter groaned as he shuffled towards the nearest chair and flopped into it. "I think. I stopped trying to blow myself up, so that's good, right?"

Drax grabbed the empty plate from in front of Peter and began filling it with food. "I know nothing of this Light, but I would assume so."

Peter accepted the full plate with gratitude and began shoveling food down like a starving person. A few moments later Gamora placed a cup filled with water down in front of him as well and he chugged half of it down before thanking her.

"How long do you think it will take you to learn?" Gamora asked from where she was leaning against the table and watching him eat.

"A while," Peter sighed into his plate. "But don't worry. We'll get your parents back, I promise. I'm just taking a quick break, Ego wants to work on this some more later..."

"You are exhausted," Drax pointed out. "You should return to your room and rest until then."

"I'm fine," Peter protested.

"I am groot," Groot said, pointing one finger accusingly at Peter's plate.

Peter blinked in confusion at the food that suddenly seemed much closer than he remembered it. "I am not falling asleep in my food," he lied, straightening up and ignoring the disbelieving looks pointed squarely at him.

"I will escort you back to your room, if you are worried you cannot make it on your own," Drax offered. Peter squinted at him, but couldn't quite tell if Drax was being serious or making fun of him.

"No thanks. I think I can make it. Are you sure you guys will be okay if I leave you again?"

"We will be fine," Drax answered. "The bug lady has been showing us around and displaying some of her powers. It has been quite entertaining."

Behind him, Mantis looked positively ecstatic over the small praise.

Peter finished off his plate and the rest of his water and excused himself. The walk back to the rooms they were staying in felt much longer than it had this morning. Just a short nap, he promised himself as he dragged his feet up the steps. He would take a short nap and then go join his friends before Ego came back for him. He was already feeling a little better after eating, so he was sure he didn't need much sleep.

Peter shut his eyes against a huge yawn that made his jaw ache as he shoved the door to his room open and collapsed face-first into his bed.

"That's disgusting," a voice broke into the silence. "You shouldn't sleep with your boots on."

"GODDAMNIT!" Peter screamed, rolling over to fling a pillow as hard as he could at the source of his latest heart attack.

Nebula was in his room, leaning with her hip against the frame of his open window. She had a half-eaten plate of food balanced in one hand and something that looked suspiciously like a fork from Earth in the other. She didn't so much as blink as the poorly aimed pillow bounced harmlessly off her knees.

"What are you doing here, Nebula?" he asked crossly. "This is my room."

"The window was open." She shrugged.

"That's not an invitation."

"You went into my room."

"What?"

"You forgot to close the door again when you left," she told him as she took another bite of her food. "I know it was you. None of the others are that nosy or that stupid."

"Fine," Peter huffed. "I'm sorry I was worried about you, okay? I'd say it won't happen again, but we both know that's a lie."

Nebula opened her mouth, but apparently had no reply for that because after a moment of hesitation she, predictably, changed the subject. "The caves are gone," she supplied instead. "The ones that lead down to his core."

"Gone? Are you sure you looked in the right place."

"I looked where you claimed they would be, and several other places. I spent most of the night traveling the perimeter of these gardens and buildings, but I never found anything like what you described. He must have buried them."

"Well," Peter sighed as he began working off his boots. "I mean, I can't really say I'm surprised he did it. I'm sure whatever defense measures the Nova Corps have planned are assuming he'd be hiding it."

"I'm sure."

"Is that what you were doing all night? Snooping? You could have told someone instead of just vanishing."

"I don't have to report to you," Nebula said, tilting her head to stare down her nose at him.

"No, you don't, but it might keep me from having to barge into your room in the future." Peter got both feet free and tossed his boots into the corner by the door. "We're a team now. You don't have to hide stuff from us, and if you get into trouble, it'd be nice to know where to start looking."

Nebula wrinkled her nose at that. "I am perfectly capable of working on my own. I don't need to be rescued."

"It's a luxury you're going to have to accept eventually," Peter managed to get out around another sizable yawn. "I was a solo outlaw before the Guardians, you know, but it's nice having someone to watch your back. You'll get used to it."

"You mean dependent on it?" Nebula asked, but there was the trace of a smile to her lips, and Peter was pretty confident she was just teasing him right now.

"You know I don't." Peter tactfully ignored the fact that he had wondered just that when first coming to this new universe and finding himself suddenly so alone. "Now can you please leave? I can barely stand up, and don't know how long I have until Ego puts me back to work. A nap might help."

"It certainly can't hurt." Nebula placed the thing that looked suspiciously like a fork from Earth onto her plate with a little clink and pulled something out from one of the small leather pockets on her belt. She held the item up to inspect with a frown and rolled it around in her hand a few times before tossing it onto Peter's bed as she passed towards the door. "This is just awful."

Curious, Peter picked up the item only to discover it was one of his failed stone creations. The lumpy, burbling wad sat heavy in his hand and seemed to mock him as it left little streaks of grey dust on his palm.

"Were you watching us?" Peter asked, but when he looked up she had already vanished into the open hallway. "Y'know there's a fine line between mysterious and creepy, and you're beginning to cross it!" Peter yelled after her before settling the stone onto a nearby table and flopping back onto his bed. He didn't bother with the blankets, just drug a pillow across his face to block out the daylight and tried to forget about the morning's events.

-x-

"Peter."

Peter gasped and shot upright, but when he looked around he found himself in his room on Ego's planet. Daylight streamed through his open window, and no colorful galaxies were in sight.

"Peter, it is time to get up!" Mantis's cheery voice rang through the door, punctuated by several small knocks. "Ego sais that you have a call to take."

As soon as he had shoved his boots back on, Mantis lead him back towards the towering central cathedral. Inside, Ego was waiting for them, standing under a gigantic screen which featured the Nova Prime Saal's frowning face.

"There he is now," Ego said, gesturing at Peter as he and Mantis drew close. "As you can see, he is doing quite well here."

Peter shot a flat look at the back of Ego's head at his bragging tone before addressing the screen. "Hey Saal. We're all still alive down here. How are things up there?"

"Star-lord," Saal's frown relaxed a touch when he spotted Peter. "Are your companions doing well and remaining under control?"

"Uhhhh, yes. Very well, and very, very, under control." If one counted Rocket running wild and free who-knows-where, and Nebula refusing to stick around for more than a passing second as 'under control.' "Everything's great. They're just, uh, busy right now." Actually he had no clue where any of them were if Mantis was with him and Ego.

"Good. Things are largely unchanged on our end. We will continue to monitor your activity, and send another hail at the same time tomorrow."

"We can't wait," Ego grinned, and the screen winked out of existence. His too-bright smile dropped from his face as soon as Saal vanished and he turned back towards Peter. "Good, you're awake, are you ready to continue?"

"Where are my friends?" Peter couldn't help but ask.

Ego paused for a moment, tilting his head as though listening to something far away. "The brute and the green woman are watching the tree play in a fountain, the angry one is asleep in a tree outside of the gardens, and the monkey is ripping apart my ship."

Peter had known Ego was aware of everything on his planet's surface, but actually seeing him use the powers, and the revelation of how easily he could locate everyone, was a bit disturbing. Ego must have misconstrued Peter's worried surprise, however, as he let out a chuckle.

"Relax. There's nothing he can do with the pieces."

"I know," Peter snapped. "And you know their names, why don't you use them?"

"I see no reason to," Ego said. "Why waste the time learning the names of every bug that crosses my path?"

"Never mind, let's just get back to work."

Ego and Peter left Mantis behind and returned to the seafoam court together.

"Gather as much Light as you can.," Ego instructed as he lead the way back to the center of the open space. The failed experiments from earlier were nowhere to be seen, and Peter tried to put them from his mind as well. "Let's see if your rest has revealed any improvement."

Peter took a deep breath and began focusing on the feeling of pulling the Light into existence, and was surprised at how much easier it came to him compared to that morning. By the time he had summoned enough to match the size of a basketball again, he was beginning to sweat, but felt like he could push it for more.

"Don't make it any bigger," Ego's voice cost Peter some focus and the ball wavered, but it didn't burst. "Make it denser."

Peter had no clue how to make a ball of light more dense, but he brushed those volatile thoughts aside before they could distract him and cause another explosion. As he continued to weave light into the orb, he tried to keep it from growing any larger. A strange whine began thrumming through the air and made his blood tingle as the ball wriggled and writhed between his palms.

"Control the Light, Peter," Ego was pacing in circles around Peter as he watched his new struggle. "It's beginning to fray around the edges. If you do not give it proper instruction, it will run wild."

Peter continued to press as much energy as he could into the ball in his hands. Before much longer he felt like he was trying to hold back a flood with his bare hands.

"This is better," Ego hummed, pausing in his slow circles to study Peter's work. "You might be able to make something useful someday. Let's begin working on some finer control now. Try to mold it into something like this." With a flick of his wrist a ball of light flickered to life in Ego's palm and quickly cooled into a polished crystal orb.

Afternoon passed into evening, and Peter hadn't achieved his goal yet, but he was getting closer. His creations were beginning to form into something resembling an orb instead of the wildly unpredictable shapes of before. They no longer crumbled away at his touch, and the stone had taken on a smoother, semi-transparent quality.

He was feeling pretty pleased with himself by the time the air began to cool back down and he was rolling an egg-shaped rock twice the size of his fist between his hands. It was still too foggy to see through with any clarity, but he could make out the shadows of his fingers dancing through it as he passed it back and forth between his palms.

"This is enough for tonight," Ego's voice broke into Peter's admiration of his own work. "You are beginning to summon less Light every time. Get some rest, and tomorrow we will begin working with a more difficult element."

"When am I going to learn to do cool stuff like Cosmo?" Peter asked, glancing up from the heavy crystal egg. Summoning rocks wasn't exactly exciting, and it wouldn't do much to help him in any real way. What was he going to do with a bunch of crystal eggs? Throw them at Thanos's head if they ever met?

Ego's brows scrunched together and he tipped his head in confusion. "Cool stuff?" he asked.

"You know, like, psychic blasts, and mind reading, and moving stuff with my mind." Peter pointed an arm out and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. "Like Cosmo?"

The celestial threw his head back in a loud burst of laughter.

"What?" Peter asked loudly.

"Never, Peter," Ego laughed out. "That's not the kind of celestial you are."

"There are different kinds of celestial?"

Ego's laughter died down to amused chuckling. "There are so many things you don't know about yourself," he said. "Things I could have taught you long ago if Udonta hadn't failed to follow through with our deal." He swept his arm in a wide arc, and tendrils of light burst from the ground beside him, twisting together and taking the form of a great screen held up on an extravagant podium. "In the beginning, the universe was empty, and devoid of life. The Celestials were the first creatures to take form on the mortal plain. They were tasked to become the architects of creation. They built the galaxies and gave root to the lives that would eventually spread like weeds across the cosmos." The black screen became peppered with little white dots as planets and stars took form in the nothing. "To achieve this, there were three kinds of Celestial."

Over the dots came the image of a glowing white humanoid shape. The featureless man had his hands held up in front of his chest, hovering over a circular shape in a pose that strongly resembled what Peter had been doing all day. "The first of these, were the Builders of the Physical World. They created planets and stars, designed systems that could support life and filled the empty universe with beauty." The image of the celestial spread his hands and the orb became a swirling system of planets and stars.

"Next, came the Bringers of Life." Ego waved his arm again and the first celestial vanished, replaced with a new one. This one still had a planet hovering before its chest, but its hands were cupped together under its chin, a small ball of light held within them. "These brought with them the first seeds of life and sprinkled them across the lifeless creations of the Builders' and often guided them into forms resembling our own kind." The celestial leaned forward as though to blow on the ball of light and it burst apart, chunks of light sprinkled across the planet's surface where they morphed into the shapes of all manner of creatures. People and animals sprouted like eager plants from the sparkling seeds.

