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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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Moonberry Wishes (Ruthari Week 2021 #2)

Pairing: Ruthari

Rating: T

Tags: post-coin Runaan, Runaan pulls an Eljaal, belated reunion, angry Ethari, all the feels, angst, fluff, i missed you, toppy Ethari, Runaan is never gonna be ready to hear about Rayllum

Prompt: Leaving/Returning

Moonberry Wishes

The clang of sword on shield snapped Runaan out of his morning meditation. His eyes opened on the now-familiar view of the rocky slopes of eastern Duren, their golden stone bleached with early morning sunlight. Squinting against the light, Runaan tracked the sound of battle, snatched up his bowblade, and hurled himself off the high stone ledge where he’d made secure camp the night before. The descent to the narrow pass a few hundred meters below wasn’t difficult for one with his skills, and he leaped easily from boulder to boulder as he descended past the timber line toward the old trade road.

The faint flicker of a small cooking fire at the edge of the road caught his eye as he targeted a cluster of figures at the far edge of the road. Someone had camped there in the night, and he hadn’t heard a thing! The assassin tossed his confusion aside and leaped down, skidding dramatically through a cloud of fine pale dust shot through with angled sunbeams, expecting the attackers to turn and run, or possibly turn and stare. To acknowledge his arrival, at the very least--he was a Moonshadow elf, and making himself known on purpose was a rare treat.

But no one did. Not even the traveler he’d rushed in to rescue. The man stood still, his back to Runaan, the hood of his cloak pulled up.

Runaan blinked mid-skid and reassessed, fingers tense on his bowstring.

Half a dozen bandits had clearly attempted to besiege this man. Yet three of them lay sprawled in the dust already, and one hung by his belt from a broken tree limb three meters off the ground. As Runaan skidded in, another bandit got shoved backward through the air and plopped into a muddy patch in the woods with a squelch.

Runaan sought the last bandit as he battled his surprise. He seemed to have found the one human who could hold his own as well as an assassin against half a dozen attackers. He finally spotted the greasy man when his head rose up over the traveler’s hood, caught in the would-be victim’s grip as he was bodily lifted into Runaan’s line of sight by the front of his shirt. The traveler’s other arm dropped to his side, revealing a small round silvery shield strapped to his forearm.

Runaan reassessed again, casting his gaze around the small campsite, seeking clues as to who this strange paradox of a person was.

The traveler had camped in the most foolish location, right where any passing rogue could find him. Yet he’d somehow managed to set up his camp silently in the night. He carried no sword, but he’d bested half a dozen desperate humans with a small shield. His campfire was expertly laid, but the aroma that rose from it was one of stewing fruits.

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly doubted that this stranger had ever needed his help at all.

“I have a question for you,” the traveler huffed to his captive, catching his breath from their quick scuffle. “And if you answer me truthfully, you can be on your way.” His voice was soft velvet over cold steel, and its gentle brogue stabbed Runaan in the gut with an icicle made of all the frozen feelings he’d tried to ignore for nearly a year.

The world telescoped around him, streaking past his vision with dizzying speed. His freedom from the coin, his shame and uncertainty over failing half his mission, the strange sense of mourning he felt over feeling his blood oath breaking with his supposed death, his decision to wander in search of new purpose instead of returning home and learning he’d been ghosted. His honor had always been vital to his identity, and he hadn’t been ready to face the risk of having it stripped away despite his best and most dutiful intentions. Three seasons had passed since he’d turned his boots toward the west, and not one step had landed on Xadian soil.

But apparently Xadia had grown tired of waiting for him. This stranger was no human. This stranger didn’t sound like a stranger, either.

Runaan’s breath burst from his mouth in a single disbelieving gasp. “Ethari?”

The traveler dropped his bandit like a discarded cloak and spun to face Runaan. His silvery shield thudded to the dirt unheeded. Warm brown eyes blazed out at the errant assassin from beneath a dark blue hood edged with locks of long black hair, and his dark skin was unmarked by blue Moonshadow paint. He also sported five fingers on each hand.

Runaan let out a soft grunt of pain. This man wasn’t his--

The traveler’s mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the Moonshadow before him. A quick hand flicked back his hood, and a pale shimmering spell rippled across his body.

Runaan’s eyes widened even further.

The Moon spell danced around the traveler’s hidden features, revealing elf horns, cheek markings, shoulder swirls. His black hair became shaggy and white, and his eyes warmed to a soft sunset, just as wide as Runaan’s were.

The elves stared at each other in shock. To the side, the discarded bandit scrambled to his feet and hesitantly edged away, his gaze darting between the safety of the forest and the big elf who had flicked him aside.

“Never mind,” Ethari told him in a faint voice, eyes locked onto Runaan. “I found him.”

The bandit nodded eagerly as if he’d actually been of help. He gathered up his foolhardy compatriots, and together the humans bolted without a backward glance.

Runaan tracked him with a tense stare until he was out of sight before he let himself drink in the sight of his precious craftsman from head to toe. Tension he’d been holding for nearly a year began to ease from his shoulders. “Ethari.” His voice was a tentative prayer.

“Runaan.” Ethari’s voice was faint, too.

The assassin’s eyes dropped to the shield. Its edge was rimmed with all the phases of the Moon. Runaan wondered briefly how many enchantments Ethari had crammed into its swirlies. “You’re fighting?” he murmured.

“I’m on a mission,” Ethari corrected breathlessly. His chest was still heaving, but Runaan suspected it was for a different reason now.

Runaan felt the first hints of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t smiled since the Silvergrove, but Ethari always had a way of--

Ethari’s brows lowered sharply. “To find Xadia’s biggest dumbass.”

Runaan’s eyes widened. “What?”

With a growl, Ethari charged at him. Runaan managed to drop his bowblade safely into a nearby fern before Ethari seized him by the front of his shirt and backed him up against a nearby tree trunk. Runaan gripped his husband’s wrists and braced for impact, wincing as his horn tip clattered against the rough bark. His toes slipped on an angled root and dangled in the air as Ethari pinned him easily in place. Runaan’s eyes danced from his husband’s furious eyes to his bulging deltoids to his aggressive stance to his fingers knotting in Runaan’s shirt to the way those two soft locks of hair always fluttered right in the middle of his forehead, and finally managed to focus on his mouth, which had been pouring an angry stream of words past his ears for several seconds.

“--where the fuck have you been? Why didn’t you come home? I thought you were dead! Or lost! Or hurt! Or captured again! I was worried sick! Did you ever think about that? Did you?”

Runaan opened his mouth to stammer a reply.

Ethari’s question was apparently rhetorical. He bulled onward: “I gave Rayla your lotus in a jar of water from the pool, and she said she’d bring you back to me. And she started to promise me, and do you know what I did, Runaan? Do you? I stopped her. I couldn’t take another broken promise from an assassin standing beside my ritual pool. I couldn’t take it. So I sent her off without it, and I started to hope again. And the full Moon came, and went, and I couldn’t sleep a wink, for days and days. I waited! I waited for you, you shadowsaken idiot!”

Runaan couldn’t look away. The full force of Ethari’s rage and sorrow poured into his eyes and slammed against his chest, leaving him breathless. “I…”

Ethari wasn’t nearly done, though. “And then Rayla returned to the Silvergrove, with Lain and Tiadrin and Callum and Ezran and the Queen of the Sunfire Elves and her human girlfriend--”

“Her what?” Runaan blurted.

“--and she had to tell me to my face that you’d run away,” Ethari continued. “Left in the night. Bolted. Scarpered. Fled, like some kind of coward. She had to say those words to me, and she had to watch me crumple to the floor and fall apart, again!” He checked Runaan against the tree a second time. “Again, Runaan!” Another shove. “I fell apart again!” And another. “How many times am I going to let you destroy my heart before I’ve had enough?” Furious tears spilled down Ethari’s cheeks and lost themselves in his markings.

“N-No…” Runaan’s whispered denial shivered into a sudden sob. Ethari’s angry slams barely registered compared to the pain of seeing his tears. His fingers fluttered toward Ethari’s cheeks, aching to wipe away the sorrow he’d caused. “I’m so sor--”

Ethari pulled him away from the tree and slammed him back against it with more force, interrupting Runaan’s gesture. “I’m not finished!” he roared. “Don’t you dare be soft with me before I’ve gotten this off my chest! I’ve been carrying it alone for ten months and I’ll be bloodcursed if I let you stop me from unloading every last word now that I’ve found you, do you hear me?”

Half terrified, half dazzled at the raw power in Ethari’s voice, Runaan could only nod mutely and cling to his husband’s wrists for dear life.

“Good!” Ethari yelled. He panted heavily for a few breaths, staring Runaan in the eye with a baleful glare, before asking in a slightly less aggressive tone, “Alright, now where was I?”

A distant light dawned in Runaan’s heart, and his brows lifted softly. “You were asking me how many times you were going to let me destroy your heart before you’ve had enough,” he supplied gently.

Ethari’s fists tightened in Runaan’s shirt. He slowed his breathing and swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was merely resentful. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

Runaan felt one of his own tears escape over the edge of his cheek. His heart was absolutely thrumming with Ethari’s presence. His warmth, his strength, the smell of his breath, the shivering rumble of his voice--Runaan was nearly delirious with so much enchanting proof of his husband’s existence right there in front of him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relaxing in Ethari’s grip. When he opened them again, they lingered on Ethari’s hands for a long moment, and he gave his husband’s wrists a long, fervent squeeze. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

“No, don’t you do that, don’t you be soft and handsome when I’m angry at you,” Ethari protested grumpily. He set Runaan on his feet and checked him lightly against the tree with a quick press of his fingertips.

Runaan let out a soft grunt as his back connected with the bark again. “I keep asking you to tell me how to stop doing that, but you never have.”

Ethari glared balefully at him, and his lip curled once again. But then his bottom lip shivered, and his face crumpled into longing. He cupped Runaan’s head in his hands, bringing their foreheads together with a soft bump and pressing hard. One hand wound into Runaan’s hair, and the other encircled his shoulders, pulling him tightly against Ethari’s chest until their noses brushed tips. “You utter idiot. I missed you,” Ethari breathed, so softly Runaan almost didn’t catch it.

Uncertain but needy, Runaan slipped his hands inside Ethari’s cloak and gripped the back of his broad belt, pulling their bodies flush. He waited, silent, soaking up every heartbeat of this soft, precious, long-awaited contact with his beloved.

“I stayed, for a while.” Ethari’s words rode just above a whisper, and their warmth brushed Runaan’s lips. “For Lain and Tiadrin, and for Rayla. But they knew. They knew. They knew before I did.”

Runaan’s fingers squeezed tighter, clinging, needing to hear the rest but fearing the truth of the pain his absence had caused.

“I didn’t know where to begin, but Rayla helped me. And so did King Ezran, and Prince Callum, and Queen Aanya, and Lujanne, too. I started wandering, following stories of a shadowy hero who always saved people from danger and vanished into the night. No one ever admitted to getting a good look at him, no one remembered his words. They just knew they owed him their lives.”

Runaan huffed in wry amusement. He’d thought he was changing his life entirely, and yet his husband had known him in an instant, merely from stories of his minor exploits. “I can’t ever hide from you, can I?”

“I could recognize you by touch alone,” Ethari breathed, “by smell. I would know you blind, by the way your breaths came and your feet struck the earth. I would know you in death, at the end of the world.”

A wry smile lifted one corner of Runaan’s mouth. “I think we’ve been.”

Ethari cupped Runaan’s cheeks softly and gave him a steady look. “You made me a promise, Runaan, to return my heart to me.”

“I did.”

“But I had to go looking for it myself.”

Runaan’s gaze dropped. “You did.”

Ethari gently lifted his chin with a finger until their eyes met again. “Well? I’m here now.”

Runaan’s brows twitched down. “But… I failed you. I destroyed it, with my carelessness and my pride. You just asked me--”

Ethari pressed his finger against Runaan’s lips. “I asked you how many times. I know. Because it’s happened more than once. I know that, too. Yes, I’m angry with you. But I didn’t hike all over Garlath’s green earth just to tell you to stuff it, you great stupid moonberry.”

“What did you hike all over Garlath’s green earth to tell me, then?” Runaan asked, half afraid of the answer.

“I’m a Master Craftsman, Runaan. You should remember well how many weapons I’ve repaired for you over the years, because it’s been a lot. And I’ve repaired other things for you, too. Your feelings. Your body. Your own heart.”

Runaan went still under Ethari’s touch as a frenetic parade of memories streaked past his mind’s eye. Ethari’s soft words, soft touch, soft kisses, ten thousand times over. Overcome, he pressed his cheek into his husband’s hand and nodded, feeling hot tears slipping past his lashes.

“I’m not a Master Craftsman for nothing. I can repair anything I choose to. Anything at all,” Ethari continued softly. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s again. “And I choose to repair my own heart when you break it. I choose. To re-pair my heart. With yours.”

Runaan laughed through a sob at his husband’s pun and slid gentle arms around his husband, reassuring himself of his husband’s warm, solid strength.

Ethari sighed in relief at Runaan’s gesture. “I hiked all over Garlath’s green earth to choose you, again. But I need to know, Runaan… What do you choose?”

Runaan sought his husband’s warm sunset eyes and found them brimming with emotion. His own lip trembled at the sight of the pain he’d caused his most beloved. A thousand years of tradition flashed through his mind, its insistence foggy and distant without the pull of his lost oath. Without that urgency pounding through his own blood, there was only one thing he longed to be: with Ethari. With this elf whom he’d hurt, with this elf whom he was very sure he didn’t deserve.

He cupped his husband’s face and bared his heart for whatever fate awaited him. “You,” he said, through an ecstatic sob. “I choose you. Take this heart of yours back, Ethari, if you truly still want it. I did my best to keep it safe, but it deserved so much more care than I could give it… I did you wrong, my heart, so wrong, and I dare not make you any promises, but...” Runaan’s words faded to desperate puffs of breath that ghosted across Ethari’s lips as he leaned closer, drawn by the dizzyingly warm, solid presence of his precious husband. “My heart… I missed you, too...”

Ethari met him halfway, and he tasted as if they’d never been apart. They pulled each other close, full of eager hands and soft whimpers. Runaan’s head spun with the blessed ecstasy of his husband’s kisses, and he clung to Ethari’s sturdy shoulders for balance even as he pressed himself closer against him.

All those months apart suddenly seemed to be happening all at once, endless yet instantaneous. Runaan felt eight kinds of fool for letting his blasted honor get in the way of the love this glorious elf was determined to shower him with. With a soft cry, he buried his face against Ethari’s neck and threw his arms around his shoulders. Ethari wrapped him in a tight hug and rocked him slowly, humming into his hair.

“What do I do now?” Runaan murmured brokenly into Ethari’s purple scarf.

“Come home,” Ethari said promptly. He caressed Runaan’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Come home.”

Runaan raised his head, accepting Ethari’s easy words as proof that he hadn’t been ghosted back in the Silvergrove. But in that quiet moment there in his husband’s arms, high in the mountains of Duren, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t care what the Silvergrove thought of him. Only Ethari’s regard mattered now. “You’re my home. And you’re right in front of me.”

His husband’s eyes lit with eager warmth, and a teasing lilt accompanied his sassy grin. “Then you’d better come here.”

Runaan bit his lip at his husband’s suggestive pun. “My camp’s just up the slope.”

Ethari took Runaan’s face in his hands, backed him gently against the tree again, and kissed him passionately. When he finally let Runaan up for air, he gasped, “What in Garlath’s green earth makes you think I can wait that long?”

Some while later, the husbands ambled along the mountain road, hand in hand, with nowhere in particular to go. Ethari talked as lightly as he could of the things he had seen, and Runaan listened with a full heart and trod with a quiet and grateful step. His hand never left Ethari’s, needing constant reassurance that he was truly there beside him after so long, that he had truly come looking for his long-lost husband. That Runaan was worth searching for, despite all he had done.

If Ethari noticed the occasional tear of humble gratitude slipping over Runaan’s cheeks, he was kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he easily shifted topics to give Runaan time to adjust, telling sweet anecdotes and dramatic retellings and recounting his brushes with powerful figures that Runaan already knew, and some he didn’t. He hopped and twirled and bowed in time with his stories, never once letting go of his wayward husband’s hand, spinning close for the occasional kiss as he always had.

“...and then the Tidebound ambassador arrived and caused quite a splash,” Ethari said as they crested a hill. A warm breeze wafted up from the valley below, ruffling Runaan’s side tails and Ethari’s scarf. “Literally, the elf shot himself out of the well! I could hear the humans yelping all the way back at the blacksmith’s shop. If it hadn’t been for Callum’s quick thinking, that first contact would’ve been quite the wet blanket! But he had everything sorted in minutes. Rayla’s truly chosen well, my heart.”

Runaan’s feet slowed. “Chosen well…?”

Ethari paused, wide-eyed. “Surely they told you when they freed you.”

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “They mysteriously neglected to mention.”

"But why would she-?" To Runaan’s surprise, Ethari suddenly burst into snorting laughter. “Ah. Clever girl.”

“What?” Runaan asked, suspicious.

“I should’ve known what that wicked twinkle in her eye was about when I told her I’d come searching for you. She’s letting me do the mentioning for her, right now. She knows us too well, love.”

Runaan blinked. Rayla and the human prince? Together? The scheming young couple had left Ethari to search for his husband, and to unwittingly break the news of their courtship to him, knowing that Runaan would take such disturbing news best from the elf he loved most.

That didn’t mean he’d take it well.

“I’ll be right back.” Runaan spun on his heel, stalking directly toward Katolis.

Ethari planted his feet and towed Runaan right back around in front of him, though. He pulled the wayward assassin into his arms and kissed him right on his frown. “Welcome back! I missed you. Again.” His dark brows bent softly.

Runaan’s tense expression broke, and his eyebrows drifted high in dismay at what he’d just tried to do. He clung to Ethari’s muscled arms and pressed his forehead against his husband’s. “Moon help me, I am a great stupid moonberry.”

“Yes, you are. And I love you anyway.” Ethari’s embrace was gentle and warm.

Runaan pressed a soft kiss of apology against his husband’s lips and let it linger, soaking up Ethari’s patience. “Walk with me again, then, and…”

“And?”

Runaan took a deep breath and slid his fingers between his husband’s. “And... tell me of Callum. Apparently, I have quite a bit of catching up to do.”

