#i’m like right on the border of deep south land and Rich People land that the accent is just weird

[zomblorbs]

i often forget that southern dialogue in terms of grammar is very loose and wobbly and then i go into twitch chats and the streamer has a hard time reading what i wrote bcuz the grammar just makes so sense.

it’s so hard trying to write a coherent message super quickly when american southern drawl mushes words together without a second thought.

i’m so extremely sorry 😭

#one of my closest friends is from New Orleans and it’s very funny to see two different types of southern #his accent is what you’d expect from a deep south american and mine is more coherent but the sentences make no sense #i try very hard online to post stuff that’s understandable but it’s a battle lmao #i have to edit a post 10 times just for it to make sense #me and Google Doc Spelling & Grammar check DO NOT get along #i’m like right on the border of deep south land and Rich People land that the accent is just weird #my uk friend says i sound southern while my deep southern friends say i sound like someone from cali lol #and technically NEITHER are true #southwesterner problems i suppose

[cherryrogers]

when dusk falls {1}

WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | royal au

warnings: mentions of war, death, rape + forced marriage. pure angst tbh.

summary: One fateful afternoon, your blissful life as the beloved princess of Taria comes to a sudden halt.

a/n: ok so i am very excited for this fic. more excited than i’ve ever been to write a fic ever, i really hope you guys like it !! it’ll likely be a slow burn, and i’m gonna try so hard to do weekly updates (unheard of from me i know !!) anyway please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!

series masterlist

The Kingdom of Taria was said to be the most beautiful place on the planet. A verdant location, rich with greenery from north to south. Known as the planet’s garden, visitors would travel for days overseas simply to inhale the fresh scent of the crisp air upon arriving within Taria’s borders. The civilians were lovely, always smiling and willing to offer tours of the gardens and markets. And the monarchs — the most loved the world had ever seen. They lived in a fabulous palace in the centre of the green land, one of the oldest buildings to exist in Taria. The palace front garden was free for anyone to roam, a place where the King and Queen could be seen waving from their balcony, broad smiles covering their lips.

And the Princess; she was the kingdom’s gem.

Adored by the people of Taria and those of allied kingdoms, you made it your mission to be less of a princess to your people, and more of a friend. You played with the children in the palace garden on sunny afternoons, went to tea with the women who sold baked goods at the markets, helped their sons with schoolwork when you had time to spare — there wasn’t a single name you could put to a face. You felt so free, so lucky to be engaged with the people that made Taria as wonderful as it was. You didn’t even need personal guards, not when there wasn’t a soul in the kingdom that wanted to hurt a hair on your head.

The life you were so grateful to live, that you cherished so close to your heart — it was terrifying how easily it was stripped from you. How easily Hydra ripped you away from the golden dream that it was.

You’d been hiding in your library, laid out on a plush beige couch, the skirt of your royal blue dress spilling over the edge, flipping through the pages of a thick, hardback mystery novel. It’d been gifted to you by Sharon, your lady-in-waiting and best friend before that. She’d left you alone in the library momentarily while running to bring you both a steaming cup of chamomile tea; an essential when reading, she’d insisted. If you weren’t so caught up in your book, perhaps you would’ve noticed Sharon had been gone for nearly ten minutes. It was only when the sound of commotion erupted from behind the large doors of the library that your eyes finally flickered up, and when they did, your friend was suddenly bursting through the doors, a frightened expression on her face.

“Sharon, what’s wrong?” You’d slipped your bookmark between the pages of your novel before placing it at your feet.

The blonde rushed towards you, taking your hand and tugging you up from the couch. “We must go.”

Your face contorted in confusion, but Sharon didn’t care to explain as she snatched you away from the centre of the grand room, making a beeline to the back door of the room that led into your personal garden. Her hand was tight like a vice around your wrist, pressing your bracelets uncomfortably into your skin.

“What was with the yelling outside?” You questioned breathlessly, struggling to keep up with her pace as she pushed open the glass garden doors. “And why— my gosh, why are we running?”

Winding through the plethora of brilliantly coloured roses and tulips, you shrieked as you closely avoided tripping over your own feet, bare and aching from the gravel of the pavement between the square plots of flowers sticking to your soles. Everything was happening so fast, even the colours of the garden were blending together as you tried to figure out what could’ve been going on.

Sharon’s hand fleetingly let go of your wrist as you steadied yourself, and before she could clasp it back in her grip, you ripped it out of her reach.

She narrowed her eyes. “_____, we don’t have time—”

“Tell me what’s going on.” You folded your arms over your chest, the waver in your voice telling Sharon that you needed to know then and there, your nerves beginning to build more with each passing second.

The woman was about to object, but since you weren’t aware of the gravity of the situation, she decided telling you may have been a better option — whatever got you away from the palace the as soon as possible. Sighing quickly, she held your upper arms in urgency. “It’s Hydra, they’re here. Here for you.”

In that moment, you swore your heart had never dropped so low in your stomach. “For me? What— What do they want with me?”

“I don’t know; as soon as I heard your name, I ran to find you. They’re searching the palace for you right now, _____, we need to get to the stables and leave before they find you.”

She took your hand in hers, ready to make a run for it, but you didn’t budge. Mouth hung open in shock, you were paralysed on the spot.

The Kingdom of Hydra was a dark place. Plagued with freezing temperatures and harsh blizzards, the majority kept far away from it. The effects of a long dictatorship had set in over the decades, making it the complete opposite of Taria. King Alexander called all the shots, passed laws that benefited him, denied laws that benefited the public. Crime was at an all time high; women raped every day, markets trashed and robbed, murders around every corner — the King didn’t bat an eye. Nobody did. The only reason people stayed was because they had to. It was against the law to migrate unless the circumstances were exceptional, but realistically they’d never be severe enough for the King to lose tax money over.

Attempts at rebellions had spiked over the years, usually only consisting of not even one hundred civilians wanting to fight the system. The King’s father, who occupied the throne before him, was killed by a rebel when the castle was attacked by hundreds of men wielding pitchforks. Once Alexander became king, he threatened that any civilian who dared to rebel against the monarchy would be sentenced to death without question. While there were still quieter rebel forces waiting for their moment to strike, most were ultimately too fearful to take physical action, and they were right in feeling so.

Hydra was a brutal place; living there was a life sentence that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. But it seemed like soon, you’d be serving that miserable time yourself.

Only when you felt a warm hand press to your cheek did you snap out of your fear, glossy eyes meeting the deep brown ones of your friend. “You’ll be okay. I’m going to get you to safety, but I can only do that if we leave now.”

Forcing your fear down with a painful gulp, you nodded hurriedly. The blonde’s lips curled slightly in reassurance, before she took your hand eagerly and headed straight for the tall, cream garden gate leading out to the stables.

She quickly explained the route you’d take; travel west through the Goldwater village, borrow a rowboat from the docks, and sail over the Emerald Sea to the Swari Island; a small but resourceful community not ruled over by a monarchy, but had offered hospitality to the royals of Taria if they ever needed it. They’d know who you were when you arrived there, and because it was such an independent island, Hydra likely didn’t even know it existed. If they did, they probably would’ve attacked and taken over the place a long time ago.

The plan sounded hopeful, and your nerves had actually began to simmer once you were close enough to the gate for Sharon to shift the heavy metal lock. But when a worried voice called out from behind you, her movement was paused, the lock only being half pulled.

Steven — your father’s valet — stood tall in the doorway to the library, golden locks and beard seeming even lighter with the sun beaming down onto him. But the look on his face was anything but light; thick brows pinched and lips curled into a frown, he waved for the two of you to return.

“There are soldiers behind that gate,” He called. “You can’t reach the stables.”

You turned to Sharon with a fearful expression; she kept a tight hold on your hand, letting go of the gate to respond to Steve. She remained calm, but at the foiling of her plan, her demeanour had visibly changed. “Then what are we to do? I won’t let Hydra take her, Steve.”

His face fell even further, a hand coming to clutch at the sword on his hip as he jogged towards the two of you. Blue eyes set on you, he spoke with sorrow. “I’m afraid that they’re not going to leave without you, Princess.”

Your friend scoffed, shooting the valet a glare. “And why is that?”

Steve didn’t reply, an apologetic glint in his eyes as they stayed on you. You held his eye contact, shaking your head in disbelief. What did he mean they weren’t leaving without you? It wasn’t like Steve to give up so easily, especially when it came to your safety. He had a duty to your father, to ensure your protection before his at all costs. But Hydra didn’t care for duties and loyalty — they didn’t care for compromise. What they wanted, they got. And they wanted you.

“Steven, what do they want with _____?” Sharon asked again, this time more aggressive with her tone, but her hard exterior was beginning to crumble.

Like you, she knew Steve to be confident, determined. He’d been like that even at the age of thirteen when she’d befriended him — the scrawny blond boy that didn’t have the patience to read books or plant seeds in the back garden like the other kids she neighboured with, instead always running around on the dirt roads using long, pointy sticks as swords to battle with an imaginary opponent.

Originally from the war-torn Kingdom of Lidor, she migrated with her aunt after her parents were caught in the centre of a Hydra attack on their village. Sharon was staying at her Aunt Peggy’s for the weekend when it happened, and as soon as it did, Peggy wasn’t risking her young niece being killed along with her brother and sister-in-law if they dared attack again, which was likely inevitable.

That was the scary thing about Hydra; they had the absolute power to ruin everything in their wake.

Sharon met you when she was sixteen; she was wandering the beautiful palace garden with her aunt when you’d approached the two of them, introducing yourself with a kind smile. It was the first time they’d been near the palace, their new village being in a more remote area of Taria, and preferring to keep to themselves while recovering from the tragedy back home. You ended up clicking with her straight away, easily being drawn to her fiery attitude and quick wit. As you got closer, you became her shoulder to cry on when she’d opened up about her parents and her life during the war at home, learning that Lidor was fighting on their own against the powerful forces of Hydra, and had been three years — Hydra had a certain way of keeping their harmful affairs quiet.

Later that week, you informed your father of her kingdom’s situation, and after a discussion with Taria’s knights and the leaders of your allies, cavalries upon cavalries shipped out to Lidor to rid the place of Hydra’s men. The war came to an end months later, and you’ll never forget the relief and joy on Sharon’s face once you’d let her know that her home could soon begin to recover.

She’d also spoken of needing a job, and after a short conversation with your parents, they approved of her being able to fill the spot of your lady-in-waiting. Sharon was hesitant to take the role, as it meant leaving her old aunt to live alone in their home miles away from the palace, but you assured her she could visit Peggy whenever she wanted, and that the role wasn’t so much a servant job — more like a professional best friend.

Steve, then eighteen, was introduced to you when you ventured out to meet Sharon’s aunt at her home. Unlike him in his childhood, he’d grown incredibly tall and broad, large biceps and muscular thighs easily filling out his clothing. Purely kindness and charisma, Steve seemed like a man your father would’ve adored. One day, you brought the two of them down to the palace for dinner in the evening. Steve was obviously out of his comfort zone; he’d never once imagined he’d ever come to be around so many royals. Like you’d guessed, he had your father clutching his stomach with laughter, and he’d deeply admired the blond’s courageous spirit when he’d expressed his desire for a job where he could protect people who needed it.

At the end of the night, the King pulled him aside and told him that if he was interested in being his valet, the job was unmistakably his. Of course, Steve accepted it without question. You’d always remember the first time he held a real sword; it was like witnessing a child during a sugar rush.

Since that day, both Sharon and Steven had never been too far away, always around to keep you company. It was a good change to have good friends living in such close proximity. Your life had never been better, safer.

And now, in their presence, you’d never felt more afraid.

Before Sharon could force an answer out of the valet, a raspy, smug voice sounding from where Steve had been stood only moments ago in the library doorway caught the attention of the three of you.

Tilting your head to look past Steve, your jaw tightened at the sight of a dark-haired man, dressed in dark clothes and scruffy boots — a clear juxtaposition among the vibrant garden. Upon his lips, a too-satisfied smirk, and on the left metal shoulder piece shielding his thin tunic, the image of a skull with tentacles coming from the mouth clear as day — the symbol of Hydra.

“I must say, Princess, you have a wonderful palace here.” He patronised, stepping into the garden gesturing to the enormous building behind him.

It was then you noticed the four soldiers that’d followed him out, expressions completely vacant, staring straight ahead as if they hadn’t just infiltrated the royal palace. Their uniform was similar to brocks, except the skull symbol was replaced by a large red star.

Steve pushed you behind him protectively; your grip remained tight on your friend’s hand. “You have no business coming to Taria without speaking the King first. This wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Agreement? Hydra had no business in Taria at all; none that you knew of, anyway.

The man shrugged carelessly. “The King wants the Princess in Hydra now; circumstances have changed.”

“Circumstances have changed how?” Steve challenged, glowering at him.

Frustration bubbled in your chest. You didn’t understand what Hydra wanted with you, and you definitely weren’t aware that there was an agreement between Taria and Hydra. Your kingdom vowed a long time ago never to make deals with the devil, the devil being a kingdom ruined by dictatorship and power-hungry men.

Sharon uttered your name cautiously as you removed your hand from hers, stepping forward to lower Steve’s raised arm, no longer shielded from the man who’d seemingly been sent to collect you.

“Tell me what’s going on,” You spoke up confidently, shoving down the anxiety threatening to appear in your voice. “What agreement do you speak of?”

The man’s sick smile widened upon hearing your voice. Looking over his shoulder, he gave a nod to one of the docile soldiers who left his side on his signal, before turning back to you. “I could tell you, Princess — but I think it’s better that you hear it from the King and Queen.”

Your eyes widened; behind the man, you watched as four soldiers escorted your parents into the garden. They appeared tired, as if they’d put up a fight. Wouldn’t any loving parent to keep their child safe? Of course, Hydra had likely brought enough infantry to keep control of the situation. Your knights were strong, but scarce compared to the large army Hydra had built over the years.

“Go on,” The man coaxed, stepping off to the side so that you were eyeing your parents directly. “Ask them.”

Biting your lower lip, you pushed back the confused and angry tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Father, Mother — what’s going on?”

A stray tear trickled down your mother’s face, her eyes never leaving the ground. She was petrified. Exhaling deeply, your father took her hand gently, before shooting you an apologetic look. “This was never meant to happen, _____. I was going to renegotiate the agreement…”

His pleads to show himself in a better light fell flat, futile — everyone knew that you were leaving with Hydra one way or another. You brought your brows together, silently asking him to just tell you the truth. Another heavy sigh, and he came clean.

“One day, when your mother was pregnant with you, her and I rented a sailboat from the east docks. We used to sail along the Heartlen Ocean all the time when we were young; she was due to give birth in two weeks, and since she’d be palace-bound upon your birth, I decided that one more sail before the big day wouldn’t hurt.”

Typically, most who chose to go sailing took boats from the west docks to travel the Emerald Sea. They were easier to access, less remote than the east docks hidden by the thick woodland separating them from Taria’s centre. But if you recalled correctly, that’s why your parents were so fond of the Heartlen Ocean — it was quiet, the whole ocean was theirs to sail freely.

“We’d been out for an hour or two, ignoring our compass and the sky growing dark. We had no idea how far out from Taria we were. Your mother suggested that we head back, but… but before we could, she went into—”

“Can we speed this up, Your Highness?” The insufferable man snarked, earning himself a piercing glare from your father, but he obeyed nonetheless.

His eyes landed back on yours, filling with regret once more. “She went into labour on the boat. We were so far out that going back to Taria wasn’t an option. So, we sailed to the nearest land we could find, which turned out to be Hydra. We had no choice but to ask for their help, and— and they gave it to us, but with a cost. The King, he refused to help your mother unless we made a deal, that deal being that if she gave birth to a baby girl… she was to marry his newborn son once he‘d turned twenty-one.”

You could have fainted on the spot. Steve offered his arm to you, which you took quickly, holding on as if the ground was turning to quicksand. If that meant the ground would’ve swallowed you up and been your escape from the nightmare-come-true that was happening before you, you wished the ground were quicksand.

Tears yet again glazing your eyes, you shook your head. “I— I don’t know what to say.”

Meekly, your mother lifted her head, broken eyes meeting yours almost painfully. “We had no choice, my dear.”

I know. You wanted to say it, but the words refused to leave the tip of your tongue. A sob stuck uncomfortably in your throat, but you couldn’t cry. You couldn’t let your guard down; not in front of Hydra.

Not in front of the people who held your mother’s life in their greedy hands, only agreeing to save it if they could benefit from doing so. You refused to show them an ounce of your vulnerability.

Still wearing that ugly grin, the man who seemed to be leading the Hydra soldiers brought himself back between you and your parents, and you couldn’t help but glower at him. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order. Princess, you’re getting married.”

“You’re sick.” Steve spat, but the man just snickered.

“Soldiers, prepare the carriage for our departure,” He called over his shoulder, and the expressionless soldiers obeyed, marching past you to unlock the garden gate, revealing another dozen soldiers right outside. “Oh, how rude of me, I haven’t even introduced myself.”

He reached for your hand, but Steve was quick to bat it away, drawing his sword from his hip with a stern stare. But by doing so, the soldiers stood at the gate followed suit, ready to lunge at the valet if his sword moved any closer to their leader. With great reluctance, your friend put his weapon away, and the man reached for your hand yet again.

His hands were rough, and you couldn’t hide your grimace at the dirt he’d failed to wash from them. Moving agonisingly slow, he brought your silk-soft hand to his lips. “I’m Brock; we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other once you settle in Hydra.”

You could’ve thrown up, right then and there. He was enjoying it, seeing you and your family miserable. Once the public heard of the sudden news, they’d be terrified. If the King of Hydra could so easily take their Princess away from Taria, what was stopping them from trying to take Taria for themselves completely?

Brock chuckled as you tugged your hand from his grasp. “I hope you’re a little friendlier to your husband-to-be; I know that Prince Isaac is very eager to meet you.”

Husband. It was still almost impossible to process. A deal to save your mother’s life — and your own — made twenty years prior meant that your freedom was to be completely stripped from you. It didn’t matter how they’d treat you in Hydra; they’d be taking you against your will, forcing you to marry a man you’d never met, and if he was anything like his father, you would’ve rather been as far away from him as possible.

Of course, you could’ve refused to leave. But when you were surrounded by soldiers, ready to comply to any instruction Brock gave them, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of doing so.

You’d like to have thought Taria had moved on from such traditional norms of a kingdom ruled over by a monarchy. Money was provided to civilians that needed it — not only to survive — but to live a stable life, the richer inhabitants of the Kingdom were taxed more and didn’t complain; everyone had a chance of a good life in Taria. Your family certainly made sure of that, and not many other kingdoms had come to follow in your footsteps of upholding a fairer society.

However, the rules concerning the marriage of the King and Queen’s children had been the same since a monarch first took to the throne in Taria, and everywhere else too. And you didn’t mind that; you trusted that your parents wouldn’t force you into marriage with a man you were certain about. They’d definitely never have you marry Prince Isaac of Hydra if they had a say in the matter. But the deal was made a long time ago, and Hydra had a knack for never forgetting what they’re owed. It’d be illegal for you parents to go back on the agreement, and again, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of that happening.

“The carriage is ready, Commander.” A soldier announced from behind you, voice as monotonous as you’d imagined it to sound. His words still sent a shiver down your spine.

“I— I need to collect my things.” You stated to Brock, who waved you off.

“There’s no need; everything you could possibly need will be given to you at the castle, Princess.”

So you weren’t even allowed to bring your own clothes, or books, or anything to remind you that you’d never truly belong to Hydra. Of course they’d want to strip you of your identity; they wanted you on strings, dancing around for them as if you were a puppet. In their clothes, reading their books between the walls of their castle, perhaps it’d be enough to transform you into one.

You sighed, clenching at the skirt of your dress in annoyance. “May I at least say goodbye to my family?”

Brock seemed sceptical, but figured that perhaps you’d let down your front a little if he granted you what you’d asked. “You have two minutes, then we must leave immediately.”

As soon as he stepped out of your way to begin gathering his soldiers, you made a beeline to your parents, ignoring the gravelly pavement against your sore feet. Pulling the two of them into a loving hug, you didn’t care to suppress your tears that time.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Your father mumbled in your ear, his tone dripping with regret. “The palace guards tried to stop them from entering, but there were just too many soldiers. And the knights weren’t aware—”

You pulled away, offering him a forgiving smile. “It’s not your fault, Father. Neither of you are to blame.”

Tearful eyes landed on your mother next, who could barely lift her gaze from the ground. “Mother, please listen to me.”

She glanced up as you addressed her directly, her frown deepening. “If you hadn’t accepted the deal, neither of us would’ve lived to see how beautiful Taria has become over the past twenty years. Living this life and having it taken away from me… it’s better than never having lived it at all, I swear.”

“The arrival of this day has plagued my nightmares ever since you were born,” The woman choked out a sob, immediately taking your hands in her trembling ones. “Don’t let Hydra take away the good in your heart, my dearest. And— And don’t lose hope.”

You gave her a nod of assurance, before stepping back from the two of them, afraid that you’d turn into a sobbing mess if you spoke to them any longer. “Thank you, for everything.”

As the two leaned into each other, your parents plastered on smiles of appreciation, of love, and you made sure to keep that image fresh in your mind forever. If that were the last you were to see of them, then you refused to let the memory get away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but chuckle sadly at your friends, watching you with such fallen expressions; they’d never appeared so down. Around each other, the three of you never shared a dull moment. If you were to leave Taria to marry in the future, it was meant to be far less melancholic. Unfortunately, not everything can work out in everyone’s favour; destiny seemed to really not want to work out in yours.

Approaching Steve first, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, a sense of temporary relief filling you as his big arms enveloped your waist. He was a brother to you; it felt like you’d known him your whole life rather than a mere few years. He held you tight, almost afraid that you’d disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip in the slightest.

“I wanted to tell you...” He muttered softly in your ear. As the King’s valet and his most trusted confidant, Steve was told of the matter only a year prior. The King knew that Hydra would come knocking soon enough, and he believed that Steve deserved to know the truth, him being so close to his daughter and all.

“You couldn’t,” You responded, voice muffled by his shoulder. “I understand that.”

“Taria wouldn’t be the place it is without you; I guess I just thought that… nobody could ever take you away from here, no matter how hard they tried.”

Stepping back, you moved your hands to his shoulders, giving them an assuring squeeze. “Hydra will never be a home to me, Steven. Nobody could ever truly take me from here.”

His lips curled at that, though it didn’t seem to raise his spirits; it’d be impossible to. The worst case scenario had become a reality — Taria’s Princess in the clutches of Hydra.

Leaning forwards, you pressed a short kiss to his cheek, a token of your gratitude for the valet and one of your best friends. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”

“And you, _____.”

You grinned; it wasn’t often that he addressed you by your first name. He’d become so accustomed to calling you by your title around the palace that it slipped his tongue naturally, despite your pleas to address you as his friend, not his princess.

The moment your eyes fell to Sharon, she pulled you straight into her arms, almost knocking the wind out of you. She’d never been much of a hugger; even on her birthday each year she’d cringe when you and Steve would attack her with hugs and affection. But with the possibility playing on her mind that she may never get to be in her best friend’s presence again, she was happy to keep you as close as possible during the little time you had left there.

“Sharon—”

“There has to be a way to stop this,” The blonde shook her head against your shoulder. “It’s not— this can't be legal.”

A sigh left your lips as you pulled back, trailing your hands to her upper arms. “Somehow, it’s perfectly legal. Even if there was a way to prevent me from leaving, I doubt that the outcome would be any better than this.”

If marrying the heir to Hydra’s throne meant that the rest of Taria was left untouched, you’d leave your Kingdom without a second thought. Their King was not a man of reason; broken deals were always followed with brutal consequences.

Sharon knew that; Lidor happened to be on the receiving end of those consequences when the war broke out on her homeland. The Kingdom was meant to surrender themselves to Hydra’s rule when the previous king was in charge. But when he died and his son took to the throne in turn, he refused to let Lidor fall under such an appallingly cruel government. And following that refusal, Lidor was practically demolished.

If it weren’t for the help they received from Taria and their allies, the place would no longer have been inhabitable. It’d been rebuilding itself slowly over the past few years, and Sharon would’ve hated to see the same tragic thing happen to Taria.

But then again, look at what the cost was. You, trapped in the walls of Hydra’s Castle that’d seen more affliction and agony than your parents had ever even heard of — she couldn’t just let it happen. She was going to fight for you, as your lady-in-waiting and best friend.

Wiping at her eyes furiously, Sharon shook her head again, simply refusing to let you go so easily. “This isn’t goodbye, _____.”

“Sharon—”

“You’re always the one telling me to look on the bright side, to never stop looking for light at the end of the tunnel,” She spoke sincerely. “The war on Lidor had torn me up for years; without you, I have no idea where I’d be, but I certainly wouldn’t be happy. Now it’s my turn to get you through this.”

You furrowed your brows, uncertain of what she’d meant, but then she uttered something lowly, not wanting anyone else to listen in.

“I know someone in Hydra — they work for King Alexander personally. If I write to you, they’ll get the letters to you.”

Scoffing breathlessly, you narrowed your eyes at her. “Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into? And who do you know in—”

“Hydra is awaiting your arrival, Princess.” Brock’s teasing tone sounded next to the garden gate, and you assumed that meant your two minutes was up.

It was really happening. You were really being stolen away to Hydra, like a mere object.

Sharon took your face in her hands for just a moment, savouring her last few seconds with you before the smug idiot behind her snatched you away. “I love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you all too.” You shot her half a smile, glancing up at Steve, who was already looking back at you, and taking a look over your shoulder to eye your parents once more.

Sure, Taria was aesthetically gorgeous, but it was the wonderful people who occupied it that made it a profoundly beautiful place.

The longing expression on your face soon faded when your eyes diverted to Brock, and announced that you were ready to leave. He offered you his arm; you ignored the gesture.

His cavalry were set to depart, already mounted on their dark-haired horses, shining manes blowing gently in the slight breeze. The carriage was rather small, only made to escort two people at a time, and the thought alone of being stuck so close to Brock for as long as it took to simply arrive at east docks made your stomach turn.

Sharon and Steve followed you out next to the stables, watching as the carriage pulled away with their beloved friend inside of it.

Steve naively waited for the nightmare to end, to wake up in his chambers and know that you were sleeping safely in yours. Sharon’s jaw was tight, already contemplating ways to guide you back to where you rightfully belonged.

The taller of the two finally tore his eyes from the carriage, now long gone down the dirt road heading east. He pressed his lips into a thin line, already sensing the frustration boiling in his friend’s blood. “Sharon—”

“You knew,” She intervened bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest as her narrowed eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “You knew that Hydra would come for her and you didn’t even tell me — didn’t even tell her.”

The blond’s lips parted to respond, yet we knew that there were no words he could possibly come up with to make the situation any lighter. “I know you’re hurting, so am I—”

“We’re not the ones being forced to start a new life in Hydra, Steve. _____’s the one that’s hurting. I just... I just think that she deserved to know.”

With that, the woman turned back abruptly, making a swift exit back through the garden gate. The valet remained in his place, a hand absentmindedly going to rest on the hilt of his sword as he observed the carriage morphing into a black dot on the horizon.

And for the first time in his life, overlooking the green land and breathing in the fresh air of the Kingdom he’d come to call home, he felt that Taria didn’t seem so beautiful.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes au #royal au

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 1

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Summary:  Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the best beta I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. 

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Chapter 1.

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How many loved

Your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty

With love false or true;

But one man loved

The pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows

Of your changing face.

(W. B. Yeats)

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Ten years later.

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It was a warm late evening. Killian was at home dedicating his time to his most precious love: his spaceship. 

He had traveled the multiverse for ten long years. He and his friend Robin had left New Tolemac a couple of days after Killian's encounter with the Princess on the shore. They had spent four years away with one thrilling adventure after another, with no worries on their minds, and it had been liberating. 

One day they had landed on Althea-Seals, a quiet planet, always dry and warm with no differences between seasons. Neither seas nor woods, but never-ending yellow sand and rocks all over the surface. 

It wasn't a place full of opportunities to become rich and famous, but they weren’t looking for that. It was a planet inhabited by a mix of people from the four corners of the universe. And most of them went about their own business, accepting anyone who wanted to enter without asking too many questions.

Althea-Seals was big enough to hold a couple of large cities and some small villages around them. Places were called using numbers, starting with the two biggest cities named I and II. They had decided to stay in a village called VI, mostly a bunch of houses dug in the light yellow rock of the hill that dominated the south-west of II.

Robin had opened a tavern and had started to settle down. He had met a beautiful girl, Marian, and soon fallen head over heels in love with her. Luckily the feeling was mutual. 

Killian had become a supplier, flying back and forth from Althea-Seals, transporting goods in his ship to other planets, or procuring exotic items for his clients. His need to explore every possible universe had never abandoned him. 

But he had always come back: He had come back for his friends’ wedding, he had come back when their son Roland had been born, he had come back when Robin's wife had died after a severe illness... and that was when he had finally decided to stay more present in his mate's life, to help the other raising the little kid. 

So his trips had become less frequent, and when he had to go, he had tried to stay away no more than a couple of months at a time, always bringing back some curious toy or gadget for little Roland. The kid loved the stories of the journeys, trying to imagine the different places that uncle Kil had visited. 

The three of them lived next to each other, two apartments separated by a wall. Killian's was the smaller one: a living room with an open kitchen, one bedroom, and a bathroom, but actually, he didn't need more space. Robin's apartment was the same, with the addition of another bedroom. 

It had been a few months since his last trip and Killian was feeling a bit restless. He had parts of his ship’s engine scattered on his living room table. There wasn't an actual problem with them, but the last time he had gone on a journey he had heard some noises he hadn’t liked. So he was cleaning some pieces: Better be sure.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts. When he opened it he didn’t see anyone at first, but then he lowered his gaze and a brown mop of hair came into his field of vision. “Uh... can I help you?” He asked the young boy that came with it.

“Are you Killian Jones?” The boy asked back with curious eyes.

Killian studied the person in front of him. He was probably nine or ten years old, skinny, freckled face, eyes the same color as his hair; he was wearing casual non-branded clothes, with a grey and red scarf and a backpack hanging from one of his shoulders. 

The man didn’t detect any threat, so he decided to answer honestly. “The very same one. And you are...?” 

“My name is Henry. I'm your son.” He announced with a bright smile.

Killian thought he didn’t hear correctly. “I beg your pardon?" But when the boy just stared at him back with a big grin, Killian felt the need to clarify "I'm pretty sure I don't have a son, lad.” At those words, the boy ran into the house without permission. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” 

“What's this?” Henry asked, pointing at all the pieces on the table. “Are you a mechanic?” He seemed to be full of questions but less inclined to answer ones.

“No, I'm not,” Killian replied patiently. “These are parts of my ship's engine that need to be fixed.”

“You have a spaceship! Cool!” Enthusiasm was something quite evident in this young man. “I knew you were the only one who can save my mom.” 

That was enough. “Save? From what?" Killian was starting to lose his patience. Who was this kid, and why was he in his house? “And who exactly did you say your mother is?”

“I didn't say it.” Henry shrugged.

“Does she know you are here?”

“Nope.”

“I should probably bring you back home.” Killian kept his door open to invite the unexpected guest to follow him. It was getting dark outside.

“Are you going to help us?” The boy asked with a hopeful look while going out.

Killian didn’t want to disappoint the lad, but he needed more information before deciding anything he could regret later. “Well, that depends. Maybe your mother doesn't want to be helped. Come on, let's get going, you'll explain what you need my assistance for while walking.”

They kept a good jog for quite a few minutes in silence until they reached the borders of the village. Darkness was already surrounding them, and Killian wondered if the boy had spent the whole day searching for him. 