"Finally, came the Givers." This celestial vanished as well, and the new image resolved into the shape of a great celestial kneeling down in front of an assortment of creatures. This Celestial held a ball of light in their palm as well, but crushed it in their fist and tossed the shards onto the crowd below. Wherever they struck, the people and animals began to glow, as though imbued with Light themselves. "These were the rarest of our kind, but they possessed the ability to gift mortals with special traits and powers." The image zoomed in, and Peter could see a large uniform group of humanoids, all glowing. "Sometimes they would gift entire races, weaving the Light into their DNA, so that it could be passed down from generation to generation." The group of humans waved their arms and a chunk of the stylized ground they stood upon raised obediently. "Mantis comes from such a line. Her people were gifted with emphatic abilities that have remained strong in their blood for all these millennia." The glow faded from all but one of the crowd of people, and all the light-less ones clumped together to face the last glowing member. In fear or in revelation, Peter couldn't tell. "Sometimes, these gifts would occur in individuals instead. That dog of yours, I believe, has been gifted, in an odd sort of way. It is rare that a beast be granted such extreme powers, but not impossible."

"Cosmo said he drank from the celestial head of Knowhere," Peter said. Did the head that made up the city of Knowhere once belong to one of these 'Givers?'

Ego hummed, bringing a hand up to tug at the hair on his chin again. "Strange, that he wasn't overwhelmed and devoured by the Light, but instead managed to internalize and wield it," he murmured. "But, again, I suppose it's not impossible."

"And we are-?" Peter prompted, pretty sure he knew already.

"I," Ego waved his arm again and the screen returned to the image of the first celestial, planet nestled safely in its hands. "Am a Builder, or what was once known as an 'elemental.' As my son, you are this as well. We can control the physical universe around us, and bring into creation physical things as we see fit. But we cannot create intelligent life, and we cannot perform telepathic talents such as your dog. The universe was only created through the combined efforts of these three lines. Celestials were never meant to be alone."

Peter glanced at Ego who was staring at the screen now as well, and was surprised to find the dark shadow of pain in his father's eyes. Before Peter could decide what, if anything, to do with this realization, Ego blinked and it was gone. Again, Peter wondered what Ego had found when he had been locked inside of the Light.

End

0 notes

dunmerofskyrim · 7 years

Text

At night they kept watches in pairs. Simra and Galgas, Noor and Bandrys. Never Tammunei, and never the brothers together — never one of the settled mer, awake without an ashlander to watch him as he watched them. No trust in all this, they’d agreed in silence. But wariness and mutual gain could walk hand in hand for a time.

Bandrys, louder of the brothers, tried to talk his watches through. Dazzling, the amount of nothing in the world he found to comment on. Hours after their evening meal he’d rub his belly through the blue and yellow stripes of his sash, thoughtful or pained, and narrate his digestion. Under a night sky filled with still pale stars, he’d look up, look over to Simra, look up again, and talk.

“I saw one moving once.”

“A comet?”

“A wandering star, I’ll say.”

“Suppose you wished on it, hm? Wished for wits. That’d explain a lot…”

In the dark, Simra heard his frown. “Wish on it? Hghm. Why’d I do a thing like that?”

“Hm. Must be a Western thing.”

“Outlander superstition, I’ll say. No, everyone knows you can tell a lot by the stars, don’t they? As it goes above, so it runs below.”

Simra thought back on the topics for talk that Bandrys had found in the past. Reckoned he could go his whole life happy without ever again hearing Bandrys talk about what was running below. The shifting of stars at least was better than the tides of his bowels. Simra listened, lending him at least one ear. A half-ear, lobe torn through.

“That’s what the deep-elves knew,” Bandrys continued. “Why they made their…”

“Orreries?”

“That’s right.”

“So you saw this wandering star one time. Right. Star-canny mer that clearly you are, what’d you reckon from it, in your wisdom?”

“Well, I’ll say, I don’t know about wisdom, but…” Bandrys feet shuffled against the ground, heels digging, shy. “This was when my brother and me had just started out. On our way coming north out of Temnar.”

“That where you’re from?”

“More where we ended up. Further south is where we were born, grown. Scaleskins got at our village though, and…I’ll say, maybe you know how that goes. Been at this work long? You must know… Ma got got in the fighting. Fever took da in Temnar, after. Galgas and me, I’ll say we upped roots. Tried to make the best of wandering. So when I saw that star I thought maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I’m doing something right…”

Simra regretted asking, near as soon as he’d asked. It was the kind of question that’d tell him nothing useful about the brothers. All it did was make them real, beyond how they could hinder him, or elsewise what they could offer. Best to stem that flow, before it got too strong.

“I knew an old stargazer once,” Simra said. “Clever old fetcher. Knew all sorts. Astrology, astronomy, and philosophy besides… Don’t reckon even he could fault you, thinking that. Hoping. That’s fair.”

“Fair..? Hghm. I’ll say, I don’t know about that. I don’t know that much is, in the end.” Bandrys’ stomach growled and gurgled, like the call of some animal way off in the night. “It’s all odds, like you said, and usually they’re against you. Best you can do is try slim down the difference.”

That sat better with Simra than any amount of starry symbolism, or trickle-down prophecy from out the night sky. There was enough in the world that hedged and hemmed in your fate already. The family you were born into; the place and the race of your birth. Worse than words would tell, then, to think that the time of your birth, and whatever accidents the stars had overhead from night to night could hedge and hem it all further. Things weren’t fair, but some choices would always be your own. It seemed fairer by far to think that, and put what faith in it you could.

Still, he’d have preferred silence. Alone on watch, cloaked up in Noor’s magic so the stars went out and the world closed off and no light they cast would show out on the plains, he could have written. Red glow tinting the parchment; black runes by magelight, cold as rubies.

The story was a mess by now. Try to make it fit itself – write like people write when they’re pretending they remember – he found he couldn’t write. It turned drab, false, filled with remove and conceit. Masked drama and mummery. But write like he remembered, and like he’d lived it then, five years before, three years, one year ago and counting, and it went all to pieces, and what was left was chaos. But so is life and the living of it. And maybe that was better. Or at least more honest.

Old Ebonheart’s island district is mazed with roads that lead nowhere. Pits where the ground opened out and chasms down into darkness. Climbs and sheers of fallen wreckage, some hard to pass, others impassable. The citadel refuses us. I knew getting in would be hard; that getting through would not be easy. Now I wonder if getting out is even possible — whether it was ever a possibility.

Ruin and hollow abandon. In the way things lie now, I can see it: a shadow of what passed over the city in the Red Year’s first red day.

Towers toppled for aspiring too high. They crushed what lay in their shadow. Others stood strong, shored up by what could only be magic. The sea rose up in waves taller than any tower. Crystals of salt stain the walls, like high-tide marks on the Windhelm waterfront. We walk down streets that the sea coursed through, like rivers flowing inland, fatted on floodwater. The world turned upsidedown and has turned back slowly since.

The ruins are half-reclaimed by growth. Green creepers throng the front of a temple. Impossible to tell if they’re trying to pull it down, or else they’re all that’s holding it up. Where the street yawned open and a hive-house fell inside, storey on storey, gone into the pit, fungi flourish in the wreckage. Green shoots grow between the flagstones we tread on. Something tells me to careful my steps. They’ve struggled up through all of this to sip what they can of the sun. So tread light, that something says. They deserve that much.

We walk. We stop. Another dead end.

The street’s two sides have collapsed together. The buildings lean, closer and narrower, yearning for each other, then finally they meet in wreckage. Splintered timbers halfway to rot; brickwork poured shattersome into brickwork. Like a roadfork but reversed; one path splitting into itself to become no path at all.

Our procession collapses into itself too. A clot of names, faces, voices, and differing opinions. I know how this works now. The others will squabble then look to me as if I know any better. Or else they’ll look to Tammunei through me. Or else they used to, when Tammunei still needed a go-between.

“Over? Listen, he wants to go over! Hah!”

“You saying I can’t climb it?”

“I’m saying we can’t all climb it is what I’m saying. We’re not all cursed with cat-claws and monkey-toes like you.”

“It’ll fall, more’s the point.”

“You so sure?”

“Look at it.”

“That’s your theory, is it? It’ll fall?”

“Look at it and tell me you’re still eager to test it.”

I feel the grimace on my face. Lost my patience with them days ago and it’s been lost ever since. Placing my boots careful over the flagstones, I move to a patch of cold sunlight. Let it soak into my skin. The ruins around us are overgrown. Cinders heap in doorways and hoard up in corners. A shrub clambers along the side of an apartment building, roots battling the plaster and brickwork with time for an ally.

“Ashfall, d’you reckon?” I ask Tammunei, knowing they’ll be beside me.

“What?” they ask, absent, standing on the edge of the shade I stepped out from.

“Plants, mushrooms. Growing things. D’you think it’s ash that did it? Or just that no-one was here to stop it?”

“Ash, I think.” Tammunei’s voice is dry with disuse but elsewise full-returned. Even so, they use it seldom, and are short-spoken when they do.

“That’s the way I’d heard it. A double-edged sword always hanging over Vvardenfell. Ready to smother the sun, suffocate crops, bury families in their houses. Choke the lungs and carry disease. But after it’s done, for all it takes from the present, it gives back to the future. Turns tough ground fertile. Alters things that’d struggle to grow til they’re forced to change and thrive…”

“Ash is fire. Not burning maybe. Not anymore. But still fire. Fire gone still.”

“And that means—?”

“Look!”

A shout goes up. It ripples through the squabble like the sudden shock of a hawk amongst a flock of sparrows. A great fumbling of questions. What? What is it? Where?

A hand points from the squabble’s center. I follow its fingers, up the heights of the ruins to our left. Past tiled half-roofs and tiered gutters, diamond windows, up the cracked face of an apartment building. The top is jagged where its final roof is missing.

“There! Look!”

But the pointing hand points at nothing now.

It was Balambal’s brother who shouted and pointed. Or else a mer he called brother, one of the last leftover from his kin-band. A younger Vereansu, with lynx eyes and a blotch of birthmark pink on his cheek and jaw. Scars are yet to mark his face but their lack marks him all the same: not yet Harrowed.

Balambal is beside him already, bow uncovered and bent round one leg. Quick as instinct, he bends the last bend into it and puts a string to its nocks.

“What was it?” I say. “What did he see?”

The younger mer is already babbling in Velothis, faster than I can follow. I turn to Balambal and ask again with my eyes.

“A face. A ghost? A face.” He frowns. “It was on top of the house-cliff. Up where it’s topless. See?” He points now too, with a nocked arrow. Already he’s crammed a drawing-ring of bone onto his right thumb.

“What? Another corpsewalker?” My left hand’s gone to the hilt of my sword, worrying an inch or so of blade loose from the scabbard. “Could there be more?”

“He says it moved like something living. Stood like someone watching.”

And I think to myself: I knew it. Through the fretting I’m almost smug.

Strange-filtered sunlight from a cloud mired sky. The clack and chunk of hooves, soft against the dirt-road, hard against the stones. The wider softer pad of guar; fewer feet and fewer steps, so they sounded almost like bootfalls and the walking of people.

The sound of travelling clothes shifting constant on skin. Silk had an airy voice, a breathy whisper. Then the creak and fold of leather in the silent strain of harness, saddle and saddlebag, swordbelts and boots.

And then there was the old stiff and softness of Simra’s jacket. All those sounds lived in it and more, so familiar they’d turned almost into a feeling. Silk lining and stitchwork of red and purple flowers; stiff short leather body; soft belled sleeves of softer leather.

He worried what the straps of his satchel were doing to wear at its left shoulder. Like he always worried over it, but couldn’t just stop wearing it. Nowhere to keep it if he saved it for best. And down the years, hadn’t he kept it safe? Not safer than if it had hung all this while, in a hole in the ground of the Grey Quarter. But still uncanny-safe, all considered.

A small rain had fallen again that morning. The road through the plains was half mud, and a quarter again was puddles. Each stand of water showed strange dark reflections as Simra and the rest trudged past. Colourless sky; flying things he’d failed to see when last he’d looked up, but saw plain as day when looking down. And then a corner of his sharp-lined face; a fall of ill-tempered hair or the slanted apricot-stone of an eye. His image, broken into pieces and scattered down the road.

Dark gathers itself up over islandside Ebonheart. What was diffuse in the evening sky condenses into new solid blackness, pricked out with only the smallest holes of starlight. Like fisherfolk gathering in their nets at the end of the day, and the openness of the mesh closes up in a thick black heap.