Ethari grinned and nudged Runaan’s shoulder with his own. “As my moonberry wishes.”

#ruthariweek2021 #ruthari #ruthari fanfic #runaan #ethari #my writing #my fanfic #tdp angst #angst and fluff #soft elf husbands #a whole rainbow of feels in here #they gotta catch up see

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botanyshitposts · 5 years

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A little while ago you made a remark about ferns along the lines of "God really left you unfinished huh?". Can you please elaborate on that?

yes and i have to admit that was specifically a vague post at one single particular fern, Vittaria appalachiana:

‘wow, that really doesnt look like a fern’ you might say. ‘that looks like a moss. that looks like the beard stubble of seedless plants’. but no. this is a patch of this species of fern. it is the only one of it’s extremely specific life style type known to man.

i would like to take you all on a journey. imagine, for a moment, an alternate universe where a human dude loses his dick in a cave (stay with me here) and instead of dying, the dick forms its own goddamn civilization (i PROMISE this will make sense shortly). like it just learns to reproduce asexually into more identical dicks. technically this is a population of humans, just one that throws us for a loop because generally, thats definitely not how humans go on in life, but like technically it’s a population of humans. this is a very, very rough analogy for what this plant is.

allow me to explain how the hell this happened. those who have studied plants might remember the infamous botanical concept of the ‘alternation of generations’, which is known for like, fucking everyone up in every introductory bio class ever because although it’s nearly ubiquitous in plants, us animals dont have to worry about it, and it’s so alien it’s hard to learn. basically, the alternation of generations describes how plants reproduce in a cycle of two major stages: the sporophyte stage, which is a structure that produces spores, and the gametophyte stage, a structure that produces gametes.

for example, we know the sporophyte stage of flowering plants as the actual flowering plant, and the gametophyte stage as very specifically pollen and the ovules (inside the flower ovaries). pollen in and of itself isn’t the equivalent of sperm in human bodies; it’s the equivalent of a penis, which then lands on a stamen and grows into a microscopic structure that THEN produces the actual sperm for fertilization. the anthers of a plant do not produce sperm; they produce things that grow into penises that then produce sperm, which then fertilize the egg cells (produced by the ovules inside the flower ovaries) that grow into a new sporophyte in the form of a seed and it’s subsequent mature plant. yes this is wild and again, its notoriously one of the hardest things to learn and teach in biology, but stay with me here.

in ferns and nonflowering plants, this cycle is a bit more evident; ferns produce spores, which then land and germinate into the fern gametophytes, which look like this and can be seen with the naked eye:

these then grow male and female reproductive parts that produce the plant equivalent of sperm and eggs. like human sperm, fern sperm are flagellated. unlike human sperm, fern sperm are able to sense pheromones from other gametophytes nearby and literally swim through water out in the open to have sexy times in the mud, which i thought i would mention because it terrifies me. this sperm then fertilizes the egg in another gametophyte, and the new fern literally bursts chest buster style out of the gametophyte into a new baby fern. the entire life cycle looks like this:

which brings us back to Vittaria appalachiana, the only currently known fern that does not have a sporophyte stage.

things about this:

1. there is no fern on this fern. this fern has evolved past the mortal fern form. it has ascended. it has deleted like, 95% of the chart above in favor of only the mature gametophyte on the upper right

2. this fern reproduces exclusively by budding. like. asexually. like, i mentioned earlier in this post that the gametophytes produce sperm and ovules and have sex, but nah. not for these lads. they gave that up long ago. now each individual just makes tiny organs that fall off and grow into identical fern gametophytes, and like technically this should be like…..really bad? like theres a reason for sexual intercourse, and that’s because it lets genes get recombined into more resilient offspring so you dont end up with inbreeding and all that awful stuff, as well as allowing for evolution and diversity within a population and all that. but somehow, this species has circumvented this with the absolutely galaxy brain take that you cant have problems with inbreeding if you dont breed. like, sure, it theoretically slows evolution down to a goddamn crawl and makes it incredibly vulnerable to disease, but like. sure. its made it this long, somehow

3. these ferns live in caves. in the grand scheme of things this isn’t a big deal, because like, plenty of fern species love caves for several primary niche ecological reasons that i wont go into here, but one of the reasons V. appalachiana is the only known fern to only live like this is because the gametophyte stage in ferns isn’t made to last, it’s made to have sex and die. there’s little to no protection from the sun on a gametophyte. it’s prone to drying out. it’s less resilient to temperature extremes than a fully grown plant would be. there are so many reasons why, in theory, to us mere mortals, evolving to live eternally in the (arguably) most vulnerable stage of one’s life cycle in a cave where temperatures regularly get low, in a region where winter is a thing, would like, a terrible idea.

but….Vittaria appalachiana is an absolute chad.

somehow these little madmen have done it. they live in peak form in appalachian cave entrances just to flex. we aren’t even sure how they really happened, either, like the details about how they evolved into such chads remain murky. so like i say that god left them unfinished, and personally i still refer to them like that in my head when i think of them, but i suppose the real question is if god really left these lads unfinished or are these lads are the only finished thing on this earth. like this could very well be the best shit evolution has ever come up with. like maybe humans really missed a solid chance with this strategy

#sorry for like....talking about dicks and stuff so much in this post but its like my lichen professor always says #'biology is just sex and death'#long post #ferns #plont asks #asks #Anonymous

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elaboratedbee · 4 years

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Bigby x Reader

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader (i changed this to be gender neutral!)

Summary: bigby deals with his rapidly growing feelings for the new Fable that moved into the apartment above his, a nymph. (alternatively, you give bigby flowers)

Rating: E (hella fluff)

Word Count: 4208 (idk how it got long it just did i’m so sorry)

Note: hey guys, this is my second imagine! :) I just love this wolfman rn and I literally cannot wait until s2! i’m a new blog so pls feel free to interact, or request something, bc corona has given me hella free time ;)

You Belong Among The Flowers

You

As you set down the last box in your new apartment, you let a sense of accomplishment wash over you. It hadn’t been easy to save enough money to afford an apartment in the Woodlands, but you worked hard managing your business, growing flowers and owning a florist as well as growing fruit and vegetables which you sold to the grocery stores in Fabletown. When Snow had informed you of the two new apartments that had become available, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea. The place you were living before was a little sketchy (read: it was a total shithole, and you were definitely close to getting stabbed on several occasions).

This way, you would be closer to the allotments you had managed to buy right at the edge of Fabletown, closer to Snow who you had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know during the first couple of months of her deputy mayorship, and it was a hell of a lot safer. The Woodlands had the extra insurance of being the home of the big, bad wolf. Fabletown harboured some pretty stupid criminals, but there weren’t many people stupid enough to target the apartments across the hall from the Sheriff.

The place needed some life in it, as soon as was possible, however. The stark and empty room made you uncomfortable, and as soon as you set your first fern down on one of the shelves, you immediately felt better. The best part about the place, which really convinced you to part with most of your savings, was the balcony. You couldn’t wait to have it bright with life, a practical jungle on your doorstep. A flower nymph with no flowers was not a happy being, so that was the first thing you got to work on, planting your seeds and setting out your pots.

It was already falling dark by the time you were done, but you were more than content to spend the night on a mattress in the middle of the floor now that you were surrounded by, at least the beginnings of, a flower garden.

Bigby

By the time Bigby reached his cramped, little apartment in the evening, it was usually long after darkness had fallen over Fabletown. As he turned the key in the stiff lock, a sigh escaped his lips. He’d been tracking a car thief all day and had not been successful. The detective hated going home with a case hanging over him; there was no way he would be able to get any real sleep while all of his thoughts and theories were racing through his head.

Bigby opened the door, dim yellow light from the hallway seeping into the room. The lingering smell of smoke from his Huff and Puffs and the scent of whiskey hit his nose even harder once the door was opened, and even he grimaced slightly at the smell. He flicked on the light and took his phone off of the ringer, a habit that he’d developed long ago. It was nice to be enveloped in peace and quiet in the evening. It was the way he liked it, he told himself. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he really made himself unavailable because that way he could pretend that being alone was a conscious decision that he made.

Making his way to the small window in his living space, he opened it in an attempt to allow some fresh (well, as fresh as it got for New York city) air into his apartment. Bigby froze as an unexpected scent was the first to hit him, and he inhaled deeply. It was a floral scent, different kinds of mingling together. Some overpowered the less aromatic ones, but Bigby’s sense of smell was heightened enough that he could pick out each individual smell and he traced it to somewhere above him. The pitch-black darkness outside made it a futile goal to find out where it was coming from, so he simply stood and basked in it, sure that it would be gone in the morning. He assumed that someone in a nearby apartment had received a bouquet of flowers and had left it on their windowsill. It was concerning that they had left their window open, he noted, even the Woodland building wasn’t particularly safe.

A bittersweet pang of homesickness ran through his body like a shiver, pooling in his chest and making his heartache. Mostly, he avoided thinking about the Homelands, as it always resulted in the sad longing that he was feeling now. But with the scent in his nose so reminiscent of the beautiful woodlands and sprawling idyllic spaces that they had once called home, there was no way he could avoid it now. Once the initial sadness passed, he allowed himself to relax into the sense of security and joy that were stronger than any negative feelings when he thought back to their home and all of its splendour. Although the person, or monster, that Bigby had been back then was a source of regret, he could not deny that he’d do almost anything to trade the dirty, concrete cityscape outside of his window for hills and mountains, forests and rivers.

For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t reach for a cigarette or a tumbler of whiskey when he sat down in his chair to rest at last. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and let the smell of flowers lull him to a restful sleep.

When he awoke, he was pleased to find that the pleasant smell persisted, which made him considerably more optimistic about the day ahead. There was one lead that he thought to chase up, but he figured that he ought to fill in Snow on the recent happenings before making his way out. She was much busier now, since the Crooked Man. Things weren’t perfect, he didn’t think they would ever be, but they were certainly better. Snow was making changes, just like she had promised to herself and everyone that she would. When Fables came through the door of the business office, their wishes weren’t always granted, but they were always heard.

Bigby thought that was a step in the right direction.

After showering and getting dressed, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. The line for the business office was already fairly long, despite the early hour of the morning and he resolved not to take up too much of Snow’s time. Ignoring the eye rolls and general disgruntlement from the Fables in the hallway as he bypassed the line, he made his way into the office. Snow was busying herself with a stack of papers, looking rather stressed at it all. He didn’t like to see her that way, but he did prefer it to the look of frustration and helplessness that he caught glimpses of when she was working as an assistant.

Opening his mouth to announce his presence, he promptly closed it as something took him by surprise. On Snow’s desk was a vase of flowers, a big and beautiful bouquet. Proud white roses were peppered with baby's breath, all sitting on a luscious green bed of eucalyptus and hydrangeas. It was perfect, it was if it were an incarnation of Snow herself. He looked at it and realised, at that moment, exactly why people gave each other flowers, he had never had a reason to consider it.

He must have been staring for a lot longer than it felt like because what finally broke him from his reverie was the sound of Snow’s laughter, soft and musical. Frowning at the sight of her mocking him, he flipped her off, which only made her laugh more. “Who’s the secret admirer?” He inquired, “I’ll need their address too, you know, just in case.”

Snow glared at him.

“I’m kidding.” Bigby placated her, raising his hands in mock surrender. The smell of this bouquet was different from the one coming through his window, telling him that it was a different set of flowers, but surely the giver of these was also the source of the others. It seemed like far too much of a coincidence, otherwise.

With a pointed look, Snow said, “you already know it. I told you last week that someone new was moving into the Woodlands! Since Crane is gone, we renovated his hideous penthouse into two new apartments.” Even the mention of his name raised Bigby’s hackles and got his blood boiling, so he could only imagine the disgust that his friend must feel whenever he’s brought up.

“Right,” Bigby agreed, hazily recalling the conversation that he had definitely not paid his full attention to. It was no wonder that Bigby had missed them moving in, considering that he usually leaves the Woodlands in the early hours of the morning and returns in . . . the early hours of the morning. Yikes.

“I told them about the apartment, so they sent me these as a way to say thanks,” Snow explained, gesturing toward the flowers.

He wondered what their connection was to the flowers, whether they just liked them or whether they were a part of their history, their story. Once again, Bigby opened his mouth only to be interrupted by an inpatient sounding knock on the door. Snow jerked her head towards it before throwing an apologetic smile towards the Sheriff. “I’m sorry, Bigby. I have a lot to do. I should probably get going with these meetings.”

That was his cue to leave, so the wolf nodded at her and made an exit from the office. He was busy, too, and things were never really peaceful in Fabletown, so it was probably for the best that he got going, but he couldn’t help but wish he had asked for a name.

He was soon to find out, however, only a couple of days later. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Bigby used his free hand to open his mailbox. It was more of a tradition at this point, considering he couldn’t actually recall the last time he received a letter in the post that wasn’t a bill.

An out of tune ding announced the arrival of the elevator but Bigby didn’t turn around, not wanting to invite conversation. He had just placed the car thief into custody, and Snow was going to arrange a trial for tomorrow. The system was much fairer now, more democratic and he liked it that way. Being the final authority on the Crooked Man last time was some heavy stuff, and there was no way to make everyone happy. Now, there was a jury, a real trial, fair sentencing. Fabletown was slowly but surely dragging itself off the ground and trying to become a more just place, a more safe place. If Bigby could do anything to make sure of it, he would.

Finally looking up, he turned his head to see which of his neighbours had joined him at the letterbox. It was you.

He almost choked on the cigarette in his mouth as he regarded you, and when he took it out and crushed it underfoot, he could smell you, too. Without the overpowering scent of smoke under his nose, the floral scent that he had been succumbing to every night since the first overtook him and he felt a strange constriction in his chest.

You were beautiful, ethereal, but in a much different way than he could usually describe. It was the quirk of your mouth as you offered him a grin and the glint behind your eyes that suggested you were laughing at your own joke internally. “Sheriff.” You addressed him by his formal title and Bigby was torn. He wanted to hear you say it again, over and over. Sherriff. You said it with respect, with admiration even. It wasn’t an insult, a sarcasm, unlike when most of the Fables addressed him with his title. But he also wanted to hear you say his name. It was this desire that returned his ability to speak.

“Call me, Bigby.”

You closed your mailbox, holding your letters in your hand and smiled wider, introducing yourseld in return.

“I’ll see you around, Bigby.”

You were walking away, and Bigby, for the first time, was struck with the desire to stop you, make you stay, talk just a little longer.

“I, uh, I like the flowers.” He managed to growl out. You looked a little taken aback at his tone and he cursed himself, but you recovered and offered him yet another smile. He noted how you gave them out like it cost nothing.

“Oh, Snow’s?” You prompted him for more information.

“Yeah, and I can,” he made a vague gesture towards his face, “smell the ones you have in the windowsill. From my apartment.”

Your eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and he felt a weird sense of pride. What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself.

“Really? I’ll keep them there,” you were so sincere, you made such a simple comment sound like a promise. He nodded, unable to think of yet another reason to delay you and altogether confused about why he was freaking out the way that he was. You stepped into the elevator and was gone.

You

You stepped off of the elevator and into your apartment, placing the letters down onto a table. The place wasn’t huge but you had made the best of it. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint, making the place seem more open and bright, the furniture was simple, mainly second hand, but it fits. Best of all, your beloved balcony. You guessed that’s what the Sheriff had confused for the flowers on your window-sill.

Great, leafy ferns and potted plants adorned your apartment all over, but the balcony was the centre of it all, and it was only just beginning. You had planted all manner of things, and you were only getting started. Due to your being a flower nymph, they grew faster, strong and healthy, and the seeds that you planted mere days ago were beginning to form buds, and even open up. The scent was sweeter. The plants were happier, but you couldn’t really explain that sort of thing to another Fable. They would laugh at the notion, but you could feel it.

Moving to the city had been hard for you, really hard. The nymphs were the caretakers of the homelands, the trees, rivers, lakes and plants. The animals, too, even if they didn’t always know it. To have it ripped away was more painful than anything else you could have experienced. It wasn’t just a home that had been taken from you, it was a part of yourself that had been left behind.

Your mind drifted to your recent interaction as you watered them with care, and you felt your heart rate pick up when you thought of the Sheriff. He was tired, you could tell, but he seemed kind enough. It was a common mistake that nymphs only took care of the plants in the forest, when really they guarded the animals, too. It gave you more of a read on the beastially inclined residents, and you could almost feel the weight on Bigby’s shoulders as you stood next to him.

I like the flowers.

The compliment played over in your mind. It had taken you by surprise, considering what all of the other residents had told you about the big, bad wolf. You trusted Snow’s word above the others when she told you about him, that he was a man that wanted to change, had changed. He wanted to make this place better, she had told you, just like her. But even Snow had grumbled to you a few times about how stubborn, how hot-headed and how harsh he could be.

Over the next couple of days, he was stuck on your mind. You paid far more attention to the coming and going of the wolf than before, realising for the first time that he was rarely home at all. Could this really be the same man that everyone complained about downtown? The one that Fables still questioned as to whether or not he really cared at all? Every time you passed him, you sensed his exhaustion, his frustration. His loneliness. But there was something else when you passed him, too. This little spark of joy and excitement. You knew it must be the scent of the flowers, what else could it be? He had already remarked on it.

Deciding enough was enough, you went about making him the perfect bouquet.

Throughout the week, you worked on your gift. You arranged it untraditionally in a long, thin wooden box which was overflowing with greenery. Succulents and hydrangeas were scattered amongst them like stars in the night sky. Wild berries shone like jewels, clinging to their stems. Most importantly, bright white lily of the valleys hung like bells. You picked them because of their sweet scent, hoping that the wolf would enjoy them. They were common in the homelands, and you wondered if it would remind him of the place.

Finally satisfied, you picked up the arrangement late one evening and stepped into the elevator. Am I being crazy? You thought to yourself as your grip on the box tightened. You just thought that all of the things the Sheriff did for Fabletown deserved a little recognition. It was the least you could do say thanks, right?

Arriving at the correct floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on Bigby’s door. It was a little late for a house call, you realised, but he wasn’t home at any other hour. The wolf opened the door, scowling until he saw you. Confusion replaced the general displeasure on his face until he noted what was in your hands. “Oh,” his voice was full of realisation, “I can hand those to Snow if you want, but if you just wait until tomorrow, she’ll be back in her office,” he explained to you.