Henry headed towards a suburban district of II, one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. 

Killian was expecting the lad to start explaining his story, but when it didn’t happen, he decided on a different approach. “What's in the backpack?” He asked.

“Just my stuff.” The boy was being evasive.

"You mean your school stuff. Did you skip your classes to come to find me?" He inquired.

"Maybe. Are you going to tell my mother?" He asked, but he didn't wait for an actual answer and went on. "It doesn't mind. She will figure it out eventually. It's impossible to lie to her."

"Mothers tend to have the ability to find out the truth," Killian said with a soft smile on his lips.

"No. I mean, she has this superpower, you know? She can detect a lie from a million miles away."

"Can she?” He asked, but he wasn’t surprised, he had seen many strange things during his trips, so why not someone with an ability to find out the truth. “A useful skill, indeed."

The boy went silent for a while. He was chewing his bottom lip, a gesture that reminded Killian of something or someone, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Then the boy spoke again. “There’s this bad guy. I saw him talking to my mom. I know she is afraid of him, even if she tells me I don’t have to worry about him.” He went on walking and then added: “She works so hard to give me a normal life. I want to help her, but I don't know how. That’s why I came to you. Maybe you can help us.”

“What does she do for a living?” Killian was still trying to understand the whole story, and if he really had something to do with it, or if the boy was wrong. But of one thing he was sure: He did not have a son.

“She finds people.”

“Come again?” That was unexpected.

“You need to find someone? She finds this person for you. She’s pretty good at it.” The lad explained.

“What if someone doesn't want to be found?”

“Well, those are the best rewarded, the most difficult ones. Sometimes she spends months going after someone, and then... Bang! She finds a good lead! She has those devices, you know.” 

“Devices?” Killian asked.

“Yes. You can search for names, or birth dates, or relatives, and many other keywords. Mom says I shouldn’t touch those things, but...”

“Is that how you found me? Did you use your mother’s devices?”

The boy didn’t answer but he seemed frankly contrite. Then he stopped in front of an old decrepit building carved in the yellow rock and Killian sensed that it might be the kid’s house. 

A dusty light bulb spread dim shadows throughout the entrance, Henry climbed the stairs two by two and Killian followed him up to the fourth floor where the boy reached a door with no numbers on it, exactly equal to the other doors on the landing. The perfect kind of place where you hide if you want to go unnoticed, Killian thought. Maybe the lad was right and his mother needed some help indeed. What trouble am I getting into? He saw the boy taking a deep breath before grabbing the handle of the door to open it with resolve.

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***

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Killian stood in the door frame watching the scene in front of him. The kid had run inside the house leaving the backpack on the floor next to the door, and was now in the middle of the small living room, enveloped by his mother's arms, who had bent down to hug him and was caressing and kissing his head.

Killian scanned the room, which seemed to be the whole apartment: a table surrounded by a couple of old armchairs and two mismatched chairs, a kitchenette on the right, and a bunk bed on the left. The bathroom was probably in common with the rest of the apartments on the same floor. Killian didn’t expect a luxury hotel suite, but this, well, this was miserable.

"Henry!" She sobbed.

As soon as he heard her voice, Killian instantly steered his gaze to the woman kneeled in front of her son. He could see that her eyes were slightly red and a bit swollen as if she had been crying for some time. 

She was older than he remembered, but alas 10 years had passed for her as well. She wasn't the fragile girl anymore, but a beautiful grown-up woman. Her hair was shorter, wavier, and a bit darker than the last time he saw her. Killian couldn't believe his eyes, but the very Princess of New Tolemac was now in front of him, in one of the poorest rock houses of the planet. 

“Mom!” The lad started to speak, but his mother interrupted him.

“Henry, are you alright? Oh my God! I was so scared! Where have you been? You know what? It doesn't matter.” She was rambling without pause, kissing her son’s forehead. “What's important is that you're home again and you're fine!” Then she looked at Henry seriously: “You are, right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm ok,” Henry reassured her. “Mom, I've found him!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. 

“Who?” She asked, a little perplexed. 

“My father! I've found my father!” The boy explained. 

“Uh…” She seemed to be out of words, and if Killian was good at reading her, the look in her eyes was one of concern. Then she looked up and her eyes found the man standing at her door. The concern was gone in one second, and her eyes widened in disbelief. She opened her mouth but no word came out. 

“Mom, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mom, Emma Swan.” Henry introduced.

Emma Swan. Killian repeated in his mind. The surname didn’t ring any bells. She had probably changed it during the years. That, the place where she was living, and the fact that Henry admitted she needed help, gave him the chills. Something was wrong, so very wrong. But he decided to keep those thoughts to himself.

“It's nice to see you again, Emma.” He smiled.

“Of course, you two already know each other. I mean. I exist, so…” Henry giggled.

“Seriously kid?” She inquired incredulously at her son, with a slight red blush on her cheeks. 

But Henry was already distracted by something on the square table behind him “Dinner! I'm starving.” He said joyfully. 

This seemed to wake her up from her trance and she stood up from her previous position. “Wash your hands before sitting at the table.” She warned while the boy was already discarding his scarf and jacket over one of the armchairs.

Killian could recognize the authoritarian tone of the Princess he once knew and a smile appeared on his lips. Then she turned towards him and with no words, she approached him and put a couple of fingers on his chest, softly pushing him out of the house. He complied. 

When they both were outside, she almost closed the door behind her. She wasn't looking at him, she seemed more interested in her shoes. “I'm sorry for all the problems Henry may have caused. If there's anything I can do for you…” 

But Killian dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No problem.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.” Her tone was genuinely thankful.

“It was the right thing to do.” And when she didn't reply he felt it was the moment to say goodbye. 

He started stepping back but suddenly stopped and turned around facing her again. “Uh... now that I think about it. There is a thing you could do for me.” He tilted his head arching an inquiring eyebrow “I have one question” he said, emphasizing his words lifting one of his fingers “why does your boy believe that I'm his father?” 

At those words, she lifted her gaze to look straight into his eyes.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe - science fiction #space au #my writing

[blackenedwhite97]

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.13-14)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 13

"I grew up in the south, far, far away from here." Shouta sat down on the edge of the bed and beckoned for you to do the same. "In fact, I grew up just beyond the southern border, a little ways north of the Southern capital. My parents were wealthy and we lived in a country estate for most of my childhood. We found out about my ability very early on, I reacted instinctively to another child's flare up and quite literally doused a fire straight from their hands. I didn't know then but now that I'm older, I believe my father had an ability of his own, he and my mother used to whisper cryptically about it when they thought I was asleep."

Shouta looked ahead, his eyes watching for something far off, his hand absentmindedly snaking it's fingers through yours. You wrapped your hand around his and listened intently. He'd never spoken much about his life before Kaer Yuuei, only sparing comments here or there about how his mother would or wouldn't like something Hizashi or you were doing, or about the wild nature of his hair was his father's fault.

"We stayed away from the city as much as possible, especially as a family. My father, I remember, would travel back and forth quite a bit. I now realize it was to keep me out of as many compromising situations as possible." Shouta scratched his chin, "I remember how excited I was to get to go to a big event one summer when I was sixteen, I didn't get a whole lot of socialization outside of my family, afterall. The formalwear was itchy and hot, I remember that, the wine tasted terrible and everyone was trying to get married and engaged. It was horrendous if I'm being totally honest."

"I snuck out." Shouta sighed, as if he were confessing. "I snuck out into the gardens of the estate, a fair few of the older men had gone out to drink and smoke away from the general event. They were beyond drunk, and one of them, beyond being able to control himself. It happened quickly, I'm not entirely sure what sparked it, but words were said and offenses made and then there was lighting. A kid, maybe my age, maybe a little bit older, was lit up like a cloud in a storm." Shouta paused, grinding his teeth and taking a deep breath. "I stopped him. I stopped him, but at the cost of outing myself."

Shouta took a minute to himself, whether it was intentionally to gather himself or whether he had fallen into a deep memory, you weren't sure. You let him stay silent, you weren't sure where this was going but you could tell that every word was almost painful for him to speak. It was as if every word was hot to the touch, scalding his tongue for daring to tell the story. When he spoke again he was quieter, scared, possibly mournful.

"The event was being hosted at a very rich family's estate, House Noro." Shouta's eye twitched and his lips pursed.

Your heart sank as the realization that Shouta was about to tell you about what had brought him to Kaer Yuuei. You'd managed to grab parts of the story between Hizashi and Toshinori but they were both reluctant to speak about it fully. From what you were able to piece together, Shouta had some sort of contact with House Noro that ended violently and Hizashi happened across him on his way to Kaer Yuuie. You wrapped your free arm around Shouta's waist and pulled him close, putting your chin on his shoulder and placing a soft kiss to his temple. He leaned into you with a sigh.

"They arrested- abducted both of us that night. I was left in a cell for a few days, starved so I would be more agreeable when they eventually got around to dealing with me. As for the other kid, I heard that he was lashed to death." Shouta's hand began to tremble in yours. "They beat me, at first without any reason. I think they just wanted to ensure that I was broken in before they enslaved me. My ability, it was of interest to them. There was a man, Kozan was his name, who wanted me weaponized."

"Kozan," Shouta's nostrils flared at the name and you already had a bad taste in your mouth about him, " was the newly appointed leader of the extermination effort, as they called it. He saw what I could do and wanted to seize my ability for himself. I was the first gifted person they'd ever abducted for work, I saw a test subject for them. They used me, both for my ability and to learn how to keep other gifted people they found useful in check.

"I was toured around with them like a show horse they'd beat for jest at the end of the day. I'd learned quickly that if I did as I saw told and asked no questions that the beating would be minimal, that fighting back prolonged things. I-"

Shouta's voice cracked and he slouched forward, pulling away from you, and dropped his head into his hands.

"I would erase their abilities and let them get arrested, or beaten or-" Shouta let out a shaky breath, dripping with pain. "killed."

"Sho," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You were transported back to that night in the barn, you trembling under the realization of what you'd done. He was like you, haunted by something he had to do to survive. "they took away your choice. What you did wasn't you, it was them."

Shouta choked back a sob. You'd never seen him openly cry before and it was crushing you, like seeing your father cry. It felt world ending. He leaned back into you and let you swaddle him with your arms, breathing heavily into your chest.

"I told myself that I was only being used when the target was being violent and belligerent, that I was stopping more casualties in the long run. But then there was a kid," he breathed, eventually, "really young, maybe five or six. He was- fuck- he was so scared and I couldln't do it anymore. I lost it."

Shouta sat up and rubbed his red, swollen eyes. Looking down, he continued.

"He was like you, he could conjure things. Well, one thing, a protective bubble around himself." Shouta sniffed. "I told them that I couldn't do it, that the bubble stopped me but I knew I could. Kozan- he knew I was lying- he started to bet me right then and there. I fought back, took out four men with my bare hands before they beat me to unconsciousness. I- I still don't know what happened to that kid."

You were fighting back your own tears, the image of Shouta lying face down in the mud beaten bloody made your stomach twist up in violent knots. You looked up at his scar, remembering him running his fingers over it when Hizashi had mentioned him getting hurt very badly when you'd first met. Kozan. That name burned into your mind, a looming figure to match, a bright red target between his eyes.

'When I woke I was in the stocks," Shouta had calmed now, his voice even but a whisper, "I couldn't hold myself up."

Shouta looked behind you at Hizashi, a sudden air of relief slowly appeasing a fraction of his pain. Hizashi, you realized before Shouta even said it, had saved you both.

"That when he found me." Shouta mumbled tiredly. "Zash broke me out of those stocks in his typical clumsy fashion and whisked me away off towards salvation. He deafened a good handful of Noro footmen on the way, the first time I'd smiled in years."

"Years?" you squeaked.

"Two and half." Shouta nodded sadly.

Your lip quivered. You pressed him closer to you, you didn't know what else to do. All you had was letting him know you were there, that he wasn't there, with them, anymore. He pressed back into you, his arms snaking around your waist.

"I'm sorry." you muttered.

He didn't say anything, instead he took a deep breath and nuzzled into your hair. You stayed like that for a while, until he grew heavy on top of you and you could tell he was fighting off sleep. His eyes were drooping, heavy with tears and exhaustion. You shushed him like a mother to a child and told to rest. You promised him safety and that you'd be right next to him. He frowned, his mind already half taken by dream.

"I'm scared to lose-" he muttered, his lips barely able to part. He faded away, and you let him.

CHAPTER 14

The snow was cold against your skin, a welcomed change to the suffocating heat of Shouta's arms. You'd tried to stay in bed, tired to find sleep but your heart was beating so ferociously you could feel it in every part of your body. Even now, your ears were still red hot. The wintery chill had once against offered you reprieve of searing panic, as it seeped into you the panic left. As you crunched through the snow, following your sporadic tracks from earlier, you tried to reign in your thoughts.

You saw Shouta covered in blood, bruised face and broken will. You saw the embers that glowed on the ashened remains of the annihilated village like Kaer Yuuie to the south. You saw the man at your door, the knife in his hand, the sickening grin he'd had as he threatened you. You saw a child, scared and crying, surrounded by the only protection he could muster. You saw Kirishima, the kid who always smiled at you when you walked in the gates and the rows of gifted art from students that Hizashi hung up in the apartment. You saw a looming figure clad in black armour, no face, no soul, a glowing read target between his eyes.

You stumbled against a solid surface that had risen in front of your feet, and tumbled forward hard. You landed at the steps of the hall, your palms bruising on the stone. You looked up frustrated and ready to accost the building for getting in your way when you saw that the door still cracked open and a dull light flickering inside. Now that you weren't being consumed entirely by your thought you realized that you were shivering, the heat of anxiety had worn thin and you had vernuted out into the snow without your coat and your body was beginning to notice. You pushed yourself up and laboured up the stairs, your knees sore from your tumble.

You slipped in the doorway and looked around the dully lit chamber to see who'd left the door ajar. The hall stretched out before you, far emptier than it had been earlier that night. A lone figure, broad and inhumanly large sat on what used to be a throne, hunched forward head in his hands. You recognized that stressed position immediately, he often sat like that when vital councils were called. Toshinori would sit like that quietly, listening carefully to what everyone had to say with his eyes closed, massaging circles into his eyes soken with his palms. You thought about turning around, going back into the cold but the door had different plans and a powerful gust of wind shook it in it's frame and started Toshinori. He looked up, bleary eyed.

"Ah," he cleared his throat. "Y/n. Come in, it's freezing out."

"Thanks." you smiled politely and scutteled farther into the hall, away from the howling wind and blowing snow.

"Why are you up and walking around at this hour?" He asked, sitting up in his seat. Genuine concern marked his features, he'd be thinking about you when you walked in. You could feel it.

"Couldn't sleep." you said, hoping he'd leave it at that. But of course, he was a good man.

"Are you scared?' He asked grimly. "You're safe here."

Embers and ash filled your minds in a hot white flash and suddenly you felt anger. Anger or fear. You couldn't tell.

"For how long? Until they find us and burn this place down like they did in the south?" You snapped.

"This place is different, Y/n. We're better prepared, we're already better defended." Toshinori's voice remained calm, soothing almost. You felt more frustrated by it.

"What if they find it? What if my necklace- if I led them close enough that they sniff us out?" You felt angry tears pricking at the edges of your vision.

"Like I said, we're prepared-"

"What if we aren't!" You interrupted. Your voice was louder than you'd meant it to be, emotion taking control.

"We are." Toshinori stood, his voice stern but no louder than before. He walked down the single step down towards you. The closer he got the more imposing he felt, it was a side effect of his size. You were reminded, looking up at him that he was in fact a Lord and you needed to control yourself. You wiped your tears away and took a breath before speaking again, this thought had been ever creeping forward from the back of your mind you saw the necklace.

"I need to leave." you sniffed, calmer now. "I could make some noise and lead them away."

"No." Toshiori didn't hesitate. His hands clasped down on your shoulders gently. "I'm not sending you out there to get hurt."

"You have to do what's right from you people, Toshinori." you tried to sound reasonable even though you weren't sure you really wanted this either. "They can't hunt or travel outside the walls and they'll begin to suffer for it! You can't expect people to stay-"

"You're my people." Toshinori interrupted you, his calm demeanor shaken. "I will not sacrifice one of my own."

"It's my choice!" You snapped, pulling away from him. It scared the hell out of you but the fact that Toshinori wouldn't even consider your plan- accept your help, enraged you.

"Everyone knows what it means to be out there, Y/n. No one here wants to feed you to the hounds even if it means a quick fix!" Toshinori was gritting his teeth and balling his fists at his side.

"It's not about want, it's about need." Toshinori was a good man and he was kind but that would be the death of him and, if he continued to think like this, his people. "You have to make this decision for you people, not your own sterling morality!"

"You are my people!" He bellowed, stepping forward and reaching out for you. He stopped short, pulling away and sighing. He was already feeling guilty for his outburst. When he spoke again it was in a quieter, stern voice, an air of finality to it you'd never heard him speak with before. "I will not send one of my own to die because the rest of us have to deal with some restlessness for a while. Your life is worth more than that, every life is worth more than that. I'm not trying to save you, Y/n L/n, I'm trying to save one of my people. Letting you be a pawn is as good as telling everyone else they are pawns, and I am not and will not be that kind of Lord."

You were stunned. Stunned at his honesty, stunned at his calm, stunned at your own insolence, and stunned at his refusal to make the strategic decision. He was both the best and the worst Lord you ever lived under. He was kind and just to his people but he wasn't willing to make the hard decisions his position forced him into. If he waited any longer for a council to make a plan then House Noro was going to be sieging the fortress in the blink of an eye and this haven he'd built would be reduced to ashes. If Toshinori couldn't make this decision then Shouta would have to face the Noros again and it would break him.

You were silent, the duality of resenting Toshinori's words and guilting over your unearned resentment tearing into you. He was doing the best he could, the best he knew how to. It just wasn't good enough. Not now.

"Go home." Toshinori broke the tense silence. "Go home to your family. Let me worry about this, this isn't all on you. It was your necklace, yes, but it could have been anyone else's personal belonging. This isn't on you."

You nodded. He was wrong, or course. He was trying to be kind, hell, he could actually believe what he was telling you. You had killed the young Lord Bennett, sicked the Noro hounds on yourself, led them to your necklace that they were now using to track you and therefore the fortress. Sure, it'd been retrieved but they were already here, coming to the valleys and soon to be hiking up the mountain sides. The best course of action was the one you'd been trying to convince yourself of this whole time.

You hugged yourself close and strode out into the snowy night, your footprints slowly filling in behind you. You could feel Toshinori watching you walk down the road, the image of his tired, worried eyes nagging your resolution. You wanted to believe him, you really did. It wasn't his fault that this was happening, it wasn't his fault that you were a carrier of misfortune. You had to do this for him, make this decision.

You were sure. You were absolutely sure, your resolve had never been stronger. Then you opened the door to your home, Hizashi and Shouta draped over each other. Their faces were angelic in the low like, soft and serene. Hizashi's hair made a flaxen halo that encased them both, you picture wings sprouting from their backs. You hadn't been a religious woman in the traditional sense for many years, not since your parents had died really, but you still firmly believed in the idea of guardian angels. How could you not when you were looking at yours now. Fear welled up in you. You were going to lose them either way, at least this way they wouldn't be lost to House's Noro's blade. At least this way they could tell themselves that you left them, that you picked up and moved on. At least this way they wouldn't be looking their final moments in the eyes knowing that you'd brought death upon them. No, this was better, you reassured yourself.

You had to tear your eyes away from them, every fiber of your being begging to crawl into the bed with them and let their arms envelop you like they did every night. You wanted to at least touch them, give them farewell kisses on their foreheads and tell them you loved them and watched as their sleeping faces grew grins. But you knew that if you did that you would melt into them and stay the night and in the morning all of your will power would be gone. So instead you turned to the writing desk and scribbled 'I'm sorry' and ' I love you', you knew it wouldn't help them in the slightest when they woke up to find you gone but it wasn't for them. It was your last selfish act, you had to let them know that you loved them more deeply than you'd ever loved before. That was for you. They would still have each other.

It was as if you'd faded into your body and let instinct take over from there on out, you packed a bag with rations and winter clothes and dressed in the bare minimum you thought you'd need to stay light on your feet. It was surreal to see what your body knew how to do on instinct, it knew how quiet to be, where to find supplies and how softly to shut the door. It knew what shadows to keep to and what areas of wall were sometimes looked over in patrol, it knew when to flatten against walls to hide and when to dart across open spaces as quickly as possible. It even knew how long of a rope to conjure to scale down the side of the outer fortress wall and how little time you would have to dart into the heavy tree line before someone saw you.

[zoroism]

The Strawhat’s Deja Vu

This is my entry for the @opbigbang 2019! This is actually my first long fanfic (or fanfic in general) and I hope you all would like it! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you’ll have fun reading it too!

A big thank you to my partner @babblebuzz! for the amazing animation they made for the fic! And for being so understanding bc my work schedule is crazy xD Check out their artblog @junonboi! (You’ll see amazing art please go and check them out)

The day was perfect. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing through his grass hair and there were no signs of rain coming anytime soon. A very good day for a road trip indeed. They say Roronoa Zoro was king of the road trips. Why you ask? Since he absolutely didn't know where he was going most of the time. Though he knows where he needed to go he just doesn't know how to get there even with the best GPS apps. He just keeps on getting lost and the man is very sure that he was not the problem. It was those stupid apps. So when you want a short adventure just tell Zoro to maybe go to the nearest McDonald's and you'll most certainly be on a highway going to the next city.

"Zoro, I'm hungry." A teenager with curly brown hair and freckles running across his cheeks groaned. He was sitting in the passenger seat with his phone on his hand checking the map if they were going in the right direction every minute.  

"Sorry Chopper, we'll get there soon," Zoro answered with an apologetic expression. He saw the discomfort on Chopper's face that tells him that the boy was indeed very hungry. Zoro couldn't blame him, after all, they were driving the Red Line Highway for eight hours now and their snacks were all out.

   The two of them were headed to Marie Jois City. They were moving there since Chopper got a scholarship to Marie Jois University for a degree in Medicine. Zoro was still in shock that the boy was going to college at an early age but he did know that Chopper was a genius. The boy was already doing adult stuff like paying the bills, budgeting their money and cleaning the house while Zoro was at his job. He was very responsible for the age of fifteen.

   Zoro and Chopper were orphans. They met at the orphanage where they both grew up. The place took care of them very well but potential parents that interviewed them didn't want them. Maybe because Zoro dyed his hair green and maybe because he looked like a delinquent that no one wanted him and thought that he was too "rough" for them since parents did want a more "cuter" and "nicer" kid. For Chopper's case, he was always around Zoro. So when someone tries to talk to him Zoro gives them a deep stare. He was just checking out if they were nice people, it wasn't his intention to scare them away. Maybe. He just wanted to make sure Chopper was adopted to a nice family.

   So when Zoro turned eighteen, he left the orphanage with Chopper by his side. Of course, the orphanage didn't allow this at first since they needed to make sure that Zoro had the means to pay for the bills. He first got multiple jobs to show that he was capable and Chopper showed the people in the orphanage that he was responsible enough that he might be the one taking care of Zoro instead even if he was just twelve years old. In the end, they were both allowed to live together as brothers with the help of some convincing that Zoro did. That was three years ago. And of course, during those three years, they had a hard time adjusting to their new lives as independent people but they were moving to a brighter future now.

"We don't have to do this now you know." Chopper whispered barely audible for Zoro to hear. "I can get some job first then work my way up."

"Don't think about the bills or anything related to that. Just go and live your dream." Zoro answered with his eye looking directly at the road. He had to leave his job back at Shimotsuki City and he knows that Marie Jois is an expensive city since people call it the "City of Dreams" where rich ass people live. Though he knows Chopper got a scholarship at the university, there were still some school expenses they needed to pay plus their rent and food money.  

"We got this okay? Things will work out. I'm the adult here let me handle the money matters, I want you to focus on what you want." The man said again shaking those thoughts out of his head, he knew things would work out in the end. He wanted to do this for his brother.

"Well at least let me drive. You're getting lost again!" The teenager exclaimed while pointing at the map on his phone.

"Like hell you'll drive! You're underage!" The green haired man exclaimed.

"Wow! Coming from a man who certainly follows the "street rules"" Chopper did quotation marks with his hands to emphasize his point. "You know I know what your true job is!"

"Are you seriously bringing that up now?" The man question with a pained expression. Zoro knew working at retail won't pay the bills. He knew it wasn't enough for both of them so he had to do something else and that way was the only way he could earn some quick cash.

"Did you seriously think I'm that dumb to not know? How could I not notice the car you're driving?! It's a new car! You even bought me the newest Samsung phone, the best laptop AND we're moving to Marie Jois. Given that we still don't have enough right now BUT NOT JUST ANYONE CAN MOVE THERE!" Chopper was technically yelling at the last part because he still thought it was amazing how Zoro's job could pay all these and of course he was very thankful for Zoro's hard work. Well, he was especially amazed at how Zoro could do that job given that the man was directionally damaged, he actually really wanted to know how Zoro could do it. "Plus I know what really happened to your left eye you know. You got in an accident during a race didn't you?"

   Zoro glanced at Chopper to see his sad expression. Zoro felt bad for worrying the boy that night. It was two years ago during the Summer season. Zoro got the chance to race with a man known to be the best at Shimotsuki City, Dracule Mihawk. They decided to race from the top of the mountain to the bottom. During the first part of the race, Mihawk was in the lead. In a sharp turn, Zoro tried to overtake Mihawk but he actually got lost during his drift. Zoro was able to be in the lead when he got out from his little "detour" and jumped out from a small road and landed in front of Mihawk. Nearing the end of their race, there was another curve and his opponent saw this opportunity and bumped him at the back of his car. It caused his car to spin but Zoro still got his grip on the wheel, he thought about Chopper and he knew he couldn't die there. He directed his car to hit the mountain wall which caused rocks to break his window side and the glass hit his left eye which was the reason why he couldn't open his eye and how he got a big scar on the left side of his face. He was still able to calm his car down and finish the race. Mihawk was impressed with his skill and luck and told Zoro that he would await him until he was ready to fight him again. It was then Zoro swore to himself that he would beat Mihawk one day.

"Being a street racer has its perks you know." Zoro grinned and shuffled Chopper's hair with his right hand. The boy smiled and said, "One of the reasons why I wanted to be a Doctor.".

"But how can you be directionally challenged but still be a street racer at night?" Chopper genuinely asked putting his index finger and thumb on his chin with a thinking look on his face.

"Stop that you look like that stupid thinking emoji. Just don't ask, things work out in the end." Zoro himself didn't know how he wins his races besides knowing he had the skills and a stroke of excellent luck on his side.

"I will stop questioning this logic. It pains my head." Chopper agreed. When he glanced at his window, Chopper's eyes grew big and he immediately shouted "ZORO YOU MISSED THE EXIT! OUR EXIT WAS 10 EXITS AGO!".    

When the boys finally got to the right road to Marie Jois city they were amazed by the big castle they see in the distance. It was literally a big medieval castle surrounded by tall buildings that had the same style as the castle. The road they were traveling through was a straight road where you can see if you squint your eyes enough, that it goes until the entrance of the castle. You would think there was a border around the city since before you get there the only thing you'll see is grasslands, farm animals, and crops but it was open for anyone to enter.

"I was not expecting a castle to set the bars of how rich the people at this city are." Chopper said with his mouth open ready for that fries he has on his hands. They went to a drive-thru before they continued their road trip to the city. It was nice timing since they felt like they were about to puke even though they didn't have anything in their stomachs. They were driving half a day now since Zoro missed their exit.

"That's probably the city's government office or something." Zoro answered before sipping his coke.

"Probably. Since this road leads straight to there. Maybe they want us to pay before we find our new house?" Chopper turned his head to face his window. His eyes were greeted by trees that lined up perfectly beside the road. It goes on until they got to the castle where it is placed at the center of a big roundabout with three exits that were simply named, North, East, West, and judging from the names he concluded that they came from the South road. Chopper was in awe about how big the city center was. Besides the big castle, there was a small park with mini stalls surrounding it where he saw people walk and talk with each other. There was a big fountain where kids were playing with the water, teenagers had water guns that they were shooting others with and some people were even bathing in it?!  

"You're not thinking of joining them are you?" Zoro teased the boy. Though he knew Chopper was a genius, the boy was a teenager after all. He still wanted the kid to experience what normal kids do, he wanted him to have fun and enjoy being a kid. Just not the dark side of those "fun" things though.

"O-of course not!" Chopper answered trying to hide a blush creeping up his cheeks. "It's not like it looks fun or anything!" The boy was trying to hide the fact that he indeed, wanted to play with those kids but Zoro knew him well enough to know what he truly wanted. He might push Chopper to go to the center after they finish unpacking their stuff.

"Well, it looks fun. Find some friends and go have fun. I'm not gonna stop you unless you're hurting yourself. Not that I needed to remind you. I know you." The man said with a soft smile. "You should go and meet kids your age. Don't get cooped up in the house and do all those housework again. You're not a maid. We're in this together."

"I know that." Chopper became quiet and gazed at the scenery outside, he was starting to drown in his own thoughts. It wasn't like Zoro was forcing him to do those things, he just wanted to do it since he saw how Zoro was working so hard for him. He was the best big brother anybody could ask for. And he was constantly worried at night if Zoro will come home again with blood all over him like how he did when he raced with Mihawk.

"Well, now we need to find the East exit." Zoro said disturbing Chopper's racing mind. Chopper looked at the window and slapped his forehead.  

"Zoro, We've been circling this roundabout five times now." He respected his big brother so much but just, damn his directionally challenged brain.

"Well, this road keeps on moving!"

"Exit the next one! This roundabout has just four exits and we came through one! How can you get lost?!" Chopper exclaimed and sighed when the man was turning to the right exit. When they turned to enter East Road they were greeted by a long straight street with three-story buildings that also looked medieval but had high-class stalls that looked new at the first story. It was almost dark so they could really appreciate the lights the whole street emitted. Not to mention the road wasn't asphalt or cement, it was pebbles which was a nice complement to the medieval theme of the city.

"This is a beautiful city." Chopper said with excitement in his eyes. He was truly in awe about how beautiful and lively the city is. The boy loved Shimotsuki City but the city was small and dark compared to Marie Jois. The city just breathed new opportunities everywhere.

"This is a city that never sleeps. I expected it to be like this." Zoro answered while he was trying to fiddle his phone with his right hand. Chopper took the phone from his hand and looked at the address on the screen.

"Give me that! I know you're an awesome street racer but it's still not safe to use your phone while driving. Plus we don't know what the rules here are yet!" The boy read the directions they got from their new landlord. "It says here that we should turn right on the third street then we'll see a red brick building there."

Zoro followed Chopper's instructions and they got to their new house safely. He parked on the street just beside a small three-story building that had red brick walls. Each floor, besides the bottom one, had a balcony in the middle that aligned on top of the big antique brown door with wood carvings that looked like the waves on the first floor. There was a small parking lot just on the right side of the building but Zoro figured it was best to knock and great the landlord first.

"Wow, Zoro this looks really nice!" Zoro saw the sparkle on Chopper's eyes. He was happy that his little brother liked the new place he got for them.

"This is the cheapest one here you know."

"This is the cheapest one?! This actually looks like one of the most expensive apartments in Shimotsuki City!" Chopper was waving his hands in the air as if he was emphasizing how impressed he was with the difference between their old home and the new one.

"Well let's go check it out." Zoro grinned and shuffled Chopper's curly hair.

The boys rang the doorbell and waited for a few minutes. They heard footsteps and the door opened. They were greeted by a beautiful black haired lady with blue eyes that smiled at them with delight.