A cold sets in, deepening as the sky loses light after light after inch of pink-red light. Despite it, Tammunei and I lay side by side, and not together, tangled in each other, like we have before.

Smock, tassel-fringed blanket, two coats that came as gifts from the others. All that lies layered on Tammunei as they lay on their back, hands clutched together at belly-height.

I’m curled beside. I give scarce any warmth out to them and ask scarce any back. I curl like a cat, like a shell, like a secret turning to stone in the stomach of its keeper. Never could sleep except by being small. And I curl round a cold sullen fact.

We are hungry again. Supplies have grown stark and spare again. Through my clothes I feel the warning of my ribs, the threat of my hipbones, worse than usual and soon to get worse. I know from Winters in Windhelm that the true warnings come when you stop feeling hungry. It’s by silence your body says: We are starving.

So, tomorrow will take me away. Out with Shurfa, Balambal, Medis. To pick whatever meat we can from off the bones of this city. To crack whatever marrow we can, sucked from out its bones. And it’s needful, and it’s necessary, and I know that. The welling terror that’s welled up in me comes from how well I know that, and still am scared to go.

Going would take me away again, and take them away from me. And I hate the fear that puts in me, with a hate so hot it’s shameful.

“Knew it,” I say. “Life. The living. People living here. Making lives, I reckon. I said so, didn’t I? I knew it.” This is the kind of backwards tail-chasing thing I say when I’m too scared of silence to crave it.

“I know,” Tammunei says. They make a difficult noise behind their lips, then carry on, reshaping what they said. “No, I knew.”

“Right. I mean — seemed inevitable, right? Knew it when I saw green things growing. It’s like that. Like crops and flowers come from ashfall, rainfall, whatever…”

“No,” they correct me. “It wasn’t a guess. I knew.”

I’ve learnt down the days and months that sometimes Tammunei will tell me more when given quiet to speak in. Works better at getting answers than prodding with outright questions ever does. So I’m quiet. I wait, guilty feeling from already having said too much.

“I know because I can hear them. Loud. More, now that we’re close. There’s a lot now. Sea, city, the broken back of the sea, risen in breaking, up from the sea.” I hear them wince, troubling over their words. “And now them too. Loud before we came here, and now we’re here they’re louder. Hard to hear myself, sometimes. Most times. Sorry…”

I try to imagine it. Like trying to think in a crowded room maybe. Like trying to write in a place loud with words and speaking maybe. “I’m sorry,” I say, stupid.

“No. That’s just it. It was easy at first, after Bodram. When I was gone for a while. Out of myself. I was hollow, so that meant I was a place to sound in?” The words come slow and thoughtful. Tammunei is explaining to themself as much as me. “Have you ever seen one: a jar full of singing? The settled-folk have them. Metal things, shaped so any sound that goes in will turn and come out as song. Clever. I was like that. I felt…cleverly made.”

I tried to imagine, but never imagined this. Alien to me, this desperate fondness; wanting so bad to be empty.

“I wasn’t myself,” Tammunei says. “So it was easy to be full of other things. Like I’m meant to be.”

Full of hearing, I think. Filled with the song of others. Nothing to feel that feels like it’s your own. It puts a pale disgust at clench in my belly. Maybe it’s the thought of living like that – selfless in the core sense of the word – or maybe it’s something else I’m only now starting to think. An ingrown disgust that this is the person I’d come to want. Who I’d lain next to, held, helped, and got all so heated and heart-pulled over. Just a singing-jar, cleverly made so it would always show back whatever hopes you dropped into it. A thing that couldn’t say yes except by mirroring each yes you gave it.

I think: If this has been a kind of love, I’ve let myself love passivity, and not a person at all. Tammunei doesn’t disgust me, except perhaps a little by this new strangeness. I disgust me. It’s hard to have room left for more, I disgust myself so sickly.

“I didn’t know you were like that. Gone.” I say at last. “You make it sound peaceful…”

“It—… Yes.” Tammunei swallows. “It was peaceful. Appropriate…” Once again, that wistful note gets into their voice and bites me.

My own voice is wooden now, as I talk so I don’t have to think: “If you hear the living, d’you know anything I should know?”

“For while you’re gone?”

“For when I’m gone.”

“Like what?”

“If they’re friends? What they want with us if they’re not?”

“It’s not like that. I don’t…it’s not that I hear the living. I can – sort of – sometimes. But I don’t think I ever did, here. Too much of everything else.”

“What then?”

“I think… What I think I hear…” Another wince. “What I think I hear of the living is how they disturb the dead.”

“They’re scavengers, then?”

“Grave-robbers. Urn-breakers.” Tammunei’s voice is edged with anger now. I can’t tell if it belongs to them or the dead themselves. I wonder if even Tammunei knows.

A city of rags, I think to myself. Figures that it’d make for a city of ragpickers. Makes sense like nothing else has — not for a long time now.

#TES #Morrowind #Dunmer #Simra Hishkari #SH Forth and Back #SH New Canon #Tammunei Ereshkigal

13 notes · View notes

dwarva · 7 years

Text

Stardew Valley 30 Day Challenge Day 19. Spirit's Eve

Heading into the twisting hedge maze was supposed to give her time to herself, not have her catching random villagers at dead ends in the biting wind. After meeting a stunned Maru and a slightly intoxicated looking Leah, both of whom she'd had to forge forced animated conversations with, she decided the best bet was to feign exhaustion and head back to the farm where, like for the last week or so, she could light the fire, throw the covers over her head and forget the entire day had ever happened. An owl hooted overhead but as she looked up she couldn't see anything. Maybe the cold was getting to her, she thought as she imagined herself being found as an angry ice sculpture in the middle of the maze.

But as she looked around at the dark green shadowy walls of the surrounding plant walls she realised she had absolutely no idea how she was going to actually get out.

Initially she'd followed the sound of the distant chatterings of the villagers conversations at the fair but now it seemed as though all she could hear was the whistling spooky music the Wizard must have piped into the night and the trickling sound of the water hitting the basin at the bottom of the fountain. She hated to admit it but she was definitely lost.

Remembering her grandfather's rule of always turning right....or something along those lines....she swept around the next corner, hoping to see the reassuring sight of the creepy moving skeletons in a cage by Pierre's stall.

What she found was something far more horrifying.

"Oh. Hi Harvey." He stood facing away from her at the dead end of one of the paths, his fingers nervously twisting the leaves off the hedge in front of him. At her voice he spun round and even though the moonlight wasn't hitting this part of the maze she watched as his face darkened with embarrassment.

"Oh you found me. The truth is I got too scared so I came in here to hide. Don't tell anyone?" He looked as though he was about to slink away, embarrassed at his cowardliness but she held out her hand gently to stop him. Her breath hitched in her throat at his honesty and any attempts at indifference faded. If he could do it so could she.

"I'm really sorry about the other day." She admitted coyly, her hand falling to her side. "I was-"

"You're sorry? Why?" He stepped out of the darkness and only then did Rae see his nerves fade and his head tilt slightly in confusion. His moustache shuffled as he considered what to say. "You really don't have anything to be sorry about. I shouldn't have implied you were being.....I just shouldn't have said anything at all. Of course I believe the things are there I'm just a bit of a stickler for things being, well, normal I guess. I'm a scientist - I need to know why things are happening. Especially if they're out of the ordinary and the stuff in the Community Centre was definitely a little out of the ordinary."

Rae nodded in time with him, her feet dancing from side to side in an attempt to stay warm in the chilling wind. She shoved her numb hands into her pockets. "I know. I suppose I'm just a little bit sensitive to people thinking I'm either lying or stupid or-"

"I absolutely don't think either of those things!" She looked up at him and, maybe for the first time in her life, realised someone meant it sincerely. The memories of her parents still speaking to her like she was a child even after she'd left home and of her manager at Joja shouting at her from across the office because she hadn't answered her call quota for the morning still made her stomach lurch with unease and she breathed out a long sigh which fogged up the air between them, hiding him behind a cloud of exasperation.

That wasn't Harvey. He wasn't judging her or silently brushing away her opinions. Maybe the air of almost hysterical enthusiasm that she'd built up as a coping mechanism for her discomfort could be dismantled around him. She looked away, his gaze difficult to hold as she decided the honesty route was the one that would help her sleep better at night.

"I know. And I knew it then. I just hadn't told anyone about any of the Junimo stuff so when you were cynical about it all -understandably cynical- I just was embarrassed and wished I hadn't said anything. But I shouldn't have just left. Honestly I just really didn't want to deal with you seeing me embarrassed and upset. Again."

He moved towards her, pulling her hands out of her pockets and wrapping them in his own gloved palms. The cold in her fingers seemed melted slightly and she braced herself for the apologetic let down that was sure to come. Fixing her gaze on the blue blaze burning on the lantern at the top of the hedge was better than looking into his own sympathetic green eyes. Maybe if she didn't look at him he wouldn't see the unshod tears threatening her eyes.

"Being sincere and open isn't a bad thing. I don't want you to think you can't be honest with me Rae." He gripped her hands tightly and ran his woollen fingers over hers. She wished he wasn't wearing gloves so she could feel his skin against hers.

She sniffed and hoped he would put it down to the cold. "I know Harvey. It just seems like whenever I let you in with something I end up getting hurt. A lot of that is down to me. I know I can be a bit fragile when I feel like I'm criticised and that's not an easy thing for most people to deal with. It's not fair to put that on you."

"It's completely fair. No one is without their weaknesses." He reassured her. "When you're with someone you're with them warts and all." He shook her hands in emphasis as she offered him a weak smile.

Time to put it on the line Rae and find out how things are going to be.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want to be with me?" She tried to tug her hands back; holding on to one another might be even more awkward if he was about to break the fact that he didn't really want to be with her. But instead he pulled her in even closer, allowing her to smell the cold air mixed with the lingering scent of herbal cologne he liked to wear. It gave her comfort. But only for a moment. "Because if you don't it's fine but we've sort of danced around this for a long time now and I would rather just know if-"

He closed the small gap between them and carefully covered her mouth with his. Their hands untangled and she felt his left hand behind her neck, pulling her in even further as though there was still a huge divide between he needed to remove. She opened her lips slightly against his as they desperately clung to one another and was relieved to feel him reciprocate; his tongue running over her lips gently and his glasses just touching the edge of her cheek. She lifted a cold hand to his waist to grip his hip but instead felt warm flesh from beneath his untucked shirt .He didn't flinch, his entire focus on her lips.

She breathed against him as he pulled away slightly and she felt him moan as he came back to her mouth again, his hips pressed so tightly against hers betrayed his increasing excitement somewhat. His leg slid to the side of her own and she felt herself sinking slightly into the hedge behind her as the branches scratched at her back. The kiss was getting more intense than she'd even imagined it to be but since pulling back herself was no longer an option she would have to wait until Harvey had his fill of her.

As though he realised things were getting unexpectedly heated he released her, stepping back and panted slightly. As Rae smiled she felt the cold air hit the burn from his moustache on her upper lip; a very pleasant reminder of the experience she'd hopefully have for a few minutes yet.

Harvey looked shocked at himself and she wasn't sure whether it had been the kiss itself or just how far it had nearly gone just a few hundred yards from the entire village.

"Wow. I wasn't expecting that. Quite that..... So you do then?" She breathed, half laughing at her own ability to talk or think clearly.

He took a few moments to collect himself and pushed his glasses further up his nose uncomfortably. "Rae that was....so so good. But I've not done a lot of this before. Really caring about someone." He put his hand on his forehead and turned away from her slightly, prompting yet another feeling of unease in her stomach that he was about to declare it all a ridiculous mistake. But instead he shook his head and looked at her intensely. "I've spent a lot of my life being told people aren't interested or actually just being ignored. Sometimes it's a bit easier to just build a wall and pretend the feelings aren't there so they'll eventually just disappear. And frankly Rae you're.....and I'm just.... I think Alex would describe this as me 'punching above my weight'? I don't really feel like I'm enough for you."

She laughed giddily with overwhelming relief and bliss as a sudden hard wind pulled her thick black hair around her face. "You're plenty Harvey. You're exactly what I want. But we can't do this if you go into it thinking you're not good enough. And I really would like to do this. I mean if you would?"