What? You realised quickly that he thought the flowers were meant for Snow and you shook your head, a little saddened that he didn’t even think that they could be for him.

“Actually, Sheriff, they’re for you. For your windowsill.”

The man’s face went completely blank while he processed the information, which was kind of scary. The guy really didn’t give anything away.

“For me?” He repeated, sounding almost suspicious as he raised his hand to his mouth and removed his cigarette, seemingly wanting to inhale the flowers instead.

“Yep.” You assured him firmly, “you said you liked the scent of them so I thought you might like some of your own.” With your words, the energy of the wolf changed. The exhaustion and anger faded substantially and he finally seemed warm, almost as happy as your flowers. You seized the opportunity. “You mind if I come in? I can tell you about watering them and stuff.”

Bigby failed to hide his face a little more this time, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to offer you, and the place is a real shithole.” He warned you.

“I didn’t come for anything, I just want to bring you these,” you answer and he relents, stepping backwards and opening the door to allow you in. You expected the smell of cigarettes to be worse, but he had an open window that seemed to be helping with that. You set the flowers down on the windowsill and turned to face him. He was closer than you had expected, and a blush broke out onto your cheeks at the proximity of the wolf to you. You are overwhelmed with the desire to step even closer, but you stay put. The man was already freaked out, he didn’t need your crush to make it any worse.

“Why?” He seemed reluctant to ask like he had been trying to answer the question himself but just couldn’t figure out the answer.

“To say thank you. You do a lot for us, especially those of us who live in The Woodlands. I think of how much safer this place is just because you live here. And you said you liked them.”

“I don’t exactly do anything other than be the Big, Bad Wolf.” He points out, and you catch a cutting undertone to his argument.

“Bullshit.” He seems surprised at your choice of words and raises an amused eyebrow at you. “You get up at the crack of dawn and you get home little before then, sometimes not at all. You single-handedly protect all of the Fables in this town. You deserve a hundred flowers.” You pointed this all out casually, shrugging your shoulders but Bigby looks deeply uncomfortable. You wondered why he was so tense as you pointed out all he does.

You wondered if anybody does.

Bigby

He thought that if you come any closer to him then he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you. He also thought that he can’t move away.

The scent of the flowers, your scent, was making him feel almost dizzy. It was hard to believe that you were in his apartment, that you brought him flowers. You brought him flowers, you brought him flowers, you brought him flowers. Ever since they spoke, such a small, meaningless conversation, he hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. Sure that you had forgotten it by the next day, he felt like such an idiot replaying it in his mind before he could fall asleep at night.

But you hadn’t. You had remembered what he said and brought him flowers.

“Thank you.” He realised he hadn’t even said that yet, and he turned away to admire them, and so that he didn’t have to look at you anymore. Clenching his jaw, he implored himself not to ruin this already, to just control himself, like he had with Snow once upon a time. But this time, it seemed impossible.

Then, you touched his arm.

He was so acutely aware of your hand on his skin the whole time that it was there that he could barely hear what you were saying. All of the nice things you were saying about him, falling on deaf ears. God, he felt pathetic. Was that really all it took to turn him stupid? One compliment, one touch.

He hadn’t been touched in a while, though. Not like this. By someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, or calm him down. Not by someone who just wanted to be close to him.

Fuck it, he thought, and stepped closer, leaning into your touch. There were inches between you now.

You

All of a sudden, he was in front of you. His skin was warm to your touch, and his eyes were simmering with something. You think back over the last couple of days. The way you had watched him, the way you’d thought of him. How you had spent hours finding the perfect flowers, arranging them just so. That wasn’t gratitude or friendly admiration and you knew it. You wondered if he knew it.

You looked up and met his eyes, they were almost gold now that you were close, more than brown. That’s the last thing you remember thinking before you weren’t thinking anything, but feeling the wolf’s mouth on yours. His hand comes up to cup your face, holding you close and the other hand moves to your waist. It’s needy, and almost desperate as the both of you simply give in to whatever desire you were pushing back.

His face was rough, and you delighted in the coarseness of his hands, a shiver running through your body. He invaded all of your senses, occupies all of you for the minutes, or hours that the two of you are interlocked. The sharpness of his teeth on your bottom lip, gone as quickly as it came prompted you to gasp ever so slightly, allowing his tongue passage into your mouth. When you finally pulled away, air a terrible, evil necessity to you now, you dared to open your eyes and reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Bigby was still pressed up against you, his eyes a brighter gold than they had been before and his breathing urgent.

“I like the flowers,” he chokes out, “I really, really like the - “

You cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down towards you once again, rolling your eyes slightly at how awkward he was. You’d figure it out. Kissing him breathless, you finally released him and met his eyes. “I like you too, Bigby.”

The wolf shared a genuine smile with you, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and flashed his sharp incisors. You wanted to see it again, a million times.

You were going to need more flowers.

#the wolf among us #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #twau #imagine #bigby wolf imagine #my underappreciated baby #someone give him a hug #the wolf among us fanfic #bigby wolf fanfiction #the wolf among us imagine

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sierracolorstheworldofwords · 4 years

Text

A Sad Christmas- Reader x iplier egos

An: This is my Xmas gift for my dear friend Angy! @matronofthevoid you’re a freakin sweet heart and merry Christmas~

AHHHHH I JUST REREAD THIS AND NOTICED THE WHOLE ENDING WAS NOT POSTED!! SORRY!!

You couldn’t afford rent this year. Time was short, and work was hard— things just didn’t catch up in time. Your parents gave you till Christmas and you still couldn’t get enough money to pay the rent. You got a hundred dollars out and promised it wouldn’t happen again but..

They didn’t care.

They didn’t even give you a few days to pack your things.To try and figure things out! They just.. threw you out in the snow like a piece of unwanted trash.

They wouldn’t even let you get clothes.

“Those clothes of yours will help pay for the rent you owe us.” Said your mother, standing at the door, colder than the snow that fell from the sky.

“Mom— please—“ you whimpered, shivering, knees shaking in fear as you looked at her, eyes pleading, begging.

All she did was slam the door in your face.

You waited for a few minutes like a lost puppy in the cold, shivering, the hope in your chest wagging its small eager tail— this had to be a joke, right? Some form of lesson teaching? So that you wouldn’t be late for the rent again, right?

Right?

But nothing.

Nothing but the chill biting through your thin sweater, the snow falling down harder, the wind starting to whisper in an eerie voice as your teeth chattered. You walked through the snow, towards your car, thankful that you at least had a pair of boots on, but other than that, you were exposed to the elements.

You struggled to insert the key and twisted, before throwing the door open and climbing into the driver’s seat. Slamming it open, you put your key in the ignition, and let the engine heat up before turning on the heater. Letting yourself warm up, you took your phone out of your pocket and searched nearby shelters, hoping to find.. something. You did. There were three within the area! Maybe one of them would still have room.

They didn’t.

All of them were cramped and crowded, and you were turned down at each and every one. It made you feel… unwanted, as if there wasn’t enough room for you in the world, like there wasn’t enough space for you to even squeeze through.

So, you went to your last resort— the egos.

Now, things hadn’t been great between you and them, mostly because of Wilford.. who, for some reason, was angry at you. You had no idea why and every time you tried to confront him about it, he wouldn’t listen. So like hell you knew what was wrong, but you were desperate. You sighed as you sat in your car, parked in front of the last homeless shelter you went to. You put in the key and started it up again, letting everything warm up a bit, before driving to the ego mansion in flurry of snow.

When you pulled up into the driveway, your heart leapt up, full of hope— everything was so bright and cheery! And joyful! So maybe, just maybe there was room for you! Opening the door, you stepped out of the car, shivering as you watched your breath fog in the cold.

Yes, you heard it, Christmas music. Laughter. Happiness. Stepping forward, you walked to the front door on shaky knees, standing in front of the wreath covered door, you knocked, wrapping your arms around you. You waited. Your heart pounding as you listened to the wind howl, and felt the snow fall on your back, causing more goosebumps to appear on your skin. Your teeth chattering as the door opened.

“Hey—“ Bing stopped at the door, staring at you, his shoulders fell, “(Y/n)...”

“H-hey Bing!”

You noticed the quiet now. The stillness. The music stopped. The warmth fizzled out as well, replaced by the chill, by the snow, by the curse of winter.

“Bingy!” Wilford called, “Who’s at the door?”

Your eyes widened and you looked at the android, almost begging to be let in. You were so, so cold. So cold. The air pierced your lungs, frosted over the soft flesh of your insides, pierced you right through.

“Hey.. dude.. you.. you can’t be here..” whispered Bing.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “W-what? Am.. am I interrupting—“ your shoulders fell as you realized what was happening, “Oh.. oh.. is— is it the annual party?” You whispered.

His eyes filled with sadness as he nodded, “Wilford said we couldn’t invite you..”

Warm water came to your eyes, and your lips pressed into a firm line, before you pressed a smile, “Well— I… I just wanted to come and say Merry Christmas!”

You laughed emptily, before seeing Wilford behind Bing, glaring at you like.. like you were utter trash. Like you deserved to be out in the cold. Like you meant nothing. He pushed Bing out the way, and gave you a glare.

“Wilford.. c-could.. could I please come in?” You whispered, “Please?”

He gave you one last glare before slammed the door in your face.

You heard the noise echo throughout the neighborhood, and heard him yell—Anyone.. and I mean Anyone who let’s that.. bitch in, is gonna get shot! Your hear me?

No one fought back.

The music continued. Laughter came again. Warmth radiated throughout the house. Happiness fluttered through the windows, almost as if teasing— no, mocking, you.

You stood alone, clinging to yourself, lips quivering. No, no you wouldn’t.. you wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. A blast of chilling air howled and shrieked, bringing snow along with it.

Maybe someone would come, right?

Stand up for you because they cared?

They wouldn’t leave you alone on Christmas, would they?

You mattered to them, right?

Nothing but silence, silence coated with a cherry Christmas songs and laughter, coated with the noise of the wind, coated with snow and freezing breezes that sucked the warmth right out of you.

You took a step back, followed by another. And another. Slowly, you watched the warm house full of warmth and joy go further and further away. The hope in your chest slowly fading, replaced by the snow, by the cold, by the noise of the wind. Your steps went faster. The tears in your eyes falling quicker han the snow, turning into cold rivers that burned your cheeks.

No one was coming. There just wasn’t enough room for you in the world. No one cared to make enough room for you.

Turning away, you walked to your car, sobs racking your body as you shoved the key in and opened the door, slamming it shut. You turned on the engine, letting it warm up as you sniffed, hands numb and feet starting to get numb too.

No one was coming.

No one cared.

No one cared if you died in the cold, if you froze to death; if you became blue and covered in fern like frost.

No one cared.

No one cared if you were alone on Christmas Eve, worrying about whether you would be alive the next day.

No one cared.

Whimpering, your lips quivered as you swallowed a sob, wiping away your tears. You cared, you realized. You cared. You weren’t going to die. You weren’t. You could survive, you always had— during hunger and cold, waves of sadness, you survived. You could survive another night. You would survive another night.

Gripping the steering wheel, you turned on the heater, paying attention to how much gas filled your tank, only half a gallon. Okay, you’ve survived on less. You’ll get through this. You always do. Stepping on the gas pedal, you drove, wondering where to go. There was a park nearby— okay, that would be a good place. You knew a lot of people who stayed in their cars and parked there.

Everything would be fine.

You would survive.

You were a survivor.

You would be fine.

Driving, you watched the snowfall grow heavier, to the point where your windshield wipers couldn’t get it all off. Worry twisted in your gut.. maybe if you… if you explained what was wrong— No, no. Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

You would wake up tomorrow on Christmas morning and.. and go to the nearest shelter. You’d get a bowl of warm soup.. you’d.. take a shower, maybe get warmer clothes.. you’d be alive.

You would survive.

Everything would be fine.

Entering the park parking lot, you looked around, noticing how the snow coated everything like a white fluffy blanket— the tops of the trees, the roof of the bathrooms, even the slides. It made it hard to drive, but you managed to park under a tree, thinking it would give you ample protection against the snow fall.

Everything would be fine.

You put the car in neutral, let the heater run on the lowest setting (since you figured it would save gas), and turned on the radio before pulling a lever on the side of your seat and pushing it back. Curling up, you listened to the soft Christmas music fill the car.. then you noticed an old towel in the backseat, and wrapped it around you, feeling a little warmer.

Everything would be fine.

Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh and rested your head on your arm, slowly falling asleep.

Suddenly, you were filled with a cozy warmth.

Christmas music softly filled the room you were in, which was decorated to the brim with decorations— beautiful lights that shimmered like stars, silver tinsel and a green tree, full of ornaments of every color you could think of.

You gasped, moving closer to the tree, you noticed a bright red and green striped box. Bending down, you unwrapped it, opened the box inside and found a warm fluffy blanket. You gasped softly, wrapping it around you and smiling, nuzzling your cheek into the warm white fabric.

A light on the tree went out.

You blinked in surprise, but shrugged, desperate to get warm in the blanket. You’d been so cold earlier and—

Another went out.

You shake your head, ignoring it.

Another blinked out, followed by another, and another and another and another! They all slowly faded.

Looking around, you noticed the tinsel disappearing, along with the ornaments on the tree, and the lights on the walls. The room became empty and dark. The warmth flickered out like a blown out candle, and the blanket you had was snatched away from you by the darkness.

You woke up gasping and shivering.

Sitting up you leaned forward and turned up the heater a bit, figuring if you kept it on the bare minimum, that you would survive till morning.

You lay back down and closed your eyes, curling up tightly and wrapping yourself up in the towel before falling asleep once more.

You were in the snow, shaking from the cold and wandering the woods— you noticed how the trees were coated in white and how the snow shone softly underneath the moonlight as you walked upon it. In the distance, you began to hear a soft jingling, almost like.. bells? Your eyes widened as it came closer, your heart pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and fear. Who could it be?

Standing still, you looked around until you saw the sleigh, a red streak against the piercing snow and numb darkness. It stopped in the middle of a clearing, and a man, a little shorter than average and wearing a red suit came out. He stumbled a bit, before shaking his head and managing to walk straight.

“(Y/n)!” He yelled, “Come on in the damn sleigh! Let’s get your cold ass warm!”

You jogged up to the man, and finally noticed his red suit and white beard. You gasped and then smiled brightly, “Santa?”

He cleared his throat, “Santaplier, the better version!”

Your smile grew bigger and you ran to him, hugging him, he chuckled and took off his red fluffy coat, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Hurry! Get in!”

Eagerly, you grabbed onto the sides of the sleigh and hoisted yourself in, giggling as he tried to call the names of the reindeer, but said fuck it and slapped the reins on their back, causing them to run. You passed the twisted branches of the trees, eyes wide in wonder as the wind played with your hair, the cold nipping your cheeks as the sleigh slowly lifted off the ground. Your giggled turned screams as you neared a cliff, but the man beside you just rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Now I got those damn names! Fuck! On dasher! On prancer, on Conor and Cupid! On Dancer on Vixen and Donner! And since Rudolph didn’t want to come— oooooooon Blitzen! Go!” Screamed Santaplier, laughing madly.

You shrieked as a deer went over the cliff before taking the sleigh with them, it dived down. You could see the choppy sea the cliff hung off of. You panicked, heart racing— but then! You soared! Going past the cliff and up into the sky! You even touched a cloud as you passed by the moon! Oh! It was so beautiful and bright, like a pearl burning in a fire of white! And the stars! The stars were little candles in the sky, leading the way as the clouds became a blue tinged cotton carpet beneath you.

Wonder filled you as you gasped, looking around as the sleigh steadied itself, the reindeer flying ahead of you.

“Oh! It’s beautiful!” You whispered, warm tears wanting to fall out of your eyes.

“And cold too!” Said Santaplier, pushing a button and causing two cups to come out of a hidden compartment. They started to fill up with a steamy hot drink as he pushed another button, causing a coat to slide out of a drawer.

“Here, hold this real quick.” He handed you the reins and grabbed the coat.

You smiled, feeling the warm worn leather in your hands. He grabbed them from you and snuggled into his coat, handing you a cup.

“What is it?”

He smirked, “You’ll see.”

Curious, you blew on the drink before taking a sip. Your eyes widened and you swallowed.

“It’s hot chocolate!”

He laughed and took a long drink, “The best in the world!” He shivered slightly, and gestured to a red round button, telling you to push it. You did, and two golden metal arms popped up behind you and wrapped the both of you in a brown warm quilt.

“That’s better.” He muttered, sighing in content.

“I couldn’t agree more.” You sighed in content, sipping your hot chocolate.. which.. wasn’t so hot anymore. More like.. cold. You shrugged, wrapping your blanket close, and finished.

Then the wind howled.

Santaplier shrugged, flying a bit higher, or trying to.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, “I can’t— the reindeer are disappearing!”

Your heart pounded as you realized it, watching them as they vanished one by one, the sleigh going further and further downwards. Panic flooded your veins as you hyperventilate, the last one fading into nothing.

“What do we do?!” You shrieked, looking at Santaplier, who began to fade away too. “No! No wait— you can’t!”

You watched him disappear along with the sleigh. Then, you were falling, screaming into the darkness as the cold swallowed you whole.

You woke up screaming, shivering again, shaking from the cold. You sat up, breathing heavily, goosebumps forming on your skin. You grabbed the knob of the heater, turning it on all the way as a voice urgently came from the radio, warning people to stay inside.

Worried twisted in your stomach, but you ignored it and turned off the radio.

Everything would be fine. You assured yourself, noticing the snow piled on top of your windshield, you trembled, before laying down and curling up once more.

You closed your eyes, listening to everything around you. The wind was loud, it was all you could hear now.

Everything would be fine.

You pulled the towel around you tighter and closed your eyes.

A long table full of food, candles and covered in a long white tablecloth embroidered with holly. You smiled softly, noticing all your friends sitting at each of the chairs. You stood nervously, before Wilford laughed heartily, “(Y/n)! Come join us!”

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, “R-really? Aren’t you mad at me?”

He laughed again, “Of course not old friend! Come! Come! Sit next to me!”

You laughed, running up to the table, tears in your eyes, “You aren’t?”

You happily sobbed, full of relief as you hugged him, and he chuckled, hugging you back. He then gave you a plate of food as a strange man sat next to you, dressed in a white suit.

You didn’t pay any attention to him as you talked with Wilford and the others, laughing at their jokes and stories, eating food food.