"Are you Zoro?" She asked in a sweet voice.

"Yeah, I'm here for the apartment?" The green-haired man nodded. Chopper hid behind Zoro's back as he was very shy with other people. He was very open to Zoro but when it comes to other people or at least strangers, he was very quiet.

"Come on in, I'm the landlady. My name's Nico Robin." Robin opened the door widely and gestured for the brothers to enter their new house. When they entered the apartment they were greeted with a hallway full of bookcases and statues that look like it was from the ancient times. There were two doors on the right side of the hallway, one was open that showed the staircase and the other was closed and the brothers assumed it was the landlady's apartment.  

Chopper observed the bookcase near the main door and his eyes lit up with delight. "Zoro! These books are old medicine books! There are different techniques that I could learn from here! Maybe I could combine them and develop a better technique?!"

"Woah there buddy those aren't hours." Zoro patted Chopper's back and pointed at Robin to let his little brother know that they were hers.

"Are you interested in my books?" Robin chuckled and looked at Chopper.

"Y-yes..." Chopper was startled with the question and hid behind Zoro's back. There was a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"He's really shy but he's a sweet boy. This is Chopper, my brother. He got a scholarship at the Medicine course in Marie Jois University." Zoro said with a proud tone on his voice.

"How wonderful! You can borrow my books anytime you want. You can knock on my door and I'll show you my whole library." The lady smiled and there was an aura she was emitting that made Chopper feel safe and at home and he felt like he immediately warmed up to the lady. He moved from Zoro's back to directly talk to Robin.

"Can I really?" He asked with his big cute eyes.

"Of course, You're a cute doctor after all." She answered with a sweet smile.  

"It's not like your compliment made me happy!" Chopper smiled and started to clap his hands and buried his face on his palms hiding how red his face turned. Robin chuckled at Chopper's reaction and appreciated how cute the teenage boy was.  

"I should show you your apartment. You'll be living on the third floor." Robin gestured for the three of them to climb up the stairs. Robin went first while Zoro and Chopper followed. "The only apartment mates you'll have here are me, I live on the first floor, as you guessed and Usopp who lives here on the second floor." Robin gestured at the door they were facing when they climbed up the first set of stairs.  

There was a loud explosion that surprised Zoro and Chopper. Zoro immediately pushed Chopper behind his back out of instinct while Robin just chuckled in amusement.  

"Don't worry, Usopp's a mechanic you'll get used to it." Suddenly they heard running and shouting from the inside of the apartment. "Oh I think he's burning himself alive," The landlady said with a smile on her face.

This surprised both Zoro and Chopper, they couldn't hide the horror on their faces. The door swung open and they were greeted by a comical face that had both his eyes and tongue out in a spiral manner.  

"ROBIIIN!" Chopper shouted in surprise and Zoro instinctly grabbed the face and to his surprise, a mask was in his hand and he gazed at it for a few seconds before looking at the man standing at the door.

The man with curly black hair tied in a bun and long nose laughed. "That was an amazing greeting, wasn't it? That was how we used to greet worthy people who didn't need to go thru a trial to live with us." The guy pointed himself with his thumb and he looked very proud of his obvious fake story.

"Really?!" But Chopper didn't know it was a lie. He was impressed with the man because even though he nearly scared Chopper to death it was still a unique way of greeting new neighbors.

"Yeah! I got a whole bunch of tools inside from my adventures, Do you wanna see?" Before Chopper could say anything, Zoro stopped him because he knew Chopper would say yes. His whole face lit up with excitement when he heard the word "adventure" come out from Usopp's mouth. "Okay buddy, let's unpack first."  

"I'm Usopp by the way! Just come back later if you want!" Usopp grinned and waved goodbye to Chopper. Robin, Chopper and Zoro climbed the stairs once again and when they got to the top they were greeted by a blue door.

"Now this is your apartment. It's a two bedroom apartment which also includes a balcony." Robin keyed the lock and opened the door. She gave a key to Zoro and smiled. "We can talk about the payment some other time. Just settle here first. I can see you both look like you need some sleep. You can park your car anywhere in the parking lot on the right side of the building"

"Thanks, We'll knock once we're done with the unpacking."  

"The moving truck already arrived here first so your things should probably be already inside. Well then, I'll go down now. Just knock on my door when you need something" Robin once again smiled and winked at Chopper before she climbed down the stairs.

"Let's get inside then." Zoro and Chopper slowly entered the door. When they entered their new apartment they were first greeted by the shoe rack and a door for the closet. If they look at their left side, they saw a hallway that leads to a small bedroom. The boys decided to check what was behind the wall of the closet first. The apartment had an "open concept" type of feel to it since the walls were white and the living room area was connected to the kitchen and dining area in an L manner. Their furniture was placed on the corner and was covered by a large white cloth to protect it from the dust. There was a glass door that gives the place a natural light, though it was getting darker since the sun was setting. When they walked towards the tail of the L part of the apartment, they saw their kitchen lined up at the left side of the wall. It was the usual kitchen with a refrigerator, cabinets at the bottom and a sink, it was all white and black though. What wowed them the most was the oven and dishwasher, they didn't have one of those back at their old place. They went back to the hallway and they were greeted by two doors on the right side. They opened the first door and saw a washing machine and dryer inside.

"Zoro! We don't have to go outside to do laundry anymore! I'll take that off the budget now." Chopper exclaimed and made a mental note. He surely was loving the new apartment.

They got to the next door and it was the bathroom. They got to the end of the mini hallway and was greeted by the first bedroom. It was a small bedroom with a window in the opposite wall of the door. The moving guys placed Chopper's bed, study table, and bookshelf on the corner under a white cloth. There were about five boxes beside it too.  

"You like it?" Zoro asked with a smile on his face. He already knows the answer. It was all over Chopper's face.

"I do!" Chopper ran inside and started opening the boxes beside his bed to start unpacking and start decorating his room.

"Remember to wipe the dust first okay? I packed cleaning supplies on one of the boxes in the living room." Zoro reminded his little brother since he saw light dust on the walls.  

"I know!"

Zoro chuckled and continued to his room. It was the door at the end of the hallway. It didn't really look that much different from Chopper's except he didn't have a whole wall of closet, just a small one, and his window was at the side of their apartment balcony. Zoro looked at the scenery outside his window and saw that the sky was already dark.

"Chopper let's check the balcony first." Zoro knocked on Chopper's door where he saw him sorting out his clothes in his closet.  

The boys went outside and were mesmerized by the view. Living on the third floor, of course, had its perks and this was definitely one of them. They could see the city lights that were like stars that were twinkling in the sky. It was very different from their old city where at this time people were already turning off their lights to sleep, here in this city people were still outside getting to where they needed to go.

"I'm starting to love this place." Chopper said while gazing at the beautiful view in front of him.  

"So do I."

Zoro was awakened by the light coming from the window. He slowly opened his eyes and the first thought he had was where the fuck am I? He sat up and looked around his room and finally realized where he was at, oh right we moved. He slowly stood up, stretched his body, did some "light exercise" of a thousand push-ups to warm up and left his room. The smell of bacon filled his nose and he immediately knew Chopper already cooked breakfast for them.

"You should've just relaxed today." The man said as he entered the kitchen and saw Chopper cooking pancakes which were a great partner for the bacon.

"I'm just cooking breakfast Zoro, and it's already pass nine and I'm very hungry." Chopper answered as he flipped the pancake. "You do remember that I'm supposed to go to the university today right?"

"Oh shit, was that today?" Zoro couldn't hide the oh shit expression he had on his face. Of all the days he would forget it was the day they would visit Chopper's new campus for the first time. Chopper placed the last pancake on a plate and Zoro picked it up to place on their table.

"Yes, it's today at 1 pm" The boy took a bite from his food and picked up his phone from the side of his plate. He scrolled through his emails and showed Zoro the message he received from his new school.

"So you've got admission things you need to do." Zoro read the email and saw that Chopper needed a guardian since even though he was a college student, he was still underage.  

The boy nodded and they silently finished their breakfast. Zoro told Chopper to get ready while he washed the dishes. After finishing the dishes, Zoro sat at their sofa and was in deep thought. Now that they were at Marie Jois city, he needed to find a job to support their finances. He still had backup money that could maybe last for a couple of months but after that, they would be broke. That money was what he won from his races the past few months, he started racing like crazy before they moved since he knew they needed money. He could apply for part-time jobs around the city to cover up for their bills but he knew he still wanted to race. There was a certain euphoria he felt every time he was on the wheel and he certainly liked that winning feeling he had whenever he comes first place. It wasn't an official racing match like the world cup but it was so rewarding to win a race. If he wanted to race around this city he needed to see what type of racers this city had. He knew that Marie Jois City was known to be a racer's den at night, racers from around the world come to the city and race to be the best. Despite its government to be very strict with their road rules, the roads here were definitely a good place to train himself and tune his car up to be able to beat Mihawk. To introduce himself to the racing community, he needed someone to show him where the race usually takes place and fill him in about who was the best.

The knock on their door interrupted Zoro's thoughts. Zoro stood up and opened their front door and the first thing he saw was a long nose.

"Hey there! I know you're new here and you don't even know where the bus stops are. I've got some free time today. Do you want the Great Usopp to tour you around?" Usopp wiggled his eyebrows. Zoro was unsure of what he should answer. He was very cautious of whom he interacts with since he didn't know if the guy was a bad guy that could be a bother to their lives.

"Usopp! Maybe you could show us where Marie Jois University is?" Zoro nearly facepalmed himself when Chopper easily accepted the man's invitation. Chopper just got out from the shower and he had a towel over his curly hair. Not that he was judging so badly since when Zoro double looked the man he didn't have any bad aura coming off of him.  

"Oh right, Robin told me you were accepted for their scholarship! That's amazing but not as amazing as me!" Usopp said with a grin. "I can take you there. What time do you need to be there?"

"Did you just call me amazing?! I'm not that amazing! " Chopper tried to hide his face with the towel he had on top of his head. The boy just couldn't take compliments.

"We need to be there at 1." Zoro answered and accepted Usopp's invitation. There's nothing he could really do here since Chopper seems to like the guy and maybe even Usopp knows how the street works.

The three of them were finally ready for their errand of the day and their first trip together as a group. They said goodbye to Robin and headed outside to the parking lot and stopped in front of two cars that were under a brown and violet cloth.

"We take our cars here very seriously, they're our babies. That's Robin's car under the violet one." Usopp grinned, a very proud one at that. It was like he was preparing for this moment his entire life. He was just going to show them his car.  

The cloth revealed a dark red car, the same color as the Doritos nacho cheese flavor. The car's hood was long and big that even without opening the hood you could already determine that the car's engine was a different class from normal cars. The headlights looked like they were the eyes of a robot and the brake lights had three of those faces that scared Chopper and Zoro yesterday. The mirrors were shaped like wings. The hubcaps of the wheels were colored gold and were shaped like a star. The top of the trunk also had a small spoiler attached to it. Finally, there were only two doors on the side of the car that makes it look like a two-seater car but when you take peek on the inside there was a seat that could fit two people on the back.

"Isn't this a Toyota Supra?" Zoro said with awe as he eyed the car from the hood to the trunk. "Weren't they faced out during the early 20's?"

"Yeah, the base is a Toyota Supra but I changed the inside completely. I also added some touches on the appearance as you can see." Usopp winked. "This baby..." He slapped his car roof to emphasize his next phrase. "Can run faster than a jaguar."

"Wow! That's amazing Usopp! Are you a street racer?!" Chopper asked with sparkles on his eyes, clearly amazed by Usopp's car and Usopp himself.

"Hmmmm... Am I?" The long-nosed man placed his thumb and pointer finger on his chin, as if he was thinking of something deep. "I know you're amazed by me and have a lot of questions but we should get going. You guys might get late."

Usopp unlocked his car and opened the driver seat. He bends the seat to let Chopper enter the seat at the back. Chopper happily entered his car and was amazed by how comfy his seats were. The ride to Marie Jois University was filled with funny stories Usopp told that were not lies. He told them of a time he was driving his car so fast that he was able to climb the mountain walls by driving upwards.  

"You're a street racer aren't you?" Zoro asked randomly since his curiosity was eating his brain. Besides the obvious fact that his car was pumped up, there were multiple buttons beside the wheels and the shift had an additional gear.  

"I'm the best one out there!" Usopp answered proudly. Zoro rolled his eyes, he knew he was lying but Chopper believed him. "I do race, but I don't always do it. I enjoy racing but I enjoy building cars for racing more." There was silence between the three of them as Usopp made a turn and entered a gate that had a sign above that read "Marie Jois University". They were met by an intersection that had signs which directed to the buildings of the different majors that the school offered. Usopp made a right turn to lead them to the Medicine Building. Along the way, Chopper saw students walking at the sidewalk with a pile of books in their arms and he never felt this excited to learn new knowledge about medicine.

"If you're interested I can upgrade your Civic but you have to meet my crew first." Usopp said barely audible but Zoro understood what he said. The car was slowing down indicating that they were at their destination.  

"I don't deal with crews." Zoro sternly answered. He prefers to work alone. He was a lone wolf and thought that crews were troublesome to deal with since those type of groups usually got into fights more often and he wasn't in the position for those since Chopper might get into the mess.

"At least just meet them first, they're not that bad." The long-nosed man said with a grin. "You have my number now right? Just text me after you're done with the admission process and we can meet up."

"Thanks for the lift Usopp!" The small curly-haired boy exclaimed with an excited expression on his face. He was basically beaming. Zoro got down first and bent his seat down to let Chopper out of the car. He waved goodbye to Usopp as the man drove away.

When they turned around to face the school they saw a large white building that looked like a coliseum. Large words were printed on top of the door that said "Marie Jois Medicine Department". There was a fountain in the middle that has a statue of two snakes winding around a winged staff, a symbol of medicine, in its core. Students were walking around with multiple books on their hands and their eyes were as black as a panda. Everyone and everything looked different from high school and Chopper suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything.

"Zoro, I think everyone here is on a different level." Chopper said with an intimidated expression on his face.  

"And you're a level above them." A simple sentence like that was enough for Chopper's worry to fade. His brother always knew what to say when he felt lost and he knew that Zoro was always there for him and it made him feel like he could do anything. Zoro slapped Chopper's back to slam the boy with confidence again. "You've got this."

"I've got pain in my back." The boy joked as he rubbed the place where Zoro slapped him. Zoro was a tall and muscular man so a simple slap on his back was enough for Chopper's lungs to come out.

The two brothers entered the school building and the inside was just as amazing as the outside. Though the outside had an old but elegant feel to it, the inside had a modern design.  The entrance hall had a huge staircase that leads to a second floor where they saw students were reading books and lounging around. There were four huge doors that lead to different departments on the first floor. The first thought Chopper had was that he needed to hold his big brother's hand or he wouldn't find the guy for a week.  

"Where do we go?" Chopper said his thought out loud, he was worried that he would be late for his appointment, it wasn't a good image to start with after all.  The building had different hallways and rooms and it might take ages for them to find the admissions center. The only way they could get there on time is to ask how to get there.

"You're blocking the way." The boys turned around to see a black haired man with a very deep and black eyebags who had tattooed letters on his fingers that when put together spelled "DEATH".  

"You can just walk past us, there are no people around!" Zoro raised his eyebrows and looked around him to check if there were other people in the large entrance of the building. There were none, and the man could have just avoided them and went on his day.

"Zoro...  We are blocking the way..." Chopper said in a low voice. He didn't want trouble before he could even start going to classes.

"Oi Law, don't scare them." A man wearing a white lab coat came up to them. He was wearing eyeglasses and he had blonde hair on top of his head but the sides were completely bald. Somehow, he reminded them of a pineapple. "I'm guessing you're looking for the admissions?" He questioned with a smile.

"Yes." Chopper answered the man. The boy glanced at Zoro, who was having a staring contest with Law.

"I'll take you there. I'm Marco, a professor at this university and this..." Marco placed his hand on Law's shoulder and gave it one light slap. "is Law. Despite him looking like a criminal, this guy is a graduating student and the top one at that." Chopper looked at Law in a different light. At first, he thought the guy was a delinquent but now he sees him as a star student. He thought the guy must be very grumpy because he was staying up all night to study and do school work, he can see it in the guy's eye bags.

"Go to your class, Law. You'll be late." Marco looked at Law and shooed him away. Law gave the brothers one final look before he turned his back and walked to his class.  

"Don't worry, he's a pretty nice guy if you get to meet him better. He's not in a great mood this morning because of school work. Now then, shall we?" The professor smiled and gestured that they climb the stairs. He escorted them all the way to the admission area where he told them to sit down at the reception and wait for a while. Marco gave Zoro a clipboard to fill up Chopper's personal information while they were waiting.

"This is it Zoro." Chopper whispered while watching Zoro filling up the form. Zoro grunted to acknowledge what Chopper said. They knew they would move to Marie Jois City but it felt like a dream that when they wake up it would go away but now that they're here with their fancy new apartment and Chopper's new amazing school everything finally felt real for the both of them and they're proud of how far they come. They both waited patiently on their seats and after thirty minutes Marco came back and asked for the clipboard.

"Sorry, the dean got busy with work so he asked me to process your admission instead uhhh..." He looked at the clipboard to see the name of his client. "Mr. Chopper?" Marco questioningly looked at Zoro because he thought the name didn't quite fit the guy. Zoro made the no motion with his head and pointed at the actual Chopper beside him. The professor made a questionable expression with his face at first but then he immediately lit up like he remembered something.

"Oh! You're that genius kid the faculty's talking about!" Marco exclaimed with a huge grin on his face. "Everyone's excited to meet you!"

"Don't call me a genius! It doesn't make me happy!" Chopper hid his blushing face in his hands. He couldn't take the compliment that the whole faculty knows about him and recognizes his talent. The thought gave him a confidence boost. Marco looked at Zoro to ask if Chopper was okay and the green-haired man nodded his head in response. The pineapple-haired man chuckled.

"We'll just do a short orientation." Marco leads the two boys to an office where they talked about the requirements for Chopper's scholarship. The man explained that the boy needed to maintain an above average GPA to maintain his scholarship and that it only covers the whole tuition for his years at the university. So the money to buy for books and medical equipment needed to come out from their pockets. If the school also needed a student volunteer they'd need Chopper to be there to help them.  Marco showed them the school curriculum and available subjects they had for the semester. He suggested that Chopper shouldn't rush since they still had a month before the semester starts but he also told him to pass the schedule he wanted two weeks before. Marco made Zoro sign a contract about the conditions for Chopper's scholarship. The school knew Chopper was still underage so they made his guardian sign for him and included him to the orientation just to be sure that they know what the boy was about to go through. After a short two hour talk with Marco, they finished the first step of the admission process and told them to come back with the schedule.  

"I'll see you in class then, Chopper." Marco said while shaking the boy's hand. After their exchange, the brothers left the room and walked to the exit of the school building where they texted Usopp to come and pick them up.

"Well, that went well huh?" Zoro ruffled Chopper's hair as if telling him that he did a good job and that he was very proud of him. Before Chopper could answer there was a loud grumble from his stomach.

"Hungry?" The man asked and Chopper nodded in agreement.

"I've got packed lunch in my bag, we could eat it while waiting for Usopp." Chopper opened his backpack and took out the lunchboxes he made, he figured that they might get hungry while waiting and that a homemade lunch would cost cheaper than eating outside. The two brothers found a tree near the road where they sat down and ate their lunch. It was a nice spot where Usopp can easily spot them. Usopp replied that he might be late because he visited a friend on the campus and that he was still with them which was fine for the boys because they didn't have anything else to do that day and a short picnic was nice. They ate their lunch while talking about how the university will be for Chopper and after they had their fill Zoro fell asleep laying on the grass while Chopper read the curriculum and available subjects Marco gave him.

It was silent until a loud screeching sound of tires and explosive sounds of engine disturbed their peace. Chopper looked around to see where the noise was coming from but all he saw were students, who were also chilling on the school grounds, shook their heads and facepalmed and just had this expression of "not again" in their faces.

When Chopper faced the road, he saw a small white car speeding. The bottom half of the car, as well as the hood and side mirrors, were colored black. It was too far away to see most of the details but he saw that the windows weren't tinted so you could see a silhouette of a person with a strawhat sitting on the driver's seat. There was a red Ferrari behind him trying to catch up but the white car suddenly burst speed as flames from the back of the car erupted. The car suddenly stopped on the nearest tree to where Chopper and Zoro were sitting under. There were tire marks on the road and Chopper could hear laughing from the white car. The Ferrari stopped beside the white car and rolled down the window in the passenger's seat and started shouting. It was amazing how Zoro was still asleep during the whole act.

"REMEMBER THIS STRAWHAT." A man with blue hair and a big red nose stuck his head out for a second to look at the white car's driver and stared at him to try and intimidate him. But Chopper could hear a loud laugh from the white car, the clown man looked irritated and just drove away in defeat.

"I'll beat you as many times as you like Buggy!" A boy with a stawhat stuck his upper body outside as he shouted and waved goodbye to Buggy. Now that the white car was closer, Chopper saw the plate on the back of the car that said "KING" and taillights that had three X on each side. There were three exhaust pipes on the back and the hubcap was also shaped like an X. Chopper stood up and walked to see the details on the front side of the car. He saw that the headlights were slanted on each side and that the hood was wider than most cars but the thing that interested him most was the word "TRUENO" in the middle part of the bumper.  Overall, the car looked old but the thing still beat a Ferrari at full speed.

"You wanna race me?" Chopper didn't notice but the boy at the driver's seat got out of his car and was watching the boy while he was examining his car. The freckled boy noticed that the driver had black hair and a scar on his left eye. A huge X scar was also visible on his chest under his white thin shirt. Chopper was curious about the scar since he looked too young to have such big injuries but he was a racecar driver after all.

"Ah! I'm not a racer so..." The boy looked disappointed with Chopper's answer but before he could say anything a loud grumble could be heard and Chopper looked at the boy.

"I'm hungry, do you have any food? I'm Luffy by the way!" The sudden change of topic surprised Chopper but the expression of hunger from Luffy's face was something he couldn't resist. Chopper scanned the place where Zoro was sleeping, looking at the lunchboxes that were spread near the man and remembered that he still had some fried eggs left, it was food for dinner but it seemed like Luffy needed it more. "I think we've still got some food left."  

Luffy clapped with joy and followed Chopper to their picnic place. Chopper handed him the eggs and he looked at the food with sparkles in his eyes. It was like he saw fried eggs for the very first time. He positioned himself to sit on the grass not noticing a certain green-head sleeping right below him. Before Chopper could warn him, Luffy sat on Zoro's face and like right on cue Luffy felt some air he needed to release and right there and then he did.  

Zoro immediately woke up and pushed Luffy away coughing for some fresh air. Luffy not only laughed at the sight in front of him, which happened because of what he did but also because he didn't know a man can blend so well with the grass. Zoro layed on the grass again taking deep breathes to rejuvenate his nose that took a huge bomb from some asshole. He was about to kick someone's ass for that.

"I like you both! You should join my crew!"  

Zoro stood up and walked towards Luffy. He grabbed Luffy by the collar and looked directly in his eyes with a menacing look but Luffy kept on laughing. Chopper knew where this was going and he was scared for Luffy. Most of the time Zoro was calm but when he gets angry, he really gets angry that he can beat up a person until they can't walk anymore. To avoid the worst to happen, the boy tried to calm his brother by pulling his shirt. It was a small gesture but it was something.

"Oi, Luffy!" As if an angel came down from heaven, Usopp came just right on time to stop the fight that was about to spark. The long-nosed man closed his door on the driver's side and walked towards the group. "You like them? They're the two brothers I was texting to you about!"

"They're funny! This guy..." Zoro released Luffy from his grip and the strawhat boy patted his hair to emphasize his next statement. "looks like the grass! And that little guy there gave me food!"

"So you do like them?" Usopp asks again not really getting the answer he wanted from Luffy.

"I do! And I want them to join the crew." Zoro swatted Luffy's hand out of his head.

"We're not going to join your crew! What crew do you even have?! A pirate crew?!"

"As I said before that I AM the captain of my own crew, Luffy here is the captain of another crew that I am in, I took pity on them because they need my greatness!" Usopp answers while pointing himself with his thumb. Zoro knew he was lying but Chopper still believed him and even Luffy did too! Now that he thought about it, Zoro confirmed that Usopp was a streetcar racer and if this boy was their captain then he must be the best one in their crew. It would be a good idea to race Luffy to warm up to the racers of Marie Jois City.  

"Whatever, I don't care about your crew. Let's just race to see who's the best one here."

"I won't take no as an answer. Whatever you might think, you and that small guy there are in our crew now." Luffy answered confidently. It was like he didn't understand what Zoro was saying and just kept on making the decision for them.

"You don't have to join the crew if you don't want to, Luffy’s just a bit stubborn" Luffy looked at Usopp with a scrunched face, obviously disagreeing with what he said. "What do you mean they don't have too? They're already in the crew!" Usopp looked at Luffy again in disbelief but sighed in defeat and facepalmed to try to slap the headache away. "Forgive him, he's just like this."

“Are you sure he’s just a bit stubborn?” Zoro mocked Usopp’s statement earlier. They looked at Luffy who was picking his nose reaching far for a treasure inside his nose. He was really a stubborn man.

“He’s a pain in the ass but he’s a good captain, not like me though, but anyway! You guys should meet our crew!”

"I want to meet them they seem fun!" Chopper said in a nearly inaudible voice. The boy was quiet for a while that Zoro almost forgot he was there. The look in his eyes tells Zoro that he seems excited to meet these people, it was new since Chopper was a very shy boy and he doesn’t open up to just anyone. Maybe this crew was a good thing for Chopper’s development. Although they still won’t join Luffy but maybe they might hang out with them sometimes.  

“That’s it! They’ll like you little guy!” Luffy agreed giving him a wide grin and a thumbs up.

"Let’s go then." Everyone was looking at Zoro and waiting for his approval. It was really hard to say no at this situation especially when Chopper asks for something, he rarely asks for anything after all. When they all heard his approval, they all cheered like little kids who got candies.  

Zoro didn’t agree to ride with Luffy since this was the first time they met and he really wasn’t sure if he was a safe driver not for him but for Chopper. So, the two brothers were sitting in Usopp’s car while Luffy was right in front of them to lead the way to their crew hideout. During the car ride Usopp was telling them stories about their crew. They were called the "Strawhat Crew" and they were well-known within the city and they were gaining popularity outside. He told them that one day Luffy was visiting his city, Syrup City, and he beat some street racing punks that were causing trouble within the city. The punks then left the city alone after Luffy confronted them. A funny thing was that Syrup City wasn't really fond of street racers so they didn’t see him as a hero but acknowledged the deed he did. Luffy then asked Usopp to join him and he decided to come with him to Marie Jois City to start a new life and live his dream of building fast race cars and that was the reason why he was living at the best city in the world.  

The two brothers were amazed by his story. It didn’t seem like it was a made-up story like what Usopp usually tells all the time the details seemed too real. Whatever the case was, what Zoro got from the story was that Luffy wasn’t that bad of a guy. He seems like a great guy to be Chopper’s friend.  

Their ride ended when they got to the far end of Marie Jois City where the road meets the sand and the sea. Usopp’s car stopped in front of a huge building, the top part had a big lion head with rays that were supposed to be the fur surrounding the face in a circle. For a hideout, that large thing pretty much gave them away. There was a huge garage door that automatically opened and following Luffy, Usopp entered and parked his car inside. When the two brothers got out of Usopp’s car they saw multiple cars parked inside a huge gray garage and the cars were hidden under a cloth like the mechanics didn’t want anyone to see what they were making.

"Our builder likes to keep his projects hidden so you'll see a lot of those here." Usopp pointed to a row of cars under clothes and each cloth had different colors. It was like the cars were coded for a specific person. He gestured the two brothers to follow him towards a door. They opened the door to find a huge room with wooden walls that makes them feel like they were inside a ship. It really felt like the crew hideout was a legitimate pirate crew from the seas. There was a long bar with different alcohol drinks displayed, a huge U shape red sofa in the center of the room with a large flat screen TV in front of the seat. A large aquarium on the wall where a variety of fish can be seen got Chopper’s curiosity. The feel of the room was homey and Chopper and Zoro felt comfortable and hungry because there was a delicious aroma of food coming out of the door on the other side of the room.

"SANJIIII! ARE YOU COOKING? I'M HUNGRY!" Luffy burst from the door behind them surprising the two brothers. "Sanji makes good food." Luffy told Chopper with saliva falling down from his lips. With a statement and expression like that and with an amazing aroma within the room, how can Chopper not believe him. The boy followed a hungry Luffy to the kitchen door where they disappeared.

"Don't worry about them. The only thing you should be worried about is Chopper getting too fat from good food." Usopp chuckled thinking about a cute little chubby Chopper. He walked towards the sofa and sat down and gestured for Zoro to come sit with him. Zoro took Usopp's word and felt less worried about where and what Chopper was doing at the moment. The boy knows what to do if something comes up anyway. Besides for Chopper to make friends, he also had another agenda why he came with them. He needed to meet these people and see if he can get any information about the different crews and who needed to beat to be the best in this city.  

"Oh, hey Brook! Where's Franky?" Zoro didn’t see the old man sitting on the couch, not until Usopp talked to him at least. He was very thin that he almost looks like a skeleton, he had a big afro black hair, and he wore a nice suit. Overall, he looked very fancy.  

"Ah! Usopp! He's with Nami. They went to get some gears for Nami's car." Brook looked at Zoro and gave him a warm welcoming smile. "Who might this be?" He questioned as he acknowledged Zoro’s presence.

"This is one of the guys who moved in the apartment above me. This is Zoro." Usopp patted the green-haired man’s shoulder who only grunted in response, he wasn’t really feeling chatty that day.  

"Are they the guys Luffy texted Franky about?" Brook stood up and walked towards the corner of the room to get a violin case. He removed the instrument from its case and started checking if the tune of the violin was in perfect shape.

"Yeah! They are." Usopp answered.

"Well then, I should play a song for our new friends." The old man started playing his violin and a soft song can be heard inside the room, it was relaxing and Zoro felt peace after a long crazy day but the short moment of relaxation was interrupted when they heard a scream coming out of the kitchen.

"LUFFY! YOU'RE EATING ALL THE FOOD BEFORE I EVEN GET TO SERVE IT." A man's voice echoed throughout the whole house. Luffy was then thrown out across the room with a huge steak on his mouth and another two on both of his hands. "I jufst whantedf toof tasfte ift." He said while chewing his food, they really couldn’t understand him because of the food on his mouth but they knew he was just trying to defend himself.

A man with blonde hair covering his right eye, which Zoro thought was really ridiculous, came out from the kitchen with plates on both of his hands. Chopper was right behind him with a single plate too. They went to the bar and placed the food on top of the counter.

"Thanks Chopper, you're a good boy." Sanji said with a smile. The man got a fork, knife and plate from the counter drawers and gave Chopper a slice of the steak. Chopper was shy to receive the plate of food at first but Sanji looked persistent and the boy gladly accepted it. The first bite of the steak brought Chopper’s taste buds to heaven because the meat was so soft and the juices were oozing out of the meat that gave it additional taste that he couldn’t resist.  

"I take it that you like it." The blonde man chuckled and lighted a cigarette that he placed on his mouth. Chopper’s expression gave it away, he couldn’t talk because of how good the food tasted like. This was the first time he tasted anything so good.

"This is really delicious!" Chopper said while he was slicing the steak into pieces. He couldn’t wait for another bite. "I never tasted something this good in my life before!"  