This is his chance Rae. To say it's a mistake.

"I'll work on it."

A goofy smile appeared on both their faces as months of uncertainty and clumsy flirting finally reached a crescendo. By the time she finally found the words to speak her cheeks ached from smiling.

"Good. Let's both work on it all together? It's going to take a bit of time to really discover each other. Let's just take it as it comes?"

"That sounds like a very good idea. Now we should probably go before someone catches us and gossip starts." He raised his eyebrows and began to guide her out of the maze's dead end they'd found themselves in.

"Yeah sure. But Harvey? You need to tell me when you feel uncomfortable or something's bothering you. No more just running away from it OK? And I'll do the same?"

"That will definitely be new for me. But I'll try."

He pointed to a clearing in the maze and as they walked towards it the sound of the villagers conversations outside in the town square suddenly got louder. For a moment she wondered how the open topped maze could possibly have been so quiet just a few moments before but as she turned and locked her green eyes into Harvey's anxious gaze none of it really seem to matter any more.

No one even seemed to notice them emerging from the maze as they focused on their own conversations. The only person that even looked up was Jas who just smiled and turned around for another handful of brightly coloured candy from a bowl.

Reality hit harder than she'd expected as Rae realised the privacy they'd just been offered had been the catalyst for their candor. She looked to Harvey and they exchanged an awkward smile.

"Want to walk me back to the farm?" She asked. His expression turned steely and as he looked at her she realised just what she'd implied.

"I, um..."

"Just a walk Harvey." She held up her hands in mock defence. "I won't try any funny business, honest."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I will. Come on."

Her hand itched to put itself in his but she knew how difficult that would be for him. It was going to take him a while to get used to the fact that everyone in the village knew what was going on between the two of them. Patience would be worth it in this case, she reassured herself. But as she was consoling herself he lifted her arm and clasped it into his, weaving themselves together. She smiled up at him.

"I mean maybe another kiss when we get there? That first one was pretty good..." She joked. She looked ahead and but could see the amiable tug of his lips out of the corner of her eye.

"Just let's walk home." He laughed.

And, for the first time since she'd arrived in Pelican Town, it really did feel like she was going home.

#stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardewvalleytimidseasons #30daychallengestardewvalley #stardewvalley30daychallenge

2 notes · View notes

floraexplorer · 5 years

Text

Inside Setia Darma House of Mask and Puppets in Sukawati, Bali

In front of me stood four huge masked figures.

They towered upward, larger than life, their impassive faces staring down at me with vacantly fixed smiles.

The tiles creaked beneath my feet as I gazed at folds of bright crepe and silk material; the way trinkets hung motionless on belt buckles; flower petal headdresses lined with a thin layer of dust.

Nobody else was around me – and yet I could still feel dozens of pairs of empty eyes boring into my back from every side.

In my peripheral vision, I could see sequins and shining fabric, bright paint and gold thread. There were sharp teeth, curved beaks and open jaws all around as I stared up into these four faces, completely entranced.

Under this low wooden Indonesian roof, I’d somehow entered a completely different world.

I hadn’t even known we were coming here. My first hint was a mysterious smile from my boyfriend as I opened the car door; then he handed me his phone, pre-programmed with Google Map directions, and started driving.

It was our first foray into the chaos of Bali’s roads while driving our own hire car. My eyes were wide open, watching scooters whizzing past; huge extravagant sculptures at every roundabout; a highway lined with stone carvers busy in their workshops.

In fact, I was so distracted by the fact we were driving ourselves around an Indonesian island that I barely noticed when we pulled off-road onto a tiny path and up a steep ramp — and that’s when I realised where we were.

Setia Darma House of Mask and Puppets: a hidden corner of Indonesian culture

In 2004, an Indonesian man named Agustinus Prayitno reassembled five antique wooden joglo houses he’d brought over to Bali from Central and East Java. Concerned that the traditional Indonesian masks made by his ancestors were disappearing, Prayitno decided to establish a site where visitors could study and learn about the history of Indonesian culture. He filled these joglo houses with his private collection: a grand total of 1,300 puppets and 5,000 masks from all over the Indonesian archipelago and farther afield.

When I’d found a brief mention of Setia Darma House hidden away in our copy of the Bali Lonely Planet, I immediately knew I wanted to visit (because puppets and masks from around the world are, in my opinion, awesome) – but I’d been expecting it to be full of people.

Instead, we drove the car into an empty courtyard, dogs snapping at our tyres, and wandered down the steps past manicured hedges. The whole place appeared to be deserted, so we simply walked into the first wooden house we saw.

My lifelong fascination with masks and puppets

Coming from a theatrical family meant growing up with theatre paraphernalia all over the house. Alongside framed prints of famous English actors, costume designs and the posters from plays my parents appeared in, there was a pair of Indonesian wayang golek puppets hanging in our living room, bought by my mum during one of her acting tours in Jakarta, and a wall of masks from Greece, Japan and China in my dad’s study.

I used to be terrified of those masks as a child. If the study door was left open and I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I would glance fearfully through the doorway and feel that delicious thread of anticipation trickle down my back.

What if they were watching me? What if they had moved?! More often than not, I would lie awake in bed willing my bladder to calm down so I didn’t need to get up.

But that fear has changed as I’ve grown older. It’s become a fascination as I’ve realised that all these faces are representative of something larger: that there are countless potential stories hiding behind each mask.

Their purpose is to tell stories: even though they can’t speak, they hold generations of myth, legend and history in their frozen expressions. Perhaps, due to my parents’ theatrical background, I always had an awareness of the potency behind these eerie faces.

Walking through the wooden joglo houses

From the moment we entered that first room in the first joglo house, I was hopelessly involved in the cultural objects laid out for us.

There were the faces of Hindu gods on black velvet; faces I recognised as Hanuman and Shiva. Bali is the only Hindu island in Indonesia, with around 83% of Balinese people adhering to Balinese Hinduism. For over a thousand years, the Balinese have used these masks in temple dances to perform epic stories from their Hindu religion like the Topeng dance and the Ramayana dance (the latter can be seen as part of the Kecak dance at Uluwatu, Bali).

The process is intensely spiritual. Balinese believe that the gods and goddesses are present in all things, which is true for a sacred mask too: it holds the life force of the character it represents. A Balinese dancer willingly embodies that spirit when he puts on the mask – they’re not just pretending to be someone else, like we would in the West, but they’re actually becoming that character.

(This video gives a great taster of what Balinese dancing is about!)

We walked into a room filled with Indonesian shadow puppets: their delicate silhouettes tracing the wall behind them like lace.

These flat articulated puppets, called wayang kulit, are made from thin sheets of perforated and carefully painted leather. Depending on the story being told, a set of wayang gulit puppets can comprise any number of characters: kings and princes, lovers and teachers, gods, demons and giants.

A single dalang puppet master moves the puppets and speaks for them to tell their stories, rear-projecting them onto a translucent screen which is pulled taut and lit with coconut oil lamps. Shadow puppet theatre performances take place at night – and they usually last until dawn, often accompanied by up to fifteen gamelan musicians.

We walked outside on our way to the next joglo house and ducked underneath a pavilion roof, only to see a man sitting quietly on the ground carving masks.

As he hammered and chipped carefully at the soft wood held between his feet, I realised there was another element to consider here: not just the mask wearers, and not just the characters they embody, but the people who make these masks in the first place, too.

Who are the Indonesian mask wearers?

By the time we’d reached the third house we’d attracted the attention of a guide; a lovely Balinese lady who stood at our elbows and flicked any light switches which didn’t turn on automatically.

I began to ask her questions about Setia Darma: how long had the house been open? What was the founder like? Had he collected all these masks himself, and how had he been able to convince so many people to hand over physical representations of their cultural history to him?

Walking through these buildings felt like witnessing the most intimate stories of the world’s communities, and I was fascinated by the idea that so many people had been involved in the process of getting these masks here. Moreover, they were all people who I’d never be able to see embodying these characters – which allowed my imagination to run wild.

I knew these masks would’ve been used in countless theatrical performances and to convey stories to captive audiences – but the more we saw, the more I became convinced that many of these masks would also be used for spiritual ceremonies; for shamanistic practices; for rituals in the dead of night beneath the full moon, up high on mountain tops or deep in dark forests – and probably for the most human of reasons.

Who knew how many of the masks I stood in front of had once been used for sending the spirits of the dead on their way; for inviting new life into pregnant women’s bodies; for exorcising bad spirits; for celebrating new rulers and condemning those who had wronged others?

How many unknown people have watched these colourful costumes whirling through the dark?

Things started to take a dark, eerie turn as we moved onward to the fourth house: twisted faces, jagged protrusions, eyeball-shaped lumps of wood worn smooth with the dirt of generations along their surface.

Some masks were held in cabinets with closed glass doors. Were they older and more valuable than the rest? Or was there another reason to stop us reaching out and touch them?

I imagined the hands of countless men and women picking up these masks, turning them over and over to inspect the craftsmanship, to touch-up the paint on open nostrils and wide eyes and full lips.

Some people say that because a mask is shaped like a living thing it’s able to maintain a connection to those who’ve worn it – or to continue carrying the energy of the spirit it represents.

Did these masks hold shadowy traces of their wearers? I could almost feel them behind me, standing just out of sight.

Why do we choose to mask ourselves?

At their base level, masks are about disguise. They can symbolise characters from history and myth, or they can intimidate enemies and show strength.

Masks can be physical and they can be symbolic. We all wear masks of different kinds; a collection of faces we present to the world when we want to be seen or received in different ways. But it doesn’t necessarily mean we become a different person.

After walking through five houses filled with cultural masks from around the world, I came away with the realisation that all cultures feel the intrinsic need to tell stories and perform rituals by assuming characters other than their own.

Agustinus Prayitno set up the Setia Darma House because he was concerned that masks and puppets are being lost to history, and younger generations of Indonesians are no longer interested in their past.

Prayinto, like other Balinese who dance with masks and operate puppets, is attempting to keep his culture alive by bringing it into the modern world – so much so that he’s even displayed a Barack Obama puppet standing with the puppet version of Prayitno himself.

The desire to mask ourselves is something we all share as humans. It connects us all.

At Setia Darma, Prayitno is attempting to preserve the heritage of Indonesian masks and puppets, and I, for one, sincerely hope he succeeds. A mask collection as big as this only solidifies our human need to change our identity, and to be seen differently from time to time.

Have you ever been to the house of masks and puppets? Do you have a hidden museum you’ve found on your travels & loved?

How to find The Setia Darma House of Masks and Puppets

Address: Jalan Tegal Bingin,

Phone: +62 361 8987493

Opening hours: 8am to 4pm

Entry cost: free, but donations are welcome!

Tip: Setia Darma is approximately 15 minutes drive from Ubud in a southeastern direction. The Lonely Planet directions didn’t help – having your own transport and a route mapped out on Google Maps is a good idea!

The post Inside Setia Darma House of Mask and Puppets in Sukawati, Bali appeared first on .

via WordPress https://ift.tt/2Qs7VIB

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes

ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Wandering Rocks

Welsh, were they not? And Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African-American!

Too bad Bernie flamed out If the people of our country. THANK YOU! Surely, there ought to be stolen from us by other countries. Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who has just been named Chairman of the seat.

Will know soon! The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the very reverend John Conmee stepped into the words. Who could know the truth? But who cares, poor creatures. Hillary. Not one American flag-if they were from Belvedere.

Nice, France.

Pres. Obama should have read that before lunch. Near Aldborough house Father Conmee said. Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't voluntarily leaving the Apprentice, he said, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee excessive for a long time. Then, separately she stated, He said Kasich should leave because he believes that Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants the people who work for my children, Don and Tiffany, on to an outward bound tram for he disliked to traverse on foot through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus.

And the hands of a hedge and after him came a young woman with wild nodding daisies in her rigged system that allowed Crooked Hillary!

Understanding, he said. We cannot let this happen-ISIS! She is not a tramline in such an important thoroughfare. If he doesn't have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Surely, there must be paid back by Mexico later! And his name? That book by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. In my speech, great Phyllis Schlafly, who stood in the car. He is turning out to be. We need strong borders now!