Then, just as before, like a match going out in the wind, they disappeared one by one.

You sobbed, noticing one hadn’t left. It was the man who sat next to you.

“I believe I was never formally introduced to you, (Y/n). I’m Mori.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as the candles went out, but this time, you felt warm.

“Hello.. M-Mori— are you.. are you a dream t-too?”

“Oh no, well.. right now, yes. But you aren’t going to wake up.”

“What do you—“ your eyes went wide. Tears flooded them, “Oh no.. no! No it can’t be!”

He swept his arm into the air and you weren’t at the table anymore, instead, you had a view of your car from above, slowly, you fell, until you were beside it.

“I can’t be dead!” You whispered, crying, “I can’t be! Everything is going to be okay! I’m going— I’m going to wake up and—“

You sobbed, tears running down your face as you started to feel a strange feeling in your chest. A beating, getting slower and slower. You placed a hand on your chest, and looked at Mori.

“You’re not dead yet, but you will be.”

You said nothing, tears running down your cheeks as you collapsed in the snow, screaming as the beating stopped.

Mori looked down at you, sadness filling his eyes. You were such a good soul. You didn’t deserve a fate like this. You died. All because of a stupid grudge.

“Come now,” said Mori, “I’ll take you somewhere warm, where you won’t have to worry about a thing. But, before I do, is there anyone you’d like to see?”

You nodded, “My friends. Since I loved them like family.” You whispered, getting up and taking his hand.

Suddenly, you were in the living room you’d been in too many times before. You watched your friends dance, sing, even sit on the couch and cuddle. They all looked.. so.. happy. Wilford passed through you and shivered, before shrugging it off and grabbing Dark’s hand, forcing the usually grumpy ego to dance.

“They all seem so happy.” You said, “Especially without me around.” You forced a smile, looking over at Mori, “I’m ready to go.”

He blinked in surprise before nodding, grabbing your hand once more, causing you to float.

You went up to the ceiling, passing through it, before passing through the second story, and eventually the roof.

You watched the house grow smaller and smaller, along with the neighborhood— all the houses looked like a tiny village, which glowed brightly, then, when you couldn’t see it anymore, you looked up.

You kept flying higher, watching the moon come closer, seeing the stars become bright lights against the dark indigo sky.

You went passed the clouds, going up.. up.. up.. into the stars.

#iplier egos x reader #xreader #wilford motherloving warfstache #wilford warfstache x reader #bingiplier #bingiplier x reader #bing #angst #reader insert #mori x reader #sierra’s writing

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subtlerain · 6 years

Text

Chrysalis - Part I

→ Vampire!Taehyung x reader

I ♥ II ♥ III ♥ IV ♥ V ♥ VI ♥

Synopsis: Life has never been easy for you, and desperate times calls for desperate measures. You’re willing to do anything to save the life of your dying sister, so you make a deal with the devil himself, your new task to be a live-in companion for Kim Taehyung, the reclusive vampire who despises your world and has demons of his own. Is this vampire really as heartless and loveless as he appears, or will his life be changed by a human girl willing to show him the beautiful things in life?

Genres: Romance, angst, fluff & lots of feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight gore, some depressing themes & slight sadism

A/N: Here it is guys! I have been working on this new series for a while after so many of you loved Honey, so I am finally posting the first chapter! I have a lot planned for this series, so buckle up and prepare yourself for some Vampire!Taehyung. Please show your support and enjoy Part I!

Check my faq for questions around my posting schedule!

Tagged: let me know if you’d like to be tagged when I update so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Companion.

Companion was the key word transcribed on the email you had received, a little red ‘1’ popping into your inbox at 10:02 pm on a lonely Sunday night.

Your eyebrows had risen high on your forehead at the sight of the congratulatory email, eyes bulging at the bright screen of your laptop as you sat in the leftmost corner of your bed, your body huddled among blankets and pillows.

It had been only the day previous that you once again found yourself searching frantically for anything, anything that could earn more than what you made at the tiny little cafe on 4th street, anything that you help lessen the stress that kept you up at night.

This peculiar situation had all started when you found the posting at the very bottom of an ‘odd jobs’ forum, one that had been cast to the very depths of the already sketchy and utterly concerning requests that made your skin crawl.

It seemed normal by the heading, almost like a caregiver, friend, cleaning-lady type person, but when you opened it up, you realized why it was at the very bottom of the forum, under ‘medical experiment volunteer’ for instance. The word that would’ve turned even the most daring away, only a single word that might as well have been typed in bold, red ink.

Vampire.

But despite the uneasy feeling that crawled up your back that you assumed was a normal, human, reaction, you continued to read, noticing with interest that the request was not written by the blood-being who needed the companionship, but was rather written on behalf of him by his father.

The reason you had clicked on the apply button and attached a neat email with a resume which you wondered would even have any use, was the sentence at the bottom of the page that made your middle swell with hope.

Upon acceptance, the chosen companion will be granted any request as payment.

You clutched the acceptance email in your hands—you had printed it off just in case—and folded it neatly. You had already memorized it contents, already come to terms with what the acceptance meant, and the conditions that were contained within the email thread between you and the elder vampire.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went.

Quite desperate actually, and quite cliché. But sometimes life handed you horrible things on rusty platters, and you had to do your best to not let that poison settle deep inside of you. Sacrifices had to be made, and you had to be okay.

Plus, the misery that seemed to follow you through you life had only made you stronger, and you much too stubborn to just give up.

There were lots of trees outside the taxi window, and you wondered how far in the countryside you really were. All you knew is that you seemed to be going up, and up meant hills and mountains.

A nice view was a hopeful promise that you let settle in the back of your mind.

“A vacation, Miss?”

You looked at the taxi driver through the rear view mirror and smiled.

“Some could call it that…” You looked back outside to the dark green conifers and hummed, “A long stay in an unfamiliar place, rather.”

He nodded in understanding, but you knew he didn’t understand.

It was laughable how much he didn’t understand, but you weren’t about to spill your story onto the middle-aged driver, at risk that he may three-point-turn and speed back down the long winding hill in fear of your safety, and his.

You played with the hem of your dress, fingering the light blue material. You weren’t sure what to wear for your first meeting, in fact, you weren’t sure what to even pack.

“You will stay for as long as he needs you, or whenever he meets my expectations. All expenses will be paid to meet your needs, along with your request.”

All expenses paid seemed like some kind of resort, but you felt no need to suddenly live lavishly, even in the estate you were being sent to live in.

You were simple and plain, owning a few nice pieces that you had worn to countless job interviews, paired with old silver jewelry from your mother.

Your eyes swept back outside to the endless line of trees and you rested your head against the window.You wondered what kinds of things would await you at the Kim Mansion.

You closed your eyes.

Well of course, other than the young, lonesome vampire.

***

The taxi stopped at 7:32 pm, and you opened your eyes at the lack of motion, blinking sleep from your eyes to see the driver once again looking at you through the rearview mirror expectantly.

Your eyes flicked to the metre.

Expensive.

You were very, very far away from your grungy apartment.

You blinked outside the window for a second, brows furrowing. Large, thick trees only looked back at you, “Are you sure this—“

“There’s a number right there. One-oh-three Fern Ridge.” The taxi driver explained, and you could see the weariness from the long drive in his own features.

“Need help with your bags?”

You shook your head no before sliding him a few crumpled bills and wishing him a good evening as you clicked open the door.

And then he drove away, and you were left in front of a row of trees with your leather backpack slung over your shoulder, and your heavy case in your hand.

“One-oh-three Fern Ridge.” You spoke aloud to the trees.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a glossy sheen on you, but the trees remained dark and sullen.

Nodding your head in an attempt at confidence, you took a step forward, eyes peering through the trees at a very over-grown gate.

You felt a pang of annoyance. Surely he would’ve had some sense to make sure you had a clear path to get to his home before your arrival.

But then again, it was his father who made the request, not him.

You proceeded through the walkway of trees to the gate, and after much pushing on the thick, black bars, it opened with a rusty squeak, and you jumped as a flock of birds leapt from their resting place in the trees at the disruptive noise.

You started through the second layer of trees that met you on the other side, and you were sure you smelled of pine and sap from your efforts to somehow escape the foliage that was much too thick for any garden.

And then you broke through, and you halted your movements at the sheer hugeness of the property you found yourself on.

The tree line had abruptly ended, but swept a large rectangle around the grounds in a protective hedge.

And in the centre was the largest house—if you could even call it that—that you had ever seen. It was victorian—as you would expect from a hundred-and-something year old vampire—with over hanging roofs and dark exterior, large windows that seemed to do nothing to bring the last beams of descending sunlight light into the home.

“You will be his companion. He’s lazy and young, and has no idea how to care for himself, let alone become the heir of my company. He’s been living alone in isolation for far too long, wallowing in his own self-pity and hatred. But his time is running out. Too much solidarity will kill a vampire you know, and we wouldn’t want that to happen.”

His father’s words echoed in your head, reminding you of your purpose once you set foot on the property.

You walked forwards, shoes tapping on the cracked cobblestone as you weaved through over-grown bushes and hedges, wilted flowers and stone statues with thick green moss and cracks chiseled deep into them.

You bristled because even the door was grand and intimidating, and you hesitated before reaching for the large brass knocker and dropping it to the faded door in two simple knocks.

Upon closer inspection, most of the metal that decorated the exterior of the estate was rusty and old, and you wondered when the last time was that someone entered the house.

Or exited.

You waited a moment, adjusting your knapsack on your shoulders.

No response.

Only the soft evening breeze and dipping sun reminded you that you were still on planet earth, not some dark, quiet world full of sticky green moss and rusted metal on the top of some goddamn mountain somewhere.

You were at a loss of what to do for a moment, wondering if turning and running away would be a better option, until a mix of determination and the knowledge of the contract you had signed electronically made you stay planted firmly in your spot on the front porch.

You were living here now, and you had an email to prove it. You had a new task at hand.

Breathing out you pushed open the door easily, and it creaked much like the gate, except it echoed in the empty foyer.

The first smell was dust, musky and thick, and the second was copper. It was to be expected, you thought grimly.

“Hello?” You ventured, still standing on the front step. Your voice was hoarse and quiet, so you cleared your throat and started again, taking one step inside.

You closed the door behind you softly, and the room was coated in darkness except for a candle lit chandelier that was sparkling in the dimness of the room.

“Hello? Mr. Kim?”

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, nearly laughing at how absurd the situation was. It was out of desperation that you were here, it was out of hopelessness and sacrifice that you were standing alone in a mansion on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. Your only task now was to be a companion to a lonesome vampire, who hadn’t yet made an appearance in his own home.

The folly of the circumstances didn’t dissuade you, and you walked out of the foyer and onto the next room, knuckles white from gripping the straps of your bag so tightly.

It was colder, somehow, despite the fact that you had only moved a few feet, and you instantly felt uneasy again. Now it was a more intense feeling, a more real feeling that there was something seriously wrong, something unearthly, preternatural even.

It was utterly frightening, and you felt like a child again, scared there was a monster in your closet.

And then a shiver ascended from your toes and up your spine and to the tips of your fingers as a low, gravelly voice cracked the brisk air around you.

“Ah, I thought I smelled human girl.”

You yelped, and dropped your case from your hand, bringing your arms up in some defensive position as you whipped your head around to find the source of the voice.

Except, the presence seemed to be all around you. On your right and left and above your head and below your feet. It was harsh and cold, and you could feel it right in your centre, a deep, low, blackness that was eating you from the inside out.

You were so cold, and all of your hair was standing on end, your natural fight or flight instincts kicking in.

And then the feeling subsided slightly, and you let out a shaky breath to remind yourself that in fact, you were still alive, despite feeling as if you had just made contact with death itself.

When you had regained some sense of, yes, I’m alive and haven’t been eaten, you noticed a presence, a more physical presence, and your eyes landed a deep red velvet couch on the right side of the room.

Except it wasn’t the couch that made you suck in a breath, it was the deep, lifeless eyes that were looking at you as if you were a being less significant than an ant. You felt more frightened than ever.

Mr. Kim.

Suddenly you could breathe again, and you wondered what kind of spell he had put on you to make your insides feel so empty and cold, what kind of darkness he held inside to nearly take over your entire body.

How simply inviting.

He turned his head away from you for a moment, and you stared openly.

You had never seen a vampire before, nor been this close to one in person, as far as you knew. You knew they existed, everyone did in fact. Humans and vampires coexisted, and most blood-beings adapted to the human world, the killing sprees that happened in the deep past scarce as they integrated with humans.

They integrated so well it nearly impossible to tell who was a vampire in a room and who was not.

But, some vampires had rejected human society and had chosen to live by themselves, far away.

Mr Kim, evidently, was one of those lonesome creatures.

It was true when they said vampires possessed a special kind of beauty. Elegant and smooth was the way they moved, from how they sat and walked and talked. They had the ability to speak softly yet harshly, words biting but ever so intriguing.

They could whisper music in your ears, and stab a dagger through your heart at the same time.

The vampire before you had turned away, as if letting you stare at him for a moment, and you took the opportunity to gaze over each feature.

You were going to be living with this creature, after all.

He was long limbed, dressed in a simple dark dress-coat, the colour something like a deep violet. Underneath could be rather ordinary on a human man—slacks and a blouse—but on him it was alluring, sensual, the way he stretched out on the couch was somehow provocative but natural, as if that was how he always simply laid on a couch.

His skin was smooth and milky, as you would expect, not a mark or freckle along the shape of his exposed neck or clavicle. He was an unmarked blank canvas without a beating heart or a trace of blood in his veins.

Eyes gliding to his face, you were met with a sharp, straight jawline cut across his profile, and the almost soft bump of his nose was an unexpected contrast to the sharp lines of his profile.

His eyes were closed, but you remembered the harshness of them, dark as night and shaped like perfect almonds, hidden behind a set of long, charcoal lashes. His hair was dark and wavy, curling around his ears and nape, and brushing his forehead in layers of silky chocolate and midnight.

Last were his lips, full and crimson, so red in fact, that you thought for a moment he was wearing lipstick.

You realized quickly enough that they were stained, tainted with a dark red blood.

It was almost as if he knew you were done looking, and his eyes opened, slowly.

“Now that you’re done ogling, I’m curious as to why you’re in my house.” He said simply, voice velvety.

You swallowed, disregarding his comment despite the flush rising underneath your collar. “Y-your father sent me, upon the request for a companion on your behalf.”

His lips curled into a smirk, but utter surprise was laced in his features, “You?”

You breathed out, and kept your eyes trained on him, “I-I’m sorry if I’m not what you expected.”

Then suddenly, his face was turned to yours, and he propped himself up on his arm, “I do not care who he sent. I’m just appalled that he has gotten so desperate that he actually made the request.” He sighed, eyes sparkling, “The bastard practically begged me to agree to whatever useless scheme he came up with.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn’t know how to respond. His hard gaze was very uncomfortable. It was as if he was dissecting every piece of you with just his eyes, stripping away your clothes and skin and bone until there was nothing left.

He sat up fully, and his eyes darkened, casting another wave of coldness through your body.

“But now I’m curious about you, my dear. I didn’t think anyone would actually be stupid enough to apply for this job.” He tilted his head, dark locks brushing over his sharp eyebrows, “What are you getting in return for staying here with me?” He stood up, and you fought the urge to run away, to get the hell out of this place and as far away from this man as possible.

But it seemed your feet were glued to the floor, anyway.

He started to walk towards you, slinking along the wooden floor, eyes trained on your form, “Why would a weak little girl like you agree to stay in an old, creepy mansion with a vampire?”

You were frozen, and you were sure he could see the way your hands were trembling.

He stopped just a few feet away, “The fact that you haven’t run screaming yet is intriguing.” His eyes burned into yours, “So I wonder, how desperate are you?”

You breathed out, “I-I’m—“

He narrowed his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re some criminal on the run searching for refuge. You look much too innocent for that, my dear.”

You bristled.

His voice dropped, “Tell me. Tell me what you are getting in return to stay with me.”

You closed your eyes, “Medical care for my sister.”

The vampire did not expect that. No, he did not expect that at all.

His lips moved into a smirk, “A little sister I bet, hm? A sweet little girl whose life is being taken much too early, a life you wish to save, so, so desperately.”

You looked down at the ground. Anger bubbling in you at his mocking tone, which had poison twisted in it, “She’s sick, and her treatment is very expensive. I will do whatever it takes to save her.”

He laughed, but it was nothing but unkind, “How valiant of you! I’m sure she’s so excited that you’ve decided to come here and stay with me.”

You started to panic, “S-she doesn’t know that I’m here.”

The vampire smiled, eyes bright in the most horrifying way. “Oh? Oh no.” He walked around you in slow, measured steps, “I’m guessing my father made staying with me sound pretty easy, hm? Companion. That word makes me sick. The human world has made my father weaker.”

You breathed out, gathering the little courage you had left, “He’s worried about your isolation from the world. He says you resent him, he just wants to prepare you for—”

Suddenly he laughed, almost manically, clutching his chest, “You dumb, stupid girl.” He glanced back at you, eyes tinged red, “My father doesn’t care about me, he never has, and never will. I’ll be the heir whether I’m prepared or not.” He clucked his tongue, “And the idea of getting some human girl to magically pull me into the world I despise is laughable.”

He moved closer, leaning forwards so his face met yours, “You’ve made a mistake coming here, even if he does give you medicine for your sister. You’re about as useless to me as a dull knife, and as breakable as glass.” Your breath hitched as he moved closer, closer, lips pressed to your ear.

“You’ve sold your soul to me and become nothing but a bag of blood.”

And with that, he turned away and slinked into his house, leaving you alone.

And just like that, doubt began to pool in your skull, and you felt numb once again. So you sank to the floor and cried silently, desperately, his words echoing again and again in your head.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tagged list so you don’t miss the next chapter! ♥

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nauseateddrive · 3 years

Text

4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory �� on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

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Upcoming Must-See Movies in 2021

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It’s 2021. Finally. If you’re reading this, it means you’ve hopefully gotten through the wreckage of last year unscathed and are ready for a brighter future. And if you’re also a movie lover, this certainly includes a trip (or 20) back to the cinemas. Although a month into the new year, and our hope for a better tomorrow has faded a bit–especially with new COVID variants spreading. Yet there is reason to remain warily optimistic. Yes, including about theaters

For nearly a year now cinemas have remained largely dormant, and given the already shuffling 2021 film calendar, that will continue for the foreseeable future. However, studios (with one notable exception) remain mostly committed to getting new films to the theater this year, and the current 2021 film slate gives reasons to be hopeful.