"Right? Right? Sanji makes the best food in the world!" Luffy spread his arms out to give emphasis to his statement. Sanji kicked him in the head because he knew the reason why he spread his arms like that was to get food from the plate again.

"So, are you going to introduce these two new friends to us Luffy?" Sanji looked at Luffy expecting him to act like a captain at this moment. Although he respects his captain’s decisions, he still needs to be wary of the two new recruits.  Though Chopper looked too pure to be a bad addition, he was actually happy that Luffy asked him to join.

"I never asked their names yet." Luffy answered with a laugh.  

"Why do you do this." Sanji facepalmed not really knowing what he expected because Luffy was their captain after all.

"I'll introduce them to you!" Usopp stood up from his seat and pointed at Zoro. "This is Zoro." He then pointed at Chopper. "And that, I guess you already know, but that is Chopper! He got a scholarship at the Medicine Department at Marie Jois University! And he’s only fifteen years old!"  

"So, you're a genius boy." Sanji ruffled Chopper's hair who was still enjoying his piece of steak. Chopper choked and looked at Sanji with a blush on his face. He still didn’t know what to do when someone compliments him.

"Don't say that! I'm not that smart!" Chopper said while he hid his blushing face on his hands.

"He can't take compliments," Usopp answered Sanji’s confused look and the blonde man nodded, understanding a part of Chopper’s personality.

"Oh what! You're a doctor?" Luffy looked at Chopper with sparkles in his eyes, clearly impressed with what he said. "That's so great! Now we have a doctor in our crew!"

Chopper dropped his knife and fork to bend down on his knees, hide his face and kept saying. "I'm not that good!" Everyone except Zoro were laughing at Chopper’s cute reaction. The phrase “joining the crew” were words Zoro didn’t want to hear from anyone in the room since they really weren’t going to join. It was a dangerous world and he didn’t want Chopper to get caught up in something that might ruin his life.

"We're not joining your crew." Zoro interrupted the fun and had a stern look on his face. Luffy looked at him and studied his expression for a while then he grinned, the next thing he said surprised everyone inside the room. "Want to race then? If I win you'll join us. If you win, I'll let you go." There was silence in the air as it got heavier and intense.

"Zoro, they're not bad people." Chopper stood up from his crouching position and looked at his brother. He was trying to coax him to join the crew without any race or fight. It didn’t really seem like they needed persuading because he himself, wanted t to join the crew.

"Things might get dangerous and you still got a huge future ahead of you." Zoro was trying to be a responsible brother for Chopper at the moment. This was a decision he had to make for themselves. "I'll race you tomorrow for it. But Chopper's out of that bet. You got it?"

"I better be out of that bet because I'm joining this crew! I believe I’m matured enough to make my own decisions now." Chopper looked at him and Zoro saw how upset his brother was getting. This was the first time he answered him like this. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Chopper to make his own decisions, Chopper was the one making the household decisions after all. But he knew the world of street car racing more than him.

“You can’t race you’re too young!” The green-haired man shouted making the air in the room heavier since this was a fight between family.

“I’m only saying that you both should join the crew, not race with the crew. Everyone here has their own thing that helps the crew move forward to be the number one.” Luffy spoke like how a captain would respond to the situation. Everyone looked at him in shock because of how responsible Luffy sounded, he wasn’t all food and games after all.

"Fine. Do your own thing." Zoro said as he was looking at Chopper who was sending a thumbs up sign to Luffy. This was his defeat, Luffy and Chopper had their points and he knew that whatever happens he will be there at Chopper’s side.

"Let's race tomorrow night then." Luffy grinned returning to the challenge at hand. The strawhat boy had a look on his face that said that Luffy was so sure that he was going to win the race. It fired up Zoro's determination to win and beat Luffy’s grinning ass so bad. If he was going to join this crew, even if he didn’t want to but the opponent won fair and square, the captain needed to earn his respect anyway and the only way he could do that is if he beat him in a race.

"If you want me in your crew, you need to earn my respect." Zoro stated his condition and looked at Luffy in the eyes to try and intimidate him but the boy laughed, he looked amused by the whole situation.

"I really want you in my crew now."

The door suddenly opened and revealed a man with blue hair who was wearing speedos and a woman with long orange hair wearing jeans and a plain black shirt. They stopped and looked at each of them with a confused expression. Both of them could feel the tension in the air.

"What's with the heavy atmosphere?" The blue-haired man said removing his sunglasses and putting the box he was holding on one hand on the floor.

"NAMIII!" Sanji bent his knee in front of Nami and held a rose he grabbed somewhere in the room. "You still look beautiful as ever." Nami rolled her eyes not interested in Sanji’s rose but she looked at Luffy who was still grinning from ear to ear. She followed her gaze and found a man staring at Luffy and a boy who seems scared. "I'm guessing those two are the "two new friends" you found this morning."

"Yeah! Chopper's joining us and he's a doctor." Luffy dragged Chopper in front of Nami. The teenage boy gave Nami a small wave too shy to say something but Nami gave him a warm smile, welcoming him to his new home. "Zoro wants to race with me first before he joins." He said again pointing at Zoro. He was still so sure that he's going to win and Zoro didn’t like that one bit.

"Are you the boy Robin's talking about?!" Nami clasped his hands and pinched Chopper's cheeks. "You are so cute!"

Chopper slapped Nami's hand away and hid his blushing face in his hands "I'm not that cute!"

"Wait, you know Robin?" Zoro asked Nami curiously.

"Yeah, she's in the crew too." Nami answered. Zoro looked at her in disbelief he never thought Robin was a type of person that raced. He turned to face Usopp with a confused face to get some explaining he wanted to hear.

"I told you we take our cars seriously. I thought you'd get the hint." Usopp said shrugging his shoulders.

"I didn't think you were so dense, Zoro"  Zoro heard Robin’s voice and a chuckle after her sentence. She entered the main door and looked at him with amusement.

"Alright! We're all here!" Luffy raised his hands and ran to the counter aiming for the food but Sanji kicked his face away before he could devour everything again.

"At least Introduce us properly to the guests..." Sanji danced over to Robin and took her hand and placed a sweet kiss. She doesn’t seem to mind his actions. Robin just looks at him and chuckles. "Right ROBINNNN" He said with those heart eyes again, so does he do this to every woman he meets? Zoro thought how stupid that blonde guy was.

"I’m gonna go first! I'm Franky, The engineer of the crew. Just tell me what you want and I can make the modifications to make your car extra SUPER!" Franky said as he placed his two arms together above his head completing his star tattoo. Chopper’s eyes sparkled because of how cool Franky looked in front of him. He wanted to get to know him more since he looked like a chill guy he could hang out with and maybe he could learn a thing or two about cars.

"I'm Nami, I'm a cartographer. I can make it easier for you to win a race with secret roads but you'll need to pay me." She said while doing an okay sign but obviously it meant money. Zoro could benefit a map from Nami he thought how it would make memorizing the roads at his new city easier for him. Maybe he could talk to her later about the price.

"I'm Brook, I'm a musician. Luffy said he wanted to have a musician in the group! I understand him because music makes everything fun!" The old man laughed as he played a brief piece on his violin. Luffy was nodding in agreement to what Brook said. Zoro guessed no one understood why Luffy wanted a musician in a street car racer crew since all they could hear during races were their engines.

"Sanji. I'm a chef." Sanji didn’t seem that interested in his introduction but he did give Chopper a smile since he was getting too fond of the boy.

"I know you know me but I'll tell you my role here. I'm a mechanic. I help Franky with the modifications!" Usopp said while pointing at himself with his thumb.

"I'm a historian and I just find this crew very interesting." Robin chuckled as she got confused looks from Zoro and Chopper. But it gave Zoro an idea how and why she joined the crew, maybe she was one of those who stood on the sidelines to get information.  

"I'm Luffy! Captain of this crew and the future king of the roads." Luffy said with a grin on his face.

"Everyone's so great! I'm Chopper and I'm going to start studying as a Doctor and that's my brother Zoro, he's a street racer." Chopper pointed at his brother who just stood there silently. Though they were introduced a million times they still needed to introduce themselves, it was different and seemed appropriate.

"Luffy, I think you'd be happy to know that Zoro's one of the 11 rookies that popped up two years ago with you" Robin said with delight on her face. Zoro was surprised to know that the woman knew about him. But it wouldn’t be that surprising since she was a historian, they get information everywhere and maybe she uses her connections to get information of racers outside their city.

"What?! I didn't know you were that good!" Zoro was his brother but he didn't know that his big brother was one of the best. Chopper knew why though, he knew Zoro wanted him to live in the sidelines. But there wouldn’t be no harm in knowing your directionally challenged brother was a top racer in the whole wide world!

"If you're aiming for the top then it'll be troublesome if you're in my crew." Luffy had a serious expression on his face for the first time after they met. He looked like a lion who was defending his title in his pride.

"I don't plan on being the king. I just need to beat the guy who gave me this scar." Zoro briefly showed the whole crew the wide long scar he had on his chest. Luffy looked at him curiously that prompted Zoro to go on with his story. Why Zoro was explaining these things to someone he just met he doesn't know himself either. He wasn't planning on joining the crew but he was opening a private part of his life. "Mihawk's known to be the best driving a Civic and I want that title. I challenged him two years ago but he beat me and told me he finds potential in me and that I should come back and challenge him when I'm prepared."

Luffy once again became silent and looked at Zoro for a little while and grinned ear to ear, he was impressed with the man's determination. "Is that so? Then you're in my crew again." He said with his hands on his waist while he laughed a giddy laugh. "Enough with this and let's have a party for our two new members!" Luffy grabbed Zoro and Chopper in a tight hug. Chopper was laughing with his new friend but Zoro had a pained look on his face.

"I said I'm not joining!"

The party started with beers in their hands, besides Chopper, of course, he had apple juice. Brook played his violin while Luffy, Usopp, and Franky danced and sang with him. Chopper wanted to join the fun of course but he was cornered by the two women who were interested in dressing him up that they were already planning when they were going shopping with the boy. They also asked questions about his interests and how he got into medicine. Chopper told them that when he and Zoro were still in the orphanage he met two doctors who came to their place for a random check-up. They told stories of what doctors do and he got fascinated by their tales. Since then, Chopper started reading medicine books and made it his goal to treat every disease in the world.

"So, are you and Zoro not blood-related?" Nami asked curiously.

"Nope, but we're brothers." Chopper said with a grin and Nami lightly ruffled Chopper's curly hair. He was right, being brothers weren’t only about being blood related but about how they treated and respected each other. "If you'd let us, this crew can be your family too."

"Why did you join the crew?" Chopper asked while sipping his apple juice, it was to hide the huge blush creeping up from his face and tears that were forming in his eyes. He really liked the crew and thinking that the crew can be his family made him feel warm and safe.

"Luffy invited us and like how he's doing with your brother, he doesn't take no as an answer." The orange haired woman sighed while Robin chuckled beside Chopper. "But Luffy helped us..." Nami played with her glass of wine with a happy expression on her face. "Just know that even though Luffy’s an idiot, he’s the best idiot captain. We've got different stories about him but we’ll tell you about it another time. Let's just enjoy the night." She grinned and dragged Chopper to where the boys were dancing and they joined the fun.

Zoro was happy that Chopper was having a nice time with his new friends and maybe, possibly, his new friends too. Even if he didn’t join the crew, they can still be his friends, just with different ideals. He was silently drinking his beer while sitting on the couch, chilling, watching the whole crew having the time of their lives. His peaceful time by himself is going to be ruined soon because Sanji sat down beside him.

"Luffy will beat your ass so just accept his offer already." The blonde man said as he was giving his cigarette a huff. He was pretty chill for saying such an offending statement to Zoro.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Zoro looked at Sanji and he was ready to punch the person in front of him because no one in his entire life disrespected him like that and got away with it

"I'm not saying you're a weak little shit, which probably you are," Sanji smirked earning him a murderous glare from Zoro. "But Luffy seems to like you and he won't stop until you just give up and say yes."  

"Well, he better gives up unless he wins tomorrow." The green-haired man answered. He was considering if he should beat the man up but for Chopper he won’t. This was a night of fun for his brother and he doesn’t want to ruin it for him so he decided to change the subject by asking a question that was bothering him ever since they got to the place. "How did you guys find this hideout?"

"This is a garage my friend used to have." Usopp slid down the couch and joined in their conversation. He drank a few gulps from his beer and wiped sweat out of his face. The man probably got tired of dancing and needed downtime. "Her name's Kaya. She gave this to us because she wanted to support the crew. I let Franky live here because he basically lives here anyway since he works on the cars day and night. It’s better for the building too because someone will take care of it."

"The hideout's location is far away from the city center so no one randomly knocks on the door. I can work in peace here." Franky sat down beside Usopp and chilled with the men sitting on the couch. The dancing stopped since Luffy and Chopper went to the bar to get some food to energize themselves while Brook chatted with the ladies probably about how nice the new additions to their crew were.  

"I can add modifications to your Civic if you'd like." Franky wiggled his eyebrows like it was a physical way of telling Zoro to accept his offer. Zoro was actually considering it because if he wants to beat Mihawk, he needed to upgrade his car and skills. Franky looked like he knew what he needed to do and with the addition of Usopp’s ideas, the car would have awesome enhancements that would exceed any civic model.

"These two are the best mechanics in the world! So, you really should let them upgrade your car!" Luffy jumped behind Usopp and Franky and pulled them into a hug. It was like he was showing how proud he was of his crew members.

"Sounds promising," Zoro agreed to what Luffy said.  

"Great! We'll start doing the blueprints after your race tomorrow." Usopp did a thumbs up with his hands. It was a done deal and Zoro couldn’t be more excited to see what upgrades they would do to his car. Luffy then dragged Usopp and Franky back to the dance floor and continued to party. Sanji left the couch to join Brook and the ladies and he had those heart eyes while he was talking to the girls. He looked really stupid to Zoro. When he saw his big brother alone again, Chopper went and joined him on the couch.

"Sorry if I'm being a hard-headed kid today." Chopper said in an almost faint voice. Zoro didn’t know what Chopper was being sorry for, the kid was having fun with new people he met. He was growing and spreading his wings and bit by bit tearing down that wall he made to keep strangers away. It was a proud moment for Zoro.

"I don’t know what you’re sorry for but whatever it is just forget about it. I do see that this crew seems different from the other crew I interacted with, they’re nice people and a good environment for you." Chopper's face lit up since it was rare for Zoro to warm up to people. "But I still need to see how capable their captain is."

"Whatever, do your thing. I know myself that I’ll feel at home here because I can feel that they’ll treat me, us like family”

Maybe. Just maybe, Zoro thought the same too.  

Zoro started his day with a quick workout in their living room. If he wanted to win that race, he needed to be in his top shape today. He even did a minimum of 1000 pound weight for an hour. After he did his morning routine, he cooked breakfast for him and Chopper. The boy was still sleeping because they partied until 3 AM and that was past his usual bedtime so Zoro let him sleep until noon today. His race with Luffy was set at 7 PM near Merry so he still had time to tune up his car.

"G'mornin" Chopper said with a yawn as he entered the kitchen with messy hair and puffy eyes from his sleep. The boy sat down and Zoro put his plate in front of him but the boy's head was still nodding off.

"If you're still sleepy you should've just stayed in bed." Zoro grunted not really understanding why Chopper ate his breakfast while his head was still in dreamworld.

"I wanted to do my schedule today." Chopper sleepily lifted his fork and started picking up his eggs.

"You've still got a month to do those." The man had a confused face.

"Yeah, but I wanted to check if I can get classes with Dr. Hiluluk and Dr. Kureha. You know they're one of the reasons why I applied to Marie Jois University." How could Zoro forget about those two names, Chopper didn't stop talking about them since that check-up they had like seven years ago. He kept up to date about their achievements and even decided to go to the school where they taught at to see them again.

"Do what you gotta do, I'll just be downstairs tuning up my car." Zoro quickly finished his meal and politely asked Chopper to wash the dishes which the boy happily obliged to do. The man spent his entire afternoon checking if his engine was in top shape and if his car still had gas and if his tires were still good. Three hours before his race, Zoro went up to take a bath and meditate in his room. Now that his car was in top shape and that he physically felt that he was in his best form, the next thing he needed to do was mentally prepare himself. He needed to stop thinking about anything else and clear his mind. He can't race with a troubled mind after all.

"Zoro, we need to leave now." Chopper knocked on his door and slowly opened it to peek inside. He saw Zoro half naked sitting on the floor cross-legged and meditating. The man opened his eyes and looked at his baby brother. It was finally time for his first race in Marie Jois City. “Usopp said he’ll show us the way to the race track.”

On the way to their meeting place, Zoro rode alone in his car following Usopp who was in front of him. Chopper was with Usopp because he didn’t want to bother his big brother that much and he wanted to hear more stories from Usopp. The boy did warn Usopp that Zoro was directionally challenged and this surprised the long-nosed man since Zoro was a street car racer, how does he win races if he didn’t know where we he was going? As they were talking about Zoro, Usopp glanced at his mirror to check if Zoro was still behind him but not much to his surprise he didn’t see Zoro’s car. They looked for Zoro and herded him to the right path. That cycle went on for about three times before they got to the place.  

They passed by the hideout and kept following the road until they got to the end part of the beach where they saw a mountain beside it. The whole strawhat crew were already there and they were all looking at the cars that stopped in front of them since they were already late for about an hour. Chopper, Usopp and Zoro got out from their cars and joined the group.

“Before anything, I just want to say that this guy is unbelievable.” Usopp was the first one to speak, he pointed at Zoro to emphasize how bewildered he was about the guy. He was the first one from Marie Jois City to experience Zoro’s unusual talent.

“Whatever! Let’s just start the race!” Luffy looked so impatient from waiting too long.  

“Let’s start the race first before we talk about what happened.” Nami agreed with Luffy because she wanted the race to finish quickly.  

“How do we do this?” Zoro asked Nami since she looked like she was the one officiating the race.

“Since this is an unofficial race, we won’t need any judges though a contract has been set. If Luffy wins you join the crew if Zoro wins Luffy leaves him alone.” The girl looked at both the racers and they nodded in agreement with the “prizes” the race had.

“Unofficial race?” Chopper didn’t know that street racing had rules they had to follow. He looked so confused that Usopp explain everything to him.

“There are two types of racing in street racing, the official and unofficial races. Unofficial races are usually the fun racing where they won’t bet anything big that might destroy their reputation so these races don’t need judges. Official matches are the ones where crew fights happen and this is where “contracts” happen. Contracts are what each side place as bet, most of the time captains bet their cars, money or their hideouts. Though there are times where they fight for a title that brings them closer to challenging the yonko or the top four racers where when you beat them you become the king of the roads. Judges come in the official races to make everything fair, to make sure no one cheats.” Usopp finishes his explanation and now Chopper understood the world of street racing better.

“The race type will be a sprint, the first one to come down the mountain wins.” Nami points to the top then to the makeshift finish line they did. “Both of you should get into positions.”

Zoro and Luffy started to drive towards the top of the mountain. The night was silent except for the noise from their car engines. The road was dark but the street lights gave enough light to see what was in front of them. It built up their excitement for the race. When they got to the top, Zoro was in awe when he saw the view. Marie Jois City was indeed a city that never sleeps because he could see the city lights from the top and the starry sky added a little sparkle that made the whole scene in front of him more beautiful.

"It's beautiful huh?" Zoro heard Luffy shout from his car. He looked at the boy from the driver’s seat and saw his goofy smile. "We'll have a picnic here with the whole crew next week!"

"As if I'm going!" Zoro quickly answered. It’s not like he has all the time in the world to relax, he needed to find a job to pay the bills after all. Luffy grinned ignoring what Zoro said and closed his car window.  

"You two get into your position!" Nami's voice startled Zoro. He looked around to see if she was there but the only thing he saw was a drone that was above their cars. Luffy reversed his car and got into his position while Zoro did the same.

"Ready?" The two boys showed a thumbs up sign in the rear-view mirror so the drone can capture their signal to let Nami know that they were ready for the race.

"START YOUR ENGINES!" Nami’s shout echoed throughout the empty road. They could hear the cheers from the crew as they both geared up their cars. This was Zoro's first race in this city even if this wasn't an official race where money or reputation was involved, he would still take this seriously. This was a good warm up for him.

"IN 3..." He cleared his mind and stared at the road in front of him. This was really it. It was really happening.

"2..." Zoro clutched his steering wheel tightly and he could feel his palms sweating from excitement.

"1..." He could hear his heartbeat not from fear but from the thrill to be on the road again.

"GO!"  

Zoro and Luffy dashed from the starting line at the same time. Their cars darted from the starting point to the curve ahead of them in seconds. The incline of the mountain road added a little more speed to their cars. For normal drivers it was dangerous and they needed to slow down to be careful but for racers the incline was a natural boost. Zoro could feel his palms sweating from his tight grip on his steering wheel.  

The two racers got near to the first curve of the road. This was a part where he could gain the first spot easily by drifting ahead. As they approach the curve, Luffy grinned and pressed a button beside his steering wheel that gave him a speed boost. Zoro could swear he saw rockets come out from the side of Luffy's car. With the speed boost, Luffy easily took over the race and passed the curve in just a few seconds and he was in front of Zoro.  

As Zoro passed the curve Zoro saw the two rockets from the side of Luffy's car fold and go deep inside somewhere within the vehicle. Zoro grinned, this was a thing that Marie Jois city racers had, rockets and power-ups and he was excited to beat this challenge without any of those powerups. He shifted his gear and pressed his pedal at full and his car was blasting the road away like how Luffy's car did, though he was still behind the strawhat boy. He could see another curve coming up from the road. The man couldn't remove the grin from his face, this was his chance.

As Luffy drifted at the curve Zoro saw an opening and shifted his gears, pressed the break and swerved right in front of Luffy. As he looked at his side mirror, he couldn't see Luffy and he smirked knowing that he was going to win the race. As Zoro continued driving he got confused because he couldn't see the city view from his right side like he used too. All he could see was trees and darkness and he swore this wasn't the road they passed by when they drove up the mountain. Maybe the road changed? or maybe he accidentally took a shortcut?

He kept driving and driving which felt like it took him hours until he saw the whole crew's back. Zoro could hear shouting from the distance and some loud engines that was nearly drowning the voice of the shouting person. Were they in trouble?

He parked his car behind them and got out of the vehicle and slammed his door shut. It was loud enough for the crew to know that he was there because he saw Chopper running towards him.

"What's happening? Are you hurt? I told you joining a crew was a bad thing! Just stay behind my back." Zoro instantly turned into big brother mode. The shouting and engines made him worry for the boy. It wasn’t like he wanted to diss crews so much but he was doing it for Chopper’s sake.

"I'm not hurt Zoro, I was more worried for you because Luffy got here first and said he didn’t see your headlights behind him. He told us when you drifted around the second curve you disappeared." Chopper answered calmly and crossed his arms. There was amusement in his face. How can he not be amused?  "So, you got lost. How do you even win races?"

"Oh, just shut up, I'm not used to the roads here yet." Zoro answered and an old red truck passed by their side followed by two other cars that seemed like they were in pursuit. Zoro got worried and pulled Chopper to his side but the boy seemed unbothered. Chopper pulled Zoro’s shirt and pointed towards the crew, he nodded and they walked to join the small crowd.

"BUGGY! JUST GET OFF THE CAR ALREADY."  A mysterious voice shouted from one of the three cars in pursuit.

"Shouldn't you all be worried about this?" Zoro asked Nami as he stood beside her, she had this unimpressed look on her face and as Zoro observed the others they all had the same bored expression.

"Well, we should be, but they're all idiots so I don't bother," Nami answered and looked at Zoro. Her bored face change to a delightful look as she saw something that interested her. "So how are you a racer if you get lost mid-race?" You can see the amusement in her eyes. Zoro rolled his eyes to ignore her enjoyment in his situation. He watched the cars again to understand what was going on.

"Who are they anyway?" He asked.

"That old red truck is Ace's car, one of Luffy's older brothers. Buggy stole it, he's the one driving it right now." Nami pointed at the red truck going circles around beach. "Those two behind him are Sabo, Luffy's other older brother and Marco, a very good friend of Ace, they're on the same crew called the Whitebeard Pirates."

"Whitebeard Pirates? That's one of the most popular crews! Isn’t their captain one of the Yonko?" Zoro was surprised to know about Luffy’s ties with a member from a well-known crew. Not that it intimidated him but more like it didn’t look like Luffy was someone who had connections. "And didn't Luffy beat Buggy in a race a few days ago?"

"Yes, and Ace and Marco are one of the top members in that crew." The man from Chopper’s school, who he almost had a fight with, stood beside Zoro and casually joined their conversation. Zoro was confused to see Law at the beach with them. "Buggy probably wanted to take revenge on Luffy. I was with Marco and Sabo when Buggy stole the car, I came with them here but I’m not stupid enough to mindlessly follow Buggy in circles. Does that answer your question?” Before Zoro could say anything snarky they were interrupted by Luffy’s loud voice.

"Oi Zoro! Where did you go? But you lost anyway so you're in my crew now!" Technically Luffy did win the race and Zoro was officially in the crew. He had to accept that fact since he did agree on the bet so he had nothing else to do Zoro wouldn’t back down on his words but he still didn’t consider Luffy as his captain, the boy needed to do something to earn his respect.

Luffy jumped and wrapped his arms on Zoro and Law's neck. "Zoro meet Torao! Our crews are good buddies!" The two men in Luffy’s grip were struggling to get out from his hold but he was strong for a thin boy.  

"OI STRAWHAT!  RACE ME!" Luffy released the two men when Buggy stopped the truck in front of them. He rolled his windows down and glared at Luffy.  

"Sure!" Because they knew Luffy so well, it didn’t surprise the whole crew to see him accepting any challenges their captain gets from his enemies. Luffy gave Buggy a thumbs up to physically show that he was up to the challenge.

"Luffy?! Are you just gonna ignore the fact that he stole Ace's truck?!" The two cars that was follow Buggy pulled up in a corner and the drivers got out to join the commotion. Sabo gave his little brother a light slap on the head to wake up some senses in him.

"Ace is strong, why should I be worried?" Luffy looked at Sabo with a confused expression. They both know that their brother was strong and that he was capable of beating Buggy into a pulp himself so why Sabo was so worried Luffy didn’t understand.  

"He's only strong because of the power-ups of this car" Buggy said with a sly grin on his face. Luffy's mood shifted from happy to angry in just a few seconds and everyone became silent.  They all knew that when someone talks badly about the people that’s important to Luffy he gets ballistic. It was very sweet of him to protect his loved ones even if they weren’t there. Luffy looked furious when he returned his attention to Buggy, it might have scared the blue-haired man for a bit but he kept on going in his act.

"What did you just say?"  

"You know you heard me."

"Even if he isn't using that car Ace could still beat your ass." Luffy slowly walked closer to the truck to get nearer to Buggy. He was itching to punch some senses to the clown’s head.

"I doubt it" Buggy laughed at his own joke but his cheerful moment was stopped when Luffy punched the side of Ace's truck to get his attention. That punch might have made some dents to the truck but Luffy really didn’t mind though a silent Franky was already planning on how to deal with the small damage his captain has done to Ace’s car.

"Let's race Buggy, I'll show you even with all those power-ups you can't beat me or Ace. It's not just about the boosts it's pure skill and Ace has that, you don't." Luffy challenged Buggy and the clown was up to the challenge, this was his revenge plan after all. He wanted to rile up Luffy and beat him in his most serious mode to show the world how weak he was. Buggy knew he wouldn’t beat the boy if he used his own car so he stole Ace’s car to add chances to him winning and to rile up Luffy. It was a win win situation.

"I thought you'd never ask."

The match was set at the road between the strawhat’s hideout and the mountain where Zoro and Luffy raced. The Strawhat crew placed a finish line sign at the end point of the decided meters of the race and Luffy and Buggy's car were already at the starting point. The whole crew knew that this race was different from the 'casual races' Luffy usually does so Franky double checked Luffy's engine and tires if they were in top shape. He was almost done with his 'last minute enhancements' for the car while Buggy was fiddling with the controls of Ace's car when Sabo called the two racers.

"Buggy, Luffy, come here." Luffy and Buggy walked towards Sabo and faced each other not once backing down from the intense eye contact they had. "Shall we make this an official race?"

"Yes." They both answered simultaneously.  

"Then with Me, Marco and Law being neutral we will become the judges of the race. What will you place as your bet?" Sabo nervously looked at Luffy, although he was considered a 'neutral' person at this event because he wasn't in Luffy nor Buggy's crew, he was still Luffy's brother and he knew exactly what Luffy will place as a bet for the race. And he really wasn't sure if that was a good idea.

"Ace's car." Luffy smirked and everyone around him sighed. Sabo facepalmed himself, this was his brother after all. He knew what was in Luffy’s mind at this point.

"It isn't your car but you place it as a bet?" The clown was laughing his ass out. He couldn’t believe the unusual contract he was making with one of the craziest racers in Marie Joise city. "I bet this car too but if I win, I also want your car."

"Sure."  

"WHAT, LUFFY?!" Usopp shouted and you could hear the dismay in his voice. Both he and Frank had done so much work on that car that they’ll trade their own cars for it. "WE WORKED SO HARD FOR THAT CAR?!"

"Like I'm gonna lose." Zoro was impressed with Luffy's confidence in his skills. If the boy showed a bit more of his respectable aspects Zoro might just consider him his captain and pledge his loyalty to him. The fact that Luffy fought someone because they dissed his brother was already commendable. Zoro fully understood what Luffy felt.

"With the contract done, get inside your cars!" The racers had one last look at each other then slowly walked to their cars. They got inside and made themselves comfortable in the driver’s seat when Sabo walked towards the center of the starting line with a flag in his hands.

"Start your engines!" Luffy keyed his car and riled up his engine. He needed to be serious this time, though he was always serious during a race.

"3!" Luffy breathed in trying to calm himself down and to prepare himself for his competition.

"2!"  

"1!" Though the racer themselves weren’t nervous the audience outside felt the excitement.

"GO!" Sabo waved the flag and both the cars passed by so quickly that he felt his hair got messy, which it actually did.

The race started with Buggy and Luffy neither in the lead. They were in equal standing but the quick sprint would end soon and both needed to make their move immediately if they wanted to win. The clown felt his sweat dripping from his forehead to his face, he glanced at the wheel and saw the different buttons that had different commands. He knew that those were his key to winning the race but he didn't know which one he should press.  

Buggy gave a quick glance at his left side and he saw Luffy grinning from ear to ear like he knew he was going to win the race. He bit his lip; he knew he had the best car in this race why was Luffy still catching up to him? A mere lemon can't compare its engines to a powered-up truck! Luffy’s crew did say that they did upgrades to his car but Ace's car also had upgrades that were greater than his and with the most advanced technologies the mechanics could touch.

In his moment of self-doubt, he didn't notice Luffy was going faster than him. He panicked and pressed a random button on the wheel. The car then had four rockets come out of its side and gave him the extra boost he needed. Buggy started laughing and thanked his great luck.

Luffy grinned as Buggy was passing him quickly. He pressed on his clutch and changed his gears to gear third and slammed his right foot to the accelerator to give him a boost to catch up. The strawhat boy was just warming up after all. The boy then flipped a switched on his stick and different gears were added to his arsenal. On the side of the fourth gear came out "Boundman", "Tankman" and "Snakeman".

It was the middle of the race and Buggy was still on the lead but Luffy was at his tail. Luffy once again changed from the third to the fourth gear and he was faster than before. He could distinctly hear Buggy laughing. The pace both racers had was consistent until they were near the finish line. When Buggy saw the finish line he changed his gears and pressed another button that gave him a nitro boost and he aligned his car in front of Luffy so he couldn't speed his way up. Luffy grinned at the challenge.