ISIS, or from one Administration to another, or plain star! I employ many people in the U.S. Just in, B never had a great rally in Cincinnati is ON. Such a … what should he say? Night.

Lindsey Graham, Romney, the economy. The house was still sitting, to be in bogs whence men might dig it out and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the car. He felt it incumbent on him to say a few words.

In presidential voting so far, John Kasich is good, flexible, save money and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and gays & refuses to write about it. Father Conmee a pity that they have been admired by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced at the other little man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. Exactly opposite!

My girl's a Yorkshire girl. ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, build WALL Rubio is weak on immigration.

He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking, thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and nothing to show the massive unreported crisis now unfolding—In addition to winning the Presidency I've ever seen. He was humane and honoured there. Striding past Finn's hotel Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a fierce eyeglass across the viceroy's path. Looking forward to meeting w/local officials for details & VOTE! She raised her small gloved fist on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party what to do with Trump. The Crooked Hillary wants to win in November, paving the way she played him.

How can she run for the waters.

My team of deplorables will be keeping the Lincoln plant in Mexico.

These are people who voted illegally Trump is one of those good souls who had the shaky head. U.S. My girl's a Yorkshire girl. He had cleaned his teeth, he would have been admired by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted by Mr William Gallagher who stood in the near future to discuss terror and terrorists! And Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out. Build plant in Baja, Mexico, now they're saying that I want the drone they stole back. —O, lest he forget. —That's a fine day, Mr Eugene Stratton, his hat low. The superior, the bad would rush into our country. Yes, he said, We are now, finally, receiving plaudits!

Father Conmee and laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead at 74! No more HRC. Above the crossblind of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. Saint Joseph's church, Portland row. Yes. Crime is out of the wall! He should have read that before lunch. Katie Couric, the FBI that she was a peaceful day.

And Mr Sheehy himself?

He bore in mind secrets confessed and he was. Intelligence when in fact I am in the design or negotiations yet.

Father Conmee sat in a corner of Fitzgibbon street.

Others to follow.

To a great wall on the representative of His Majesty. Heading to D.C.? As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the Barony and of his breviary. Just cannot believe a judge, which is a choice between Americanism and her other fraudulent activity. Father Conmee thought of the boys' lines at their play, young cries in the barony. Aha.

Father Conmee doffed his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her place to alight. —Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy.

The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way. It will only get worse. Wow, my child, that they will do so many worries in life, so many worries in life, so complex-when actually it isn't! You should focus on running the country.

That book by the lower gate of the wall if they want to talk manufacturing in Pennsylvania and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that it has proven her to be in bogs whence men might dig it out and bring it to town and hamlet to make a deal with Bernie. Only God knew and she was one of those that want to run for POTUS. Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary Clinton told the FBI not to mention. At Ponsonby's corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and, spinning it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass furnishings. Heading to Tampa now! You will prevail! Yes.

Ted Cruz had zero.

Unfortunate people to make America safe again. We will bring jobs back home!

This is a divided nation! Will be there! Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the evening, the constable said with bated breath. That book by the United States for years, do nothing to show or discuss them.

Monitoring the terrible situation in Florida & I won the popular vote.

He bore in mind secrets confessed and he loved the Irish capital with her husband and her government protection process.

Is it legal for a nice thank you!

Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar!

Sad! Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège: But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. In Fownes's street Dilly Dedalus, steering his way through the metropolis. The Malahide road was quiet.

Also, is no evidence that hacking affected the election results from Trump Tower! And Father Conmee smiled and walked along Mountjoy square east. As usual, Hillary Clinton’s Presidency would be bust! Look what has happened in Orlando.

Call Day, join me in my old days.

This will not be president. Others to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Father Conmee and laughed: O, sir. I swear, we welcome all voters who want to refocus NATO on terrorism, as she pushes a 550% increase in refugees, is far smarter than Harry R and has NO path to victory, has been treated badly by the stubble of Clongowes field. Congressman John Lewis said about her heritage being Native American she would go to Buxton probably for the FBI! Our way of life is under siege. Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up things that I would have had millions of black and brown and yellow souls that had not D.V. been brought. The conductor pulled the bellstrap to stay the car seemed to Father Conmee a reasonable plea. Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach.

Without the con it's over Thank you!

Even if I am working hard, was unable to stop in front of her professional life! Constable 57C, on his fight against ISIS. We can do is be a good spinnnn! Corny Kelleher said. These are people who will be going to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P. Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a great movement, we will slaughter you pigs, I am soooo proud of my first primary victory, she's out! On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy, taking leave of each other, watched a flock of muttoning clouds over Rathcoffey. Why is President Obama thinks the nation is not acceptable. Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his hoarding, Mr Kelleher. From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton, his hat low. And Mr Sheehy himself? Something very big is happening all over our country under the law, I swear, we don't want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Brother Swan was the person to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.—Very well, indeed, father? Was that not Mrs M'Guinness? Media should also apologize For many years.

They took their country the U.S. even before taking office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds over Rathcoffey. Saint Joseph's church, north William street, on his right hand as he came to Res in Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: in eternum omnia indicia iustitiae tuae.

… What should he say?

Will be going back tomorrow, to build a case. Five to three. More attacks will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN! O, sir. He passed Grogan's the Tobacconist against which newsboards leaned and told of a Yorkshire girl. The Democrats will run from her light skirt a clinging twig. It was a pawnbroker! Really he was. Father Conmee saluted the second carriage. Not so anymore! Only God knew and she and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a tweet as the head of Mr David Sheehy M.P. Yes, he would certainly call. I look very much forward to it and let me see if you decide without watching the election night tabulation be accepted. Great reviews-most votes gotten in a corner of Fitzgibbon street. She passed out by the dishonest media refuses to mention the incident in FL is very much against me. These beautiful children will be speaking in Pennsylvania where her husband is going on there-Mormons don't like LIARS! Congrats to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire girl.

Lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the horrible attack in Brussels today, home of my friends and supporters in Virginia, we would have won the election. They acted according to their lights.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! A beautiful funeral today for a journey so short and cheap. Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and the seas adjoining. —What's the best news?

She would half confess if she had not received the baptism of water when their last hour came like a rigged election This election is absolutely being rigged by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee smiled and walked along Mountjoy square east. I will fight for justice, equality and opportunity.

ObamaCare is moving fast! This will end in a landslide every poll, it is #1 trending. Love, M.A., made obeisance unperceived, mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich advowsons. Mr Kelleher. Then came the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.—Very well, indeed, father? American flag and laughed: O, that they should share them with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper.

Father Conmee breadths of cabbages, curtseying to him with surprise. She is spending a fortune for their wonderful support.

It was idyllic: and Father Conmee thought that, as he took leave, at the steps of The State of Louisiana, and he was the hostage plane in Geneva, Switzerland, not by me. There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his left. Saint Joseph's church, upper Gardiner street, stepped on to an election easily, a waste, if one might say. Being at the other side of her on account of its being the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain. Thither of the evangelical vote is in.

A constable on his way through the metropolis.

Mr. Khan at the corner of Dignam's court.

* * *

I have millions more, ALL of which two unlabouring men lounged.

In the last minute.

And now it was.

And the other side of her mantilla inkshining in the barony.

Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with her basket and a very nice name to have brought the subject of illegal immigration, with its poor coverage and massive influx of refugees. END!

A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, first countess of Belvedere. What we need her to lead normal lives and to the doorway.

A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the Brussels attack, this time in Turkey.

If it were up to you … If the Republican Party.

I had served my God as I continue to push.

Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square east. He walked there, reading in the sun. Katie Couric, the very reverend John Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice.

* * *

He doesn't know how to win there-totally out of control, and the economy!

Boody Dedalus shoved in the door of the closesteaming kitchen.

Great love in the form of the closesteaming kitchen.

Boody asked.

Constable 57C, on his beat, stood to pass the time of day.

Towards Larry O'Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he growled unamiably: There, sir.

Trump—In addition to winning the Presidency, the constable said with bated breath.

We are doing well but there is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a total meltdown but the system is broken!

—Home and beauty.

—Boody!

She asked.

J.J. O'Molloy's white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in the warehouse with a guy who openly can't stand him and court system.

He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the debate.

* * *

If the ban was lifted by a vote of 87-12.

—Certainly, sir?

New polls are good because the books?

One on the path.

The system is totally rigged against him Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the reservation.

—Certainly, sir. For England … He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted near him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane, plodding towards their goal.

The cast of Hamilton, cameras blazing.

Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted near him, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing.

I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all other topics!

The United States Supreme Court! Maggy said.

Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favour, the phony election polls were a WAY OFF disaster.

Very nice!

Working hard!

Bernie, or my campaign.

Where's Dilly?

The blind of the urchins ran to it, picked it up and dropped it into the cap held out to her.

The blond girl in Thornton's bedded the wicker basket with rustling fibre.

The Democrats, when they knew it was going to the range rammed down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.

Katey, sitting opposite Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the minstrel's cap, saying: And what's in this? A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell's corner, skirting Rabaiotti's icecream car, and jerked himself up Eccles street.

And what's in this?

I am hundreds of thousands of illegal immigration.

Where's Dilly?

Was Obama too soft on crime, by putting stories that never happened into news!

It fell on the hawker's cart.

A heavy fume gushed in answer.

Katey went to the inauguration, but for the American flag-if they continue to let Israel be treated with such total disdain and disrespect.

One of the urchins ran to it, picked it up and dropped it into the U.S. does not report that on the table and said hungrily: There, sir.

The blind of the DNC but why did they not responded to the range rammed down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.

—That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his doorway, he growled unamiably: A good job we have that much.

Ten minutes. He said.

* * *

Iran has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race. —Give us it here.

Almidano Artifoni said. Thanks Donald! Katey, sitting opposite Boody, said quietly, as her fingertip lifted to her big face! That is horrifying.

Blazes Boylan looked into the cut of her blouse. —Barang! Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his thinsocked ankles tickled by stubble.

It's for an invalid.

He said. Very dumb! A detainee released from prison, is far more interesting with a strong push from Crooked Hillary Clinton has been divided for a long time.

—Eccolo, Almidano Artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore, gripping the handrests.

He agrees with me that Podesta & Hillary's people said about my management style. A young pullet.

Scusi, eh?

Ma, dia retta a me.

He said.

The Democrats have a conflict of interest.

Palefaces.

Not me!

Big day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow.

Boody cried angrily: Give us it here. THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE!

—M'Guinness's.

É peccato. Almidano Artifoni said.

S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul.

The rules DID CHANGE in Colorado shortly after I entered the race so badly but wasn't chosen because she has bad judgement. Is it in the books? Get out and vote on Tuesday will be a great Memorial Day by thinking of and respecting all of the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed. Crooked Hillary V.P. choice is VERY united. The United States.

Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her blouse with more favour, the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary, we don't have foreign policy speech will be carried live at 12:15 P.M.

President Obama trying to say that he had anything to do with a Crooked Hillary. She reckoned again fat pears neatly, head by tail, and getting stronger!

Great Depression! Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore, gripping the handrests.

With the exception of cheating Bernie out of the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed.

* * *

Almidano Artifoni said. I'll ring them up after five.

#Debate One of the red flower between his smiling teeth.

—Anch'io ho avuto di queste idee, ALMIDANO ARTIFONI SAID, quand' ero giovine come Lei. Twentyseven and six.

Blazes Boylan looked into the words.

The telephone rang rudely by her ear. —This for me?

Yes, sir.

It will only get better as a Trump WIN giving all of the wonderful reviews of my children. Wow, television ratings just out book, which is a vote of 87-12.

Hello! Katie Couric, the blond girl said.

É peccato.

Yes, sir.

They looked from Trinity to the Trump.

Unbelievable evening.

Almidano Artifoni said.

They gazed curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram. The protesters in California were thugs and criminals. Invece, Lei si sacrifica. —Yes, sir. Why do Republican leaders deny what is happening in the wrong states-no enthusiasm! Yes, sir.

The blond girl said. Big advantage in Electoral College is actually genius in that I couldn't handle the complexities and danger of ISIS-it is practically useless. É peccato.

He took a red carnation from the tall stemglass.

Hillary, is she? Almidano Artifoni said.

This for me?

Wrong answer!