Indeed, 2021 promises many of the most anticipated films from last year, plus new surprises. From the superhero variety like Black Widow to the art house with Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch, 2021 could be a much needed respite. So below is just a sampling of what to expect from the year to come…

Judas and the Black Messiah

February 12

It’s kind of hard to wrap one’s head around the annual “Oscar race” in a year when little trophies don’t seem so damn important, but Warner Bros. feels strongly enough about this movie that it’s getting it into theaters and on HBO Max right in the thick of the pandemic-delayed awards season. And judging by the marketing, it’s bringing heat with it.

Shaka King directs and co-writes the story of Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya), who became the chairman of the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party in the late 1960s and was murdered in cold blood by police in 1969. LaKeith Stanfield plays William O’Neal, a petty criminal who agreed to help the FBI take Hampton down. This promises to be incendiary, relevant material — and it’s almost here.

Minari

February 12

Lee Isaac Chung directs Steven Yeun–now fully shaking off his years as Glenn on The Walking Dead–in this semi-autobiographical film about a South Korean family struggling to settle down in rural America in the 1980s. Premiering nearly a year ago at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won both the U.S. Dramatic Grand Jury Prize and the U.S. Dramatic Audience Award, Minari had a quick one-week virtual release in December, with a number of critics placing it on their Top 10 lists for 2020.

Its story of immigration and assimilation currently has a perfect 100 percent score on Rotten Tomatoes, with critics lauding its heart, grace, and sensitivity. A few of ours also considered it among 2020’s best.

Nomadland

February 19

Utilizing both actors and real people, director Chloé Zhao (The Rider, Marvel’s upcoming Eternals) chronicles the lives of America’s “forgotten people” as they travel the West searching for work, companionship and community. A brilliant Frances McDormand stars as Fern, a woman in her mid-60s who lost her husband, her house, and her entire previous existence when her town literally vanished following the closure of its sole factory.

Zhao’s film quietly flows from despair to optimism and back to despair again, the hardscrabble lives of its itinerant cast (many of them actual nomads) foregrounded against often stunning–if lonely–vistas of the vast, empty American countryside.

I Care a Lot

February 19

A solid cast, led by Rosamund Pike, Peter Dinklage, Chris Messina, and Dianne Wiest, star in this satirical crime drama from director J. Blakeson (The Disappearance of Alice Creed). Pike plays Marla, a con artist whose scam is getting herself named legal guardian of her elderly marks and then draining their assets while sticking them in nursing homes. She’s ruthless and efficient at it, until she meets a woman (Wiest) whose ties to a crime boss (Dinklage) may prove too much of a challenge for the wily Marla. It was one of our favorites out of Toronto last year.

The Father

February 26

Anthony Hopkins gives a mesmerizing, and deeply tragic, performance as Anthony, an elderly British man whose descent into dementia is reflected by the film itself, which plays with time, setting, and continuity until both Anthony and the viewer can no longer tell what is real and what is not. Olivia Colman is equally moving as his daughter, who wants to get on with her own life even as she watches her father’s disintegrate in front of her.

We saw The Father last year at the AFI Fest and it ended up being a favorite of 2020; Hopkins is unforgettable in this bracing, heartbreaking work, which is stunningly adapted by first-time director Florian Zeller from his own award-winning play.

Chaos Walking

March 5

This constantly postponed sci-fi project has become one of those “we’ll believe it when we see it” films until it actually comes out. Shot nearly three and a half years ago by director Doug Liman, Chaos Walking has undergone extensive reshoots and was at one point reportedly deemed unreleasable.

Based on the book The Knife of Letting Go, it places Tom Holland (Spider-Man: Far From Home) and Daisy Ridley (The Rise of Skywalker) on a distant planet where Ridley, the only woman, can hear the thoughts of all the men due to a mysterious force called the Noise.

Raya and the Last Dragon

March 5

Longtime Walt Disney Animation Studios head of story, Paul Briggs (Frozen), will make his directorial debut on this original Disney animated fantasy, which draws upon Eastern traditions to tell the tale of a young warrior who goes searching for the world’s last dragon in the mysterious land of Kumandra. Cassie Steele will voice Raya while Awkwafina (The Farewell) will portray Sisu the dragon.

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Warner Bros. and HBO Max 2021 Film Slate Destroys Theatrical Window

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Disney Animation has been nearly invincible in recent years with other hits like Moana and Zootopia, so watch for this one to be another major hit for the Mouse.

Coming 2 America

March 5

The notion of whether nostalgia-based properties are still viable has cropped up repeatedly in the last few years. However, streaming, which is where Coming 2 America finds itself headed post-COVID, makes golden oldies much safer. This sequel—based on a 32-year-old comedy that was one of Eddie Murphy’s most financially successful hits—sees Murphy back as Prince Akeem, of course, along with Arsenio Hall returning as his loyal friend Semmi.

The plot revolves around Akeem’s discovery, just as he is about to be crowned king, that he has a long-lost son living in the States (we’re not sure how that happened, but let’s just go with it). That, of course, necessitates another visit to our shores—that is, if Akeem and Semmi presumably don’t get stopped at the border. The film reunites Murphy with Dolemite is My Name director Craig Brewer, so perhaps they can make some cutting-edge social comedy out of this?

Godzilla vs. Kong

March 26

Here we are, at last at the big punch up between Godzilla and King Kong. They both wear a crown, but in the film that Warner Bros. and Legendary Pictures have been building toward since 2014, only one can walk away with the title of the king of all the monsters.

Admittedly, not everyone loved the last American Godzilla movie, Godzilla: King of the Monsters, but we sure did. Still, Godzilla vs. Kong should be a different animal with Adam Wingard (You’re Next, The Guest) taking over directorial duties. It also has a stacked cast with some familiar faces (Kyle Chandler, Millie Bobby Brown, and Ziyi Zhang) and plenty of new ones (Alexander Skarsgård, Eiza González, Danai Gurira, Lance Reddick, and more).

It’ll probably be better than the original, right? And hey with its HBO Max rollout, questions of a poor box office run sure are conveniently mooted!

Mortal Kombat

April 16

Not to be deterred by the relative failure of Sony’s Monster Hunter in theaters at the tail end of 2020, Warner Bros. is giving this venerable video game franchise another shot at live-action cinematic glory after two previous tries in the 1990s. Director Simon McQuoid makes his feature debut while the script comes from Dave Callaham (Wonder Woman 1984, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings) and the cast includes a number of actors you’ve seen in other films but can’t quite place.

The plot? Who knows! But we’re guessing it will feature gods, demons, and warriors battling for control of the 18 realms in various fighting tournaments. What else do you want?

Black Widow

May 7

Some would charitably say it arrives a decade late, but Black Widow is finally getting her own movie. This is fairly remarkable considering she became street pizza in Avengers: Endgame, but this movie fits snugly between the events of Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War. It also promises to be the most pared down Marvel Studios movie since 2014’s Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and that’s a good thing.

In the film, Scarlett Johansson’s Natasha Romanoff is on the run after burning her bridges with the U.S. government and UN. This brings her back to the spy games she thought she’d escaped from her youth, and back in the orbit of her “sister” Yelena (Florence Pugh). Old wounds are ripped open, old Soviet foes, including David Harbour as the Red Guardian and Rachel Weisz as Nat and Yelena’s girlhood instructor, are revealed, and many a fight sequence with minimal CGI will be executed.

How’s that for a real start to Phase 4? Of course that’s still assuming this comes out before The Eternals after it was delayed, again, due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Those Who Wish Me Dead

May 14

Taylor Sheridan is among the best writers in moviemaking right now. Having all but cornered the niche around modern Westerns, he’s responsible for the scripts for Hell or High Water, both Sicarios, and Wind River, the latter of which he also directed. He’s back in the director’s chair again for Those Who Wish Me Dead, which has been described as a “female-driven neo-Western” set in the Montana wilderness. It is there a teenager witnesses a murder, and he finds himself on the run from twin assassins, and in need of protection from a likely paranoid survivalist. The film stars Angelina Jolie, Jon Bernthal, Nicholas Hoult, Tyler Perry, Aidan Gillen, Jake Weber, and Finn Little.

Spiral

May 21

Chris Rock has co-written the story for a new take on the Saw franchise. Never thought we’d write those words! The fact that it also stars Rock, as well as Samuel L. Jackson, is likewise head-turning. It looks like they’re going for legitimate horror with Darren Lynn Bousman attached to direct after helming three of the Saw sequels, and its grisly pre-COVID trailer from last year.

Hopefully this will be better than most of the franchise that came before, and given the heavily David Fincher-influenced tone of the first trailer, we’re willing to cross our fingers and play this game.

Free Guy

May 21

What would you do if you discovered that you were just a background character in an open world video game—and that the game was soon about to go offline? That’s the premise of this existential sci-fi comedy from director Shawn Levy, best known for the Night at the Museum series and as an executive producer and director on Stranger Things. Ryan Reynolds stars as Guy, a bank teller who discovers that his life is not what he thought it was, and in fact isn’t even real—or is it? We’ve seen a preview of footage, so we’d suggest you think Truman Show, if Truman was trapped in Grand Theft Auto.

May 28

Just when you thought this never-say-die franchise had shown us everything it could possibly dream up, it ups the stakes one more time: the ninth entry in the Fast and Furious saga (excluding 2019’s Hobbs and Shaw) will reportedly take Dom Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his cohorts into space as they battle Dom’s long-lost brother Jakob (John Cena, making a long-overdue debut in this series). Michelle Rodriguez, Tyrese Gibson, Chris “Ludacris” Bridges, Jordana Brewster, Helen Mirren, and Charlize Theron all also return, as does director Justin Lin, who took a two-film break from his signature series. Expect to see the required physics-defying stunts, logic-defying action and even more talk about “family” than usual.

Cruella

May 28

Since Disney has already made an animated 101 Dalmatians in 1961 and a live-action remake in 1996, it is apparently time to tell the story again Maleficent-style. Hence we now focus on the viewpoint of iconic villainess Cruella de Vil, played this time by Emma Stone. She’s joined in the movie by Emma Thompson, Paul Walter Hauser, and Mark Strong, with direction handled by Craig Gillespie (sort of a step down from 2017’s I, Tonya, if you ask us).

The story has been updated to the 1970s, but Cruella–now a fashion designer–still covets the fur of dogs for her creations. This is a Mouse House joint, so don’t expect it to get too dark, and don’t be completely surprised if it ends up as a premium on Disney+ in lieu of its already delayed theatrical release.

Infinite

May 28

This sci-fi yarn from director Antoine Fuqua (The Equalizer) stars Mark Wahlberg as a man experiencing what he thinks are hallucinations, but which turn out to be memories from past lives. He soon learns that there is a secret society of people just like him, except that they have total recall of their past identities and have acted to change the course of history throughout the centuries.

Based on the novel The Reincarnationist Papers by D. Eric Maikranz, this was originally a post-Marvel vehicle for Chris Evans. He dropped out, and the combination of Fuqua and Wahlberg hints at something more action-oriented than the rather cerebral premise suggests. The film also stars Sophie Cookson, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Dylan O’Brien.

The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It

June 4

James Wan is already directing a new horror film this year so he’s stepping away from the directorial duties on the third film based on the paranormal investigations of Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga). That task has fallen to Michael Chaves (The Curse of La Llorona), so expect plenty of the same Wan Universe touches: heavy atmosphere, superb use of sound, and shocking, eerie visuals.

Details are scarce, but the plot—like the other two Conjuring films—is taken from the true-life case of a man who went on trial for murder and said as his defense that he was possessed by a demon when he committed his crimes. That’s all we know for now, except that, intriguingly, Mitchell Hoog and Megan Ashley Brown have been cast as younger versions of the Warrens.

In the Heights

June 18

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first Broadway hit musical gets the big screen treatment (by way of HBO Max) from director Jon M. Chu (Crazy Rich Asians). Set in Washington Heights over the course of a three-day heat wave, the plot and ensemble cast carry echoes of both Rent and Do the Right Thing. While a success on the stage—if not quite the cultural phenomenon that Miranda’s next show, Hamilton—it remains to be seen whether In the Heights can strike a chord with streaming audiences.

Luca

June 18

Continuing its current run of all-new, non-sequel original films started in 2020 with Onward and Soul, Pixar will unveil Luca this summer. Directed by Enrico Casarosa–making his feature debut after 18 years with the animation powerhouse–the film tells the story of a friendship between a human being and a sea monster (disguised as another human child) on the Italian Riviera. That’s about all we have on it for now, except that the cast includes Drake Bell and John Ratzenberger.

Pixar’s recent track record has included masterpieces like Inside Out, solid sequels like Toy Story 4, and shakier propositions like The Incredibles 2, but we don’t have any indication yet of what to expect from Luca.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage

June 25

Can anyone honestly say that 2018’s Venom was a “good” movie? A batshit insane movie, yes, and perhaps even an entertaining one in its own nutty way, but good or not, it made nearly a billion bucks at the box office so here we are.

Tom Hardy will return to peel more scenery down with his teeth as both Eddie Brock and his fanged, towering alien symbiote while Woody Harrelson will fulfill his destiny and play Cletus Kasady, aka Carnage, the perfected hybrid of psychopathic serial killer and red pile of vicious alien goo. Let the carnage begin!

Top Gun: Maverick

July 2

It’s been 34 years since Tom Cruise first soared through the skies as hotshot pilot Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, and he’ll take to the air once more in a sequel that also features Val Kilmer, Jennifer Connelly, Miles Teller, Jon Hamm, and more. The flying and action sequences from director Joseph Kosinski (who worked with Cruise on Oblivion) will undoubtedly be first-rate, but the studio (Paramount) has to be nervous after seeing one nostalgia-based franchise after another (Blade Runner, Charlie’s Angels, Terminator, The Shining) crash and burn recently.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

July 10

With Shang-Chi, Marvel Studios hopes to do for Asian culture what the company did with the groundbreaking Black Panther nearly three years ago: create another superhero epic with a non-white lead and a mythology steeped in a non-Western culture. Simu Liu stars in the title role as the “master of kung fu,” who must do battle with the nefarious Ten Rings organization and its leader, the Mandarin (the “real” one, not the imposter from Iron Man 3, played here by the legendary Tony Leung). Director Destin Daniel Cretton (Just Mercy) will open up a whole new corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe with this story and character, whose origins stretch back to 1973.

The Forever Purge

July 9

One day nearly eight years ago, you went to see a low-budget dystopian sci-fi/horror flick called The Purge, and the next thing you know, it’s 2021 and you’re getting ready to see the fifth and allegedly final entry in the series (which has also spawned a TV show). Written by creator James DeMonaco and directed by Everardo Gout, the film will once again focus on the title event, an annual 12-hour national bacchanal in which all crime, even murder, is legal. How this ends the story, and where and when it falls into the context of the rest of the films, remains a secret for now. Filming was completed back in February 2020, with the film’s release delayed from last summer by the COVID-19 pandemic.

Space Jam: A New Legacy

July 16

There are two types of folks when it comes to the original Space Jam of 1996: those who were between the ages of three and 11 when it came out, and everyone else. In one camp it is an unsightly relic of ‘90s cross-promotional cheese; in the other, it’s a sports movie classic. Luckily for kids today, NBA star LeBron James was 11 for most of ’96, and he’s bringing back the hoops and the Looney Tunes in Space Jam: A New Legacy.

The film will be among the many Warner Bros. pics premieres on HBO Max and in theaters this year, and it will see King James share above-the-title credits with Bugs Bunny. All is as it should be.

The Tomorrow War

July 23

An original IP attempting to be a summer blockbuster? As we live and breathe. The Tomorrow War marks director Chris McKay’s first foray into live-action after helming The Lego Batman Movie. The film stars Chris Pratt as a soldier from the past who’s been “drafted by scientists” to the present in order to fight off an alien invasion overwhelming our future’s military. One might ask why said scientists didn’t use their fancy-schmancy time traveling shenanigans to warn about the impending aliens, but here we are.

Jungle Cruise

July 30

Disney dips into its theme park rides again as a source for a movie, hoping that the Pirates of the Caribbean lightning will strike once more. This time it’s the famous Adventureland riverboat ride, which is free enough of a real narrative that one has to wonder why some five screenwriters (at least) worked on the movie’s script.

Jaume Collet-Serra (The Shallows) directs stars Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt down this particular river, as they battle wild animals and a competing expedition in their search for a tree with miraculous healing powers. The comic chemistry between Johnson and Blunt is key here, especially if they really can mimic Bogie and Hepburn in the similarly plotted The African Queen. If they can sell that, Disney might just have a new water-based franchise to replace their sinking Pirates ship.

The Green Knight

July 30

David Lowery, the singular director behind A Ghost Story and The Old Man & the Gun, helmed a fantasy adaptation of the Arthurian legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. And his take on the material was apparently strong enough to entice A24 to produce it. Not much else is yet known about the film other than its cast, which includes Dev Patel, Alicia Vikander, Ralph Ineson, and Kate Dickie–and that it’s another casualty of COVID, with its 2020 release date being delayed last year. So this is one we’re definitely going to keep an eye on.

The Suicide Squad

August 6

Arguably the most high-profile of the WB films being transitioned to HBO Max, The Suicide Squad is James Gunn’s soft-reboot of the previous one-film franchise. It’s kind of funny WB went in that direction when the first movie generated more than $740 million, but when the reviews and word of mouth were that toxic… well, you get the guy who did Guardians of the Galaxy to fix things.

Peacemaker: Suicide Squad Spinoff With John Cena Coming to HBO Max

By Mike Cecchini

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The Suicide Squad Trailer Promises James Gunn’s “1970s War Movie”

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Elements from the original movie are still here, most notably Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn and Viola Davis’ Amanda Waller, but the film promises to be weirder, meaner, and also sillier. The first points are proven by its expected R-rating, and the latter is underscored by its giant talking Great White Shark. Okay, we’ll bite.

Deep Water

August 13

Seedy erotic thrillers and neo noirs bathed in shadows and sex are largely considered a thing of the past—specifically 1980s and ‘90s Hollywood cinema. Maybe that’s why Deep Water hooked Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction, Indecent Proposal) to direct. The throwback is based on a 1957 novel by the legendary Patricia Highsmith (The Talented Mr. Ripley), and it pits a disenchanted married couple against each other, with the bored pair playing mind games that leave friends and acquaintances dead. That the couple in question is played by Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas, who’ve since become a real life item, will probably get plenty of attention close to release.