At the finish line, Chopper was waiting with half of the crew members since the other half was at the starting point but they were in a car behind the racers so they had the full view of the race themselves. They were watching the race from afar and they were feeling nervous about the outcome of the race since they saw Buggy was on the lead.

"Luffy would win, right?" Chopper asked Nami who had a blank expression on her face but her eyes were glued to the two cars.

"He will." She answered. Nami was quiet but she knew her captain would win.

Luffy looked directly at Buggy's car with a smirk on his face, he knew Buggy was looking at him at his rearview mirror. When both of them were just seconds away from the finish line, Luffy moved his stick from the fourth gear to the "Snakeman" below it. It gave his car an immense speed boost and he swerved to the right and quickly passed Buggy. He pulled his handbrake to drift in front of the clown to cross the finish line first. Everything was a blur for a moment and Buggy's jaw just dropped in surprise.

"The winner of the match is Monkey D. Luffy!" Sabo got out from his and announced the winner loud and clear. Everyone cheered and ran to Luffy to congratulate him. As everyone cheered Buggy quietly slipped away. Law saw him and told Luffy.

"The clown is running away Mugiwara-ya." He pointed at Buggy's running form.  

"Buggy! Thanks for the great race! Let's race again someday!" Luffy shouted loud enough for Buggy to hear. It wasn’t the reaction they were expecting, Law thought that Luffy would run after him but he guessed that beating Buggy in a race was enough for Luffy.

As everyone was talking to Luffy, Zoro contemplated for a second, he was impressed by Luffy's way of racing. Luffy had the skills that could beat anyone and the boy was someone Zoro could actually follow and swear to him until he was the king of the roads. He cared for his crew and family too. His crew wasn't all that bad either, they were like family and Chopper and him would enjoy that type of companionship. The green-haired man had finally decided.

He walked towards Luffy and everyone became silent. Zoro held his hand in front of Luffy for a handshake. "Nice race, Captain." Luffy grinned and returned his handshake. It was a simple sentence from Zoro but the whole crew knew that he was officially a member not only because he was forced to but also because he saw how capable Luffy was.

“So, we’ve got a new family?” Chopper stood beside Zoro as they were looking at their new crew in front of them.

“Yes, we do.” Zoro ruffled Chopper’s curly hair.  

This was only the beginning of their new life at Marie Joise City.

#fanfic #opbigbang #17702 words :O #first time for me aaah! I enjoyed it very much

[libraryofwar]

THE UNTOLD TRUE STORY OF MAD DOG SHRIVER: 

Mad Dog led dozens of covert missions into Laos & Cambodia until his luck ran out. By Maj. John L. Plaster, USAR (Ret.) 

There undoubtedly was not a single recon man in SOG more accomplished or renowned than Mad Dog Shriver. Mad Dog! In the late 1960s, no Special Forces trooper at Ft. Bragg even breathed those top-secret letters, "S-O-G," but everyone had heard of the legendary Studies and Observations Group Green Beret recon team leader, Sergeant First Class Jerry Shriver, dubbed a "mad dog" by Radio Hanoi.

It was Jerry Shriver who'd spoken the most famous rejoinder in SOG history, radioing his superiors not to worry that NVA forces had encircled his tiny team. "No, no," he explained, "I've got 'em right where I want 'em — surrounded from the inside." Fully decked out, Mad Dog was a walking arsenal with an imposing array of a sawed-off shotgun or suppressed submachine gun, pistols, knives, and grenades. 

"He looked like Rambo," First Sergeant Billy Greenwood thought. Blond, tall and thin, Shriver’s face bore chiseled features around piercing blue eyes. "There was no soul in the eyes, no emotion," thought SOG Captain Bill O’Rourke. "They were just eyes." By early 1969, Shriver was well into his third continuous year in SOG, leading top secret intelligence gathering teams deep into the enemy’s clandestine Cambodian sanctuaries where he’d teased death scores of times. 

Unknown to him, however, forces beyond his control at the highest levels of government in Hanoi and Washington were steering his fate. The Strategic Picture Every few weeks of early 1969, the docks at Cambodia's seaport of Sihanoukville bustled with East European ships offloading to long lines of Hak Ly Trucking Company lorries. Though ostensibly owned by a Chinese businessman, the Hak Ly Company's true operator was North Vietnam's Trinh Sat intelligence service. 

The trucks’ clandestine cargo of rockets, small-arms ammunition and mortar rounds rolled overnight to the heavily jungled frontier of Kampong Cham Province just three miles from the border with South Vietnam, a place the Americans had nicknamed the Fishhook, where vast stockpiles sustained three full enemy divisions, plus communist units across the border inside South Vietnam — some 200,000 foes. 

Cambodian Prince Sihanouk was well aware of these neutrality violations; indeed, his fifth wife, Monique, her mother and half-brother were secretly peddling land rights and political protection to the NVA; other middlemen were selling rice to the NVA by the thousands of tons. Hoping to woo Sihanouk away from the communists, the Johnson Administration had watched passively while thousands of GIs were killed by communist forces operating from Cambodia, and not only did nothing about it, but said nothing, even denied it was happening. And now, each week of February and March 1969, more Americans were dying than lost in the Persian Gulf War, killed by NVA forces that struck quickly then fled back to "neutral” Cambodia. 

Combined with other data, SOG's Cambodian intelligence appeared on a top-secret map which National Security Adviser Henry Kissinger studied aboard Air Force One at Brussels airport the morning of 24 February 1969. Sitting with Kissinger was Colonel Alexander Haig, his military assistant, while representing the president was White House Chief of Staff H.R. "Bob" Haldeman. During the new administration's transition, President Nixon had asked Kissinger to determine how to deal with the Cambodian buildup and counter Hanoi's "fight and talk" strategy. 

While President Nixon addressed NATO's North Atlantic Council, those aboard Air Force One worked out details for a clandestine U.S. response: The secret bombing of Cambodia's most remote sanctuaries, which would go unacknowledged unless Prince Sihanouk protested. When Air Force One departed Brussels, Kissinger briefed President Nixon, who approved the plan but postponed implementing it. Over the coming three weeks, Nixon twice warned Hanoi, "we will not tolerate attacks which result in heavier casualties to our men at a time that we are honestly trying to seek peace at the conference table in Paris." The day after Nixon's second warning, the NVA bombarded Saigon with 122mm rockets obviously smuggled through Cambodia. 

Three days later, Nixon turned loose the B-52s on the Fishhook, the first secret Cambodian raid, which set off 73 secondary explosions. A Special SOG Mission Not one peep emanated from Phnom Penh or Hanoi and there was a fitting irony: For four years the North Vietnamese had denied their presence in Cambodia, and now, with U.S. bombs falling upon them, they could say nothing. 

Nixon suspended further B-52 strikes in hopes Hanoi's negotiators might begin productive discussions in Paris, but the talks droned on pointlessly. To demonstrate that America, too, could "talk and fight," President Nixon approved a second secret B-52 strike, this time against a target proposed by General Creighton Abrams with Ambassador Bunker's endorsement: COSVN, the Central Office for South Vietnam, the almost mythical Viet Cong headquarters which claimed to run the whole war. 

An NVA deserter had pinpointed the COSVN complex 14 miles southeast of Memot, Cambodia, in the Fishhook, just a mile beyond the South Vietnamese border. The COSVN raid was laid on for 24 April. Apprised of the upcoming B-52 strike, Brigadier General Philip Davidson, the MACV J2, thought that instead of just bombing COSVN, a top-secret SOG raiding force should hit the enemy headquarters as soon as the bombs stopped falling. 

He phoned Colonel Steve Cavanaugh, Chief SOG, who agreed and ordered the Ban Me Thuot-based Command and Control South, CCS, to prepare a Green Beret-led company of Montagnard mercenaries for the special mission. At CCS, the historic COSVN raid fell upon its most accomplished man, that living recon legend, Mad Dog Shriver, and Captain Bill O'Rourke. 

Though O'Rourke would command the company-size raiding force, Shriver equally would influence the operation, continuing an eight-month collaboration they’d begun when they ran recon together. Mad Dog — the Man and the Myth 

There was no one at CCS quite like Mad Dog Shriver. Medal of Honor recipient Jim Fleming, who flew USAF Hueys for SOG, found Shriver, "the quintessential warrior-loner, anti-social, possessed by what he was doing, the best team, always training, constantly training." Shriver rarely spoke and walked around camp for days wearing the same clothes. In his sleep he cradled a loaded rifle, and in the club he'd buy a case of beer, open every can, then go alone to a corner and drink them all. Though he'd been awarded a Silver Star, five Bronze Stars, and the Soldiers Medal, the 28-year-old Green Beret didn’t care about decorations. 

But he did care about the Montagnard hill tribesmen, and spent all his money on them, even collected food, clothes, whatever people would give, to distribute in Yard villages. He was the only American at CCS who lived in the Montagnard barracks. "He was almost revered by the Montagnards," O'Rourke says. 

Shriver's closest companion was a German shepherd he'd brought back from Taiwan which he named Klaus. One night Klaus got sick on beer some recon men fed him and crapped on the NCO club floor; they rubbed his nose in it and threw him out. 

Shriver arrived, drank a beer, removed his blue velvet smoking jacket and derby hat, put a .38 revolver on a table, then dropped his pants and defecated on the floor. "If you want to rub my nose in this," he dared, "come on over." Everyone pretended not to hear him; one man who'd fed Klaus beer urged the Recon Company commander to intervene. The captain laughed in his face. "He had this way of looking at you with his eyes half-open," recon man Frank Burkhart remembers. "If he looked at me like that, I'd just about freeze." 

Shriver always had been different. In the early 1960s, when Rich Ryan served with him in the 7th Army's Long Range Patrol Company in Germany, Shriver’s buddies called him "Digger" since they thought he looked like an undertaker. As a joke, his LRRP comrades concocted their own religion, "The Mahoganies," which worshipped a mahogany statue. "So we would carry Shriver around on an empty bunk with a sheet over him and candles on the corners," recalled Ryan, "and chant, 'Maaa-haa-ga-ney, Maaa-haa-ga-ney.' Scared the hell out of new guys." Fleming says Shriver "convinced me that for the rest of my life I would not go into a bar and cross someone I didn't know." But no recon man was better in the woods. "He was like having a dog you could talk to," O'Rourke explained. "He could hear and sense things; he was more alive in the woods than any other human being I've ever met." 

During a company operation on the Cambodian border Shriver and an old Yard compatriot were sitting against a tree, O'Rourke recalled. "Suddenly he sat bolt upright, they looked at each other, shook their heads and leaned back against the tree. I'm watching this and wondering, what the hell's going on? And all of a sudden these birds flew by, then a nano-second later, way off in the distance, 'Boom-boom!' -- shotguns. They'd heard that, ascertained what it was and relaxed before I even knew the birds were flying." Shriver once went up to SOG’s Command and Control North for a mission into the DMZ where Captain Jim Storter encountered him just before insert. "He had pistols stuck everywhere on him, I mean, he had five or six .38 caliber revolvers." Storter asked him, "Sergeant Shriver, would you like a CAR-15 or M-16 or something? 

You know the DMZ is not a real mellow area to go into." But Mad Dog replied, "No, them long guns'll get you in trouble and besides, if I need more than these I got troubles anyhow." Rather than stand down after an operation, Shriver would go out with another team. "He lived for the game; that's all he lived for," Dale Libby, a fellow CCS man said. 

Shriver once promised everyone he was going on R&R but instead sneaked up to Plei Djerang Special Forces camp to go to the field with Rich Ryan's A-Team. During a short leave stateside in 1968, fellow Green Beret Larry White hung out with Shriver, whose only real interest was finding a lever action .444 Marlin rifle. 

Purchasing one of the powerful Marlins, Shriver shipped it back to SOG so he could carry it into Cambodia, "to bust bunkers," probably the only lever gun used in the war. And the Real Jerry Shriver Unless you were one of Mad Dog's close friends, the image was perfect prowess -- but the truth was, Shriver confided to fellow SOG Green Beret Sammy Hernadez, he feared death and didn't think he'd live much longer. 

He'd beat bad odds too many times, and could feel a terrible payback looming. "He wanted to quit," Medal of Honor winner Fred Zabitosky could see. "He really wanted to quit, Jerry did. I said, 'Why don't you just tell them I want off, I don't want to run any more?' He said he would but he never did; just kept running." The 5th Special Forces Group executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Norton, had been watching SOG recon casualties skyrocket and grew concerned about men like Mad Dog whose lives had become a continuous flirtation with death. Norton went to the 5th Group commander and urged, "Don't approve the goddamn extensions these guys are asking for. You approve it again, your chances of killing that guy are very, very good." But the group commander explained SOG needed experienced men for its high priority missions. "Bullshit," Norton snapped, "you're signing that guy's death warrant." 

Eventually 5th Group turned down a few extensions but only a very few; the most experienced recon men never had extensions denied. Never. "Mad Dog was wanting to get out of recon and didn't know how," said recon team leader Sonny Franks, though the half-measure came when Shriver left recon to join his teammate O’Rourke’s raider company. And now the COSVN raid would make a fitting final operation; Shriver could face his fear head-on, charge right into COSVN’s mysterious mouth and afterward at last call it quits. Into COSVN’s Mouth The morning of 24 April 1969, while high-flying B-52s winged their way from distant Guam, the SOG raider company lined up beside the airfield at Quan Loi, South Vietnam, only 20 miles southeast of COSVN's secret lair. 

But just five Hueys were flyable that morning, enough to lift only two platoons; the big bombers could not be delayed, which meant Lieutenant Bob Killebrew's 3rd Platoon would have to stand by at Quan Loi while the 1st Platoon under First Lieutenant Walter Marcantel, and 2nd Platoon under First Lieutenant Greg Harrigan, raided COSVN. Capt. O'Rourke and Mad Dog didn't like it, but they could do nothing.* Nor could they do anything about their minimal fire support. 

Although whole waves of B52s were about to dump thousands of bombs into COSVN, the highly classified Cambodian Rules of Engagement forbad tactical air strikes; it was better to lose an American-led SOG team, the State Department rules suggested, then leave documentable evidence that U.S. F4 Phantoms had bombed this "neutral" territory. It was a curious logic so concerned about telltale napalm streaks or cluster bomb fins, but unconcerned about B-52 bomb craters from horizon to horizon. Chief SOG Cavanaugh found the contradiction "ridiculous," but he could not change the rules. 

The B-52 contrails were not yet visible when the raiding force Hueys began cranking and the raiders boarded; Capt. O'Rourke would be aboard the first bird and Shriver on the last so they'd be at each end of the landing Hueys. As they lifted off for the ten-minute flight, the B-52s were making final alignments for the run-in. Minutes later the lead chopper had to turn back because of mechanical problems; O'Rourke could only wish the others Godspeed. 

Command passed to an operations officer in the second bird who'd come along for the raid, Captain Paul Cahill. Momentarily the raiders could see dirt geysers bounding skyward amid collapsing trees. Then as the dust settled a violin-shaped clearing took form and the Hueys descended in-trail, hovered for men to leap off, then climbed away. Then fire exploded from all directions, horrible fire that skimmed the ground and mowed down anyone who didn’t dive into a bomb crater or roll behind a fallen tree trunk. 

From the back of the LZ, Mad Dog radioed that a machinegun bunker to his left-front had his *(Greg Harrigan and I had been boyhood friends in northeast Minneapolis.) men pinned and asked if anyone could fire at it to relieve the pressure. Holed up in a bomb crater beneath murderous fire, Capt. Cahill, 1st Lt. Marcantel and a medic, Sergeant Ernest Jamison, radioed that they were pinned, too. Then Jamison dashed out to retrieve a wounded man; heavy fire cut him down, killing him on the spot. No one else could engage the machinegun that trapped Shriver's men -- it was up to Mad Dog. Skittish Yards looked to Shriver and his half-grin restored a sense of confidence. Then they were on their feet, charging -- Shriver was his old self, running to the sound of guns, a True Believer Yard on either side, all of them dashing through the flying bullets, into the treeline, into the very guts of Mad Dog's great nemesis, COSVN. And Mad Dog Shriver was never seen again. 

The Fight Continues At the other end of the LZ, Jamison's body lay just a few yards from the crater where Capt. Cahill heard bullets cracking and RPGs rocking the ground. When Cahill lifted his head, an AK round hit him in the mouth, deflected up and destroyed an eye. Badly wounded, he collapsed. In a nearby crater, young Lt. Greg Harrigan directed helicopter gunships whose rockets and mini-guns were the only thing holding off the aggressive NVA. 

Already, Harrigan reported, more than half his platoon were killed or wounded. For 45 minutes the Green Beret lieutenant kept the enemy at bay, then Harrigan, too, was hit. He died minutes later. Bill O'Rourke tried to land on another helicopter but his bird couldn't penetrate the NVA veil of lead. Lieutenant Colonel Earl Trabue, their CCS Commander, arrived and flew overhead with O’Rourke but they could do little. Hours dragged by. Wounded men laid untreated, exposed in the sun. 

Several times the Hueys attempted to retrieve them and each time heavy fire drove them off. One door gunner was badly wounded. Finally a passing Australian twin-jet Canberra bomber from No. 2 Squadron at Phan Rang heard their predicament on the emergency radio frequency, ignored the fact it was Cambodia, and dropped a bombload which, O’Rourke reports, "broke the stranglehold those guys were in, and it allowed us to go in." Only 1st Lt. Marcantel was still directing air, and finally he had to bring ordnance so close it wounded himself and his surviving nine Montagnards. 

One medic ran to Harrigan's hole and attempted to lift his body out but couldn't. "They were pretty well drained physically and emotionally," O'Rourke said. Finally, three Hueys raced in and picked up 15 wounded men. Lieutenant Dan Hall carried out a radio operator, then managed to drag Lt. Harrigan's body to an aircraft. Thus ended the COSVN raid. A Time for Reflection Afterward Chief SOG Cavanaugh talked to survivors and learned, "The fire was so heavy and so intense that even the guys trying to [evade] and move out of the area were being cut down." It seemed almost an ambush. "That really shook them up at MACV, to realize anybody survived that [B-52] strike," Col. Cavanaugh said. 

The heavy losses especially affected Brig. Gen. Davidson, the MACV J-2, who blamed himself for the catastrophe. "General," Chief SOG Cavanaugh assured him, "if I'd have felt we were going to lose people like that, I wouldn't have put them in there." It’s that ambush-like reception despite a B-52 strike that opens the disturbing possibility of treachery and, it turns out, it was more than a mere possibility. 

One year after the COSVN raid, the NSA twice intercepted enemy messages warning of imminent SOG operations which could only have come from a mole or moles in SOG headquarters. It would only be long after the war that it became clear Hanoi’s Trinh Sat had penetrated SOG, inserting at least one high ranking South Vietnamese officer in SOG whose treachery killed untold Americans, including, most likely, the COSVN raiders. Of those raiders, Lt. Walter Marcantel survived his wounds only to die six months later in a parachuting accident at Ft. Devens, Mass., while Capt. Paul Cahill was medically retired. 

Eventually, Green Beret medic Ernest Jamison's body was recovered. But those lost in the COSVN raid have not been forgotten. Under a beautiful spring sky on Memorial Day, 1993, with American flags waving and an Army Reserve Huey strewing flower petals as it passed low-level, members of Special Forces Association Chapter XX assembled at Lt. Greg Harrigan’s grave in Minneapolis, Minn. 

Before the young lieutenant’s family, a Special Forces honor guard placed a green beret at his grave, at last conferring some recognition to the fallen SOG man, a gesture the COSVN raid’s high classification had made impossible a quarter-century earlier. 

Until now, neither Harrigan’s family nor the families of the other lost men knew the full story of the top secret COSVN raid. But the story remains incomplete. As in the case of SOG’s other MIAs, Hanoi continues to deny any knowledge of Jerry Shriver. Capt. O'Rourke concluded Mad Dog died that day. "I felt very privileged to have been his friend," O’Rourke says, "and when he died I grieved as much as for my younger brother when he was killed. Twenty-some-odd years later, it still sticks in my craw that I wasn't there. I wish I had been there." 

There remains a popular myth among SOG veterans, that any day now Mad Dog Shriver will emerge from the Cambodian jungle as if only ten minutes have gone by, look right and left and holler, "Hey! Where’d everybody go?" Indeed, to those who knew him and fought beside him, Mad Dog will live forever. (This article is derived from Maj. Plaster’s book, SOG: The Secret Wars of America’s Commandos in Vietnam, published by Simon & Schuster.)

#special forces #MIA/POW #MIA #POW #Jerry M Shriver #Jerry Mad Dog Shirver #Shriver #Mad Dog #Special Operations #MACVSOG #Vietnam #Cambodia #HOOK #John Plaster #US Army #US Army Special Forces

[talesofealdancynedom]

Soloman Gyldenwyvern, in dragon kingdom fairy robes, with his black razor wyvern companion.

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 3 -  Passing The Time 3/10) part 4. Stories of Old

violence, alchol

maps

     In a dimly lit dungeon, Meriam sat next to her king husband trying not to fall asleep from ale consumption. Or maybe it was spiced wine; she couldn’t remember. Either way, brew was a loathsome potion of tiredness and unfounded charisma. Both of these were unbecoming of a woman in olden times, and even more so in a queen. The king held Meriam’s hand to remind her to be quiet as the court men argued. Meriam was usually quiet, and asserted her opinions calmly in the court, of which she was always invited; but not tonight. The group of tipsy lads, was complaining about ale imports, and the price of silver, from The Westlands of Dania. The kingdom at the south borders. Meriam always wanted to visit. The way the rich talked about Dania, was fascinating. She envisioned well toned blonde maned men, with elaborately inked skin, khol emphasizing their piecing blue eyes, and silver metal in their ears, face and hair; and the woman being the exact same. But built in their femininity instead of muscles beneath their furs. Tales of steep tall mountains, deep mines, snowy wonderlands, and dragons….

           Meriam woke up in the mourning, next to her husband. Her hair was messy, and she lay freezing and bare on an unmade bed. Dawn had not yet come. Her familiar Nihten, a Kestral, was perched in a nest box by the window. Meriam felt like how ice picks sounds.

“Good you’re awake. I hate when you get drunk. Even if you have fun for me. But I must warn you, last night’s conversation of trade turned into blatant racism.” Nihten scolded. “The King and his men are marching south to the boarders of the Westland’s today.” She chirped.

“Damn it. Dania is neutral.” Meriam said reaching out her arm from her splayed position, for Nihten to hop on. “I’m going to march down there, and tell them I’m coming; because drunk decisions are poor ones, and we need friends and allies to fend off Francia.” Meriam slurred, standing up and heading for the door. Nihten still perched on her wrist.

“But Dania is neutral; they will not agree to an alliance. Many nations have failed at befriending them. They are not an immediate threat miss Merry. Also, you are undressed…”

“I am also The Mage Queen of the Grand West.” Meriam Asserted.

           They arrived at the boarder just short of a week later. Meriam rode Nihten, and brought her men to accompany her husband. Not that he didn’t bring a few of his own. He had promised not to ride into war, but then again, their mini battalion was more adorable then menacing. The border patrol warriors of Dania looked most endeared. Meriam landed on a tree next to them, so she ominously watch the meeting. A tall blond woman wearing khol and a wool dress of primary colours, approached the King on his horse. From hair to bodice, she was fastened with finger loops; the silver was used to pierce her ears and hold back the twists in her locks. She approached holding a lantern; she looked amused, in a menacing sort of way. Behind her was a tall Danian man clad in furs, marks and metals, armed with many axes. Meriam was briefly distracted.

“Why are you here? Are the riches our merchants provide, not good enough for Anglia? Don’t worry, we are used to it. You may go home now.” The woman said haughtily.

“No, fair maiden. We are not here to barter for better trade. We are here looking for allies; Francia approaches.” The king announced proudly.

“Our land is of rocks and trees, and our food is elk and spirits. No one wants our land but us, and no one appreciates our culture like our peoples. Like magic, we stay away form politics of other lands, and it stays away from us. Now go away.”

“Bold of you to assume Francia cares if you ignore them.” Meriam interjected. The woman flinched noticing Meriam in the trees. Her posture and black fairy robes made her look like a menacing corvid.

“You have a mage in your company?”

“No. Um, that is my wife…Who also happens to be a time mage… yes.” The King said under his breath. Meriam jumped down, and approached the Danian negotiator.

“Well, Mage Queen. We can also fight with fire. It is you who is bold to assume we don’t have magic in our company as well.” She smiled, before dashing into the mountain forest and out of sight. Everyone was disappointed, yet not surprised. They stood in silence staring into the endless pointed mountains, and absorbed the breeze of cedar and juniper coming from the bush. Meriam jumped back onto Nihten, and flew up to get a better look. She froze time and used a merging spell to use her familiar’s falcon sight. And then a dragon came down on her, taking her out of the sky and into a mountain slope.

           As time resumed, Meriam found herself confronted with a Danian man with eyes like steel and hair like a dying fire. He wore khol as well, and blood red fairy robes of the dragon kingdom. Another mage. He helped her up, brushed her off, and lead her by the wrist down a trail. The path appeared out of nowhere, like he was controlling the trails. Meriam was flustered, unsure of the man’s intentions; he was far stronger than her. Additionally, Nihten was injured, and was wreathing in Meriam’s arms; she could feel her familiar’s pain.

“Where are you taking me? I am queen, and not here to cause harm. My company will be worried; return me to them.” Meriam demanded.

“You are a mage; I want to show you my home. I think you will appreciate it. I am Soliman Gyldenwyvern, by the way.” He responded calmly.

“Meriam Craweleoth. If you take me, you must take my husband and men there too. Less you want war brought to your radiant home land.” Meriam protested. Soliman stopped a minute. And it was not because the threat that her husband would rescue her, or that it implied Francia was coming. That would involve politics.

“Do they drink? If so, are they willing to ride dragons to my mountain top village, to hear stories while we share mead peacefully? If they do that, they may come along, and convince my brethren that sharing each others army, if we need to, would be wise. Though, we do not need armies. I have yet to see men born outside these lands, survive past these foothills.” Soliman chuckled. The last part scared her.

           The king and his party decided to trespass into the Westlands, to look for Meriam. She had suddenly vanished. The King was panicked over the potential loss of his true love. Searching deeper into the thick old forest, they came to a clearing. Looking up, they found themselves surrounded by dragons of various kinds, colours, and sizes. The king ordered that no one draw arms in neutral territory. Then Meriam ran out of the woods and into his arms.

“If you are willing to ride dragons with us, the Master Gyldenwyvern, says we will have a chance to share merriment and discuss alignment with the people here. I assume we are riding dragon fey as it is hard to get to settlements otherwise.” She said, striking fear into their hearts. “Don’t worry, fey, like Dania, don’t take sides unless you scare them, or bribe them with friendship. The teeth and fire are for show.” She concluded. The king turned his attention to Soliman, who was both intimidating, but had an aura and warmth to him. The King shrugged, and then climbed onto a Black Razor Wyvern with Meriam. It was hard to sit due to the fan along its neck.

“To safe borders!” the king nervously said, raising his fist. The men gave a begrudging sigh, and approached the dragons who seemed delighted to meet them. They must have all had grand fondness for Soliman, to agree to carry foreign people. After a leisurely and an uncomfortable two hour flight, they landed in a circular valley at the peaks of a inland mountain range.

           As the sun set, Meriam, Soliman, the king, and their men all enjoyed some dancing, mead and a warm bonfire. The locals offered to give them piercings and tattoos, which they refused. A few of the knights did get their hair cut though. They thought the Danian men looked smashing, and the only style of cut known in Anglia, is a lack there of. While learning Danian domestic life, the king played with the children; and Meriam drank more mead. Soliman, took a seat next to her, and took the horn from her hand. They watched the king sit across from them at the fire, now surrounded by a group of youths.

“Do you like my magic forest?” Soliman asked.

“This is a magic forest?” Meriam responded.

“Yes, the Dragon Gate sits upon a highest cliff. Did you think my dragon friends entered the day veil from nowhere? You are quite silly. If you look there,” Soloman said, pointing to the second largest building, “That is the mage hall; where I sleep. You and your company can rest there with me. The people made it for me. I think our carpenters got bored; not many children are born here, and thus few houses are needed. Just look at the detailed animals carved under the eaves!”

“That is very kind of them, master Soliman. And I do love your village. What is this place called? And how do you know our language….” The king asked.

“This sanctuary, of peace between magic and humans, is called Entsnaw. I know your language as it is the one used to write mage journals. Like a secret code. Few literate people outside your kingdom speak old Anglian.” Soliman smiled. “By the way, I sent off some good words on your behalf with our traders. Foreigners willing to fly dragons peacefully, just to help a magic village, should sound impressive. Expect letters from our leaders in regards to mutual protection. There is a difference between taking sides and doing what’s right.” Soliman smiled. Meriam stared at the coals beneath the fire. The talk of magic and men living in a mutualistic state made her mind spin.

“Master Soliman, do you think common folk of magic houses, would do the right thing if they could use magic?” Meriam mused.

“I don’t know. I don’t think our people would even want to wield it; they seem satisfied just to be around it. That is an odd impossibility to ponder. Whatever made you ask such a thing?”

“I met a mage once, who said he wanted everyone to experience magic the way we do. Because he loved magic so much, and saw people sparkle in its presence. But I think some people wouldn’t do the right thing, given these tense times. I think, just as fey, their fear would turn into violence. But I want to believe that warlock is right; Because I believe he will make it happen, no matter what I think.” She concluded. The circle around the fire pit went silent with Meriam’s words. Only the mesmerizing crackle and flickers moving. There was something unsettling about her words.

“Do you think Francia will reach my village, and do the wrong thing? That is why I tested you and am helping you, in your quest for balance and peace. I want Entsnaw to remain as it is.” Soliman said sadly.

“Yes. They are not beyond sacrificing their own people for more land. Hard times have made them cold. I fear for us all. There are few things worse than those with nothing to lose.” the king said, staring into the fire.

The Mage hall was atmospheric; it was permeated with the warmth of the large fire place, the smell of cedar, sweet mead, and warm furs. It all made Entsnaw, or Grand Snow, cozy. Even seeing glacier nymphs helping girls ice fish, as the sun went down, was enchanting. The ice fey had coated the valley with crystalline frost, like it was a painting or a dream. The high altitude’s thin air, made Meriam, her husband, and their guards, fuzzy and sleepy; which only added to the effect. In fact, when Soliman mentioned how much fey are a part of life, they saw fey everywhere.

As day break approached once more, calling the party of Anglian visitors to return home, Meriam and the king heard a large bang along the ridge; echoing down into the valley. They ran out to see Soliman riding a dragon upon the ridge; singing, as smoke became visible along the entrance trails. He was charming; something Meriam had only heard of mages doing. Singing a song of enchantment.  But her awe would not last long; Meriam and her men were helpless to watch a ball of fire strike Soliman, and his dragon friend, throwing them into the northern slopes. The king gathered his men, but Meriam made time slow. Nihten was mostly healed, and Meriam decided to ride her to Solman’s side. His fairy robes would make him immune to her time magic, as magic does not know time. Hopefully they would have protected him from the fall and fire as well.

“What was that? My royal guard is assembling to aid you.” Meriam shouted.

“There are people; small and fair, throwing oil and fire into my precious thicket of fey. It will burn the village, and enter the valley if I do not stop them! Let me sing. I can make it so cold, so that every day of the year will be winter. If these are Francian’s seeking good pastures, they will not find it here. I will hex this valley with a barrier of confusion no one but my daughters can navigate. I will not have violence is my home!” Soliman said, trying to breath and get up. Then he noticed how slow the yelling was, and fire moving. “You have made time move like mud… Is this your power, Queen Meriam?”