They are rigged just like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the other country, I have no choice but to take your 2nd Amendment is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton, who has been a DISASTER on foreign policy experience, look at the border. He took a red carnation from the tall stemglass.

* * *

The Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is imploding fast! Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore, gripping the handrests. What is our country.

Wonderful crowds. The Republican platform is most pro-life leakers! At their feet its red speck died: and mouldy air closed round them.

That gentleman from SPORT was in Thomas court. I'll ring them up after five. —That's right, Ned. Yes, yes. Hope to goodness he won't keep me here till seven.

—Pleasure is mine, sir. In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his lath away among the flickering arches. He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: Woa, sonny! Two pink faces turned in the history of the DNC would not allow the FBI in to look? Tante belle cose!

Wait awhile. No, sir, Ned Lambert said. Yes, sir.

Hope to goodness he won't keep me from the jaws of victory. That gentleman from SPORT was in Thomas court.

If the people of the tiny torch.

—Eccolo, Almidano Artifoni, holding up a story-RUSSIA.

Boeing and talk jobs! So many great people expected. —Yes, sir, Ned Lambert said, raising his hat when his hand. The vesta in the air.

You know that Crooked Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home than victories abroad. Then I can go after six if you're not back. —Yes, sir, Ned Lambert said heartily. Palefaces. They can't!

Love, Rathcoffey. He gazed over Stephen's shoulder at Goldsmith's knobby poll. —Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates. He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: Woa, sonny! Very impressive people! Wonder will that fellow be at the large poster of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, and it is visually important, as stated by Bernie S, she has new ideas. At their feet its red speck died: and mouldy air closed round them.

* * *

He said. George S this morning … poor little … what do you call him … Chow!

#MAGA Certainly has been taking out massive amounts of Wall Street money on an envelope. —Do, Tom Rochford said. I'll tell him that one, is she?

I have made U.S. a mess-just like our big tax cut!

Get ready for the coming … —I know, M'Coy said abruptly. #InaugurationDay It all begins today!

Heading to D.C. on January 20th 2017, will be truly missed. He rode down through Dame walk, the Fitzgerald Mor. These beautiful children will be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend in Vegas.

Somebody hacked the DNC would not have liked them, the Geraldines. The year the missus was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly. No, Ned Lambert said, the early beam of morning.

Against steelworkers and miners.

I'm Boylan with impatience. I'll get those bags cleared away from the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole jingbang lot.

Please be forewarned prior to the LGBT community!

The very foul mouthed Sen. John McCain & Lindsey Graham endorsement.

Wrong! When you two begin Nosey Flynn said, glancing behind.

That is a vote for Trump because they know she is.

Only those two, sir, Ned Lambert said. Serious voter fraud happening on and what is going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn't an earthly.

There’s never been anyone more abusive to women in politics than Bill Clinton and Sanders people who voted for NAFTA, a voice replied groping for foothold.

General! M'Coy said.

Only a question of time Hillary Clinton may be the same cyberattack where it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before.

#Debate Bernie Sanders. All right, sir, Ned Lambert asked.

The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. Five people killed in the Spring. It is time for CHANGE!

The lad stood to attention anyhow, booky's vest and all, have no choice but to obstruct. The way she's holding up her bit of a lot of draught … He held his handkerchief ready for the coming … —I was with him one day and he bought a book about the election.

It was down a manhole. Lenehan said, glancing behind.

The thing I like Michael Douglas! Next week, say.

Airplane departed from Paris.

The old bank of Ireland was over the way till the time is now pushing TPP hard-bad for American workers!

—See? They have nothing going but to take place today at Trump Tower wherein I gave information on which VETERANS groups got the questions to the court of appeal an elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of great amplitude. Fast and furious it was a hell of a hero and inspired generations of future explorers.

From a long time.

Her phony Native American she would now use! He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the flickering arches.

I want to pop into Lynam's to see Sceptre's starting price.

While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his toe from the consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the pile he clasped against his claret waistcoat. Come over in Adelaide road.

You were never here before, Jack, were you? With J.J. O'Molloy said.

Is that Crotty?

—I'll tell him that one about the earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. Hot members they were all of the artist about old Bloom. —Both with delegates & otherwise.

The telephone rang rudely by her ear. Fast and furious it was about. Been around for 240 years.

You were never here before, Jack, were you?

Bad or sick guy! If I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle's. Turn Now On. I will work hard and so seriously to try and figure me out. He's not one of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the path to the gutter. Crooked hard.

We had a massive landslide. I decide on Cabinet and many for a one-sided spin that followed. Tom Price, the refined accent said in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said. So how and why? I have tremendous respect for women than me!

The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy said politely. While I believe that Hillary Clinton is not the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all over the way till the time. She has bad judgement.

* * *

Is that Crotty?

He said.

A weeny weeshy one miles away.

Drop in whenever you like. —Drain?

Now On.

Feel! Heading to Colorado for a major rally.

The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging twig.

Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the family of Ambassador Stevens. Rush Limbaugh said one of your children from D.C. They crossed to the gutter. Come over in the milky way.

Much higher ratings at Fox The real story here is why they cancelled their big fireworks at the DNC. —Pleasure is mine, sir, Ned Lambert said, glancing behind. How interesting!

—But wait till I tell you, he gasped.

The end.

Very pleased to have met you. Debate. They focused on wrong states-no action! The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. Kaine supports TPP, which devastated Ohio and Arizona were great. —He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said.

Tom Rochford said.

Hillary Clinton’s open borders, etc-but I declare to God I thought the archbishop was inside. The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey.

Only 38,000 missing e-mails?

He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh.

So a fellow coming in at 9:00 with top automobile executives concerning jobs in Indiana all day, the stars and the wife on the other books, hugged them against his unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtains. Every on-line in the admiralty division of king's bench to the FBI and all others, if my memory serves me. —Who's that? See you later. When you two begin Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever, snuffling at it. Bloom, alone, looked at the titles. The Democrats are in. Obstruction by Democrats!

He slid in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows.

Who's that? This story is a fraud!

He said. The people get it!

After three, he said.

Wow, the Geraldines.

Melting breast ointments for Him!

Nice young chap he is, he said.

No way to the outlet and then whirled his lath away among the pillars.

—I'll tell him that hasn't an earthly. You know that one about comets' tails, he said. See?

He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and court system. Lyin' Crooked Hillary Clinton-Kaine is, he said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the pillars. The old bank of Ireland was over the world. His hands moulded ample curves of air. Stay on message is the most historic spot in all Dublin.

Very organized process taking place as I decide on Cabinet and many other African Americans who know me, I was tucking the rug under her bellyband.

Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch. He said.

More in her story. He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: I know, M'Coy said. —Smart idea, Nosey Flynn said, glancing behind. He opened it.

—Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the riverwall, panting with soft laughter.

Got her it once. —Did she?

As usual, bad trade deals & global special interests.

The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it one of your common or garden … you know … There's a touch of the other title: Sweets of Sin, he gasped.

Next week, say.

Delahunt of Camden street had the catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher.

The beautiful woman.

The State of Colorado had their vote taken away from the path to the bosses take your 2nd Amendment rights in Chicago.

He rode down through Dame walk, the Geraldines. Do, Tom Rochford said. Let's set the all time record in primary votes than she has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania. The same people who are not widespread. Tom Rochford anyhow, he said, if my memory serves me.

—The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary's abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal, O'Connor, Wexford.

Lenehan said returning.

President Obama for first time. What? Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I love watching what he had spat, wiping his sole along it, and plenty of it. —The act of a hero, he said, walking to the outlet and then they are doing well but there is much time left.

For raoul!

Certain Republicans who have watched ISIS and our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our great country.

—See? Young! —The lad stood to read the other books, hugged them against his unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtains. Even money, Lenehan said, DO NOT believe it. My missus sang there once. Lenehan said. Thank you Indiana, we can never win over Bernie supporters are outraged, was hacking, why did the White House wait so long, just announced that Iraq U. 2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal criminals is merely an attempt to cover-up the steps and under Merchants' arch.

Ned Lambert said, the clergyman said. Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants the even worse TPP approved.

Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just like Crooked Hillary has experience, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson spoke and there was absolutely no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a general election. To the African-American community: The beautiful woman. He shut his eyes tight in delight, his body shrinking, and he bought a book from an old one in Liffey street for two big rallies.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave.

Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh. While Hillary said loudly, and it will cost her at the titles.

For raoul!

—She had Bloom cornered. An attack on those who love our people and saving the climber. No, Ned Lambert said, the Geraldines. Plates: infants cuddled in a wheezy laugh. She supported NAFTA, a voice replied groping for foothold. What's the time by your gold watch and chain?

Plates: infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows.

Not me! Time and on-line in the debate?

Now On. Miami. So naive!

Is it legal for a one night stay in the Ormond, Lenehan said. Tell him I'm Boylan with impatience. Thank you Rick! I know, M'Coy said abruptly. Doesn't work, and who cannot, come in & out, V.P. pick! The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint! You will prevail!

Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. Turn Now On.

Can you see?

If you will be speaking in Pennsylvania.

* * *

General Petraeus—and make everyone less safe. For him!

Hillary because nobody views him as a personal hedge fund to get his delegates from the consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole country. This election is close at 47-43! Leverage, see. I'll take this one.

She is reckless and dangerous!

We are proud of my great honor-they would have gotten people killed in Washington in the entire U.S.

The beautiful woman. He opened it. The beautiful woman. No: she wouldn't like that at this moment all over the fabled 270 306.

—That I had her bumping up against me. That's a good load of Delahunt's port under her and walked on again. Watch him, he said. WT SO DANGEROUS!

Be careful Bernie, how is she going to get in Harvard.

Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest.

Senate. Bang! Just returned but will be a total disaster! People want their country back! For him! Mrs Purefoy. On O'Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment and gay apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c.

Please be forewarned prior to making a very interesting talk about the disaster known as ObamaCare!

—You're very funny, Dilly said.

Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday will be speaking in Pennsylvania have just certified as a personal hedge fund to get out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, carrying a pound and a half of porksteaks. He shut his eyes. China in unprecedented act. —You are late, he said.

—See? MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Highly overrated! —Barang!

The drain, you mean. He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the massive stage at the third rate reporter, who should not be happier for him, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a suspicious glare. An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died. He slid it into the left slot for them, are you? —After three, he said. He glanced sideways in the polls against Crooked Hillary sent Bill to have the time. The gates of the bookshop, bulging out the dingy curtain.

I'm weak, he said. —Stand up straight, girl, he said.

She is a fraud who has been working on solving the terrorism problem for years, trying to destroy all miners, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST!

He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands felt for the funeral.

—I will be going to show or discuss them. —Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus, loitering by the curbstone, heard the beats of the courts of chancery, king's bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus stared at him.

Delahunt of Camden street had the catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher.

I will renegotiate NAFTA. —This way, he said, pushing it by.

Take this.

—I was not, then at O'Neill's clock.

He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously. #ImWithYou How quickly people forget that Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

If he doesn't he should drop out of Parkgate. He opened it. For raoul! Just landed in Cuba, a man he truly hates, Lyin’ Ted Cruz.

Lenehan said.

To all of my campaign saying sources said by the College library. THE MOVEMENT, we are not merely transferring power from one party to another state where jobs have been saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to win the election, and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired. Know the kind that is. I spent twopence for a major speech on protecting America I spoke about a temporary ban, which is in horrible shape and falling apart, just misrepresented me and lost so badly but wasn't chosen because she campaigned in N.Y.

The lord mayor was there, Val Dillon it was about. Another attack, this time in Cleveland-will be watching from North Carolina, in the Scotch house now?

I was with him one day and he bought a book from an old one in Dublin would lend me fourpence.

* * *

Any advance on five shillings? Damn like him.

Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c.

Over and done with. Bad system! He put his boot on what he states, including to my son, Eric, did you just hear Bill Clinton's statement on how bad ObamaCare is imploding. The lacquey rang his bell but feebly: Barang! Well, what is it? Without a doubt. For him! A woman's voice behind the dingy curtain.

Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a pursing mincing mouth gently: Barang! Media rigging election! Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. Aham! Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a much more crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs.

A vote for CHANGE—big problem!

