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thecagedsong · 3 years

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Forgotten Light Chapter 13: Tunnels

A/N: Hey there, long time no see. Left to hyperfixate on Doctor Who for a while, but I’m back on my Fablehaven business. This is a long chapter, it probably should be two chapters in the final version, but I really wanted to get the tunnels part out. Also, let me know if Kendra’s crafting is making sense and if the dialog for this chapter is working out. Very important chapter.

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Chapter 13: Tunnels

When Kendra woke up the next morning, she knew Ronodin had left. The night before they had eaten dinner separately, and while Kendra focused on reading or staring at the library wall, Ronodin hadn’t come out of his room. She saw him for a moment as she went to bed, but he turned away from her.

It was confirmed by a note on the countertop.

Love,

I hate to leave while we’re fighting, but I have to go handle another errand for our host. Despite your doubts in me and what I implied, I will be back for you, and we’ll go on another little adventure. This is what we have to do until we can go on the bigger adventures together in the sunlight. At the bottom of this note is another design for an amulet you might try, and we’ll both be working to shorten your quarantine.

Ronodin

And Kendra was back to feeling bad all over again! She went back and forth all yesterday afternoon about apologizing again, promising that Mendigo wouldn’t stop him if he tried to leave, or holding to her words. It was dangerous. He was trying. She was being difficult. She had a right to be difficult.

Sketched at the bottom of the note was a triangle amulet, with crescents open to the left. Inside the triangle was a circle inside an oval with an ‘x’ through it, bisecting in the center of the circle. Because you have to carve intent into every craft, Kendra had to go look up what the symbol meant in the dictionary he gave her.

The triangle was a curse, and the eye a symbol for blindness. Putting it within a circle, she should be able to direct it only at certain people, namely enemies. Did she want to blind her enemies? On the one hand, it was the same principal as her weakness charm. No harm, unless they intended to harm her first. On the other…

As someone who can count on her hands the number of rooms she’s seen, as someone who is alienating the single relationship she has to get a glimpse of sunlight, and as someone whose most prized possession is a landscape painting of the outside, could she take away someone else’s sight?

Maybe she could limit it to cursing people not to see her. An invisibility charm was a lot less problematic than a blinding curse. Combing through the books didn’t give her any insight on how to limit the blindness. In fact, applying Ronodin’s charm as is to a circular amulet wouldn’t even limit duration. It would blind any enemy that looked at her once, permanently.

It would take good craft and magic application to create, and a single mistake would make the magic run out halfway through the first use of the amulet, leaving a person…partially blinded? Blinded in one eye? Temporarily blinded? It didn’t say, so Kendra had to put a couple of concepts together to make a guess. Magic based on gaze was actually the most magic consuming type of enchantment. That was all it said, so Kendra went looking through her little library for more of an explanation.

She managed to clobber together answers from five different books:

All magic is reactionary, a person must interact with the spell caster or the enchanted object for the magic to be applied. The safest place from magic is away from it. Simply seeing something only activates extremely rare curses and enchantments, usually crafted from Dragon parts, because it just required that much magic. Touch is the most common type of curse conduit, and came in the variations. Presence within an enchanted area or physical contact with the item or caster were the most common. Proximity casting is rare, but technically falls between touch and sight in terms of magic usage. There was also gaseous spells, which technically also operated based on touch, but the enchanted matter expanded, so that’s also deserved a special mention.

Kendra was a limitless supply of magic. If she wore a sight-based curse, well crafted to actually create an effect, it would never run out of juice. It would fully infect others every time. It also couldn’t be used against her to the same potential.

If she made that work, there was no way Ronodin could justify keeping her locked up.

But what if…what if her brother felt like he had to harm her in order to get her to go with him? She could blind him, and not even know it. Is that what old Kendra would have wanted, after giving up her memory for him? No. Temporarily feeling too weak to chase her? Fine. Permanently blinding someone with good intentions? Not fine.

Kendra left the books open and went into the hallway.

“Mendigo?” she asked, and the puppet walked in front of her. “How many hours ago did Ronodin leave?”

Mendigo held up two fingers.

“Did he say words as he left out the front door?” she checked.

Mendigo shook his head. Ha. She knew that he had made that up to keep her from stealing the key.

“You have to follow all my orders, correct?” Kendra checked. And the puppet nodded.

“Are there things I can’t tell you to do?”

Mendigo hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Are the things you won’t do if I tell you impossible because Ronodin ordered you not to do them?”

Head shaking no. She couldn’t ask him about the things he couldn’t do, Mendigo couldn’t handle questions more complicated than yes and no.

“If I gave you a paintbrush, would you be able to write out explanations to longer questions?”

Mendigo shook his head no. Drat. Complicated magic, but not an intelligence behind it.

Could she craft a puppet like Mendigo? Probably not, not unless there was some kind of wood that wanted to become a limberjack. None of her books said anything about creating a little bit of intelligence, enough to answer questions and have memory. But maybe if she got good enough. Though why she’d want another when she already had Mendigo made it a moot question. It was probably impossible anyway.

“Mendigo, the things I could ask you to do and you wouldn’t,” she asked, “is that because they would be impossible for you to do?”

He nodded, and pointed at the front doorknob. Right, she had told him to open the door, and he couldn’t.

“Would you be able to tell me if Ronodin is the one really giving you orders?” Kendra tried.

More hesitation, then slow nodding.

“Has Ronodin ever given you any orders that you followed?”

More nodding. That didn’t actually tell her much. Ronodin was her secret boyfriend, if she had ever once said ‘Mendigo, do what Ronodin says,’ then the answer to this question would be yes.

“Are you currently following any of Ronodin’s orders?” she said. Vigorous no.