“Yes, But I am still but a seer, who records the tales of magic. I love to learn; teach me this song so I may help enchant this valley, before they enter. My knights will make quick work of them, if need be, alongside your brothers and sisters. I can give them time to do so.” Meriam said. “I do not believe in death, and my goal is for everyone to have peace; Including Francia. That said, Soliman, these are the stakes; A nation of starving people who wants to provide for their families, but has chosen to steal it with arms instead of paying or asking. But will Dania join us to stop this pointless wrath?” Meriam snapped. She held out her hand to pull him up, and he accepted.

They walked together to a cliff edge, while Meriam held time slow as molasses. Then, Soliman sang of the beauty of winter, with the enchantment of wishing to protect your loved ones. It sparkled and echoed across the entire circular valley, and made listeners hold their breath. There would have been a battle, if either of them had not been there. When there is magic, there is no need for war. When time resumed, the intruders got lost in the slopes and ended up mustering outside the valley. The air was crisp, yet not chilling; the valley, aside form the village, looked like it was made of glass. Soliman’s charm of winter was so strong, it even put out the forest fire. It would take a hell of a mage to undo such a curse.

           The fires put out, the intruders withdrawn, the valley enchanted, and their mission accomplished, the party of Anglia left Entsnaw. Due to the enchantment, Soliman’s daughter led them back to the trails with a simple oil lantern. At the bottom of the neighboring river valley, was abandoned military equipment, dead men, and Danian warriors. They gave Meriam, her husband and the knight strong hugs; Grateful for their aid. Meriam insisted it was Soliman, and she only gave him a little more time to finish his charm; the Danian men laughed. Her men, and the king, did not. Heading further down the mountain side, the girl leading them stopped at the next trail head. She smiled at the king:

“The Westlands thank the Grand West of Anglia for their aid and good will. We see now why you came to warn us, and desire an agreement. We accept your offer of peace. May the ten kingdoms be well.” She chimed, waving good by. Everyone smiled and waved good bye back. Then they saw the dragons who flew them inland, perched on the riverbank rocks. They realized they needed another lift. A lead knight bowed to the black razor, thanking her for the ride both ways. The dragon nuzzled him; she collected the gratitude of men. She nearly experienced incontinence.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #story 19 #fantasy #short stories #meriam #nihten #soliman

[mustangsan]

Convivencia | Chapter iii: appetence > On FF.Net and AO3

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Pairing: Roy Mustang/ Riza Hawkeye | Royai Genres: Romance/General Universe: manga/2009 series verse Warning/Notes: - Status: In-progress Summary: origin: Spanish(n.) lit. “living together”, in the sense of living or working closely with other people with whom you share feelings, desires, or a common purpose. Roy and Riza through the years, from the beginning to the end. 

Previous chapters can be found in the links above! 

Utwahay, 1898

On his second Sunday there, the eighth day since his arrival at the Hawkeye estate, Riza broke the news at night that she would be returning to school in the following morning, since he had already settled nicely and didn’t seem to need any more help with anything. It shouldn’t be much different, he guessed, the house was already pretty quiet, with her present or not; now he’d only have to have lunch by himself and he guessed he could handle it pretty well.

On Monday, she brought home the local newspaper and words that they were hoping for rain in a few days. The people were overjoyed, glad that the rain would save their crops; Roy was just glad that it would possibly lower the temperature of the town. Riza had said he would get used to it, and while it wasn’t as unbearable as in his first two days there, he still needed to roll up his sleeves and undo the first button of his shirt, but now that he knew the trick to opening the window it made things much easier for him.

He had also finished his first alchemy book and was just a few pages into the second. Studying all day was tiring and draining, but the boy was too strong willed to give up so soon, specially without even really trying. The paper he had to write and present to Berthold Hawkeye was five pages long, and the man had taken it from his hands with what bordered a glare just two mornings ago. Roy had a feeling it would be difficult to work with him and he could sense that the man was hard to please, but whatever his master’s standards were, he would meet them, surpass them even, and would make him so proud.

The only thing that could make him fail, the boy thought as he stood from his chair to stretch his legs and arms, was the weather that made him feel more sluggish than usual. The sun shone bright and the sky was still clear with just a few streaks of white breaking the blue; he wouldn’t expect rain so soon.

appetence; origin: French

(n.) an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond.

It had taken some time, but the grey clouds finally arrived and slowly occupied the space overhead.

Roy was leaning against the doorframe and staring off at the back yard, waiting for the rain to come as if he had never seen it before. He would strip himself of his clothes and dance naked under it had he been any less civilized, and the mere thought of it had made him do a double take at what had just crossed his mind. It must be the weather, he told himself with a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. The dry, hot, and nearly unbearable weather was messing with his brain; that could only be it.

The newspapers laid on the tabletop ruffled gently as a breeze went past him and into the kitchen, news and pictures from various places of Amestris printed in the washed out grey pages. Chris had given him money before he left, said she would send more every month as well, so he could use it the way that pleased him the most, and Roy, one who claimed to love his country dearly, had given some and asked Riza to bring home the weekly newspapers that got to Utwahay. He had yet to find a radio so he could listen to the programs and keep up with what was going on in the borders, especially the one at south that met with Aerugo, for he wasn’t so far from there and there was always the possibility that they would need to leave the area.

He had spent the day in the kitchen reading the news, a cup of coffee brewed that morning that had long ago gone cold to his left, a pen and paper to his right so he could annotate important information and details. Both nephew and aunt had the chances to sit down in the past and talk about his future, and he had made it clear that he wanted to serve his country. Of course, Chris tried to talk him out of it, because he was so young and could regret it, because she didn’t want to know he was out there in the battlefield, but his mind was set and he was just as stubborn as her brother was.

Therefore, he read the news as much as he could, and studied about Amestris’s history and its relationships with its neighboring countries, and these countries’ histories as well. Any valuable material that could increase his knowledge and help him climb his way through the ranks once he joined the military was more than welcome, and he would gladly spend days and days reading and studying them.

At the present moment, his annotation sheet was folded and carefully hidden in the back pocket of his pants. It was unknown if his master did really hate the people who wore the proud blue uniforms, but if he really did, Roy wouldn’t want him to know that he was planning on joining it. If Berthold saw all the newspapers and his notes, he would surely piece two and two together and would, much probably, refuse to teach him, kick him out of the house even. The apprentice would keep it a secret from him, but he didn’t know if he would be able to keep it from Riza; the girl was more perceptive than he imagined, and it wouldn’t take her too long to catch on to what he was doing.

The staircase creaked as the older Hawkeye descended from the upper level, an occasion that rarely happened past early morning. Roy kept silent as the man entered the kitchen to prepare his tea, something that his daughter did every day at the same time without fail when she was at home. Now that she had gone back to school, Berthold had to prepare it himself, and the boy wondered if someday he would be ordered to do it in their stead.

The first few raindrops fell from the darkening clouds as the alchemist filled the worn out copper kettle with water and heated it in the old-fashioned way, using matchsticks to light the fire in the stove. “Raining?” He inquired in that gruff and deep voice of his, cutting the silent air like an arrow.

Roy stiffened his shoulders and nodded his head only once. “Yes, sir.” There was a hum as answer, then silence again.

Once small bubbles started forming in the heating water, and the rain had shifted into a light drizzle, he spoke again. “Would you pick Riza up at school? She didn’t take her umbrella.” Moments like this, in which he showed some form of concern for his daughter, were even rarer than his appearances in the lower floor of the house. Roy wasn’t about to deny his request, nor would he let the girl walk home under the rain by herself, so with a silent nod he retreated from the kitchen and went up the stairs to fetch a jacket, then out the front door he went with the only umbrella residing in its rack.

The long blades of grass danced as drops fell on them, his shoes left imprints on the still dry earth as few tidbits of already damp soil clung to his soles. Umbrella over his head, he walked the distance from the estate to the entrance of the town, jacket draped on the crook of his elbow and left hand inside a pocket. In his head, the words in the newspaper repeated themselves. Creta had lost more territory to Amestris, and its internal problems were only getting worse. The cease-fire in Aerugo was over and soldiers were marching back into the field. The tension with Drachma was still ever present and a new one was arising east in the land known as Ishval. What a world he lived in.

Before long, he arrived at the entrance and remained rooted to the spot as a few townspeople rushed by under the thickening drizzle. In the end, he had forgotten to ask Master Hawkeye where the school was located, not that he would be expecting an answer in the first place. He could risk trying to find it by himself and either get lost or lose her. The people that had scurried away from the rain were far from him now, and there was no one close to ask for help. With a sigh, he stepped a little further into the town and waited by a tree for her arrival; surely, she wouldn’t take long.

It had never occurred to him until now that they could go through a period of drought. It never rained much in Utwahay according to Riza; that, added to the usual climate of the area, only made it more susceptible. He couldn’t imagine that; despite all the factors, the soil was rich and the plants were healthy. The town, for goodness’s sake, depended on agriculture to survive and go on. The inhabitants were aware of the risk, and that explained why everyone was awaiting for the arrival of the dark rain clouds. If the drought really happened and Utwahay didn’t recover... Roy shuddered; he didn’t want to think of that.

More than ever, he wanted it to rain.

Off in the distance, he saw an approaching silhouette. It was her, he already could recognize that blonde short hair and fair skin anywhere. Moreover, on that day of all days she decided to wear a short-sleeved dress. He sighed inwardly and walked towards her with a soft smile on his lips.

The umbrella was tilted in her direction and she looked at him almost guiltily. “I’m sorry father sent you after me.”

Not for the first time he noticed she never added my before the word father. It wasn’t his place to comment on that, but he chalked it up to her upbringing. She could be very formal. “It’s no trouble at all,” he resorted to say. “It’s my day off anyway.”

“You should be resting, then.” Brown eyes stared down at the ground. Water drops hit the stone pavement and ricocheted back to their shoes; the sight was far from entrancing, but she focused all of her attention in it anyway.

He clicked his tongue. “Nonsense.” A pause, then. “Here, I brought this for you.” Roy held the jacket between their bodies, and Riza perplexedly eyed it. “I remember seeing you this morning in this dress, and I thought you could be cold.”

And indeed, the skin of her arms was covered in goose bumps. Her hand slowly ran up from her wrist to her shoulder when she saw his eyes directed towards it. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did.” Damn, she was stubborn. Just like him. Now he knew what Chris Mustang went through. “Come, just take it and let’s head back, yes?” She hesitated, her thin fingers twitched as she slowly lifted her hand, and it hovered above the material with no signs of lowering it. “Take it,” he urged in a much softer tone and raised his hand until her palm touched the fabric.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, a rare spark lighting up her brown eyes, and her fingers finally curled around the collar of the jacket. With a satisfied smile, he amiably ruffled her short golden tresses whilst she slipped her arms through the sleeves. “Much better,” he grinned down at her, and she gave him a shy smile in return.

Soon, they were on their way back to the Hawkeye estate, safe under the umbrella.

Roy stood from his chair, books and annotations gathered in his arms in a messy pile of paper. When they had returned, he decided to keep on studying. He would finish with the book earlier that way, and could go on to the next sooner than intended. He also decided to continue somewhere else; the rain was really getting to him that day, and despite being a library, the lights were really dim in there. He’d have to talk to Berthold, as much as he didn’t want to.

The living room seemed like a good place. A couple of that thin pads piled together to sit on by the low coffee table sounded just perfect, and it reminded him of the times he studied in his room back in Central City. As he smoothed his hand over the rough cover of a book, he wondered if his letter got home and if his aunt would take too long to reply. When was the last time he wrote a letter, he asked himself, or made a phone call?

When he slipped out of the library, however, he spotted Riza sitting by the table, her own books sprawled and scattered on the smooth surface, and her hand halted its work when she glanced up at him from her spot. The pencil fell from her fingers as she straightened her back, and the boy placed his own books on a corner before leaning over to inspect her work. “Mathematics?”

“Yes,” she reached for her books and gathered them on her side of the dark tabletop; his gaze flickered to the spines of the books, geography and history, and he held her current work sheet between three digits as he brought it closer to his face.

“Isn’t this a bit advanced for you?” He remembered when he was still in school and he was taught basic statistics, which was a year before he left to study alchemy. Riza shouldn’t be seeing it just yet, but here she was, drawing graphics and filling out charts.

The girl gently took the paper from him once he was done. “Father makes sure I’m ahead of the other children, says I need to study to get far in life.” Berthold wasn’t wrong, and Roy completely agreed with him; a good education would be needed if she ever planned on leaving the town to start a new life in a bigger city.

However, they both couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words than simply being better than the countryside people of Utwahay.

Having noticed that they shared the same suspiciousness, he smiled an almost conspiratorial smile and knelt down across from her; she, in return, gave him one of the largest smiles he ever saw her wearing and twisted around to get a few cushions for him. “I would offer you help if you ever need, but I think you’re smarter than me.”

“Nonsense,” Roy pilled the cushions she offered him before sitting on them, and didn’t miss when her eyes darted to his stack of books. “If you’re learning that then you must be the smarter one.”

One dark eyebrow quirked up and his palm rested on the cover of the top book. “Don’t you want to learn alchemy?” Riza shrugged her shoulders and patiently waited until he had flipped through the pages and found where he had stopped. Roy glanced up at her, expecting her answer.

Her reply came in the form of a quiet whisper. “Not really. I don’t... Have an affinity for it, I guess.”

Roy decided to push his luck. “He doesn’t want you to learn it, does he?”

The last word hung in the air, and it seemed to echo inside his ears and head, among the walls even. It was almost as if he could see it crossing the space between them and reaching the girl on the other side of the table, and she sat there, eyes downcast and fingers twirling the pencil incessantly, shoulders rising and falling as she took silent breaths. The staircase cracked and her fingers stilled, quickly lowering the graphite tip to the paper as she resumed her work. Roy knew better than to stare at her, so he too averted his gaze down to the words in his book and pretended to read them.

The squeaking stopped when Berthold stepped on the landing of the staircase. It was silent again for long moments, and both youngsters in the living room could feel his attentive eyes on them, as if weighting if whether or not he should let them be in the same site together at the same time when they were both studying. Riza’s hand only stopped when she averted her eyes from her work to look at her book and memorize the numbers before her gaze fell on the worksheet and her hands moved again. Roy flipped the page and leaned further forward, and only the sound of her pencil filled the air.

Hawkeye turned his back to the scene and went up the stairs again, soon they heard when his door opened and closed behind his back, and the pencil halted again. Their eyes met and both let out mismatching sighs. “I think he came to see if we had gotten back.”

Roy almost wheezed out, “Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t hear us, don’t worry. When he’s researching he only tends to pay attention to exceptionally loud noises.” That seemed to be enough reassurance for his heartrate slow to its normal pace. The apprentice leaned back on one hand and ran the other across his forehead; his teacher could be scary at times, and unpredictable. Even though he and his daughter were fairly distant, who knew what he would do if Roy got too close to her? He was, after all, a father, and all fathers acted like hawks surveying a prey when there was a boy close to their daughters.

Somehow, their last name made much more sense now.

“I wouldn’t know,” Riza said suddenly, once again staring at the pencil in her hand. Immediately, he knew she was giving him the answer to his last question before Berthold suddenly appeared to check on them, and she sounded as if she doubted herself.

Deciding to change the subject for her sake, and his as well, he touched his fingertips to the back of her hands, feeling her bones and veins under the thin pale skin, and smiled brightly. “Finish your homework and then we can do something together.”

She eyed his open book suspiciously. “Aren’t you going to study as well?”

“It’s my day off,” he reminded her with a shrug of his shoulders and a brief chuckle.

Her eyes narrowed momentarily. “Okay,” she added slowly then poked the back of his hand with the graphite end of her pencil. “Do you know how to play chess?”

Roy bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the ceiling. He knew many things, how to play the piano and the violin, how to dance, how to act in a formal dinner, how to get what he wanted, though this particular skill required some honing; but he didn’t know how to play chess. Therefore, he shook his head negatively and smiled fondly when she grinned widely at him, showing white teeth and crinkling her eyes and all, the complete package for once. He decided he liked it, very much.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fanfiction #mine #collection: convivencia

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Phillip 'Pip' Pirrup

Does he play Charlie’s Fallen Angels now?

Pip has been accepted! Please send in a blog and a face claim if you want to a featured on the main blog!

out of character info

Name/Alias: Dovey/Madame

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 9

Join Our Discord: Already apart of it ;3

Timezone: CST

Activity: 7/10

Triggers: None

Password: Dildo

Character that you’re applying for: Pip

Favorite ships for your character: Dip!, Anything with chemistry really

in character info

Full name: Phillip ‘Pip’ Pirrup

Birthday: August 13th

Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Homosexual || Transmale (FTM)  || He/him

Age and grade: 17 || Senior

Appearance:

Standing at a measly 5’ which is quite below average for others his age, has a very thin frame that comes off very gender-neutral except for his broader hips, he’s a little self conscious about his hips, but takes an odd pride in the rest of his body. Through the years he’s lost his signature bob and tends to style his blond hair in many different ways, specifically he loves shorter styles. He has bright blue-green eyes that alway seem to shine with an endless supply of joy. Pip has pale skin with freckles sprinkled across every inch of his body. He also has a small gap between with teeth, that he refuses to get fixed.

Pip has a few scars due to his abusive home life back in England, mainly across his back, but the most noticeable ones are the large scars across his shoulder blades that look where wings had once been. Whenever asked about the scars, he tries to change the subject as quickly as possible. He still has his signature hat and wears it almost everywhere he goes, along with a bunch of bow ties that he collects throughout the years. He tends to dress quite formal rather it be nice button ups, slacks, or a full out suit, but his all time favorite thing to wear are sweater vests and suspenders. Always dress to impress is Pip’s motto!

Personality:

Pip is the literal epitome of a ball of Sunshine, always coming off as a real optimist that always tries to see the bright side of life no matter what happens or what he’s been through. Comes off as naive and a bit gullible due to how happy and carefree he is in any situation, Pip is not judgement at all and is always willing to make friends with anyone and everyone, on top of that he has a very forgiving nature and is always willing to give someone a second, third, fourth chance and so on and so forth which makes him a very easy character to manipulate and abuse even further. Not only that, but he also has a very trusting nature that tends to get him into all kinds of odd situations, most see him as a Good Samaritan, other a naive and annoying kid that needs to really grow up.

Often considered laid back with a short fuse, Pip is a pacifist that hardly gets mad, well unless you call him French then he won’t hesitate to kill someone, but after he’s done he would surely apologize for the outburst. He is extremely patient for someone who went through so much physical and mental abuse during his early years. Still tends to distribute quite Gentlemanly demeanor as well, but it’s become much more mild the older he’s gotten. Though he isn’t above acting on some common chivalry. Though Pip does have some hidden darkness to him that most don’t get to see. Tends to repress a lot of his negative emotions just to keep a bright and happy outward appearance and keep people from worry about him too much.

History:

In the small town of Burford, little Pippin was born to a very poor farming family but it didn’t matter because they were a happy and loving family through and through. Pippin at an early age never felt like the other little girls, never liked wearing dresses and didn’t enjoy playing with dolls. She felt trapped in her own body and more confused then a young elementary child probably should. At six years old, Pippin was playing around with some of her father’s old clothes while her parents were out taking care of the pastures. For the first time in the young child’s life she actually felt comfortable looking at herself, long hair tied back out of her face, her father’s old button up making her feel much more like herself. After that she meekly asked her parents if instead of wasting money on dresses and what not, if she couldn’t start wearing some of daddy’s old hand-me-downs.

At the age of seven little Pippin moved in with her older sister after her parents died from an unknown illness, there she was treated poorly always being beaten and degraded behind closed doors, but that didn’t stop the little british gal from continuing on with a smile. The first person Phillip actually came out to was none other than his sister’s husband Joe, after the moment he finally came out and requested Joe refer to him as Phillip and use ‘he/him’ pronouns instead was the first step he took in becoming more like the man he wanted. Joe was one of the few, and if only people in Phillip’s early life to actually support him and would even call him by his desired name when his wife wasn’t around.

Phillips life from there on only really got worse, the more he started to present himself as a little boy the worse his sister’s abuse got, until one fateful night he ran across an escaped convict during a visit to his parent’s graves. After he broke the man’s shackles and got the man some food he saw the man off with a bright smile and didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t until almost half a year later that the man came back, now a rich businessman. Seeing the home life and horrible conditions Philip lived in the previous convict quickly took Philip away and had him shipped off to a boarding school while he attempted to find him a foster family that would take him in. He was sent to a luxurious boarding school in London where he was taught proper etiquette and how to be a proper gentleman for a year or two till his friend finally found with a kind and loving little family in America that would take care of him.

Life in the town of South Park was never really kind to Philip, he was outcasted fairly quickly and any friends he tried to make would often turn against him, or just use him as some sort of guinea pig to whatever horrible schemes they were making. The one thing Phillip hadn’t been expecting was to straight up die during some insane event that plagued South Park. Welcomed with open arms when he was graced with the sight of the pearly gates, Philip was made an angel and stayed in heaven for about three years, until he started to get homesick and wished to return to the mortal realm one again. After some long discussions, and a fair agreement Pip was allowed to return to the mortal realm so he could return to his schooling, all memory of his previous death erased from the minds of those that knew him.

Now in his final year of High school Phillip can’t help but wonder if these might be his last years on earth, if he’ll be called back up to heaven after he graduates. If that is to be the case, he wants to make these last couple months as memorable as he can.

Sample paragraph:

As his eyes scanned the expanses of land below, he could feel his stomach twist in knots his feet positioned just a few inches from the edge. From the border of heaven and the mortal planes below. Was this really what he wanted? On one hand he would be back with his foster family, a family that loved and cared about him and was missing him dearly, he would also be alive again and able to interact with everyone once again! But on the other hand…, he would also be back in the same school that ridiculed him and abused him for months on end until his final demise. No one even missed him, no one even remember who he was except for Damien, but did that really count? Heaving a deep sigh, Phillip clenched his fists together, feeling a knot forming in his throat, maybe it was better he just stayed here.

No, he had already made up his mind, he was going back. He deserved a second chance at life after being cut down so young, the council of angels had originally discussed many years ago about sending Phillip back down to earth, giving him a second chance since he was so young, so kind, and his death really was unfortunate, but here he was nearly three years later only now attempting to return to the world below. Phillip took in a deep breath of air, he felt the feathers of his wings ruffle slightly as a light breeze passed. Clenching his eyes tightly he stepped one foot off the border and felt himself plummet without much effort. His eyes slowly pried themselves open, as his body started to hurtle towards the ground.

Without so much as a second though, his wings caught the air and he carefully glided on the breeze till he reached the familiar sleepy little snow covered town of South Park. A wide smile etched it’s way onto his features as his green-blue orbs started to scan the streets below for the familiar tan brick house that his foster family lived in. When he finally spotted it, he started to descend, the closer he got to the the ground the less control he had over his landing, and soon enough he came crashing into a soft snow mound right outside his house. Quickly sitting up Philip sputtered, and quickly shook himself off attempting to dust the remaining snow off his outfit. He sure didn’t miss the freezing cold that came along with this town.

“Phillip, oh Phillip are you okay honey?” the familiar voice of his foster mom called as she came trudging towards the young boy, a worried expression plastered on her features. “Are you hurt?” She questioned helping him up out of the snow, “Oh no Laura, I’m fine” Phillip assured with a bright gapped tooth smile, dusting himself off once again, “Must ‘ave slipped on some ice o’ somethin’” He hummed with a small frown. “Well let’s get you inside, before you freeze out here!” Laura exclaimed before carefully ushering Phillip towards the door. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the large white wings had disappeared as soon as he finally touched down.

A content smile crossed his features, as his eyes turned back towards the warm and inviting glow of the house before him. Everything was back how it was supposed to be, he was back on earth with his family. He was finally back with the people that loved and cared about him, and had been worrying about him for years. He was finally back home.

Headcanons:

Has a weird attraction to Christophe, finds him attractive but won’t openly admit that due to him being French

Doesn’t swear unless you get him super angry but still he’ll only really say ‘asshole’

Collects bow ties and tries to wear a new one every day.

Still has inhuman strength, and has been able to carry someone twice his size without much hassle

His birthname was actually Pippin, often just called Pip for short. He used to see Pip as almost disrespectful but has grown to begrudgingly accept the nickname

Anything else:

His faceclaim is Erika Linder

#Pip Pirrup #application #admin Sam #submission

[aspiring-dm]

1- All Great Stories Begin in a Tavern...

I was bored yesterday so I wrote a thing about how the characters met in my game, since my players didn’t get a chance to roleplay it.  This is how I imagine it going based on how they’ve been playing their characters.

The River Hair Tavern was crowded that afternoon, a band of fiddles and mandolins playing off in the corner as a group of men sang a traditional Chynwydth drinking song, bothering the classically-tuned ears of the elves on the other side of the room who only grumbled about it to each other.  A small group of dwarves visiting the capital had challenged a crowd of local halflings to a drinking contest in which the four dwarves had to drink the same amount among themselves as the seven halflings, and they were still winning.  

Sitting at the bar was an odd young woman.  The first thing anyone in the bar would have noticed was her clothing, which matched the form-fitting outfits worn by the monks of the monasteries in the southern mountains, made of a smooth white material with a tight red sash covering her flat chest.  These clothes and the lack of a drink on the bar in front of her gave two impressions to the alcoholics; first, she was here on business, and second, she would not be any fun to talk to. Though the sleeves were thin, her arms were thinner, and her skin was a slightly paler shade of azure than her hair, which fluttered occasionally as if blown by wind, despite being indoors. Her forehead had a small blue crystal embedded into her skin.

Her eyes were closed as she sat meditating on her barstool.  The noise of shouting halflings, laughing dwarves, singing humans, and grumbling elves had all melted away.  Through them all, one sound split through the serene quiet of her mind: the sound of creaking hinges as the door of the tavern opened.  Her eyelids parted slowly. She took a deep breath and turned her head to look.  Bending over to fit through the doorframe, a large figure stepped inside.  His head still almost scraped the eight-foot ceiling at his full height.  He had a lean, muscular body dressed in furs that looked like he had skinned the beasts himself, defending his stone gray skin from the winter snow.  Strands of black cascaded over his shoulders, and his torso was tattooed according to the tribal rites of his people.  No shoes, he held the strap of a large bag slung over one shoulder, and a wooden staff was gripped in his other hand.  

Using this staff, he propped open the door to politely allow a small figure with a wide nose and short wheat-colored hair.  This rock gnome's muscles seem proportionally larger on his body than his massive friend's did on his own, and so did his bag, which several pointed javelins and finely crafted hand axes were sticking out of. His clothes were more similar to that of everyone else in the bar; he wore a simple white shirt and tan trousers well-suited to a person of his stature, if not bulging a little at the seams.

Between the sight of the gnomish bodybuilder and the massive mountain man, including the weapons they'd brought, the tavern's volume had lowered considerably.  There was still noise, but rather than raucous laughter or merry music the subject was now these two travelers who joined the monk at the bar.  Most of this was general conversation, politely lowered so as not to seem rude, but a good deal of it was hushed for a different reason.  These were clearly thrill-seekers, or the gnome at least seemed one.  It was not unheard of for foreigners from far-off kingdoms (especially Valoria, whose culture seemed totally permeated with violence and duels) to travel to Bluval, seeking to take on the challenges and dangers that lie in the cursed forest to the east which the locals called the dorcha. They would almost always be rejected by the Fugue Wardens, guardians of the wall between Bluval and the dorcha bound by honor and their faith in Kelemvor, their god who hates the scourge of undeath so prevalent beyond the border.  On rare occasions, these travelers might be allowed for some reason to enter the Dark Border, which was a somewhat safer zone just outside the wall, for a few miles.  However, whether turned away at the wall or turned away at the dorcha, more often than not these adventurers attempted to force their way past, resulting in violence and lives lost on both sides.

So, it was not unreasonable for civilians to be suspicious and wary of those who, though neither soldier or mercenary, bore arms and armor.  These Bluvalish people, mainly the humans, kept a watchful eye open as the large and small men joined the monk at the bar.

“Orin,” the large man nodded at the young lady, brushing a lock of hair out of his face as the stool creaked under his weight.  “This is Selder.”  He gestured to the gnome who scrambled up the stool to his own seat and grinned at Orin.  “Selder, this is Orin, the one who saved me.”  His Common wasn't bad.  In fact, it was perfect. Too perfect, really.  Selder just found his way of talking to be funny, but Orin had decided that the large man had learned to separate each individual word, and broke those down into syllables, which made him sound like a novice bard over-emphasizing his diction.

Selder raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, yeh?  You the one who smashed that big 'ol snake right in it's bloody face?”  His accent was not as perfect, but rather very much entrenched in the southern dialects of long-isolated Chynwydth gnomes and dwarves, which Orin had learned were much stronger and more colloquial accents than the tongues of Orswell above it, though very similar.  In her small time traveling up through the south, Orin had learned the difference:  Chynwydth peoples felt distant from the politics of Bluval, while the people of Orswell were very swept up in their history and code of honor.  And neither one liked being mistaken for the other.

Orin nodded.  “I am.  And as To-Kar tells me, you're a bartender?”

Selder shrugged and sighed, slumping back into his seat as this tavern's own barkeep approached them.  “You drinkin' anything?  We got Blue River ale, same as anywhere, foive coppers.  But, for twelve, we've got Rock Breaker ale for a short time, 'fore the brewer's guilds jack up the prices or rope it back into monopoly, or whatever shite.”  Orin took note of his accent as well.  Distant from the crude “hillspeak” of Chynwydth, but not so much that it could be called “refined” either.  From what Orin could tell, Bluval City's own patented accent seemed to be a mishmash of the other regions, north, west, and south of it, but she would have to visit those regions herself to be sure.

“Just the Blue River for now,” To-Kar said, reaching into a small hand-stitched coinpurse.  “Can you break a gold piece?”

The barkeep raised a greasy eyebrow high enough that, for a moment, he didn't seem quite so bald to Orin, but also less handsome.  “Aye, I can cut a gold minted in Valandel's name into a clean ten silvers, but if you want to bring-”

“Here you go, then,” the goliath said, his deep voice muffling the bartender's own as he pressed a single yellow piece of Bluval currency onto the counter, smaller than his own thumbnail.  The bartender hesitated, and then picked it up, eyeing it suspiciously. “Would you like to bite it, too?  Make sure it's actually gold?”

The man gave an insulted glance to To-Kar before pulling out his own coinpurse.  “Eh, it'd ruin its value...” he muttered as he sorted through an assortment of coins.  He eventually pulled out nine silver coins and held them out, dropping them into To-Kar's open palm. “I'll go get yer drinks, then.”

As he left, Selder leaned over to speak to Orin past To-Kar.  “I'm not much of a bartender anymore, but I'm still in the Brewer's Guild, and I got dues to pay-”

“Which is why you're here, same as the rest of us,” Orin nodded understandingly.  “And our friend has explained the job to you?”

“Well, we go- thank you,” Selder interrupted himself as the bartender set a mug bigger than his head down in front of him.  An identical mug was set down next to To-Kar, who could only fit two fingers through the handle and took to holding it like a teacup.  “We go into the Dark Border, help this Fugue Warden guy find a missing girl, and then we all come home rich?”

“Enough to live like a noble for a tenday, anyway,” Orin nodded.

“And this Dark Border...” To-Kar mused.  “It is... safer than the rest of the other side of the wall?”

“Oh, yeh,” Selder chuckled.  “Ancient Bluval history, they say they've got these magic balls, or- ah, that sounded better in my head...”