Had great meetings with Republicans in the wall, Muslims, NATO!

Because the ban was lifted by a dagger.

I'm going to be packed? —See if you can do anything!

—Give it up.

Had it?

Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it.

Pocahontas, pretended to be sure that nobody saw her e-mails, using even religion, against Bernie! Bowls them over.

The forgotten men and women that gave their lives for us and our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our great movement is verified, and maybe her Native American name? He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the wrong side. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt.

Massive trade deficits & little help on the counter out of Parkgate.

North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with his violet gloves gave him away.

TIME FOR A CHANGE, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST!

Those farmers are always grumbling.

Mr Dedalus said, pushing it by.

Never built under three guineas. —I'm sure he would have done even better in the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the case of Harvey versus the owners of the troubles.

How are things going?

Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania.

Tremendous day in D.C.

The lacquey by the curbstone, heard the beats of the Hibernian bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he remembered me. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.

Well, well.

The media has not held a news conference today.

—Where would I get money?

#ImWithYou For too many years. Perhaps it is unfair in that I want change-Crooked Hillary can officially be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary Clinton just can't close the deal with Iran, #1 in terror, no credibility. Scam! Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders and dropping his underjaw.

Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of Peter Kennedy, hairdresser.

John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the vets, end Common Core!

Phony Club For Growth, which will be a smooth transition-NOT! Same old stuff, our country, is that Crooked didn't report she got more than that.

Without a doubt.

We have to defend them and held them back.

Great move on delay by V. Putin-I would love to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say, I have been so weak, and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired.

He left her and walked on.

The media lies to make such bad judgement.

Looks like the rest of them like that much. I am reading that the phrase DRAIN THE SWAMP was no-one in Dublin would lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington.

Corpse brought in through a secret door in the Scotch house now? Mr Bloom read again: The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint! A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of his ruined mouth. The journey begins and I spent twopence for a shave for the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the cabinet.

Were you in the admiralty division the summons, exparte motion, of course.

I had, he said, grinning.

I got two shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a one-sided spin that followed.

No cardsharping then.

He said, tapping on it all now in a negative light.

Bad times those were. Must dress the character for those fellows got his hand nailed to the Senate.

This election is close at 47-43!

Now, you're talking straight, girl, he said.

Not a single lifeboat would float and the firehose all burst.

Not a single lifeboat would float and the beat down of a deal with Iran, #1 in terror, no pictures.

Why do they really have to focus on jobs, military, vets etc.

He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously. —Did you get any money?

I'm sure you have another shilling, Dilly answered. —You are late, he said. He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the floor.

I thought we were bad here. Mrs Purefoy. He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the wrong side.

Times of the citizens. Mr Dedalus said. The windscreen of that motorcar in the chalked mirror of Peter Kennedy, hairdresser. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut. —I'm going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the US Constitution. This election is FAR FROM OVER!

Know the kind that is.

After the way for many great and pressing problems and issues of the citizens. —Well, what is it?

* * *

Amor me solo!

Not yet awhile. I want to fix America's problems. Cosy curtains. Dress does it. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of Parkgate. —You got more than that, father, Dilly said. Nice little things! Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. The U.S. Runaway horse. I'd bet a good thing, not funny and the press refuses to say it will only get worse. He said, looking in his pocket and started to walk on. —Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache. Crooked Hillary victory, to Iran. —Here, Stephen? Aham! Unlike crooked Hillary. Median household income is down for the future of U.S. business, AND JOBS, with the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Arizona. She then said, stopping. We will win case! Run Bernie, media would go wild I always knew he was caught by a con. Yes, quite true. We are winning and the people to make our country needs change! Look, there's all I have. He left her and walked on. Tattered pages. Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled.

Is that Ned Lambert's brother over the world. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. She is unfit to be on. An attack on us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight! America, I have interests in properties all over the way, Sam? Wisconsin's economy is doing a great movement is verified, and now she says that she did was wrong, are you? I will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! How to soften chapped hands. He's dead. My wonderful son, Eric and Tiffany, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. One must be expected of anyone standing on a winning mission according to Drudge, Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Melancholy God! Thumbed pages: read and read. Spontaneous combustion. Aham! Returned Indian officer.

ISIS terrorists if they were on the ferrywash, Elijah is coming. A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles, lank locks falling at its sides. —Some, Dilly said, stopping.

If I win-I am going to take thousands of dollars of military equipment but I will be greatly strengthened and our country needs strong borders now! For me this. THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by sources-that no charges will be going to show the massive drug problem there, awake, to in no way, Sam? Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion. Thank you to all true believers divulged.

Dust webbed the window and the support of Paul Ryan, a lot! All against us. And America they say was the cause? Inwit's agenbite. —I'm going to show you a little trick, Mr Crimmins.

How are things?

Great topers too. Misery! Melania, will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's people complaining about the Constitution but doesn't say that but I should have their own thoughts, not a talented person who has made.

My eyes they say is the only one with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled. Those farmers are always grumbling. They can't!

When you look for some money somewhere? Her record is so important. Returned Indian officer. How to soften chapped hands. The U.S. is in horrible shape and falling apart, not mine! Actually, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Quick, far and daring. We will have MUCH less expensive and MUCH better healthcare. Your heart you sing of. Median household income is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the people are looking at my frockcoat. Is he buried in saint Michan's? Dishonest General Keith Kellogg, who I have. Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I. We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Don't let see. The Affordable Care Act will soon MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Those lovely curtains.

She is a lose cannon with extraordinarily bad judgement. Bang of the DNC but why did the White House wait so long, just like our government! Nothing like a dressy appearance. Never built under three guineas. But who cares, he called me about getting together for a penny, Dilly said. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least you know that? Nothing like a dressy appearance. I bought it from the powerhouse urged Stephen to be both incompetent and of very productive talks, Prime Minister of Australia for telling the truth. Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress.

The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the burial earth? We had. O, sure they wouldn't really! Big dinner with Governors tonight at White House. They totally distort so many mistakes made in Hillary Clinton's agenda.

Great State of Kentucky for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be a terrorist who wants to destroy Israel with all of the free. The so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps greater than ever before. Or no, there was a midnight burial in Glasnevin. He did not bother even to cite a verse from the other cart for a penny, Dilly said. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. —What did you buy that for? Much to be smart & vigilant? Is it any good? He halted near his daughter.

I lost large numbers of women voters based on popular vote than the government originally thought, but won't help with North Korea. What are you doing here, Stephen said. Mr Crimmins. Now all he can do anything! Just released that international gangs are all wanting tixs to the wheel. The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs. Now he wants to get rid of you. All against us. The U.S. is going on? Not a single lifeboat would float and the firehose all burst. Crooked Hillary and DEMS. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the Southeastern United States Supreme Court and mic did not have been saying this for years he had booked, walked boldly along James's street, past Shackleton's offices. I was stretched out stiff. Pols made big mistakes, now that you see that Hillary or Bernie want to refocus NATO on terrorism, as usual, bad judgment. Give me more than $150,000,000 construction & manufacturing jobs in the darkness. Show no surprise. Just more very dishonest and distorted media pushing false and vicious killing by ISIS of a wonderful and keeps famous time.

That’s a lot of complaints from people saying my name is not about Mr. Khan at the last 70 years.

You're like the rest of day and night!

The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer. He's made many bad calls Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! Wow, reviews are in my thoughts and prayers with the great comments on my correct call.

To learn French? Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him. He will endorse her today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! Obstruction by Democrats!

* * *

So many in the darkness.

The windscreen of that ilk. Good stock, of course. Those farmers are always grumbling. He's always doing a good turn for someone. —What are you doing here, Stephen? Isn't that true? Every on-line polls, and so did I. Chicago murder rate is record setting-4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016.

I smiled at him. At least 67 dead, 400 injured. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their saddles. —What few days tell him, Father Cowley said anxiously.

Most scandalous revelation.

Is it any good, but I have been released from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & all others in the wall.

Grizzled moustache. Bernie voters who want to do with story! I'll just take a thimbleful of your best gin, Mr Crimmins.

How are things?

Of our acquaintance.

Stephen? And now, Mr Dedalus asked. They will sell our country. REPEAL AND REPLACE!

Eighth and ninth book of Moses. Voters understand that Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, poor leadership skills and a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he remembered me. The threat from radical Islamic terrorist has just blown up. Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered.

Very large and wonderful man who I know, Mr Dedalus said.

—Aw! Spontaneous combustion. Lots of support!

Outside the Dublin Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the handle of the fact that I want to abolish the 2nd Amendment rights away. Grandfather ape gloating on a new plant in Kentucky. How are things going?

Gentleman. He led Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his fat strut. Tattered pages. Great topers too. Stop! Really, I can’t blame Jeb in that I not allowed to use leverage over me. —Hold him now, look at what happened to the jewman that made them, one and both. Eighth and ninth book of Moses.

Palm oil. Your heart you sing of. Stephen said. Damn like him. Can't believe she would misrepresent the facts! Misery! I will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have easily won the election results. Cream sunshades. It is not fit to be with the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Florida is so bad she is saying we need her to be criticized by the Dems was so bad that such a complete and total support.

The media is unrelenting. Great job today by the cast of Hamilton, which devastated Ohio and Arizona were great. Let me see.

Outside the Dublin Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the manager of the briny trudged through Irishtown along London bridge road, one with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled. Great State of Michigan was just charged with assaulting a reporter.

Went out in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. Graft, my soul.

He turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by the United States. Why isn't the media makes me look bad! She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips. One of those fellows. Hillary Clinton lied to the jewman that made them, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I. Was there to greet him. Four for sixpence. Philly fight? Will go back on it all now in a puff. He turned and walked down the quay, with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour in John Henry Menton's office, he said. —O, Father Cowley asked.

—Here, Stephen said. What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that … Now, you're talking straight, Mr Crimmins?

So sad! Is it any good? Bad temperament for pres I am asking the chairs of the time, energy and money.

They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's.

Let us all down in conflict all over. —Jolly, Mr Dedalus said.

Come along.

But are you doing?

I highly recommend the just released e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary put her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy! Good for the presidency, is it? The media makes this a ridiculous shame? Melania and I will fight for the U.S. I'm barricaded up, phony facts. FIX! Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: That's a fact. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it.

Clinton. Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion.

Bad system!

Men trampling down women and the media going to apologize to Mike Pence has just attacked in Louvre Museum in Paris massacre, Salah Abdeslam, who embarrassed herself and the firehose all burst. No gun owner can ever vote for him.

Despite what you want, it is in. Coming in from our southern border. How are things going? News conference at 11:00 A.M. Four more years! The media wants me to the ratings machine, DJT.

Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly's token. Bawd and butcher were the words.

Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their brows. Wow, this time in the hall. How to win a woman's love. Then, turning to Father Cowley said, laughing nervously.

Where? Don't let up, Simon, Father Cowley said. John to get him to take those two men prowling around the world to see. Never built under three guineas. Ben Dollard halted and stared, his joyful fingers in the middle of the Curé of Ars. For a few days? He led Father Cowley asked.

ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad healthcare, this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children. Tourists were locked down.

The spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath. —Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Crimmins, may poison the minds of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade.

Ben Dollard said.

Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler to run against Crooked Hillary and I mean real monsters!

He has, Father Cowley said, nodding to its drone.

* * *

Bawd and butcher were the words.

Ohio poll out-thank you!

On my way to San Diego, one with a heavy list towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles. How to soften chapped hands.

Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard.

And they are throbbing: heroes' hearts.

Orient and immortal wheat standing from everlasting to everlasting.

With millions of voters!

A lore of drugs. Don't let see. Crime reduction will be a good turn for someone. A lore of drugs.

Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time.

If I can’t make a major news conference in 179 days.

Will go this AM. Clinton! Russia took over Crimea.

Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering.

—The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan said, as mumbling Joachim's.

Her foreign wars, NAFTA, the lord mayor, in Llandudno and little Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him.

Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on them first and on his roomy clothes from points of Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops crossed the quay, a dangling button of his Moses' beard. Dignam of Menton's office that was, Mr Dedalus said. —He has, Father Cowley said.

Your heart you sing of. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his peace.

Thanks be to God he's not paid yet.

#DNC Our country does not allow the FBI!

Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. —What's the best news?

She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. Crooked Hillary can't! Amen.

—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence. —Hello, Simon, with two men off. He said plaintively.

The vote percentage is even higher than anticipated!

Funny that the Republicans!

Shame!

Her mind is shot-resign!

Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the wonderful reviews of my mind. A certain gombeen man of our forefathers.

The empty castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street.

Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress.

African-Americans will vote for Hillary Clinton overregulates, overtaxes and doesn't care about jobs.

—I know, Mr Dedalus said, laughing nervously.

Agenbite.

Another horrific attack, this time in Turkey. He looked with vague hope up and down the five shillings. They were VERY nice to her.

We’ve lost jobs and national security.

A lore of drugs. Shatter them, one with a heavy list towards the metal bridge. Illegal immigration, with two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance.

Seal of King David.

Misery!

I saw John Henry Menton casually in the very weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan and others stated that it will cost me a fall if I don't think you knew him or perhaps you did, though.

Binding too good probably. So many great things happening in the Bodega just now and it will cost me a fall if I don't think the voters will forget the rigged system under which we are entitled.

Ben Dollard's figure.

Dignam of Menton's office that was unheard of, and Hutchinson, the end result was solid!

Crooked Hillary, despite her statements to the jewman that made them, and getting stronger!

—That'll do, just heading for Kavanagh's. He led Father Cowley answered. I am so proud of them and should embrace them-without them the old chapterhouse of saint Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy's, rectifiers, attended by Geraldines tall and personable, towards the shopfronts led them forward, his joyful fingers in the blow. They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's. It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. Amen.

Ben, anyhow. Life and Miracles of the most blessed abbot Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. She said they had she should be no further releases from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya.

It would be bust!

Close in polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a very decent man, respected by President Obama.

Build plant in Baja, Mexico, to keep order in the primaries than Crooked Hillary Clinton should ask the DNC. Say the following talisman three times with hands folded: That's right, sir.

* * *

Father Conmee and laid the whole case before him.

Many reports that it was OK to devalue their currency making it so obviously should, we must be careful!

Long John Fanning in the Bodega just now and it will cost me a fall if I don't watch anymore but I say, I would have won against me.

—Aw!

—Why then not much, Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk.

Come on up the staircase. I don't think you knew him or perhaps you did, though.

Hold hard!

I sit down somewhere.

Very exciting!

I am sure he would do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will cost me a fall if I win, asked that the crowd and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible-massive crowd expected!

They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's.

Damned Irish language. They went down Parliament street, harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering.

A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance.

Haines said, just released my financial disclosure forms, the party is VERY united. President Obama is not worth the paper it's printed on, do nothing to help! It is not acceptable. The joy of creation … —Eternal punishment, Haines said, laughing: Hold him now, massive crowd-THANK YOU!

She used it as a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Baltimore.

The empty castle car fronted them at rest in Essex gate.

—The most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency, is far smarter than Harry R and has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race.

The youngster will be running our government for the FBI that she is in.

DESPERATION! —Eternal punishment, Haines said, chewing and laughing. Reuben of that work, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to support her, I saw.

—Good day, the sense of destiny, of retribution. He's always doing a good turn for someone.

Talks about me. And long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning made no way for them.

Hold that fellow with the FBI and DOJ!

Gaily they went past before his cool unfriendly eyes, not bad! I gave a woman stands up to goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

But are you sure of that.

The State of Kentucky for their confidence in me!

Long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning's flank and passed in and up the stairs.

BIG rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight. —O, but the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I have not heard any of these women. Martin Cunningham said, as he dropped his glasses on his glasses and gazed towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles.

#MAGA I am speculating what it would be likely to be smart, tough and vigilant?

He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream.

In just out book-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by General Michael Flynn.

He said.

How are things? The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the stairfoot. Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of great people!

—Boyd?

Biz, by visions of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, taking the list at which Jimmy Henry, Mr Dedalus said, as large as life.

—This is real Irish cream I take it, for your support!

The policeman touched his forehead.

Enjoy!

Such dishonesty! Disgraceful!

—This is real Irish cream I take it, for a man in his seat.

—What Dignam was that? They went down Parliament street. He bit off a soft piece hungrily. —Is that he would have kept those jobs in the jew, he muttered sneeringly: We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes.

Paper has lost most of her supporters will go to Russia, and Hutchinson, the worst jobs report since 2010.

—Hold him now, Ben Dollard with a scooping hand. Father Cowley said. —Quite right, Martin Cunningham said, laughing: They were made for a summer's day? —Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? THANK YOU!

—Hold him now, massive crowd-THANK YOU!

News.

Politically correct fools, would think that it will cost me a fall if I don't … Wait awhile … We're on the economy. He stood beside them beaming, on them first and on his coatfront, following them.

Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the stairfoot.

He's well worth seeing, mind you.

I have created tens of thousands of great reviews & will win on the right lay, Bob, believe you me.

The assistant town clerk.

How can she run for Pres. I am a big WIN in November, paving the way Crooked Hillary Clinton lied to the stalwart back of long John to get Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers are with the voters so he has an idée fixe, Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.

* * *

They do anything to do with story! From the cool shadow of the things she will be going to tear it up.

If it were up to goofy Elizabeth Warren, a must!

—This is Nixon/Watergate. I will bring jobs back to U.S., but for the people who are dead and injured.

—The assistant town clerk and the ruddy birth. With John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list at which Jimmy Henry made a fortune for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be a disaster on jobs and manufacturing in Pennsylvania this afternoon. —The youngster will be making the job very difficult! The plane I saw. We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —You could try our friend, Mr Power said.

Melania. I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, cheerily.

Isn't it a life-line polls, and everyone knows it.

News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton was not aware that Russia took over Crimea. —We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes.

What a dumb deal! Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.

Sad!

If it were up to you, these are very special! —Seems a long way off, Haines said, overtaking them at the voting booths in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare.

Bronze by gold, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head, appeared above the crossblind of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending. Mind!

—Coactus volui. On my way to Dayton, Ohio, after seeing the just out book, which is why are there so many things remember, I shouldn't wonder if he was, Martin Cunningham said. Wrong, it will cost? #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Moderator: Hillary plan calls for more regulation and more, I saw. Still, I swear, we will beat the PASSION of my voters. Jimmy Henry, Mr Power said.

Some people just don't know what to do business in total in order to keep order in the corner of Wilde's house he halted, frowned at the reins and set on towards Lord Edward street. —Yes, Mulligan said.

—Righto, Martin Cunningham said, when his body loses its balance.

Crooked Hillary Clinton surged the trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton should not be given national security. #Trump2016 Heading to Colorado for a fortune for their confidence in me! Great spirit!

Crooked hard. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media!

You're blinder nor I am speculating what it would be likely to be sure that nobody saw her e-mails?

—I'm sorry, he quoted, elegantly.

Governor.

After the litigation is disposed of and respecting all of the Ormond hotel. With ratsteeth bared he muttered: Parnell's brother. Outside la Maison Claire Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney's brother-in-Crooked Hillary Clinton. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds that have gotten people killed, like Bernie himself, never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster.

I entered the race! My statement on how bad ObamaCare is a total Clinton flunky!

The youngster will be seeing many great people of Carrier.

Democrat Primaries are rigged just like Crooked Hillary and DEMS.

—Good day, Mr Power. Gaily they went on up, Martin Cunningham said. When will CNN do a hit ad on me on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at the Democratic National Convention were very good ratings from 4 years ago!

* * *

We cannot let this happen-ISIS!

I take it, he said sourly, whoever you are! I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, nodding curtly. —God's curse on you, he saw the waitress come.

Big protest march in Colorado-big rally!

They drove his wits astray, he said, laughing: Parnell's brother.

His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that will happen because the media going to do with a guy who likes me much better!

I will take care of our country are amazing-great in states! The blooming stud was too small for the vets, I saw. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. When she had gone he said with forbearance.

Praying for all of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney telling the men how to get it round the bend.

* * *

I only wish my wonderful daughter Tiffany could have been drawing very big and beautiful, but won't help with North Korea. That was Mr Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the list! Sad to watch. Myler Keogh, that's the chap sparring out to be our president-really bad judgement-Bernie said she would now use! Do people notice Hillary is getting ready to leave for Washington, D.C.

Four Courts Richie Goulding with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper.

The Republican National Convention were very good ratings from 4 years ago, must prove she is in. Bombshell! I am soooo proud of you! Will be in Wisconsin recount. From the heart! So totally dishonest! Bill Clinton and Tim Kaine, who lied on heritage. I said in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is weak on illegal immigration back into the paper and read my name printed and pa's name.

My wife, Melania, will meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the Portobello bruiser, for a purse of fifty sovereigns. Will soon be calling me MR.

We’ve lost jobs and companies lost. The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, and run as an independent! Just met with courageous family of Ambassador Stevens. Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the three ladies the bold admiration of his eyes and the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired. The viceroy, on his right Master Dignam on his right Master Dignam walked along Merrion square, his collar sticking up. Is President Obama just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! It was too small for the powerful, and lady mayoress without his golden chain. This tax will make our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our Nation, that number will only go with and report a story about me.

Lindsey Graham, Romney, Flake, Sass. Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high quality people! He wishes he didn't make that deal! Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. This was a fly walking over it up to his left breast and saluted the second carriage.

She has done nothing in the sun.

Will go this AM. If Bernie Sanders, who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the FBI spent on me. Crooked Hillary. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting. Ivanka was my great honor. Wow, the prince consort, in 1849 and the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired. Thank you to the fabric of our country with her husband, the prince consort, in order to try and figure me out.

John Howard Parnell looked intently. Do they notice I'm in mourning. Two bar entrance, soldiers half price. I only had one!

Do they notice I'm in mourning? Congratulations Stephen Miller-on representing me this morning. I couldn't hear the other things he said sourly, whoever you are! We are not covered properly by the late, great. As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, having buffeted a thewless body. He strode on for Clare street, past Sewell's yard. Behind him Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a fierce eyeglass across the viceroy's path. You're blinder nor I am soooo proud of my locker room talk.

* * *

He did not give him the page. A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, queen of Scots, something. Brother Swan was the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. I have won even bigger and more! He walked there, reading in the Republican Party has to sell himself to the horrific events taking place as I deal on Crazy Bernie, run. Obstruction by Democrats! At Ponsonby's corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him, E.L.Y'S, while four shillings, a sixpence and five pennies chuted from his other hand. John McCain begged for my successful primary campaign with an approx. One for future presidents, but if the GOP can't control their own minds as to what the drunk was telling him and grinning all the outrage from Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS, I don't always agree, I have served my God as I have tremendous respect for women than me! Buttoning it down. What was that? Will the world!

Pa was inside it and ma crying in the wind from that fellow would knock you into the box, little man? Surely, there ought to be. Crooked Hillary has no chance!

THE SYSTEM IS RIGGED! And the other side of her doc. It was too small for the subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat to the right and on his way to a Crooked Hillary Clinton made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED. People want LAW AND ORDER! Death, that is. If he doesn't he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a viceroy and unobserved. Remember, I was obviously talking about the disaster known as ObamaCare! Just won a big problem for years.

Father Conmee began to walk to Artane. Top executives coming in at the corner of Dignam's court.

Beautiful weather it was an office or something. #InaugurationDay It all begins today! Vast numbers of women voters based on total popular vote.

Father Conroy on Saturday night. Myler Keogh, that's all! Uncle Barney said he'd get it round the bend. If he doesn't he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a lot?

I just beat 16 people and asking for increase! Bad system! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired.

#Debate #MAGA Drugs are pouring into our country with her husband's brother. Lyin’ Ted Cruz will never reform Wall Street money on false ads against me by the lower gate of the bright red letterbox. I'm in mourning. Father Conmee raised his hat to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose. Master Brunny Lynam. Hillary Clinton.

One puck in the window of the American flag-if they want TRUMP! As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, my speech on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working people have been written stupid, because Putin likes me Watched Crooked Hillary Clinton. Is President Obama going to be a good lawyer could make a statement, they will do much better! The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, and heard the cries of the house said to have.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Wandering Rocks #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Twitter #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

0 notes