Respect

August 13

Respect is the long-awaited biopic of the legendary Aretha Franklin, with the Queen of Soul herself involved in its development for years until her death in August 2018. Authorized biopics always make one wonder how accurate the film will be, but then again, Aretha had nothing to be ashamed of. Hers was a life well-lived, her voice almost beyond human comprehension, and the only thing now is to see whether star Jennifer Hudson (Franklin’s personal choice) and director Liesl Tommy (making her feature debut) can do the Queen justice.

The King’s Man

August 20

This might be a weird thing to say: but has World War I ever seemed so stylish? It is with Matthew Vaughn at the helm.

An origin story of sorts for the organization that gave us Colin Firth and the umbrella, The King’s Man is a father and son yarn where Ralph Fiennes’ Duke of Oxford is reluctant about his son Conrad (Harris Dickinson) joining the war effort. But they’ll both be up to it as the Duke launches an intelligence gathering agency independent from any government. It also includes Gemma Arterton, Matthew Goode, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson as charter members.

Oh, and did we mention they fight Rasputin?

Candyman

August 27

In some ways it’s surprising that it’s taken this long—28 years, notwithstanding a couple of sequels—to seriously revisit the original Candyman. Director Bernard Rose’s original adaptation of the Clive Baker story, “The Forbidden,” is still relevant and effective today. Back then, the film touched on urban legends, poverty, and segregation: themes that are still ripe for exploration through a genre touchstone today.

After her breathtaking feature directorial debut, Little Woods, Nia DaCosta helmed this bloody reboot while working from a screenplay co-written by Jordan Peele (Get Out). That’s a powerful combination, even before news came down DaCosta was helming Captain Marvel 2. And with an actor on-the-cusp of mega-stardom, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, picking up Tony Todd’s gnarly hook, this is one to watch out for.

The Beatles: Get Back

August 27

Peter Jackson seems to enjoy making films about what inspired him in his youth: The Lord of the Rings, King Kong, his grandfather’s World War I service informing They Shall Not Grow Old. So perhaps it was inevitable he’d make a film about the greatest youth icon of his generation, the Beatles. In truth, The Beatles: Get Back is a challenge to a previous documentary named Let It Be, and the general pop culture image it painted.

That 1970 doc by Michael Lindsay-Hogg zeroed in on the band’s final released album, Let It Be (although it was recorded before Abbey Road). Now, using previously unseen footage, Jackson seeks to challenge the narrative that the album was created entirely from a place of animosity among the bandmates, or that the Beatles had long lost their camaraderie by the end of road. Embracing the original title of the album, “Get Back,” Jackson wants to get back to where he thinks the band’s image once belonged.

Resident Evil

September 3

Let’s try that again. As one of the most popular video game franchises of all-time, the original handful of Resident Evil games appeared ready made for adaptation. Visibly inspired by cult classic zombie movies from George Romero, Resident Evil once even had Romero attached. Instead we got the deafeningly dull Paul W.S. Anderson franchise starring Milla Jovovich. And those decade-spanning monstrosities lacked something any self-respecting zombie film needs: brains.

Now Resident Evil is back in a reboot helmed by writer-director Johannes Roberts. And he’s off to a promising start by apparently focusing on the plots of the first several video games in the series. The cast includes Hannah John-Kamen as Jill Valentine, Robbie Amell as Chris Redfield, Kaya Scodelario as Claire Redfield, Avan Jogia as Leon S. Kennedy, and Tom Hopper as Albert Wesker. So far so good. Fingers crossed.

A Quiet Place Part II

September 17

The sequel to one of 2018’s biggest surprises, A Quiet Place Part II comes with major expectations. And few may hold it to a higher standard than writer-director John Krasinski. Despite (spoiler) the death of his character in the first film, Krasinski returns behind the camera for the sequel after saying he wouldn’t. The story he came up with apparently was too good to pass up.

The film again stars Emily Blunt as the often silenced mother of a vulnerable family, which includes son Marcus (Noah Jupe) and deaf daughter Regan (Millicent Simmonds). However, now that they know how to kill the eagle-eared alien monsters who’ve taken over their planet, the cast has grown to include Cillian Murphy and Djimon Hounsou. While the film has been delayed due to the coronavirus outbreak, trust us that it’ll be worth the wait. Is it finally time for… resistance?

Death on the Nile

September 17

Murder on the Orient Express (2017) became a surprise hit for director and star Kenneth Branagh. Who knew that audiences would still be interested in an 83-year-old mystery novel about an eccentric Belgian detective with one hell of a mustache? Luckily, Agatha Christie featured Poirot in some 32 other novels, of which Death on the Nile is one of the most famous, so here we are.

Branagh once again directs and stars as Poirot, this time investigating a murder aboard a steamer sailing down Egypt’s famous river. The cast includes Gal Gadot, Armie Hammer, Letitia Wright, Tom Bateman, Ali Fazal, Annette Bening, Rose Leslie, and Russell Brand. Expect more lavish locales, scandalous revelations, the firing of a pistol or two, and, yes, more shots of that stunning Poirot facial hair.

The Many Saints of Newark

September 24

The idea of a prequel to anything always fills us with trepidation, and re-opening a nearly perfect property like The Sopranos makes the prospect even less appetizing. But Sopranos creator David Chase has apparently wanted to explore the back history of his iconic crime family for some time, and there certainly seems to be a rich tapestry of characters and events that have only been hinted at in the series.

Directed by series veteran Alan Taylor (Thor: The Dark World), The Many Saints of Newark stars Alessandro Nivola as Dickie Moltisanti (Christopher’s father), along with Jon Bernthal, Vera Farmiga, Corey Stoll, Ray Liotta, and others. But the most fascinating casting is that of Michael Gandolfini—James’ son—as the younger version of the character with which his late dad made pop culture history. For that alone, we’ll be there on opening night… even if that just means HBO Max!

Dune

October 1

Could third time be the charm for Frank Herbert’s complex novel of the far future, long acknowledged as one of the greatest—if most difficult to read—milestones in all of science fiction? David Lynch’s 1984 version was, to be charitable, an honorable mess, while the 2000 Sci-Fi Channel miniseries was decent and faithful, but limited in scope. Now director Denis Villeneuve (Blade Runner 2049, Arrival) is pulling out all the stops—even breaking the story into two movies to give the proper space.

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Dune Trailer Breakdown and Analysis

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What Alejandro Jodorowsky Thinks of the New Dune Trailer

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On the surface, the plot is simple: as galactic powers vie for control of the only planet that produces a substance capable of allowing interstellar flight, a young messiah emerges to lead that planet’s people to freedom. But this tale is dense with multiple layers of politics, metaphysics, mysticism, and hard science.

Villeneuve has assembled a jaw-dropping cast, including Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgård, Dave Bautista, Zendaya, Charlotte Rampling, Jason Momoa, and Javier Bardem, and if he pulls this off, just hand him every sci-fi novel ever written. Particularly, if relations between the director and WB remain strained…

No Time to Die

October 8

Nothing lasts forever, and the Daniel Craig era of James Bond is coming to an end… hopefully in 2021. In fact, delays notwithstanding, it’s a bit of a surprise Craig is getting an official swan song with this movie after the star said he’d rather “slash his wrists” before doing another one. Well, we’re glad he didn’t, just as we’re hopeful for his final installment in the tuxedo.

Director Cary Joji Fukunaga is a newcomer to the franchise, but that might be a good thing after how tired Spectre felt, and Fukunaga has done sterling work in the past on True Detective and Maniac. He also looks to bring the curtain down on the whole Craig oeuvre by picking up on the last movie’s lingering threads, such as 007 driving off into the sunset with Léa Seydoux’s Madeleine Swann, while introducing new ones that include Rami Malek as Bond villain Safin and Ana de Armas as new Bond girl Paloma. Yay for the Knives Out reunion!

Halloween Kills

October 15

2018’s outstanding reboot of the long-running horror franchise—which saw David Gordon Green (Stronger) direct Jamie Lee Curtis in a reprise of her most famous role—was a tremendous hit. So in classic Halloween fashion, two more sequels were put into production (the second, Halloween Ends, will be out in 2022… hopefully).

Movies

Halloween: A Legacy Unmasked

By David Crow

Movies

How Jason Blum Changed Horror Movies

By Rosie Fletcher

Curtis is back as Laurie Strode, along with Judy Greer as her daughter, Andi Matichak as her granddaughter, and Nick Castle sharing Michael Myers duties with James Jude Courtney. Kyle Richards and Charles Cyphers, meanwhile, will reprise their roles as Lindsey Wallace and former sheriff Leigh Brackett from the original 1978 Halloween (Anthony Michael Hall will play the adult version of Tommy Doyle). The plot remains a mystery, but we’re pretty sure it will involve yet another confrontation between Laurie and a rampaging Myers.

The Last Duel

October 15

What was once among the most anticipated films of 2020, The Last Duel is the historical epic prestige project marked by reunions: Ridley Scott returns to his passion for period drama and violence; Matt Damon and Ben Affleck work together for the first time in ages as both actors and writers; and the film also unites each with themes that were just as potent in the medieval world as today: One knight (Damon) in King Charles VI’s court accuses another who’s his best friend (Adam Driver) of raping his wife (Jodie Comer). Oh, and Affleck plays the King of France.

With obviously harrowing—and uncomfortable—themes that resonate today, The Last Duel is based on an actual trial by combat from the 14th century, and is a film Affleck and Damon co-wrote with Nicole Holofcener (Can You Ever Forgive Me?). It’s strong material, and could prove to be one of the year’s most riveting or misjudged films. Until then, it has our full attention.

Last Night in Soho

October 22

Fresh off the success of 2017’s Baby Driver (his biggest commercial hit to date), iconoclastic British director Edgar Wright returns with what is described as a psychological and possibly time-bending horror thriller set in London. Whether this features Wright’s trademark self-aware humor remains to be seen, but since the film is said to be inspired by dread-inducing genre classics like Repulsion and Don’t Look Now, he might be going for a different effect this time.

The cast, of course, is outstanding: upstarts Anya Taylor-Joy (Queen’s Gambit) and Thomasin McKenzie (Jojo Rabbit) will face off with Matt Smith (Doctor Who), and British legends Diana Rigg and Terence Stamp. And the truth is we’re never going to miss one of Wright’s movies. Taylor-Joy talked to us here about finding her 1960s lounge singer voice for the film.

Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins

October 22

While the idea of a Hasbro Movie Universe seems to be kind of idling at the moment, corners of that hypothetical cinematic empire remain active. One such brand is G.I. Joe, which will launch its first spin-off in this origin story of one of the team’s most popular characters. Much of his early background remains mysterious, so there’s room to create a fairly original story while incorporating lore and characters already established in the G.I. Joe mythos.

Neither of the previous G.I. Joe features (The Rise of Cobra and Retaliation) have been much good, so we can probably expect the same level of quality from this one. Director Robert Schwentke (the last two Divergent movies) doesn’t inspire much excitement either. On the other hand, Henry Golding (Crazy Rich Asians) will star in the title role, and having Iko Uwais (The Raid) and Samara Weaving (Ready or Not) on board isn’t too bad either.

Antlers

October 29

Dramatic director Scott Cooper (Crazy Heart, Hostiles) is doing a horror movie. As we live and breathe. And he’s doing it with a huge boost of confidence from Guillermo del Toro, who has opted to produce the movie. Antlers is the tale of two adult brothers, one a teacher and the other a sheriff, getting wrapped up in a supernatural quagmire that involves a young student and a “dangerous secret.” And with a cast that includes Jesse Plemons, Keri Russell, and Graham Greene, we are very intrigued… even if we must wait once again due to a coronavirus delay.

Eternals

November 5

Based on a Marvel Comics series by the legendary Jack Kirby, the now long-forthcoming Eternals centers around an ancient race of powerful beings who must protect the Earth against their destructive counterparts (and genetic cousins), the Deviants. Director Chloe Zhao (fresh off the awards season buzzy Nomadland) takes her first swing at epic studio filmmaking, working with a cast that includes Angelina Jolie, Gemma Chan, Kit Harington, Salma Hayek, Richard Madden, Brian Tyree Henry, and more.

Movies

Upcoming Marvel Movies Release Dates: MCU Phase 4 Schedule, Cast, and Story Details

By Mike Cecchini and 1 other

Movies

The Incredible Hulk’s Diminished Legacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe

By Gavin Jasper

In many ways, Eternals represents another huge creative risk for Marvel Studios: It’s a big, cosmic ensemble film introducing an ensemble that the vast majority of the public has never heard of. But then, it’s sort of in the same position as Guardians of the Galaxy from way back in 2014, and we all know what happened there.

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

November 11

With the 2016 Ghostbusters reboot criticized (fairly) for its lack of imagination and castigated (unfairly as hell) for its all-female ghost-hunting crew, director Jason Reitman–finally cashing in on the family name by returning to the brand his dad Ivan directed to glory in 1984–has crafted a direct sequel to the original films.

Set 30 years later, Afterlife follows a family who move to a small town only to discover that they have a long-secret connection to the OG Ghostbusters. Carrie Coon (The Leftovers), Finn Wolfhard (Stranger Things) and Paul Rudd (Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania) star alongside charter cast members Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson, Sigourney Weaver, Annie Potts, and, yes, Bill Murray.

King Richard

November 19

Will Smith’s King Richard promises to be a different kind of biographical film coming down the pipe. Rather than being told from the vantage of professional tennis playing stars Venus and Serena Williams, King Richard centers on their father and coach, Richard Williams. It’s an interesting choice to focus on the male father instead of the game-changing Black daughters, but we’ll see if there’s a strong creative reason for the approach soon enough. The film is directed by Reinaldo Marcus Green (Monsters and Men, Joe Bell).

Mission: Impossible 7

November 19

Once upon a time, the appeal of the Mission: Impossible movies was to see different directors offer their own take on Tom Cruise running through death-defying stunts. But then Christopher McQuarrie had to come along and make the best one in franchise history (twice). First there was Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation and then Mission: Impossible – Fallout. Now McQuarrie and company have set up their own separate quartet of films with recurring original characters like new franchise MVP Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) across four films.

Movies

Audio Surfaces of Tom Cruise Raging on the Set of Mission: Impossible 7

By Kirsten Howard

Movies

Mission: Impossible 7 – What’s Next for the Franchise?

By David Crow

Thus enters M:I7, the third McQuarrie joint in the series and first half of a pair of incoming sequels filmed together. The first-half of this two-parter sees the whole crew back together, including Cruise’s Ethan Hunt, Ilsa, Benji (Simon Pegg), Luther (Ving Rhames), and CIA Director Erika Sloane (Angela Bassett). They’re also being joined by Hayley Atwell and Pom Klementieff, but really we’re all just eager to see what kind of insane stunts they can do to top the HALO jump in the last one.

Nightmare Alley

December 3

Director Guillermo del Toro is finally back with a film which was originally intended for release in 2020. But like so many others, Nightmare Alley saw its production frozen due to the coronavirus. Del Toro’s first film since winning the Best Picture Oscar for The Shape of Water, Nightmare adapts William Lindsay Gresham’s novel of the same name. With a script by Kim Morgan and del Toro, it tracks a mid-20th century carny played by Bradley Cooper who is also a silver-tongued grifter. But his con meets its match (and is then outclassed) by his chance encounter with a psychiatrist (Cate Blanchett). They’ll make a hell of a team.

West Side Story

December 10

Steven Spielberg has just two remakes on his directorial resume: Always (1989) and War of the Worlds (2005). While the former is mostly forgotten and the latter was an adaptation of a story that has been filmed many times, his upcoming reimagining of West Side Story will undoubtedly be directly compared to Robert Wise’s iconic 1961 screen version of this classic musical.

A few numbers in previous films aside, Spielberg has never directed a full-blown musical before, let alone one associated with such powerhouse songs and dance numbers. His version, with a script by Tony Kushner, is said to stay closer to the original Broadway show than the 1961 film—but with its themes of love struggling to cross divides created by hate and bigotry, don’t be surprised if it’s just as hard-hitting in 2021. Certainly would’ve devastated last year….

Spider-Man 3

December 17

Sony has finally gotten to a “Spider-Man 3” again in their oft-rebooted franchise crown jewel (technically though this film is still untitled). That proved to be a stumbling block the first time it occurred with Tobey Maguire in the red and blues, but the company seems undaunted since Tom Holland’s third outing is expected to bring Maguire back—him and just about everyone else too.

Movies

Spider-Man 3: Charlie Cox Daredevil Return Would Redeem the Marvel Netflix Universe

By Joseph Baxter

Movies

Spider-Man 3 Adds Benedict Cumberbatch’s Doctor Strange

By Joseph Baxter

With a multiverse plot ripped straight from the arguably best Spidey movie ever, 2018’s Into the Spider-Verse, Holland’s third outing is bringing back Maguire, Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man, Alfred Molina as Doc Ock, Jamie Foxx as Electro (eh), and probably more. It’s a Spidey crossover extravaganza that’s only missing a Spider-Ham. But just you wait…

The Matrix 4

December 22

Rebooting or continuing The Matrix series has always been a tough proposition. While the original Matrix film is one of the landmark achievements in science fiction and early digital effects filmmaking in the 1990s, its sequels were… less celebrated. In fact, directors Lily and Lana Wachowski were publicly wary about the idea of ever going back to the series. And yet, here we are with Lana (alone) helming a project that’s been a longtime priority for Warner Bros.

Movies

The Matrix 4: Laurence Fishburne “Wasn’t Invited” to Reprise Morpheus Role

By John Saavedra

Movies

The Matrix 4 Already Happened: Revisiting The Matrix Online

By John Saavedra

The Matrix 4 also brings back Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Jada Pinkett Smith. This is curious since Reeves and Moss’ characters died at the end of the Matrix trilogy—and also because Laurence Fishburne’s Morpheus did not, yet he wasn’t asked back. We cannot say we’re thrilled about the prospect of more adventures in Zion after the disappointment of the first two sequels, but we’d be lying if we didn’t admit we’re still curious to see the story that brought Lana back to this future.