 “And you're okay with this job?” Orin asked.

“I mean,” Selder filled his cheeks with a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  “Yeah?  I've got some questions...”

“As do I,” To-Kar nodded, having already finished his drink.  

Orin grimaced and nodded.  “And I.  Our employer has been very forthcoming about the dangerous possibilities of this occupation, and has explained that his pay is intended to offset the stress and trauma that accompanies it.  However, I still feel as though something has been left out.  Namely, the Fugue Wardens have called off the search, assuming the girl is dead.  So why is this man, Malcolm Murray, still insisting that we search?”

“Sounds personal,” Selder nodded.  “Well, guess we won't find out 'til we ask him ourselves.”

Orin glanced at the door as it swung open again.  “We're still waiting on one more.  Ah, here he...”

A golden haired, elegantly dressed figure in the doorway held the door open, bowing with a flourish as two other figures stepped inside.  The first was human with neatly combed brown hair and a black winter cloak hugged tightly around him.  His dark eyes scanned the room before landing on the trio at the bar, and he grinned slyly, like a dragonchess master who had figured out twenty moves in advance how he was going to win.

The second figure, annoyed by the cold, aggressively pushed past the human to get inside, growling through bared, pointed teeth at her own frustration.  A dark green-scaled dragonborn in darkly tanned leather armor turned yellow eyes on the human as he approached the bar, a frill rising slightly on top of her head like a dorsal fin before she followed, shivering, behind him, a sheathed rapier clapping against her leg as she walked.

The last, who had opened the door for the other two, walked in after them.  He wore flashy, colorful clothing with a high-colored shirt, and besides the backpack he carried, he held a lute in his hands.  He had hair woven from gold, a symmetrically beautiful face, and slightly pointed ears hinting at his half-elven blood.  He cheerily followed by the other two.  Selder raised his eyebrows curiously at him, drinking from his ale- this was a bard.

The three newcomers came and stood behind the three others, who turned their seats around to face them.  “To-Kar, Selder,” Orin began introductions this time.  “This half-elf is-”

“Anthony Adagio Darlington!” the bard declared, taking Orin's hand in his own and kissing it.  “At your service.”

“Ahem, yes,” Orin sighed.  “He attempted to charm me here in the city... non-magically, I mean.  In the way that mundane men often do for women.”

“I might take offense at that if you hadn't already invited me along,” Anthony smiled.

“And, if I may ask, Anthony, who are these two friends of yours?” Orin asked, sizing up the human and the dragonborn.

“Allow me to introduce myself!” the human said, giving a similar flourished bow to Anthony's.  It was clear how these two became fast friends.  “My name is Connor Everic!  I am a magically gifted native of Harriston, which I know is a bit of an, aha, oxymoron.”

“A what?” Selder said in between his last gulps of ale.  Neither he or To-Kar were very drunk, still, but To-Kar's constitution came from his size while Selder's came from a gnomish tolerance for alcohol.

“Ah, an oddity,” Connor clarified.  “My less social dragonborn friend here is named Zippan Onostashia, and she is, how would you say... a bit more resourceful than your average dragonborn.”

Zippan raised her chin to Orin as a greeting, which while that would be considered only mildly standoffish for a human or a dwarf, it was vastly ruder when compared to the usually noble culture of dragonborn in Bluval.  Luckily for Orin and To-Kar, neither of them were at all familiar with that culture, and simply nodded in response.  

Selder raised a hand to rub his chin as he looked at Zippan.  “I know you, don't I?  Yeh, ye used to be a regular at my tavern in Chynwydth, weren't ye?  The Hole in the Wall?  Couldn't miss it, was literally a hole in the wall- built into the side of of mountain.”

Zippan shrugged.  “I've been there.”

“You said that Sir Murray was holding an open call for as many combat-ready people he could find,” Anthony graciously explained. “So, when I met Connor and Zippan, impressed by his persuasiveness and magical skills and her... as Connor says, 'resourcefulness,' I invited them to tag along.  I hope that's alright.”

Orin hesitated, but nodded and shrugged.  “I suppose we'll be safer with more people, and it's not like we're splitting the pay the more we have.  Welcome to the team.”  Orin stood up, stepping her black cloth shoes lightly onto the floorboards.  Selder hopped down, and To-Kar let his weight press onto the creaking floor.  “With that, we're all assembled.  If we leave now, we can still make it to the wall by nightfall.  Time to meet our employer.”

#story #mine #book #clearrun #me

[blisserial]

Four

After my mother was taken, Granda edged toward madness. He refused to abandon his precious gardens. He continued to tend the herbs and orchard as though the estate had not overnight become both crypt and charnel house, as though the snow drifts, at mid winter, were not now up around our ears.

We were safe enough, I suppose. The people in the surrounding villages left the land alone, fearing either haunts or the taint of the king's disapproval.

That first winter, we grew hungry very quickly. The chickens in the small coop kept our bellies full for a hand's count of weeks, but they diminished steadily. I was still very young and Granda was in a state of black shock or fierce denial; he did not think to remind me not to slaughter the hens and soon we were out of eggs as well as meat.

We slept in the greenhouse beneath looming fronds, watched over by odd specimens of orchid and rose. The great house waited in silence, uninhabitable, mostly burned and become a morgue for those few the king's men had not forcibly enlisted.

Finally our hunger became so great that I braved the building, searching for small treasures to steal and sell. It was a mostly futile task. Very little of any worth had been left behind. Snow had snuck in through broken windows and doors, soaking furniture and ruining the tall damask curtains.

I dragged the ornate rugs through the front door and spread them as best I could about the green house, hoping they would dry clean.

In the scullery I found food in the form of yams and potatoes, smoked meat and canned beets. I also found Her Ladyship's ancient footman, sprawled face down on the packed dirt floor, arms spread like a bird in failed flight. There was no blood; his neck had been neatly broken. The cold had kept the pests away, mostly. But his eyes had run and his mouth gaped wide, white tongue desiccated.

I sat on my heels and watched him for a long time. I do not remember feeling sick or frightened. I do remember wondering if I would find my mother in a similar position, perhaps in an upstairs sewing room. For what use would the king put a delicate, flighty thing like our Rose?

I rifled the footman's pouch and discovered a few missed coins. After a moment of thought I stripped him of his coat and shoes, knowing they would bring a price at a cobbler's, so long as I was circumspect about their origins.

I took the shoes and the coin and as much food as I could bundle into the footman's coat, and left the house. I would not go back, after that, no matter how my Granda insisted. I did not want to find my mother, bones broken, mouth open to the world.

I sold the rugs to a gypsy three towns over, at a short price for their blackened edges. Even so, we inevitably grew hungry again and spring seemed very far away. Granda began to lose his teeth and my hair started to fall out in clumps.

Halfway through winter, the scent of smoke and fear still lingering in my nostrils, I went down the hill to the village called Derby in search of employment.

                                                         *****

Shaara relieved the drunken squire of his coin purse. The squire snorted and sighed and rolled over in the hall, but did not bother to wake up and defend his belongings.

Unhurried, Bliss's apprentice leaned against the wall between looming mirrors and carefully counted his treasure: four silver pennies and one slip of paper money. Not a bad find, all in all. And, as the squire was Shaara's fifth tag, the riches were pleasantly piling up.

Shaara pocketed the money, dropped the purse back onto the lad's chest, and walked on. He remembered similar parties from long ago. He remembered the scent of sugar and drink and wine and sex and vomit. In the south, they tried to cover the whole mess with pungent sandalwood incense. In the south, they were very sensitive about their noses, and always terrified of offending their gods.

Shaara grinned. He didn't believe in gods, not he. But if he did, he doubted the almighty spirits would have much interest in the reek of good mortal celebration gone on too long.

Dawn had come and the entire house was sodden or asleep, easy pickings. Shaara was mostly sure the old celebrations across the border had ended in much the same way. He was also mostly sure Bliss would have never sent him off to steal from a Southern host and his guests.

Then again, Shaara thought, pausing to adjust a dangerously crooked mirror, he had been a child then and maybe he just didn't recall clearly.

The door to Lady Alyce's dressing room was tightly locked. Shaara pulled a hammered copper wire from his belt and sprung the latch. He held his breath, said a small prayer to the gods he didn't believe in, then stepped over the threshold.

The room was, happily, empty.

He supposed Her Ladyship's maids had long gone to bed and, if luck were smiling, Bliss would keep Lady Alyce herself well entertained.

Shaara stood in the center of the carpet, exactly where Bliss had stood hours earlier, and turned slowly in place. The wall space was overly populated with chests and hooks and the occasional dress dummy. Fabric hung in swathes from the hooks and over the chests, pooling on the floor.

Shaara supposed it was a typical landed woman's fitting room. He eyed the tangle of jeweled neclacess tossed across the back of Lady Alyce's chair but left them. Bliss had been very explicit. Take only what would not be missed.

A spindled writing desk sat under a narrow window. Shaara crouched in the thin, dawning light and dug through top drawers. Nothing there but carefully flattened sheaves of vellum: correspondence, all personal and in a lady's hand, if Shaara was any judge.

He hesitated and then set the vellum aside.

Beneath the letters he found a small map of the southern coast, nicely drawn, beautiful in pen and ink and vibrant color. Shaara set the map aside as well. Pretty it was, but no merchant would pay good coin for possible treason. Besides, Maurice knew the lands across the border better than any other man living.

"Assuming Bliss doesn't duck out at the last minute," Shaara muttered to the room at large. He ignored the small voice in the back of his head when it whispered that perhaps it would be that much better if she did refuse to cross south.

The writing desk’s final drawer rattled as Shaara tugged it open. Inside it was deep and narrow, and so full of shadow that at first Shaara could not quite make out the details of its contents. He dipped his hand into the depths and discovered that the rattle belonged to a collection of small, smooth, rounded pieces of -

"Shell?" Shaara wondered aloud. He lifted a handful into the light.

Oyster shells, or clams. Buffed seamless and then painted over with small, carefully detailed portraits.

Baffled, Shaara let the first batch slide to the floor and reached into the drawer for more. Surely there were twenty of the delicate things, maybe twice twenty. In groups Shaara pulled them free and laid them out. Female faces, all of them; each young and ranging from ugly as a mule to groin-stirring beauty.

Shaara sat on his knees and spread his hands above the collection, hesitating. He had never seen the like before and he would bet all six of his precious juggling spheres the lovely little things were worth a good chunk of coin.

"Take them, man. For Horrid's sake, take them away."

Shaara jumped and whirled. The fellow standing in the doorway only shook his head.

"How many are there? More than you have time to count. More than I have heart to count. More than one life is worth."

Shaara wished he had convinced Bliss to let him bring his knife after all. But a peasant caught with steel on a landed estate was a dead man and the fellow in the doorway swayed where he stood, belching lightly. So perhaps Shaara was not about to lose a hand for thievery right this moment.

"What are they?"

"Dashed hopes, all of them." The man loped awkwardly into the room and bent to finger a piece of patterned cloth. "Desperation. The hook that bloodies my gills."

The fellow did look a trifle fish faced. Shaara wondered if he would puke on Alyce’s carpet. Then he decided he would rather not wait to find out and began edging toward the door.

"Take them, I said." The man dropped the cloth he had been examining. He pierced Shaara with a bright and surprisingly sober eye. “Good riddance."

Shaara put on his best boyish smile and pretended confusion. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, milord. My mistress -"

"Bliss," the man interrupted. "Needs to see them for her self. And so she would have, if she'd bothered to show her guileful face about this morning as I'd requested."

Shaara darted a glance at the man's ringed hand and swallowed. "Lord Tamner."

"Since the day my father left his blood all over the Geen Hill sward. For king and for title." Tamner sounded pleasant but the sudden appearance of a pistol in his right hand belied his mild expression.

"Wrap them in your cloak and take them to your mistress. Do not let Lady Alyce see you've found her treasure. And get out of my house, the lot of you, heroes of Green Hill be damned."

Shaara unfastened his cloak and began scraping shell onto it with shaking hands. He kept his head down, not daring to peek back over his shoulder, but he could hear Tamner's harsh breathing. He imagined he could feel the eye of the pistol between his shoulder blades. Shaara might not be carrying steel, but a titled lord needed no excuse to murder any soul he wished under his own roof.

For all their apparent delicacy, not a single seashell cracked or chipped as Shaara wrestled them onto velvet and then tied his cloak shut. He turned, slowly.

Tamner's eyelids were drooping but his hand on the pistol remained steady.

"Go," His Lordship said.

Bliss had not raised her apprentice to be a fool. Shaara ran.

 "You might have killed her." Maurice rebuked. He shoved at the stable door with one foot. Apparently Tamner kept the hinges less than well oiled. The door swung smoothly, but not without a groan of protest.

"I might have," Bliss replied. "If I thought she'd aught to do with it."

A boy appeared along the row of stalls, torch flaring.

"Where's your master?" Maurice asked, genial. "I've a horse needs readying."

"Up at the big house," the boy said, eyes wide. "But I -"

Bliss knocked the child under the chin with more force than Maurice thought necessary.

"Bollocks, Bliss. You've broken his tooth." Maurice knelt to staunch the flow of blood.

"He'll live to brag." Bliss stomped out the dropped torch before fire could spread. "Hurry up. Pick your nag. A party this large and the stable lads will be thick as nits." She melted away. Maurice could hear the creak of leather above the music of restless and sleeping animals.

Sighing, he propped the unconscious stable boy against mounded hay and felt his way along the stalls. "What made you decide she'd naught to do with it?"

A horse whickered, soft. Bliss said, "Milady knew she had me by the tits, but she didn't know why. She didn't know so much as she pretended. She never said her name."

Maurice had not needed to tack up a mount in near pitch dark since his days as a youthful conscript. His hands remembered what to do. He silently thanked whichever lad had so neatly arranged the horse's tack on a bale outside the stall, stable master correct and perfectly cared for.

The horse herself, for she stank pungently of mare, appeared unconcerned. She rolled her eyes as he cinched her girth but took the bit in her mouth without any fuss.

By the time Bliss reappeared, leading a shaggy pony and nursing a bitten wrist, Maurice had two nicely turned out mounts on his arm.

"Animals," she said, succinct and disgusted. "Shaara's late."

"We'll wait." Maurice shushed his grumbling mare and glanced beyond the stable door at the clearing sky. The sun was beginning to make a solid appearance and soon all of the stable would be up and wanting breakfast.

They could not afford to wait.

"We move on. Shaara will find us," Bliss said, reading his mind. She led her pony forward, tossing a scatter of gold coins across the lap of the unconscious stable boy as she went.

A puny offering, Maurice thought as he followed after. Not nearly enough to make up for the stolen livestock. The lad would be lucky if he managed to hold onto his job, never mind escape a whipping.

Even so, as he urged the mare and the second horse - an excitable, farting bay - under the eves of the building, Maurice dropped his own rain of guilt money in near the door.

 They rode steadily, but not quickly. Shaara caught up half way down the hill. Out of breath and shivering, and soaked to the waist, still he smiled as he flung himself into the bay's saddle.

"Raided the kitchen," he reported, sharing out winter sausage and ripe pears.

The lad looked far too pleased with himself. Maurice bit into fruit and considered. "No hounds set on your heels?"

"Won't be." Shaara leaned across withers and passed Bliss the sodden remnants of his fine cloak. "A gift from milord."

Bliss arched dark brows but showed no interest in the dripping bundle. "Pleased to see us go, is he?"

“Very." Shaara fastened his juggler's pouch to a stirrup and relaxed into the saddle, arms crossed. He yawned. "Horses. Planning to travel a fair bit, are we, Bliss?"

Bliss regarded her apprentice. The boy refused to look up but his satisfaction was near palpable. Maurice held his breath.

Bliss turned away. Snow cracked under the pony's hooves, ice turning to slush as the sun rose higher.

"Yes," she admitted at last. "We're planning to travel a fair bit."

#reading #writing #fantasy #lgbtq

[newstfionline]

Grenfell Tower Fire Shows Double Standard at Work in One London District

By Katrin Bennhold, NY Times, Aug. 15, 2017

LONDON--The Ferraris were driving people batty in affluent South Kensington. Drivers revved their engines and ripped past Harrods. Residents were already irritated by the dust and noise from superrich neighbors building underground swimming pools and cinemas. Now came complaints about Middle Eastern “types” drag racing at night.

Up in North Kensington, a part of London that is home to some of Britain’s poorest residents, the complaints were more elemental. People were fighting plans to close a day care center, lease out a public library and demolish a community college. At one public housing project, Grenfell Tower, residents had complained about fire safety issues for years: power surges that blew up television sets and filled rooms with smoke, outdated fire extinguishers and the absence of a communal fire alarm.

The very different complaints from the opposite ends of Kensington received very different responses from the 50-member council representing the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. The Ferraris were debated in the council chamber. Fines of up to 1,000 pounds were imposed on revving engines. Underground construction projects were restricted.

The concerns in North Kensington, particularly those of Grenfell Tower residents, were mostly ignored. By last November, one resident, Edward Daffarn, was so frustrated that he predicted “only a serious fire” resulting in a “serious loss of life” would make the council pay attention. The councilor in charge of housing, Rock Feilding-Mellen, dismissed him as a “fantasist.”

Seven months later, as a deadly blaze engulfed the building in the early morning hours of June 14, Mr. Daffarn fled his apartment on the 16th floor. Stumbling through the smoke-filled landing, he was found by a fireman and guided to safety. But at least 80 of his neighbors died.

“This council does not represent the people of North Kensington,” Mr. Daffarn said.

Last year’s referendum on whether Britain should leave the European Union, known as Brexit, exposed the deep resentment of working-class Britons outside London toward the elites in the wealthy, cosmopolitan capital. But the charred remains of Grenfell Tower have become a shocking symbol of inequality at the heart of the capital itself. They have changed the national narrative.

If the Brexit vote was driven by a populist message that immigrants and Europe’s open borders were to blame for the nation’s malaise, the fire has brought back into focus how years of steep government cuts have disproportionately hit the poorest, amplifying the pain from stagnant wages after the financial crisis.

“These are volatile and uncertain times,” Alan Milburn, the chairman of the government’s Social Mobility Commission, said last month after warning that social and economic divisions were dangerously widening. “Whole tracts of Britain feel left behind,” he said. “The growing sense that we have become an us-versus-them society is deeply corrosive of our cohesion as a nation.”

Kensington and Chelsea is a microcosm of a divided Britain. The south is home to Kensington Palace Gardens, better known as Billionaires’ Row, one of the most expensive streets in the country. Roman Abramovich, the Russian billionaire, owns a mansion there reportedly worth £125 million ($163 million). And Kensington Palace is where Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge will be raising their children.

To the north, Golborne ranks as one of the two poorest wards in London. Victorian-era diseases like tuberculosis and rickets have made a comeback. Life expectancy in parts of North Kensington is 20 years lower than in South Kensington.

In recent years, the council has spent millions of pounds subsidizing opera tickets and paying tax rebates to all except the poorest at a time when services for youths and toddlers were reduced, and free swimming classes for state-funded schools and older residents were canceled. The contempt directed at those raising concerns about fire safety at Grenfell Tower was not an exception, residents said, but the fire exposed the disconnect between an elitist council and poor residents in the north.

“They don’t know how the other side lives,” said Monica Press, a Labour councilor from North Kensington.

The council leader, Elizabeth Campbell, admitted last month that in her 11 years as a council member she had never set foot inside a high-rise housing project.

Ms. Campbell, who took over as leader after the Grenfell fire, has vowed to rebuild trust. But local residents said the social contract between those who govern and those they purport to represent is broken. Police officers investigating the fire have told survivors that there were “reasonable grounds to suspect” that the council and the organization managing its social housing might have committed corporate manslaughter.

On Tuesday, the head of the inquiry into the fire said it would examine the conduct of the local authorities but would not take into account the broader issues involving social housing, although Prime Minister Theresa May said she was “determined” to address those questions.

Niles Hailstones, whose youngest son attended school with several children who died in the fire, said, “How do you think our children feel seeing people not care about their mothers, fathers, grandparents, uncles, aunties?”

He added: “We watched the building burn down in front of our eyes.”

Today, the face of London is the Muslim son of a bus driver. Sadiq Khan, the city’s directly elected mayor, in many ways represents how the city sees itself: multicultural, liberal and socially mobile.

But much local governing authority is devolved to the councils that run London’s 32 boroughs, which can look very different from that.

Of the Kensington council’s 50 members, 46 are white and 37 are Conservatives. The cabinet, led by Ms. Campbell, is entirely white. One of her fellow councilors is Lady Catherine Faulks. Another is Mr. Feilding-Mellen, the stepson of the Earl of Wemyss and March. Another is Prof. Sir Anthony Coates, known locally as a man of letters--the letters being those he lists after his name to highlight his credentials.

Timothy Coleridge, one of several councilors who attended Eton, Britain’s most exclusive private school, has served on the council since 1986, as did his father before him. Two years ago, he received an email from a distressed resident.

Subject line: “Our borough is becoming a nightmare!!”

Sports cars were speeding in his Knightsbridge neighborhood, one of the most expensive in London, the resident complained. Limousines hogged parking spaces outside his home.

“The super car situation was ghastly during the last few summers, keeping us all awake in North Terrace,” the resident wrote on June 2, 2015, demanding urgent action.

Mr. Coleridge sympathized. “We totally agree with you, and our experiences as local residents matches yours,” he replied, 14 hours after receiving the complaint. Lawyers were put to work. The police were consulted. Five months later, a Public Space Restriction Order imposing steep fines had been passed.

Councilors representing the north of the borough acknowledged that in the lives of the rich, this was a legitimate concern. “But the alacrity with which they took it up was remarkable,” said Robert Atkinson, a Labour councilor.

Grenfell Tower residents were treated differently. The council kept deducting rent from a Grenfell survivor even after the fire, a mistake Lady Faulks called a “tiny” thing before backtracking. The council’s former leader, Nicholas Paget-Brown, defended the body’s decision not to install sprinklers, suggesting residents did not want them. And his deputy, Mr. Feilding-Mellen, a property developer, had insisted on keeping down the cost of the external cladding used in a £10 million renovation in 2014, according to a leaked email, resulting in the choice of what turned out to be highly flammable materials.

Mr. Feilding-Mellen declined to be interviewed.

With the national government pursuing policies of economic austerity, grants for local councils have been slashed by more than half since 2010. Yet the Kensington council routinely underspent its budget. It currently has £274 million in usable reserves--money that critics said should have been invested in the north.

And a £100 tax rebate, for those who paid council tax in full before the 2014 local elections, was met with broad approval.

Yet South Kensington has hardly been neglected. A recent enhancement of Exhibition Road outside the Victoria and Albert Museum featuring an inset granite diamond pattern cost nearly £30 million, with the council picking up roughly half the cost.

Mr. Coleridge, until recently in charge of the arts, oversaw a £5 million grant to Holland Park Opera to make opera tickets more accessible. “The seats are very good value,” he said, “only £60 to £65” ($78 to $84).

Daniel Moylan, another Conservative councilor, blames welfare policy for the fraught relations between North Kensington residents and the council. “Social housing embeds disempowerment,” he said. “I’m a big believer in private property.”

In the 1980s, Margaret Thatcher, as prime minister, introduced “Right to Buy”--allowing established tenants in social housing to buy their homes at a discount. But soaring house prices have put Right to Buy out of reach for most.

“If a flat costs £500,000, a £100,000 discount doesn’t make it affordable,” said Tony Auguste, a local campaigner who is disabled and relies on social housing. “It’s an insult, really.” A £500,000 apartment is equivalent to $650,000.

North Kensington Library, a stately Victorian building near Portobello market, is the rare place where children from the housing projects mix with those from Notting Hill Preparatory School and Chepstow House School, two private schools that cost more than £6,000 ($7,800) a term. But now the public library might have to move out so that one of the prep schools can move in.

Mr. Feilding-Mellen negotiated a deal to lease the building to Notting Hill Preparatory School, which is getting a year rent-free so it can refurbish the building.

The council says this arrangement is not unusual. Local critics say it is practically paying for the refurbishment. Mr. Feilding-Mellen’s twins are on the waiting list for the school.

Meanwhile, the council is spending over £18 million of public money on a new building in which the public section of the library will be limited to the ground floor, while students from Chepstow House will get their own access and separate floor.

Mr. Feilding-Mellen’s children are on the Chepstow House waiting list, too. At a council meeting on Oct. 19, 2016, he insisted that he did not have a conflict of interest, although he conceded that it might be “perceived” as such.

The library is just one flash point. Many North Kensington residents speak of “managed decline,” a strategy to allow public institutions and spaces to fall into disrepair and then create a case for redeveloping them with a commercial motive.

Social cleansing, they call it.

Two years ago, the Maxilla day care center near Grenfell Tower was closed. More recently, plans to demolish and relocate Kensington and Chelsea College, a vocational school, and build an apartment block that will include commercial housing were announced.

“This place is my success story,” Drei Mullings, a young black man, said of the college at a recent public meeting. His course enabled him to go to the University of Northampton, he said.

“We are market-led,” a college representative told the crowd.

“You should be community-led,” a woman shouted back.

Opposite the condemned college building, Wornington Green, once a public park, has already been turned into an apartment block. The whole street, once filled with social housing, is being redeveloped as “Portobello Square.”

Conservative councilors argue that they have done their best to protect public services and have invested over £70 million in North Kensington infrastructure in recent years, including the ill-fated renovation of Grenfell Tower. They refute any suggestion of social cleansing.

“Utterly not true,” Mr. Coleridge said. “Some people live in a dream world of conspiracy theories.”

The council is creating more social housing--just not much of it inside the borough. Certain new housing developments are supposed to include a quota of social housing--but private developers often dodge the requirement by paying the council a fee instead. The council struck deals to receive £33.4 million in such fees in the year through September 2016.

While the council has built only 336 new affordable housing units in the borough since 2011, instead of the 200 a year it had originally pledged, it has bought units in cheaper parts of London as alternatives.

In the south of the borough, by contrast, thousands of apartments are routinely empty, the second, third and fourth homes of members of the global elite. Until four years ago, second-home owners even got a discount on council tax.

Scores of Grenfell survivors have yet to be rehoused.

One night in May 2013, the light in Mr. Daffarn’s Grenfell Tower living room started flickering wildly. Soon his stereo stopped working and his television box blew up. Some of his neighbors reported sparks flying from their light fittings and smoke coming from their toasters.

The complaints were mostly ignored until three weeks later, when entire rooms were filling with smoke. Residents marched to the tenant management office, and the electrical wiring was eventually repaired.

Mr. Daffarn, a social worker who has lived in Grenfell Tower since 2001, has meticulously documented the grievances of residents in seven years of email correspondence with the council. Some 350 blog items he wrote with a fellow resident are being archived by the British Library.

“I wanted to create a resource for anyone, who in 30 years’ time wants to study how London ended up like this, with only rich people left,” he said.

But the Grenfell Tower fire has changed his motivation. “Now, it’s evidence,” Mr. Daffarn said, alluding to the criminal inquiry. He hopes the investigation will bring convictions and also document “the institutionalized contempt” for poor people.

#Britain #south kensington #north kensington #Grenfell Tower fire

[thebusmansholiday]

Almaty - Bishkek - Osh

29/04/2017 K9595 Train from Urumqi South to Almaty 2 at 23.14 Duration 33 hours Hard Sleeper - £150

The train started screeching to a halt as we approached the Kazakh border only a few hours after leaving Urumqi. Before we could get out of bed and look half decent, Chinese border guards were on board, wanting to rummage around in our luggage and scrolling through photos on our camera. I think they just want to make sure you have not taken any photos that could harm the stability of the peoples republic. It was all quite friendly in the end, our guard started sharing with us similar tourist snaps from his phone from his weekend in Xi'an with the mrs.

Mohammed, our Chechen friend on his way back to Grozny from a business trip in Urumqi, explained the Kazakh side would be much smoother, which turned out to be the case. The guard assigned to our cabin was eager to practice his English and hear about our trip and then spoke at length in Russian with Mohammed. After 6 hours spent travelling about 2 miles we pulled into the ghost town border station where we got off to stretch our legs as the train had it’s wheels changed to match the different Russian gauge width. Mo knows this station cafe and the staff well, and insists on buying us lunch. He is a big fan of UFC fighting and with great pride he plays us youtube videos from his phone of several Chechen fighters in action whilst we tuck into our beef noodles.

Some Kazak border guards approach our little private section of the cafe, shocked to see some tourists at ‘their table’. They suddenly see Mo, give him a nod of the head, and we continue to sip on tea as we are shown more videos, this time of Chechen rebel leader, Akhmed Zakayev, being interviewed at his excilled home in London. This then begins to make me wonder, why is Mo travelling this route? 33 hours on a train to Almaty, 4 hour drive to Bishkek airport in Kyrgyzstan, before a 4 hour flight to Grozny? Is a photo with this guy a wise move? Is it gonna land me in serious trouble with the russian border police in a few weeks time?

Almaty is very quiet on the May day bank holiday. After the crowds and noise of Urumqi we are pleased to have the city to ourselves as we get a big goodbye hug from Mo, and make our way to our hostel at sunrise. The view from the hostel rooftop has to be one of the best city backdrops in the world, with the snow covered Tien Shan mountain range surrounding the entire south side of the city.

The air feels so much cleaner here as we head towards the mountains and take the bus up to 'kok tobe’ a favourite weekend hang out for local families wanting snaps with the city view behind them and next to the only Beatles statue in the world with all the fab 4 together (apparently)?

Back down in the city, we visit the Grand central mosque. We are not certain if Lo could come in so I Left her outside went in and had a look around briefly. It seems a nice quiet space, but not much praying going on. Lots of men just sitting in corner texting on their phones.

Food is getting welcomingly less soup and noodles and more cornish pasty like sincle leaving China. The staple Kazakh snack food is a fried bread filled with potato and is sold on stalls every few meters it seems. Some have mutton in if you get lucky. The fast food soviet era cafeterias dotted all over town provide cheap school dinner like meals, you take a tray, point at what you want and a dinner lady shovels a load on your plate. Sausage and mash, mutton stew and rice, bit of cake for afters… just good simple stodge that fills you up and doesn’t cause problems the next day.

Which is important when you have a long day of hiking planned. Determined not to spend any money on cable cars and ski resort entrance fees, we took the bus up to the impressive looking Medeu outdoor ice rink and followed a hiking trail up into the mountains. We passed an old stripped out soviet tank which was fun to play around in for a bit, pretending we were en route to Afghanistan to destroy the Taliban. The fun and games were all over when we realised the snow was getting seriously deep along the trail we were following, which was no longer really visible. We were the only people up there and couldn’t work out a way back down till we spotted a big Russian geezer trekking in just speedos and boots with walking poles. Happy looking chap, and a lovely tan he had on him, but we were worried we would be disturbing his peaceful time alone up in the mountains, but he was very helpful and pointed us to a safe way down. 'Plov’ (rice with chopped up mutton and veg in it) for dinner was just reward for our hiking efforts.

4/5/2017 Almaty to Bishkek Marshrutka (minibus) 5 hours

Credence clearwater revival, 'put a spell on you’ played us out of Almaty, our 'marshrutka’ (public minibus) driver obviously had great taste in Music. Dylan, Cohen, Eagles, all made for a great head bobbing, palm tapping on thigh, journey along the dusty A2 highway to the Kyrgyzstan border. It felt good to be on the road, the Tien Shan mountains, a natural border zone, were always in view outside the left hand windows. No more railway journeys now till we depart from Tashkent for Moscow on 3rd June, just long hours in less comfortable 'Marshrutkas’ but with some amazing scenery along the way.

The border crossing into Kyrgyzstan is smooth and without too much delay. No bag searches, no questions asked. This was expected to be the easiest of the 3 central asian border crossings we were to encounter, the former soviet state border police having a pretty bad reputation for hassling foreigners for bribes, we were relieved with the friendly Kyrgyz welcome.

On arriving in Bishkek we were dropped off close to the huge Lenin statue that still stands tall here. Some flowers had even be laid below his feet, probably to mark 100 years since the revolution. Our host in Bishkek was Liza, a proud Kyrgyz lady of Russian heritage. She made us feel extremely welcome at our little homestay, an old 1960’s soviet era house, one entrance, 3 different little homes around a courtyard. We had our own little bedsit and an outside toilet and shower all for just $10 a night. Back in Dalston it would be rented out for £1700 a month, bills not included. 

Liza seems to be a face around Bishkek. As she walks us to the bus station the next morning lots of people stop to talk, eager to see where her new guests are from. She tells us of the history of the different populations that have settled in the city over the last century and the glory days of the Soviet Union when life was much simpler, people were free to travel the whole of the central asian region without the ethnic tensions of more recent times. “Then people got greedy!” she bemoans.

Liza sees us safely on to our Marshrutka for a day trip to beautiful Lake Izzy Kol, the second largest alpine lake in the world. 30 mins in and the Marushkta has a tyre blow out. No safety triangle on a fast moving highway, I stand 50 metres up the road and act as a human safety triangle waving my arms at bemused drivers urging them to slow down as they pass our driver and some younger passengers helping to change the outside wheel. I think Louisa is really embarrassed to be associated with me at this point. “The safety of your passengers is the number one priority as a bus driver!” Steve Sparkle, at the arriva london training school, drummed it into me on my first day 7 years ago. We’re never off duty!

The place along the lake we are dropped of at is a little underwhelming. Stunning scenery overlooking the lake, but all the beachfront appears to be sectioned off for rich russian holiday homes, and being out of season the place is a bit dead. We managed to find a little bit of public beach, got our swimming costumes on and tried to go for a dip. 15 seconds in the water and your limbs start to go numb with the cold so we didn’t stick about for long, especially after being joined on our little beach by an angry looking herd of cows.

6/5/2017 Bishkek to Osh Marshrutka - 13 hours

Again Liza insists on walking us to the chaotic Bishkek bus station to make sure we get on the right Marshrutka, this time a 13 hour journey to Osh in the south of the country awaits us. The driver, Safiq, a cheeky chappy with the common Kyrgyz gold toothed smile, another good friend of Liza’s, is excited to hear that I’m a bus driver in London and insists me and 'your guest’ are allowed up front next to him. Result!

After Saffiq, stops off at a few mates houses on the road out of Bishkek, to pick up some parcels, we finally start to make some progress. The views out the window for the whole drive are pretty special, as the Marshrutka struggles up the several mountain passes en route. We start passing a few brave cyclists along the way, this route, all the way down to the Pamir highway, being a bit of a mecca for Eurasian crossing lycra warriors from around the world. I’m slightly envious of the challenge they are undertaking, then read in the guidebook that a 5km mountain pass tunnel we pass through “was the scene of a tragic carbon monoxide disaster” a few years ago.

Despite only brief toilet stops for 12 hours, just an hour from Osh, Driver Saffiq decides it’s time for a sit down meal at a shashlik (kebab) house he knows. It’s nearly midnight and we are struggling to keep our eyes open, but as the guests of honour at Saffiq’s table, we are treated to a pot of tea and after prayers some meat on a stick and bread. I show Saffiq a photo of me with a London bus, much to the amusement of his mates around the table who start mocking him about my bus being bigger than his bus. Great banter.

In coming to Osh we are now back on the route of the ancient silk road after a slight Northern detour. Only a 4 hour drive from the Chinese border, this city claims to be over 3000 years old, “older than Rome!” they say. There is not much in the way of historical ruins here, the old famous bazaar is a ram shackle mix of metal shipping containers stacked on top of each other with shop windows cut of the front. It’s a lively place though and lots of cheap fruit and veg is available, perfect for us, as we try and give our immune systems a boost before we head south to the remote Pamir Highway. Also plenty of scenic hikes about an hour drive out of town, into the Alay Valley. On Victory Day bank holiday we are joined along the rapid flowing river banks by lots of Kyrgyz families enjoying the day off work in the sun and celebrating the soviet unions most important holiday of course.

The Osh Guesthouse hostel is the place to stay for people looking for 4x4 ride shares into Tajikistan. A big whiteboard is updated every hour wth requests for people to help spilt the costs, of what can be an expensive drive at very high altitudes. We get lucky on our second day when Fergus, from County Westmeath, Ireland and Antonio from Barcelona arrive and are looking at a similar 10 day itinerary to us.

We will start with a stop close to the Tajik border at the town of Sary Mogul, famous for it’s views of towering Peak Lenin (7,100 meters). Then into Tajikistan, all the way down to the Wakhan Valley, hugging the Afghan border at Khorog before returning to civilisation in the Tajik capital Dushanbe. Not much electricity en route, let alone Wifi, so you won’t be hearing from us for a while.

County Westmeath, Antrim and Down all represented on this road trip! Should be plenty of GA football chat to help pass the time.

[vivikawidow]

Once upon a time, in a land far from where I write to you, existed two kingdoms headed by two great rulers. The kingdoms of Elgany and Navaria bordered on each other. Elgany, a kingdom of wealth and culture lay to the temperate south. The kingdom of Navaria, a land of harsh landscape and strong people lay to the cold north.

King Roman of Navaria and King Benjamin of Elgany were the closest of allies and the greatest of friends. Benjamin’s queen, Manon, was the sister in law to Roman’s cousin which made them relations of sorts. In all of their years as friends King Roman’s family had never hosted Benjamin at their home, Castle Kroestov. Benjamin rarely left Mardaux Palace in Elgany so it came as something of a surprise when Roman received a letter from him stating that his arrival in Navaria was imminent.

“So what is the king like?” Roman’s wife, Francesca, had asked having never met Benjamin.

Roman smiled as he considered the thousand adjectives that would befit his friend. Burly, friendly, loud, excitable; all of them would not suffice. Benjamin had an overwhelming presence. He treated all as though they were his family. His visit made for an unexpected delight.

Roman waited in the entrance of Castle Kroestov as the convoy of golden carriages carrying the pale blue and yellow flags of Elgany drew nearer. The Navarian king was accompanied by his two sons, James the elder and Edward the younger. Both of them were in the throws of early adolescence. The king’s only daughter, Charlotte, waited at her father’s side. She was unsure of what to expect.

The Navarian guards – dressed in the black and red of their own flag – opened the doors to allow entry for their regal visitors. In a parade of noise and commotion, King Benjamin came bounding in. His large smile wide and bright. He abstained from respectful bows to his fellow king and instead gripped Roman in a tight embrace. Behind Benjamin marched a very pretty queen with long golden hair. Her neck was completely covered in glittering pearls. Her fingers were laced with diamonds. She wore a gown of rich purple with emeralds sown into the bodice. Queen Manon was a great deal younger than her husband. She was a youthful woman who shone radiant amongst the finery. Four girls ushered in behind their mother in order of height. Behind them a nanny carried Ben’s only son, the infant Prince Julian.

“You brought the whole family!” Roman cheered. “I’m so happy to see you all.”

Manon gave a polite curtsey to the Navarian king. Her daughters followed suit.

Benjamin approached Edward and tousled his ebony curls. “Your sons are grown now Roman. What strong young men they are.” He drew a small sickle bladed dagger from the pocket of his black travelling cloak. The handle was studded with diamonds. He handed it to the young prince.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Edward in receipt to the gift. His eyes were drawn to the beautiful weapon.

“Ben, you shouldn’t have,” Roman interceded.

“Nonsense! Every well bred boy in Elgany has one, Eddy should too,” said Benjamin. He smiled at Edward before turning his attention to James. “And you must be James.” This time he shook the boy’s hand with reserved respect. “Future ruler of this wonderful land.” He drew a golden seal with the emblem of Elgany etched on it from his other pocket. “This jewel has never left the confines of Mardaux. Keep it safe.”

James shook his head. “Your Majesty is too generous. I cannot accept this.”

Benjamin shrugged his shoulders. “Of course you can. It is mine to gift as I please. Perhaps when you are king you will remember this and look to Elgany with kindness. Long may the friendship between our two kingdoms continue.”

Before any more objections could be made, Benjamin lifted Princess Charlotte into his arms. A little girl of fewer years than her brothers, Charlotte giggled as she was spun around like a ragdoll and placed on Benjamin’s shoulders. “I have always had a keen eye for precious things and I think I may have found the most precious of them all!”

Roman laughed, “My little princess is not for sale.”

“Pity,” was Benjamin’s retort. He leaned forward still carrying the child on his shoulders he kissed Francesca on both cheeks. “My belle, introductions are not necessary for you. Roman speaks of you so often I feel I know you as well as I would my own sister.”

Francesca curtseyed. “I could say very much the same. It is a pleasure to have you here with us.”

Roman drew Benjamin aside. He lowered his voice to a more solemn tone. “I am pleased that you have come to visit us but I must ask, is there another purpose?”

Benjamin’s large brown eyes clouded with solemnity much unlike him. He drew Charlotte from his shoulders and down his back. “We should speak alone.” He addressed the child, “Charlotte, my Madeleine would very much like to meet you. Will you show her around?”

At the king’s request, Charlotte made to introduce herself to the Elganite princesses.

“So what is wrong?” Roman asked.

“What I have to tell you is of grave importance,” Benjamin began. “My kingdom is in danger.”

***

As Roman and Benjamin drew away to talk alone, Manon left her ladies in waiting behind and was escorted by Francesca to a study. It was a cerebral room, filled with polished mahogany furniture and shelves filled with books. A fire was lit. The cold snow and icy winds outside contrasted the cosy warmth of the study. It was a room that Francesca kept exclusively for her own use. Even the servants of the castle dared not to enter.

“You have a beautiful home, Your Majesty,” Manon commented with politeness.

“It’s draughty and very grey but it is home. Not as lovely as Mardaux I hear.”

Manon smiled coyly. “My husband enjoys the finer things.”

Francesca poured them a glass of deep red wine each in crystal goblets. Like al of her children, she had raven hair and a pale complexion. She was a striking woman with the brightest blue eyes.

“You like the finer things too from what I see hanging around your neck,” Francesca commented, handing a glass to the Elganite queen.

Manon clasped the glass in both hands. She shied away from eye contact with Francesca. “I’m glad I have the opportunity to speak to you alone.”

Francesca seated herself on the sofa opposite. She lay one arm over the back, the other holding her wine. “Really?” she enquired. “Might I ask why?”

Manon took a deep breath. “There is talk, rumours of what you are capable of.” Francesca narrowed her gaze. She already knew what Manon referred to but she wanted to draw it from her like venom from a snake bite. “They say you are a witch of tremendous power.”

Francesca betrayed no emotion. “The say a lot of things,” she answered.

“My little boy, Julien, is a sick infant. Benjamin has hopes of him succeeding him one day but I fear he won’t see his next birthday.”

“Isn’t that what doctors are for?” Francesca dismissed.

“We’ve had the best doctors that money can buy. It is no use. Please, Your Majesty, if the rumours are true you can help my little Prince Julien.”

Francesca darted a glance at the door before leaning forward. “My twin, who is no longer with us, was also named Julien. He would not have liked to see any suffering in his name sake. I will help your little boy but there is something you have to do.”

“Anything! I am at your mercy. No price is too great.”

Francesca raised her hand to hush her. “Firstly, calm yourself down. I can’t have anyone overhear what I am about to do. Secondly, my husband can know nothing of this. He would worry that his people wouldn’t look too kindly on witchcraft, no matter its intention.”

Manon breathed a sigh of relief. “I am eternally in your debt. Your Majesty is too kind.”

Francesca shook her head. “Hold your applause,” she said. “There is a great penalty attached to giving life, even to one so small. It can’t be conjured from nowhere. It has to be taken from something.”

Manon wiped the tear that was forming in the corner of her eye. “I’ll pay with my own life.”

Francesca stood. She went to a cabinet by the window in an almost gliding step. From a drawer she removed a straw figure in the crude shape of a person. “I can see to it that your little boy never falls to ill health. It can’t come from a parent because that is where the life springs.”

Manon’s upset was beginning to grow. “What can I do?”

Francesca clasped the poppet tightly in her right hand. “If your baby boy means so much to you, choose one of your daughters to be replaced.”

***

Princess Madeleine of Elgany, the youngest of Benjamin’s daughters was making a game of hiding and seeking with Princess Charlotte of Navaria. Charlotte had the advantage of knowing Castle Kroestov as home so she hid and Madeleine went in search of her. Madeleine’s excitement for the game grew when she wandered into the kitchens and found Charlotte stowed away underneath one of the counters. Charlotte cried out and ran, almost knocking the chef onto his backside. Madeleine chased after her, both girls alight with laughter.

The Elgany princess lost her Navarian counterpart somewhere along the third floor so she was searching from room to room. Her heart beating a little faster with the thrill and anticipation of the game. One of the doors lay ajar. Madeleine assumed Charlotte had hid in there so she boldly charged inside. She almost crashed into a man larger in presence than her father. He wore a military uniform but not like that of the guards at the entrance of the castle. He was an officer.

“And who might you be?” he asked. His grin stretching in maliciousness from ear to ear. His mouth filled with pearly white teeth.

Madeleine hesitated. She stepped back towards the doorway. “I’m looking for Her Highness, Princess Charlotte.”

The officer bore down on her like the jaws of a great monster. “Little girls shouldn’t be in here,” he said. His voice was husky but polite with underlying tones of danger.

Madeleine’s eyes were drawn to a table behind him. Spread across it was a map of Navaria with red pins in ever widening circles around Castle Kroestov. The officer noticed her gaze and challenged it. Still smiling his dark eyes blazed like a fierce forest predator. The sheepskin fur forming part of his uniform seeming much too soft for such a marauding creature.

“Drenisov?” barked the little Princess Charlotte.

The officer – Drenisov – looked past Madeleine to the Navarian princess and offered her a most congenial bow. “Your Highness, this young lady appeared to be lost. I was merely directing her onto the proper path.” He gracefully moved back towards the table and folded the map away.

“This young lady is Her Highness, Princess Madeleine. She is also my friend. You will show her the proper respect.” Charlotte took Madeleine’s hand and pulled her away. Drenisov watched them with a growl until they were out of the line of view before closing the door and locking it.

***

Benjamin paced the room. Roman watched his restlessness from an armchair by the fire. At the Navarian king’s request they had been left alone.

“There are whispers of my people overthrowing me. They no longer believe in my right as a ruler granted to me from the Lords above,” Benjamin was explaining.

“How can you be so certain?” Roman asked.

Benjamin shook his head. “My life has been in danger for some time. I can’t even trust my own people. They are looking for my head.”

“I never thought I would see the day where a rebellion would rise in Elgany.” King Roman was flabbergasted. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Benjamin affixed his usual light air again. “My Minister, Antoinie Lubek, has been a tremendous help. He is keeping the people appeased until we can find the source of this upset.”

“Navaria will always be your friend and ally,” Roman assured him.

Benjamin gripped his arm. “I don’t fear for myself. As a King my life has always been forfeit to a higher purpose. It is my young boy Julien that warrants my concern. Should anything happen to me they will make an example of him as heir to my throne. They will tear him apart or worse, they will make him a puppet to their whims.” Roman listened to his friends concerns with silent horror. “The reason I came here – aside from seeing your lovely home – was to ask you a personal favour.”

Roman urged him to continue. “Should there be an uprising in Elgany, will you provide safe passage and refuge for Julien?”

“Of course,” said Roman immediately without having to give any thought to the matter.

“I don’t ask you this as a king and ally. I ask you this as a friend and a father.”

Roman had already decided. He too had a strong paternal instinct. Roman’s first dedication was to his children. This was a bond that he and Benjamin shared. “Of course I will assure that Julien is safe here but what about you? What about your girls?”

Benjamin itched his nose like he did most often when he was feeling nervous. “Nothing is certain yet. I just want to be cautious. I have to return to Elgany. If there is to be a revolution then my leaving will only fan the flames. My girls will be safe enough. Manon can take them as far as Hagen Moor if she needs to and they will not be disturbed. They will be of no consequence to the rebels. However, they will bay for Julien’s blood and so I need to know he will be somewhere he can be protected until he is old enough to return to Elgany and resume his throne.”

“You needn’t fear. For as long as I live your family will always be kept safe…”

***

Princess Marie, the eldest of King Benjamin’s children, had taken quite a shine to Prince James of Navaria. She had watched as he finished talking with his young brother and began to make his way to the third floor. She followed him in the hope of being able to elicit a conversation. Marie was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. As an Elganite of noble birth she took great pride in her appearance. She was dressed often in pale blue as it matched the soft tone of her eyes and lemon because it highlighted the warmth of her golden tresses. She watched as James made his way along a long corridor on the third floor engrossed in his own thoughts. He quickly turned, having forgotten something and made his way back towards her. Marie turned to the painting on the wall at her side. She focused on the artists attention to detail and the brush strokes that had been given so much thought. She couldn’t really be sure of what she was looking at because she felt James close beside her. Her heart began to beat a little faster.

“Are you lost?” James asked politely.

Marie turned to him, hoping she seemed nonchalant. “I was just admiring this painting. There is so much beautiful art work around the castle. It must be thrilling to be able to look upon it every day.”

James too looked at the painting. It was an image of Castle Kroestov painted generations previous to theirs. “Well as thrilling as it can be looking at a picture of a the castle every day whilst in that castle everyday …” Marie shied away. James laughed. “I’m sure Mardaux Palace must be brimming with art work.”

“It is but the art there seems so … superficial. When there is so much of it, it begins to become less special. What you have here is genuine.”

Prince James had a handsome smile. He had the finely sculpted features of his mother and the charm of his father. His raven hair was thick and well presented. He was not overly indulged in jewels or finery. His simple refinement echoed the strength of his people. “I’m very glad you like it. You are Princess Marie aren’t you?”

Marie offered a polite curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

James took her hand and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine I assure you.” Marie bowed her head and smiled coyly. “It is getting a little stuffy in here. I was going to walk in the gardens for a little while. Would you like to join me?”

Marie became giddy. “I would love to.”

The snow had ceased. The sun sat high in the sky as James and Marie made their way through the well tended gardens of Castle Kroestov. They saw little snow in the South so Marie was enjoying the glittering sparkle that lay across the deep red of the rose bushes.

They were discussing matters that brought them far from their regal parentage.

“I enjoy sailing,” Marie was explaining. “I have my own little boat which I take up and down the Chessy River.”

James was intrigued. He had heard much of the Elganite way of life but had never witnessed it first hand. “I was on a boat once when I was a small child. The rocking motions made me sick the entire time. I have never been back on one since. My little sister, Charlotte, loves boats. So what is your boat’s name?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

James raised his hands. “I promise…”

“Alice,” Marie admitted.

James shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a fine name for a boat.”

Marie explained, “I had an invisible friend as a child. We went on all sorts of adventures. The boat is named after her.”

James chuckled. “Now that is just adorable.”

Marie laughed too. She slapped James’ arm playfully. “I warned you it was silly.”

James shook his head. “Not at all. I’m sure Alice is the finest vessel in all of Elgany.”

As they made their way to the furtherest end of the gardens they passed a large crooked tree. It was old and withered. Amidst the winter splendour the crooked tree stood brazenly against the beauty. It was not inviting, it was not life giving. The withered hands of the branches reached out like it threatened to throttle passers by.

Marie began to feel dizzy. James noticed her steps lurch so he gripped her arm. “I’m feeling a little faint,” she said.

“Do you want to sit down?” James asked with genuine concern.

“No I will be fine. It will pass.”

Marie’s delicate frame became a dead weight. With a sudden pull she slipped from James’ grasp and tumbled at the foot of the crooked tree. Blood spilled from her mouth onto the fresh white snow. She was gone. The doctors claimed her heart had failed her as though it had been crushed under a vice-like grip. Francesca watched from the window as attendants and a distraught king and queen saw to their daughter.

Fear, panic and horror would quickly spread and the two great kingdoms of Navaria and Elgany would fall to ruins.

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Fall to Ruins Once upon a time, in a land far from where I write to you, existed two kingdoms headed by two great rulers.

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[dailyaudiobible]

03/15/2017 DAB Transcript

Numbers 22:21-23:30 ~ Luke 1:57-80 ~ Psalm 58:1-11 ~ Proverbs 11:12-13

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible.  Today is March 15th.  I’m Brian. It's great to be here with you today. I am buckled in and ready to go. The mic is obviously working.  Got a nice steamy cup of coffee to my left and our readings for today right in front of me, so I guess we’re ready.  Are you ready?  Here we go!  We’re reading from the Expanded Bible this week.  Numbers chapter 22, verse 21 through 23, verse 30.

Commentary

There is a fascinating story taking place in the book of Numbers today, blowing away the stereotypes of these books.  Like Leviticus and Numbers, there is a stereotype about these books that ‘oh man, if you can make it through Numbers, you can make it through anything.’  That is not true.  I mean, look at the things that have come out of this story.  And it is just a part of the same story.  

So the children of Israel are wandering in the wilderness at this point because they’ve doubted that they could take the promised land, and so God said you can have what you want, basically.  It could have been different, but a whole generation will stay out here in the wilderness for 40 years.  So they are wandering around, a million people, and so they have to ask for passage to get from one place to another because they are sort of locked in and other countries like Edom are not letting them pass through.  So they have had to fight some.  There is just no place, so they are wandering around.  And when they are forced into fighting they win. So they have a little bit of territory, but they are not able to settle in.  

The Moabites are freaking out about the Israelites as well.  If you kind of want to picture where Moab and Edom are, you would have to be looking at a map of modern day Israel and locate the Dead Sea.  That is hard to miss.  So there is the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River runs south from the Sea of Galilee and empties into the Dead Sea and this is borderlands.  So to the south of the Dead Sea, moving down into the Negev, down into the desert would have been Edom, and bordering to the north would have been Moab.  So the children of Israel are in the wilderness on that side of the Jordan River. They haven’t been able to cross the Jordan River into the land of Canaan that will become their land, if God's promise holds true, so they are on the other side of the Jordan and both countries that would let them go through to the north won't let them go through, so they have to go all the way around.  

So the King Balak has called on this powerful, prophetic kind of person named Balaam to put a curse on the children of Israel.  Balaam does the right thing and says when the first emissaries come, “Just chill out here overnight.  I'm going to go see what God has to say because I can’t do anything God doesn’t tell me to do.”  And he comes back and says, “I can’t do it.”  And he sends the emissaries home.  Balak then sends more important emissaries and Balaam says the same thing, “Wait and I’ll see what God says.”  God says, “Go with them, but only say what I tell you to say.”

So this is what God tells Balaam, but somewhere in there, there is a thread inside of Balaam's heart that tells him ‘I could get rich.  Maybe this could go good for me.’  He is planning to obey the Lord, but there may be opportunity here to cash in and he begins to think about that, which sets up everything that comes next, which is really fascinating stuff.  

So Balaam gets up the next morning and he leaves with the Moabite leaders, but there is an angel following along.  The angel stands in front of the road and only Balaam's donkey can see this angel.  So the donkey moves out of the way, which forces him to go off the road.  Balaam can’t figure out why his donkey is all of a sudden going off the road, so he smacks him a couple of times and gets it back on the road.  They are going on and there is a narrow path and the angel is blocking the path again and so the donkey tries to get out of the way and it squishes Balaam's foot. So Balaam is obviously frustrated and probably has a few choice things to say to the donkey, smacks it, gets it back on the road.  They move along and then there is like a gateway and there is nowhere for the donkey to move out of the way when it sees the angel.  So the donkey just sits down and Balaam is so mad that he can hardly see straight.  

We know this because the donkey starts talking to Balaam and Balaam starts talking back to the donkey, not even realizing ‘wait a second, donkeys don’t talk.’ They are having a conversation before he can even get his rage under control.  The donkey sits down.  Balaam jumps off the donkey.  He is so mad that he is smacking it and hitting it and probably cursing it.  And the donkey talks, “What did I do?  What have I done to make you hit me these three times?” And then we have the answer.  “You have made me look foolish.”  “I wish I had a sword in my hand.  I would kill you right now.”  

This conversation happens and the angel is revealed and Balaam sees the error of his ways.  It is really interesting what happened here, because Balaam has all the right words. “I can only say what God tells me to say,” and yet he's worried about looking stupid in front of the king's emissaries.  How often do we do the same thing?  How often do we play with our freedoms?  How often are we more interested in how this is going to make us look than actually going and obeying the Lord and saying only what he has you say?  The book of Numbers isn’t so dry after all, is it? Because now it is a mirror into our souls.  

As the story progresses, Balaam and King Balak do meet and King Balak is doing everything Balaam is telling him, offering sacrifices, giving him space to hear from the Lord.  And Balaam, he's got the message now.  There is an angel around and he has a sword and it doesn’t really matter whether I look foolish or not, I would rather look foolish than look dead.  I'm only going to say what God tells me to say.  So he comes back and says, “I can’t.  These people are blessed by God and I can’t.”  

So Balak goes to another place and shows him another place.  “Can you do it from here?”  Sacrifices are given.  God speaks.  “No, I can’t,” Balaam tells Balak.  “I can’t. These people are blessed.”  

Balak then says, “Well, then if you can’t curse them, then just don’t bless them like you’ve been doing.”  “Let's go over here and look one more place and see if you can curse them from there.”

Man, if we look at this behavior we have to see our own lives in this. How many times have we wanted something that the Lord has been like, “No, that's not healthy for you. No.”  And so we’ll go around the other side.  “What about from this angle?  Can’t you see, Lord, that this path would be good for me?  Can’t you see, Lord?”  He's like, “No, that wouldn’t be healthy for you.”  So we go around to the other side.  “What about from over at this angle?  Can’t you see?”  And most of the time what that means is we’re going to do it anyway, no matter what the Lord says.  Usually the way that we do this first is to try to talk ourselves out of the fact that the Lord said anything at all.  And yet, the book of Numbers is showing us we’re not the only ones who have had this line of reasoning.  We’re not the only ones who have ever done this.  We have a story from thousands of years ago that shows us this has been going on all along and we are continuing to follow this same story, this same script.  And this same script will not get us anywhere but the wilderness and we will never get out of it on our own.  There can be a promised land and it can be just miles away.  We can even see it but we can’t get to it on our own.  We can only follow God there.  

So may we examine our own hearts and behaviors today because they are kind of exposed.  They have kind of come flashing out of the book of Numbers and here we are with some things to think about.  How are we looking at what other people think of us as more important than what God is telling us?  How are we trying to negotiate with God by looking at everything from so many angles until we hope to wear him down so he can give us what we want because we are going to do it anyway?  That won't lead us anywhere, which uniquely speaks directly into this season that we’re in right now, this season that runs us into Easter time known as Lent, a season that has been used for lots of things, but has deep and profound meaning.  Certainly lots of people use it for diet, “I'm going to give up sugar.”  That's fine if you’re giving it out to God.  That's great. But this is a season where we are giving up everything to God, not just the chocolate bar.  We’re saying my life is before you open and I am asking that you set it right.  I am asking that you take away from me the things that I’ve been negotiating and trying to bulldoze my way into that don’t belong in my life.  I'm inviting you.  I'm willing to give that up forever.  I'm willing to give up anything that you want and I'm willing for anything to be rearranged how you want it.  I need to hear from you and walk with you or there is no hope for me ever moving from this wilderness into a promised land.  

Prayer

That is our prayer, Lord.  We see that this has been going on a long time.  We see this in lives that are our forbearers’ spiritually.  We read our own mail in the scriptures, even today.  So as we’re in this season and we’re contemplating the price of sin and the cost of sin and what the sin has done, the devastation that it has wrought on this planet and in our own lives, we’re realizing that this is not only a costly endeavor, but you paid the cost and set us free from it. This doesn’t have to be a part of our story going forward.  It's just that we choose it.  So in this season, we are inviting you to come invade us, change us, align us so that we can be true and have true intimacy with you and begin eternity now instead of waiting for something to begin that is already happening.  We are here.  We are alive.  This moment is contained with an eternity.  It's time to get with the program.  So we offer our very lives to you as living sacrifices and invite you to indwell us. Come, Holy Spirit.  We pray in the name of Jesus, amen.  

SONG Played on today's DAB is sung by Brian's wife, Jill Parr "Change" http://apple.co/1XjehWm.

[listentotheland]

CEREMONY OF THE LIZARD ***❗️THE DOORS❗️ROOTCAT MUSIC VIDEO REMIX❗️2020 *** Lions in the street and roaming Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming A beast caged in the heart of a city The body of his mother Rotting in the summer ground He fled the town He went down South and crossed the border Left chaos and disorder Back there over his shoulder One morning he awoke in a green hotel With a strange creature groaning beside him Sweat oozed from its shining skin Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin Wake up! You can't remember where it was Had this dream stopped? The snake was pale gold Glazed and shrunken We were afraid to touch it The sheets were hot dead prisons And she was beside me Old, she's no, young Her dark white hair The white soft skin Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom Look! Shes coming in here I can't live thru each slow century of her moving I let my cheek slide down The cool smooth tile Feel the good cold stinging blood The smooth hissing snakes of rain Once I had, a little game I liked to crawl, back in my brain I think you know, the game I mean I mean the game, called 'go insane' You should try, this little game Just close your eyes, forget your name Forget the world, forget the people And we'll erect, a different steeple This little game, is fun to do Just close your eyes, no way to lose And I'm right there, I'm going too Release control, we're breaking thru Way back deep into the brain Back where there's never any pain And the rain falls gently on the town And over the heads of all of us And in the labyrinth of streams Beneath, the quiet unearthly presence of Gentle hill dwellers, in the gentle hills around Reptiles abounding Fossils, caves, cool air heights Each house repeats a mold Windows rolled Beast car locked in against morning All now sleeping Rugs silent, mirrors vacant Dust Lying under the beds of lawful couples Wound in sheets And daughters, smug With semen eyes in their nipples Wait There's been a slaughter here (Don't stop to speak or look around Your gloves and fan are on the ground We're getting out of town We're going on the run And you're the one I want to come) Not to touch the earth Not to see the sun Nothing left to do, but Run, run, run Let's run Lets run House upon the hill Moon is lying still Shadows of the trees Witnessing the wild breeze C'mon baby run with me Let's run Run with me Run with me Run with me Let's run The mansion is warm, at the top of the hill Rich are the rooms and the comforts there Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs And you won't know a thing till you get inside Dead president's corpse in the driver's car The engine runs on glue and tar C'mon along, we're not going very far To the East to meet the Czar Run with me Run with me Run with me Let's run Some outlaws lived by the side of the lake The minister's daughter's in love with the snake Who lives in a well by the side of the road Wake up, girl! We're almost home We should see the gates by mornin' We should be inside by evening Sun sun sun Burn burn burn MOON, MOON, MOON I will get you Soon Soon Soon I am the lizard king I can do anything We came down The rivers and highways We came down from Forests and falls We came down from Carson and Springfield We came down from Phoenix enthralled And I can tell you The names of the Kingdom I can tell you The things that you know Listening for a fistful of silence Climbing valleys into the shade For seven years, I dwelt In the loose palace of exile Playing strange games with the girls of the island Now, i have come again To the land of the fair, and the strong, and the wise Brothers and sisters of the pale forest Children of night Who among you will run with the hunt? Now night arrives with her purple legion Retire now to your tents and to your dreams Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth I want to be ready' source: RootCat Lyrics: Jim Morrison https://ift.tt/10F83om ABSOLUTLY LIVE

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