The French Dispatch

TBA

Wes Anderson has a new film coming out. Better still, it is another live-action film. While Anderson’s use of animation is singular, it’s been seven years since The Grand Budapest Hotel, which we maintain is one of the best movies of the last decade. Anderson is working with Timothée Chalamet and Cristoph Waltz for the first time with this film, as well as several familiar faces including Saoirse Ronan, Willem Dafoe, Tilda Swinton, Léa Seydoux, Adrien Brody, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman, and, of course, Bill Murray.

The French Dispatch is set deep in the 20th century during the peak of modern journalism, it brings to life a series of fictional stories in a fictional magazine, published in a fictional French city. We suspect though, if Anderson’s last two live-action movies are any indication, it’ll have more than fiction on its mind–especially since it’s inspired by actual New Yorker stories, and the journalists who wrote them! We missed it in 2020, so here’s hoping it really does go to print in 2021!

Other interesting movies that may come out in 2021 but do not yet have release dates: Next Goal Wins, Don’t Worry Darling, Blonde, The Northman, Resident Evil, Red Notice, Army of the Dead.

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allenmendezsr · 3 years

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ofcricketsandcrawlers · 6 years

Text

The Crime

It had been years since she last came back to this place. The vegetations now greener, more vast. The foliage thicker, like a canopy that hides a whole new world below. A world she knew she should not be visiting.

Places change, just like people do. But there will always be the marks of the past as subtle reminders, like the worn out paths of the woods, now concealed by overgrowth and fallen branches. Hidden, but there, — if one knows where to look.

She carefully followed the winding path, stumbling every now and then. Low growing branches scraping her. Mosquitos feasted on her exposed skin.

After an hour and deep into the woods, she emerged into a clearing. Except for the empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, and an old camp fire on the side of the big boulder, everything is just as she remembers it. Tears welled up from her eyes, uninvited — offensive.

It still hurts to remember. Even after years of perfecting her armour, of crafting a future that knows no uncertainties, after years of erecting walls, the past could come with such force and her carefully constructed safe haven becomes a mere delusion.

The big boulder, — her special rock, stood untouched by the years. But just like her, it had grown old. The rock that witnessed horror, concealed secrets, and bore the scars of a broken life. She came closer, and carefully inspected it. She knew were it is, — on the underside to the left, low enough for her to reach if she stands on her tippy toe and stretch her arms real high. Scratched into the rock was a phrase she understood too well, — Jill was here.

It’s been 15 years.

Mr. Aguilar was a good teacher. He had been teaching Chemistry in The Calahan School for 6 years, and he had taken on young Jill under his wings, presumably because he had seen huge potential in her. She wanted to be a chemist and Mr. Aguilar did everything to fuel her dream.

Unlike other girls her age back in the 80’s, Jill had very little interest in frills. She’d come to school excited to learn, not to be fashionably bored. She’d spend a lot of time in the library, or assisting Mr. Aguilar in the lab. In spite of her young age, Jill is very perceptive, and intelligence has a way of making her look more mature, a mirage among many others.

Jill showed keen interest in chemistry, and paid particular attention to organic chemical changes. She also showed enthusiasm in the biosciences, in fact, she was the first to memorize the anatomy of the frog including the origin, insertions, and functions of its muscles long before her class had even reached the topic.

Jill is an only child. They live in the big house. Her Dad works as municipal auditor while her Mom stays home. Her father however is over his head in debt, forcing them to live under the graces and shadow of her Grandmother, who controls everything from the food they eat to what school Jill will be enrolled in. She owns the very air they breath. Everyone thought they were living the good life. What they don’t know need not be told.

Mrs. Anissa Toledo, Inherited a fortune from her father, the late Ernest Toledo, who cultivated and made millions out of his tobacco plantation. Anissa, just like Jill’s Mom, Elise, is an only child.

Everyone knew that Anissa does not approve of her daughter’s marriage to Dante Reyes, but when Elise came home one day, pregnant and sobbing, Anissa pulled strings to make sure her only daughter is wed before it becomes apparent that she is carrying., and so Elise, her new husband, and their infant daughter all lived in the big house, seemingly shackled to the walls and old beams, to the satisfaction and grand entertainment of the matriarch.

Jill never met her grandfather. Elise never talked about him, and there had been no picture of him in the big house. Jill learned not to pursue the topic.Secrets have their reasons to stay hidden. She knew that her family made many mistakes. Her Grandmother had always reminded Elise how marrying Dante was a no brainer. Maybe, her grandmother too made the same mistake with her grandfather. “ Well, I’ll change history for them”, Jill thought. “ I’ will not make a mistake of marrying the wrong man”. She knew that was a huge promise to make, since she too was just a mistake.

Jill discovered the clearing by accident, while she was collecting cones and ferns for her botany project. she was amazed by the size of the boulder which she could climb by stepping on some smaller rocks. “ It’s nice to be up high”, she thought. From then on, the clearing became her hiding place and the boulder her throne, away from the shadows that dominate her home.

During the summer, Jill volunteers in the district hospital. Normally, hospitals don’t allow kids who are not patients within its vicinity, but San Rafael District hospital is undermanned, and it needs all the help it could get.

Jill finds the hospital an opportunity for learning and a plausible excuse to be out of the house most hours of the day, most days of the week, until school resumes in June. Her work is pretty much straight forward. She organizes the charts in alphabetical order and stack the galenicals and medicines that are delivered every Wednesday to a small nook beside the nurses’ station. She is also tasked to run to the small parish near the hospital to get the priest when patients and or relatives request for the Last Rite.

It was one late summer afternoon when the sky looked like a newly formed bruise that Mr. Aguilar, the science teacher, approached Jill and asked her if she knew of a place where they can try a new science experiment, — a place where the noise will not disturb people. Of course she knew of such a place, and she took Mr. Aguilar to the clearing.

While Mr. Aguilar sets up his experiment, Jill found a broken branch and started scratching on the left under belly of the huge rock, “ Jill was here”. She was stretched out finishing her message when she sensed Mr. Aguilar standing very close to her. It was too late when the scent of danger finally registered. She was pinned down. By the boulder. While the sun sets.

Jill was consumed body and soul, forever corrupted and destroyed. As if to highlight the crime, —- it rained.

She was found dazed, bruised, and dirty the next day, sitting on the curve of a road near San Rafael District Hospital. The crime was apparent, even before doctors confirmed it. But Jill wouldn’t talk, in fact, she stopped talking altogether for two straight months. No one, not, her parents, nor her rich grandmother wanted to pursue. Jill knows it. In a small village such as San Rafael, no one wants to be tied up to rape.

In a backward society, the victims of rape are just as guilty as the perpetrators of the crime. They are socially shunned, humiliated, and unfairly judged. The crime of rape often goes unpunished. The victims simply learned to pick up on where their lives had been fragmented.

It was raining when the remains of Mr. Aguilar was laid to rest, in a family plot on the outskirt of town. The funeral service was a grand one, with orchestrated processions. They said he had a heart attack. He was found slumped on his desk one afternoon inside the shadowy chemistry lab of the school. He was declared DOA.

A full week after, Mrs. Anissa Toledo was found dead in her room, with her eyes open and her face twisted into a harrowing death mask. She too was said to have suffered a heart attack. She was buried without the same frills Mr. Aguilar had been given. When you fail to love in life, love should not be expected in death.

Anissa and Mr. Aguilar were buried in different graves, and in different ways, with their crimes forever hidden from everyone else except to their victims, just like the tiny puncture mark on their bodies, where Jill injected the needle and pushed the plunger giving them both the lethal dose of Succinylcholine.

Their deaths were never considered suspicious, so autopsy was not mandated. But Jill knew that even if post mortem investigation had been performed, nothing would be proven. Succinylcholine acts fast and metabolized fast into Succinate, a naturally occurring substance in the human body. A correct dose of Succinylcholine however causes sudden paralysis of the muscles of respiration, often fatal in a matter of minutes.

Jill thanked her job in the hospital dispensary for the unaccounted drug.

The sun is setting in the horizon. The breeze had become cold. Jill gave the clearing one last look before she traced back her steps towards the path leading out of the woods.

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Note: Copyright applies

#short story #fiction #original writings #writers hub #writerscorner #writers on tumblr

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treechangeseachange · 4 years

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It’s been an extraordinary ride since we lost our beautiful forest home on 3 December 2019 to the beast that was the Currowan fire that took 312 homes and consumed 500,000 hectares. It has taken time to reach this point of writing. I scribbled here and there but only in the last month have found a place from which I can write. We are moving slowly but intently towards recovery - which feels like the right sentiment to bring to this blog. Not my anger as ferocious as a bushfire about governments and organisations that contribute to bushfires through negligence or inaction. Aerial firefighting equipment could have been a game changer on 26 November when the Currowan fire ignited by lightning in drought ravaged forest. The fire was all but inaccessible to fire trucks that were almost futile in the absence of water to replenish them. But the federal government now famously didn’t listen to fire chiefs in May or November. Additional aerial support was approved on December 5, too little too late for us. The State Forestry Corporation will shortly receive a letter from me asking why a forest can be logged then the uncommercial debris (approximately 2/3 of the tree) be left to cure in the sun for 2 years to become the perfect bushfire conductor towards and through our block. But ahem, I’m not writing from this angry place, or I would write about the delays and disorganisation of governments, agencies and organisations as they grapple with a disaster of geographical and time magnitude they had never prepared for. I am not writing from the sludge of post adrenaline exhaustion caused by two evacuations and 6 weeks of fire threat, compounded by the mental energy required to manage my grief as well as my children’s, and sealed by the physical demands of renovating our investment property that needed to be fast tracked for habitation. After a Melbourne Christmas escape we also endured 8 days of stress returning via a circuitous journey of bush fire avoidance in order to finally return to our new residence. During the journey there were anxious days when we couldn’t contact our dog’s kennel, which is located in a particularly badly impacted bushfire area. Eventually we made contact and learned the kennel and our dog narrowly survived. That return journey brought additional tiredness but critically more instability to children’s minds, something we are struggling to manage still. Nor will I write this blog about the deep sadness I feel at the loss of trees, animals and habitat. I, who like many people on the south coat, choose to live here to be connected to nature and experience its beauty, initially found the flora and fauna loss completely overwhelming. My daily commute through at least 50km of which was burnt out forest and villages, initially was too much for me to bear, my workplace supported me to work locally. Quite apart from our forest including the favourite 300+ year old ‘grandmother’ spotted gum, the extent of the impact on the south cost forests and wildlife is immense and while epicormic regrowth is already occurring, wildlife and habitat recovery looks precarious. It’s brutal but I can’t write from this place. And I won’t write dwelling on loss of things miniature and enormous, trivial and significant, useful or valuable. Each item is a stitch in the tapestry of our former life. We still periodically feel a stab of remembrance when another thing is realised as lost. A wedding dress, a mother’s gold, favourite snowboard gear, treasures from world travels, Santa’s homemade toy cupboard, a hard earned black belt, a bifold door, our own milled timber, a barely used split system, children’s birthday books, our solar power array & batteries. Many things are easy to relinquish but some tug at the heart or mind. The night my sister in law returned my husband’s beads which she unwittingly had in safe keeping, or when I found I had indeed packed my husband’s wedding ring were insanely emotional moments. But at the end of the day things are things. While I am disappointed I don’t have my wedding dress, I’m really glad I didn’t pay to dry clean it, and practically it’s less important than a saucepan or a vegetable peeler. The more painful loss is our home, painstaking and lovingly made beautiful and comfortable by my amazing husband. Even he sighs at the prospect of beginning again. But we endure beyond property and things so I won’t write about this. So if I’m not writing in anger, exhaustion, sadness or grief, why have I included all of the above? Because, you can’t appreciate recovery until you understand loss. And this is the perspective I am writing from - recovery. My family’s recovery is predominantly due to the generosity of others. This generosity, which is still coming, and still brings me to tears, has enabled us to be living in a house, importantly in our own space, and starting the process of creating a new normal. The support has been wide ranging from the immediate shelter provided by amazing friends during evacuation, through to tradies and friends helping us get into our house in those first few weeks, then astoundingly generous physical and monetary gifts and presents from family, extended family, friends and their families, my workplace and our phenomenal community. There were three angels who started a gofundme page for us – the angels didn’t ask me, they thought I would say no, so they asked my husband and then told me it was for my kids so had me cornered. The page generated staggering donations from people near and far, known and unknown. Family and that page gave us the financial means to finish renovating the rental property which has now become our new home. Some of you reading may be one of our generous donors – thank you from the bottom of my heart. Key also for recovery, we both had jobs and incomes to go back to. Many in our region are not so fortunate. Many were vulnerable before the fires, they are even more vulnerable now. Recovery centres are still open along the south coast and the need is great. Slowly the help is coming and councils and agencies do recognise the road is long and are working on support for the long haul. We have been back to our block only twice. Mainly this was due to practical reasons – initially it wasn’t safe and then we didn’t have time as we were too busy renovating. The first visit was hard, intense and overwhelming. We went to witness destruction and loss. As my 6 year old marvelled, it’s all gone down to nothing. The second visit was purposeful, we wanted to explore the rest of our block and see if the rainforest gully had survived. Two months had elapsed since our first visit. We were a bit nervous about how it might impact our mental health being back, but staying away wasn’t ideal either. We promised the boys we wouldn’t be near the house for long and that we would explore the block. Thankfully it turned into a healing visit. While still confronting, the burnt out home didn’t bring the same horror as the first visit. Wonderfully we discovered tomatoes and strawberries growing in our veggie patch! We brought them back to Mollymook to be the first plants in a new veggie garden. The rainforest gully had sadly been completely burnt out, but I cried with relief to see fern fronds emerging from black stumps. Due to the absence of vegetation we could actually explore the gully like we had never been able to before. And best of all, with the significant rain we had in February, the creek was running through the gully - it was clear, rocky and beautiful. The rest of the block had been burnt, but many trees were fluffy with newly sprouting shiny green leaves. So what’s next for us? People ask, will we go back? Will we rebuild? Will our house build be different? Answers: Yes. Yes. And yes. It’s one step at a time. We’re still in the queue for the clean-up with everyone else. But in the meantime we will probably get a shed up and we’ve been given an onsite cabin so we will work towards an interim but movable habitable space. We can’t afford financially or mentally to lose everything again. But we want to get back onto our land and it would be very handy to get some holiday rental income from the Molly house. When things are settled and the world is back to normal we will sell our investment property and commence the subdivision and house build. It’s definitely a marathon not a sprint. We think we will have the means and the energy to achieve it. Plenty of blog opportunities ahead! Right now we are living in the right now. We are missing the treechange but we are still living the seachange intent of our move from the city. Mollymook isn’t our first choice, but it’s still a lovely place to live - after school beach visits are easy and the boys are loving that. We are exceedingly fortunate to have this house – it was without a doubt the best decision we made last year. It is an adjustment to come from 72 acres and only one house in sight on the hill above us, to a goldfish bowl backyard with houses all around. Gradually the feeling of being on display is subsiding, feeling hemmed in is not. Fortunately it’s a quiet road so we’re not too disturbed by traffic. Gradually we are getting used to the streetlight across the road. We have an especially lovely neighbour and her youngest son is a regular and welcome visitor. The boys still go to their same school and in fact I drive them past school and out of town to catch the bus from their old bus stop as it’s on the way to work and is 20 minutes closer to the office. I have sadly gained an extra 40mins per day commute time. Some bush habits haven’t changed, in the shower I still start washing my feet in the cold water before it runs hot – preserving rain water will be a hard habit to lose. Being back on the power grid is a novelty, sometimes I put the dishwasher and the washing machine on at the same time, and at night! Few readers powered by the grid will have understood the significance of that sentence – night time appliance use - got it? OK never mind. It is recovery, but it’s fragile. We are up skilling on child psychology and parenting big time. I probably started writing this blog a month ago, when a new virus wasn’t worrying that many people. Right now everyone’s worrying and for our community it feels like a body blow. We’ve experienced disaster, we know the feeling of the world being upside down because nowhere feels safe. We’re exhausted, we need to connect, but that is being denied us. How will we all cope with this? Hopefully the same way we coped with the bushfires, with the help of friends, family, community. To those of you reading who helped us in this recovery, thank you. It means everything to us. In the midst of the fires I used to end conversations with, “Keep safe”. Now I say to you, “Keep healthy”.

#Shoalhaven #bushfires #south coast #disaster #recovery #community

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strawbebehmod · 7 years

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The Golden Demon Chapter 2

FMA AU Week Day 5 Theme O: Crossover AU!

A continuation of my blue exorcist/ fma au story I started during Royai week. Here’s the first chapter: https://strawbebehmod.tumblr.com/post/161654908254/the-golden-demon-chapter-1

Enjoy!

“I want answers!” Roy growled pointing back at the demon boy in the bed, “What is this?! Was this really what that caused the fire? Was this the demon that killed Father Hohenheim? Why on earth were you hiding this monster, and for how long?” A heavy tension hung in the air as the two exorcists glared each other down. “Edward is not a monster!” Izumi snarled gripping the broom in her hands, “Don’t you dare call him that again! He’s a human child and I will not let you-” “A human child?!” Roy snapped in response, “I’d say that tail and those fangs tell a very different story miss!” “He is a demon, plain and simple,” he continued, “And if he’s the kind of demon that I think he is, then he need to be exercised at once!” How this woman could even think of defending this thing was beyond him. He knew she knew exactly what this boy was. Even the most inexperienced exorcist would be able to tell. This child was the mark of the apocalypse. Every second he was left breathing brought them all closer to the end of days. If the Vatican knew this child existed, she would be put to death on the spot for simply not giving up her information on him let alone harboring him. So why? Why would she do this? Izumi’s eyes grew dangerous as she immediately stomped over to him and grabbed him by the front of his coat. “If you even THINK of hurting them, I will strike you down where you stand without hesitation!” she growled, inches from his face. “You would kill a fellow exorcist, a member of your own kind, just to save this demon that will bring about the end of the world?” He said raising an eyebrow, “Go ahead and try!” He then twisted out of her grip as she tried to punch him in the face. The two turned to face each other. Izumi pulled out a small piece of magic paper before biting her finger and smearing the blood on the magic circle printed on the parchment. Dropping it on the ground, a clay golem appeared in a puff of smoke standing in front of her. “If you take a step closer to those boys, I will have him break your neck,” she threatened, “Do you understand me?” “We’ll see about that,” Roy said with a smirk, “Riza?” He turned to his companion who was still standing at the foot of the bed. She did not move. She simply continued to stare down at the child lying unconscious in the hospital bed. Roy frowned. “Riza what are you doing? Help me out here!“he snapped. The phoenix turned her eyes towards him, but still did not move. "I’m sorry, Roy, but I don’t think this is the best course of action,” she said simply. Roy gave her a dumbfounded look. “What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you’re siding with this crazy witch!” he cried, “The whole world is going to burn if we don’t stop him!” “What did you call me?!” Izumi demanded. “I am not siding with her, but at the same time, I am not going to just let you kill this demon spawn without a second thought,” she explained, “Although I know how dangerous this child may be due to his possible bloodline, I think the best course of action before we do anything else is to interrogate Ms. Izumi here first.” “After all, she said, turning to the woman, "How long have you known this boy?” Izumi relaxed slightly. “For fifteen years,” she said, “As long as he’s been alive.” “And is it true that he is the spawn of Satan?” she asked. Izumi paused looking away from the fire bird. “Please answer the question ma'am,” Riza said, a bit forcefully. “Yes…yes he is,” she said with a defeated sigh. “And how long did you know this?’ Riza continued. Izumi once again hesitated. ”…For as long as he’s been alive,“ she repeated, glaring at the bird. "And you know what happened on the blue night? How satanic flames-” Riza began asking before being cut off. “Edward had nothing to do with that, he and his brother hadn’t even been born yet!” Izumi defended, “You can’t blame him for something he hadn’t even-” “I wasn’t accusing the child of anything,” Riza said firmly yet politely, “Now if you will allow me to continue…Do you understand how dangerous satanic flames are? How they can spread all over the world in a matter of minutes, and kill hundreds in less?” Izumi glared at her but nodded. “Yes,” she said tersely, “I know very well what they are capable of. I lost my closest friend just last night because of them if you care to remember.” “I understand that. And you are an exorcist, so you know the punishment for consorting with Satan in any way,” Riza finished, “Considering this information, then the question we should be asking is why? Why would she and Hohenheim be harboring the child of Satan if she knew what he was, what he was capable of, and the consequences of their actions from the moment he was born? And most likely they were not working with Satan as I doubt Satan would murder his "baby sitter” so to speak and let his child almost die in a burning building by his own flames if they were working for him.“ "It could have been the child’s own power,” Roy argued. “True, but then why did he almost kill himself with it then?” she said, “If it was his own power then he clearly has no means of controlling it. He wasn’t being raised knowing how to use it, which I’m pretty sure the lord of darkness would be very keen on having his child being raised to do.” “Let me guess…” Roy said, “You think this is the real reason we were sent here. That Mephisto already knew about this kid?” the phoenix nodded. Roy cursed under his breath and sighed. He was going to punch that green haired bastard next time he saw him. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face before turning to Ms. Curtis. “Well ma'am,” he said, “You still have a lot of explaining to do, but let’s find somewhere a bit more appropriate. I feel like this is going to be a long story and I don’t feel like standing for hours.” … The three found themselves in an empty office. It clearly didn’t belong to any doctor as there was only an empty desk and couple of chairs strewn about. A few papers also rested on the floor, but aside from that, the room had no real furnishings. Roy and Riza sat down in front of Izumi as she pulled her own chair out from behind the desk and took a seat. “Well,” Roy started, “I believe you know what we’re going to ask.” Izumi sighed. “I guess I’ll start from the beginning then,” she said, “Before I do, I have a few things to clarify: Edward is not a weapon. He is a child, not a tool for destruction and both Hohenheim and I would never allow him to become one. We were not planning a cult, starting a rebellion against the order, or were involved in any kind of Satanic practices. You may search my home for any evidence if you wish, but you will find none.” “And furthermore, I am not in fact, either of the boys’ real mother,” she clarified. Roy raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been accused of this before, haven’t you?” he said more than asked. She sighed a tired sigh as she nodded. “People talk. They questioned why I cared so much for these boys, and spread insane rumors that there was some kind of love affair between us. It didn’t help that they were blond like him,” she explained. “Then who was their mother?” Roy asked, “I promise we will not release this information to anyone, I only want the truth of the situation.” “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter,” Izumi said solemnly, “No more harm can come to her. She died from fatigue shortly after giving birth to Alphonse. Her name was Trisha Elric. She was a childhood friend of Hohenheim.” …. It was a warm summer day as the young boy sat out on his front porch studying his 4th grade chemistry book. He flipped through the pages carefully as he prepared for his upcoming exam. It was still a few days away but he loved the subject. “Van! Vaaaaan!” a voice called. Van Hohenheim looked up to see Trisha running towards him, a bright smile on her face. She ran up to him and began pulling on his arm. “Come on! I have something to show you,” she said, “It’s amazing! You’re going to love it!” Van stumbled as she pulled him to his feet and dropped his book. “Trisha, I’m a little busy at the moment…” he said, weakly protesting. Part of him wanted to see what she had discovered, but another part of him told him he needed to keep preparing for his test. “Come ooooon!"she said, "the test isn’t for a few days! And it will only take a minute. Please?” She gave him a pleading look as she smiled at him. The boy sighed. He didn’t want to disappoint her. “Alright….” he said. The girl cheered in delight before dragging him off towards the woods. They veered from the normal hiker’s trail into the thick foliage that towered over their heads. They crawled through the underbrush and climbed over fallen trees and boulders as they made their way deeper. “Are you sure you know where we are going?” he asked as he ducked under a branch and brushed fallen pine needles off his shoulder. The girl nodded and gave a thumbs up. “We’re almost there! I promise!” She said before dashing through some large ferns. the spores flew through the air and Van coughed as some were flung into his face. “Trisha wait!” He cried, running after her, moving aside the fern branches a lot more carefully than she did. A short distance away, he found her pushing aside a rock that had been in front of a large fallen tree, the trunk twice as wide as he was tall. When she had finally moved it aside, there was a crawl space where the wood had rotted away, making a tunnel just large enough for them to crawl through. “Come on!” She encouraged, “it’s right through here.” With that, she wriggled through the space to the other side. Van hesitated for a moment before following after her. He squeezed his way through the small tunnel, getting a few splinters in the process before reaching the other side. Once he did, he gasped at what he saw. There was a whole community strange, supernatural creatures before him. Tall, slim creatures with fox like bodies and the heads of deer, tiny, luminescent humanoid figures with dragonfly wings instead of arms, little blue bipedal creatures with cat’s eyes and long pointy ears sticking out from either side of their heads, and little greed humanoid creatures covered in moss and different flora. “The two both had temptaints from a young age. they lived near an old forrest where people had seen many strange things happen. Some child ending up with a bite from a chuchi was to be expected from time to time.” Hohenhiem watched as they all ran up to Trisha and greeted her with a chorus of happy noises. “t-trisha! What are you doing! Stay away from them!” He said, “Faes are dangerous…” Trisha pouted as she turned to him. “They are not! Not if you treat them with respect!"she said, "These guys are my friends. I’ve been coming to visit them for a while now. They wanted me to introduce you to them, and they had a very special song they wanted to share with you.” Hohenheim hesitated. Instinct told him to get away, but he trusted his friend. “Are you sure?” He asked. The girl nodded confidently. “Positive!"she said before turning to the fairies, "Alright! Go ahead and show him!” …. “He told me she had always had been friendly towards the supernatural creatures she encountered, even being able to communicate with a few. Hohenheim grew used to her having them around, but after he had almost fallen prey to a little demon that had attempted to destroy his local school and steal the souls of the children their, he had lost all trust in them,” she explained, “She however apparently held firm in her belief that not all demons were evil and the two had a small falling out. They lost contact for a while as he went onto be an exorcist.” “But then…something terrible had happened and she came looking for his help again. A few months before, Satan had apparently possessed a man she was in a relationship with at the time and taken advantage of her,” Izumi explained, “she had come to him for help on the matter…but not to exercise the demon within her, but to help her raise them in secret.” Roy looked baffled by this. “and he agreed to that?” he questioned incredulously. “Eventually yes, but not initially. He called her insane and threatened to turn her over to the vatican for her own safety and the safety of the world, even promising to plead her innocence as a merely a victim to convince her to be exercised. She refused, and kept trying to convince him to help her. It took a long time for her to convince him, along with the aid of a…third party,” she explained, “One that I myself do not know the full identity of. I’ve only heard his voice once in a phone call.” Roy nodded. “But how?” he asked, “How did she convince him not to report her?” “And why did she decide to keep Edward in the first place?” Riza asked. “I don’t know fully how she managed to convince him, but it probably had something to do with their past relationship,” she said, “Her reasoning was…That they deserved the chance. She believed that if Edward was right, he could live a normal human life and do good in the world. She never believed that demons were truly evil, just in need of something that they cannot have, and that Edward’s human half helps to balance that emotion.” “What about his brother?” Roy asked, “You mentioned an Alphonse…are they step brothers?” “They are fraternal twins, born a day apart,” Izumi explained, “But Edward is the only one with the powers of satan. Alphonse is completely human. We’ve run tests every year to be sure along with his normal check up.” Roy nodded but was still slightly skeptic. “Do you believe that too?” Riza asked, “That some demons are simply missing something?” The woman shrugged. “In a way,” she said, “Humans have been appeasing demons for thousands of years. Exorcising a demon doesn’t always mean killing it. It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case, although I don’t believe it applies to all by any means…” “Is that what made you agree to help?” Roy asked, “What their mother had said?” Izumi hesitated as she recalled the day she had found out. …. She had stared at the man across from her in disbelief, no, horror at what he had just disclosed to her. This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t have been the same man who had apprenticed her. The man standing before her, eyes red with tears looking towards her pleadingly as he held those…those…monsters couldn’t be Van Hohenheim. The two stood across from each other in the darkened church. It was a cold winter’s night. Frost clung to to the windows and a chill hung in the dead-silent air between them. He had called her here to tell her something important. That he had a task for her. She had thought it was a mission of some kind. She could never have imagined what it really was. “Izumi…” he pleaded, “Please, I’m begging you.” She backed away from him, shaking her head at him in disbelief. "Are you insane?!“ She cried, "You expect me to help you take care of those literal beasts?! How did you even come across them? Why did you take them in?! They should be dead!” One of them started to stir in his arms and gently started rocking it back to sleep. “Please can you not raise your voice?"he asked. She gaped at him incredulously before he cut her off. "Please, just listen to what I have to say,” he begged before he began explaining what happened. Who their mother was, how this happened to her, and so on. “Please, Izumi, their mother is dead,” he begged, “I can’t look after them alone. I need you to-” “No,” she growled, fists shaking, “I’m sorry but I won’t have anything to do with this.” The man fell silent as she looked up at him, eyes fill with fury and slightly watery. “You’re cruel, you know that?"she seethed, "I know I’m one of the few people you trust…but I also know you know exactly why I became an exorcist. I know because you were there. You saw how a fire demon attacked my home town. How I lost everything because of it! My home, my job, my family,” her voice cracked at those last words. Her voice choked up for a moment as she remembered the face of her husband newborn child. “I can’t even have any more children thanks to them…” she snarled, closing her eyes as she brought a had over where she remembered where the scar on her abdomen still was. "And you have the GAHL,“ she growled, voice getting louder as she spoke and clenching her fist, "to ask me to take care of these hell spawn?! What on earth is wrong with you? You’re almost as much of a monster as them!” One of them began to stir again. “Izumi, I’m not asking you to take care of them,” he said, “I just need someone I can trust to help me keep this a secret, you won’t even have to-” “I said NO!” She shouted. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH” Both infants began crying out at once. Izumi froze and Hohenheim began to panic as he carefully tried to rock them back to sleep to very little avail. Izumi stared at the infants in his arms. She she stood their as the familiar sound rang in her ears. The one with the brighter golden hair peaking out from the cap on his head…somehow, his cry sounded exactly like her own child’s had. It had been five long years…but still. She never forgot that sound. Of his gurgling. Of his squeaking to get her attention. And now, those memories of it were flooding back to her. Subconsciously she moved towards Van until she was only half a foot away. “Give him here,” she said in a solemn tone, her face stoic, “You aren’t going to be able to sooth both of them at once.” He paused before offering Edward to her. She started reaching out to him, but hesitated. Finally after a moment she accepted the screaming child. Once she had, she again felt memories come flooding back: of holding her own child for the first time, of soothing him. even though he looked different, with his golden hair and eyes, the way he felt in his arms was about the same, and his face was still squishy and red like her child had been, and his nose was the same shape too. She couldn’t help but find herself smiling as she slowly soothed the squirming child. He slowly calmed down, his eyes slightly crossed as he tried to look at her with his large, round eyes. For a moment, she forgot that he was any bit demon at all. “Do you know when their powers will begin to emerge?” she asked. “Edward’s powers have been sealed away,” he explained, “An old friend helped me seal them inside a sword. And Alphonse has no powers. For now, they are essentially human.” She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “And you couldn’t have bothered to explain this sooner?” she questioned before rolling her eyes, “Alright…I’ll help when I can…But I’m not going to be replacing their mother, do you understand?” Hohenheim smiled. “Thank you,” he said, a look of relief on his face, “I owe you my life.” …. “…no,” she said, “I came to care for them over time. I watched them grow up. I saw them grow into kind, smart, and wonderful boys. They aren’t a threat to anyone, and certainly not the Vatican. All they want to do is live normal human lives, so you have no reason to do anything to them.” She placed her hands on the table and glared down at them. Roy raised an eyebrow. “Really,” he said, “No issues at all? They were just perfect children all the time?” She growled at him. “No…but nothing no normal child has to deal with!” she said, “Edward has a few temper issues and likes to snap back at people but nothing out of the ordinary! They are both smart boys who are kind, compassionate, and respectful to girls. They don’t do drugs, they aren’t in any gangs, they didn’t even know of their demon ancestry!” Roy looked confused. “They didn’t know?” he repeated, “how was that possible? The boy has a tail for pete’s sake.” “Edward’s demon half was sealed inside a sword until last night when his father came to take him back, and neither of them had a temptaint until that point,” she explained, “Until yesterday they thought they were normal humans, and they didn’t want anything to do with their father. I know because I was there protecting them! Hoheheim sacrificed his life to protect them! Edward even tried to fight Satan. I’m telling you they are not something for you to worry about! They just want to live normal human lives!” “But they aren’t!” Roy said, “Edward is a demon now, with powers he was just granted that he doesn’t know how to control. On top of that, you said there are demons looking for them that you had to protect them from! Satan himself in fact! They can’t have normal lives anymore, whether they like it or not. And this doesn’t just affect them, it affects anyone and everyone around them. I’m sorry but this isn’t something that we can ignore.” Izumi growled. “You heartless-” she started reaching to grab him when suddenly, Riza stepped in, sticking a hand between them. “But,” she said, “This does not mean that either of the boys need to die.” Both Roy and Izumi looked surprised. “Their situation is a complicated one, and unfortunately no, they will never be able to have normal lives again,” Riza said, “but that does not mean we are just going to terminate them on the spot or do anything else so rash. My partner and I still have to discuss how to deal with this situation. During that time I promise no information about them will be sent to anyone.” She then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. “We ask that you wait here for now while we do just that,” she said as she pulled him out of the room. Izumi tried to say something but was cut off as the woman slammed the door, dragging him into the hall. “Riza, what the hell are you doing?” he said, “What’s this about not terminating them? Do you realize what’s at stake if we don’t?” “Do you want to kill them?” she asked him. Roy fell silent as he was taken aback by this, his face blank. “What did you say?” he asked. “Do you want to kill them? Do you personally believe these children deserve to be dead?” she asked him, “Be honest, Roy.” “What I….” he started before glaring down at the ground in frustration, “Alright…no. I don’t want to have to kill these boys.” He looked back up at her at that. “But the fact of the matter is, they have to die.” “Do they?” Riza questioned. Roy stopped. “Well, yes!” he said, “They’re a threat to mankind! They are literally the sons of Satan. At the very least they’ll have high class demons coming at them right and left, endangering everyone else in the process.” “There are plenty of barrier spells that can keep out even the strongest demon, and you haven’t even met them yet,” she said, “You have no idea what they are really like. All they may need is monitoring for their own protection.” “Riza, their father is Satan,” he emphasized, “I think I know what they could end up like, particularly when that boy’s demon side has been released.” “is that so…” she said, turning and leaning against the wall, “because If I remember this boy also has a human side and the other is practically human. And humans have a pretty good record for defying expectations. There are plenty of children around the world who have demon ancestry, and many of them have not turned into monsters. In fact, a lot of them seem to end up as exorcists.” She then smiled and glanced at him. “Besides,” she said, “I thought all humans were selfish, immortality seeking fools absorbed in their own greed. I’m more than happy you were an exception to that…” Roy blinked before turning his back to the wall as well and looking up. “I can’t argue with that,” he sighed, “We could be killed for this…but I suppose our current situation already puts us in that position…” “We’d need to have them constantly monitored, however,” he pointed out. “They are of high school age,” she pointed out, “they can study at the school and we can observe them from there. We already have a team we can trust, and I’m sure Izumi would be willing to help.” Roy nodded before smirking. “And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help him learn to control his powers,” he asked. “Do you know any other supernatural creature that can control fire?” she responded. “None as good as you,” Roy responded with a smirk, before frowning, “Although, how we’ll get them into the school is beyond me. It’s only a few days until enrollment and tuition is expensive…” He groaned. “We’re going to have to make a deal with that palm tree bastard aren’t we?” he said more than asked. “Something tells me he’s expecting us to,” she said. “God dammit…” he hissed, “I haven’t even met these boys and I’m already selling my soul for them…” He gave a dry laugh before his phone started ringing. “Speak of the devil…” he muttered as he checked who the caller was. “Yes Mephisto, what is it?” he said answering it. “Is that anyway to talk to your boss?” the demon sneered, “You really should show more respect to me when I call you.” “I’ll keep that in mind…” he said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, I was just wondering how the investigation has been going,” he asked, “If you had found anything interesting yet.” “Nothing yet,” Roy lied. “Oh really,” Mephisto said, “Nothing at all? Especially nothing about the two boys Hohenheim had around?” Roy paused for a moment rubbing his thumb over his fist. “So he did know,” Riza said. Roy sighed and nodded. “What do you want with them?” he asked.

#blue exorcist #fmaauweek2017 #fullmetal alchemist #izumi curtis #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai #strawbebeha ice

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