“Right,” Kendra said, feeling a little better. “From now on, you are not to follow anyone’s orders but my own, under any circumstance. Will you be able to follow that order?”

Here came the longest pause. Was it because she was asking him a question about the future? Maybe the enchantment didn’t allow for questions like that.

Slowly, Mendigo nodded his head. That was good.

For the rest of the morning, she settled on making a stronger version of her first amulet, temporary weakening based on intent and proximity. Maybe if she made that good enough, she wouldn’t have to permanently blind someone just to be free.

Ronodin showed up in the late afternoon, but didn’t fully enter the apartment, instead choosing to stand in the doorway.

“I see you didn’t take my suggestion,” Ronodin said, nodding at the newly carved amulet in her hand. She had taken a break to grab a snack from the kitchen, and found him there.

“Is this your way of checking in on me without having to let me out?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I ran into a snag when arranging your fake death,” Ronodin explained, “A quick video of you telling the person to help me will fix all my problems. I need to go back out again right away —”

Kendra sighed, “You can come in Ronodin, Mendigo won’t stop you from leaving.” Because it felt like the properly dramatic thing to do, she leaned against the hallway wall and slid down until she was sitting. It took a small adjustment, but her current red dress was stretchy, and she managed to do it modestly.

Ronodin came and slid down beside her, and the door swung shut.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” Kendra said. “it’s not fair, and there’s no excuse, but it’s just so frustrating being locked up like this.”

Ronodin smiled, “Believe me, I know more than you can guess at what that’s like. Think you’re ready to hear why my family hates me?”

Kendra nodded, sitting up straighter.

“Forever ago, I started to question why the Fairy Queen was the ultimate authority on what was good and what was bad in the world. There were five other thrones, and they all play important roles in keeping the world functioning, and they all had different ideas of what was good and right than the Fairy Queen. But mortal wizards sided with her, as did human adventurers, and every kind of mortal agreed: the Fairy kingdom is the brightest light, and we should all strive to their ideals.

“Never mind the naiads and great fairies who kill because mortality is funny. Never mind the imps and the abandoned nipsies. Never mind the philosophies of balance that demand that destruction is just as important as creation to the continuation of the world. Never mind the strength of not picking a side and acting according to your own will and conscious. It sickened me to be part of such an oppressive kingdom that claims the moral right in everything.”

Ronodin drifted into a memory. “What did you do?” Kendra asked, bringing him back.

“I corrupted my horns,” Ronodin said simply, “It took a bit of time and a lot of favors, but I was able to break myself from the Fairy Kingdom. The Queen doesn’t command me anymore. I owe allegiance only to myself, and that’s how I want it to be. Some of those favors contributed to people getting hurt, but I can’t regret it. When I saw you going through something similar, I knew I had to talk to you. And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kendra echoed. Sitting in the depths of some underground labyrinth, fighting over prison keys and the greater good, Kendra with no memory of who she was, and Ronodin fighting the same battles he’s fought his entire life over freedom.

Kendra leaned over and touched Ronodin of her own volition. Nothing romantic, not really, just her head resting on his shoulder. A silent show of support.

She sat up after just a minute, because she liked sincere Ronodin much better than flirty or angry Ronodin. (Flabberghasted Ronodin still held top spot).

“Let’s get that video for you,” Kendra said, then paused. “Wait, no one is going to get hurt when faking my death, right?”

Ronodin shook his head and took out his cell phone, “I promise, no humans are going to be harmed in the faking of your death. I just need some help creating a believable fake body.”

Kendra gave a little smile, “Doesn’t it ruin my fake death if someone knows about it and is helping you set it up?”

“Be very vague,” he advised, “The vaguer the better, so that when we do fake your death, even they will be convinced.”

“Okay then, what should I say?” she asked. “Am I talking to someone specific?”

Ronodin pointed the phone camera at her, “No, I’ll probably need to use it on a couple of people. Just tell the viewer to help me. Don’t mention my name directly, if you can help it. The less they know about who you’re with, the safer you’ll be. Ready…three, two one.”

"Oh, um, hi,” Kendra waved at the camera sheepishly, “I’m not sure who is going to have see this, but this guy is actually helping me. If you could lend him a hand, that would be great and I could get out of here much faster. Thank you!”

Ronodin then changed the view of the camera so that they were both in the picture, and gave a little wave. “Anything for Kendra.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and caught the start of her blush before he stopped recording.

“There, that should be convincing enough,” he said, pocketing his phone.

“I assure you, that kiss was unnecessary,” she said, folding her arms, still red.

He grinned back, “And I assure you, my caterpillar, that it was completely necessary. Another one for the road?”

Kendra stood up rather than let him take another kiss. They had had a good moment, she wasn’t going to let him ruin it. He stood up as well.

“I’ll probably arrive back while you’re asleep,” he said. “Can I see how you’re doing with that amulet? You chose another weakening one?”

“I’m not ready to permanently blind my misguided family,” Kendra said, handing over the amulet.

Ronodin nodded, “Well, you’re progressing. A lot more magic took in this one than your first try. It’s well on the way to making fatigue hit anyone who lays a hand on you.”

Kendra frowned, “I was going for proximity, still not enough focus?”

Ronodin nodded, “The applied magic isn’t strong enough, nor is the craftsmanship. You accidentally cut all the way through one broken link, making one of your four chains whole, and you really oversanded the top. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it some more when I get back. This is a skill like any other, it’s going to take time. You’ll get better at this, I promise.”

Kendra nodded, sighing over the flaws he pointed out. “Is ‘have fun’ the wrong response for the task of faking my death?”

“Oh,” he said grinning, “After the stunts you pulled, I’ll be having lots of fun. Don’t go crazy.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

Mendigo stepped out of the shadow of the doorway as Ronodin approached, “It’s fine Mendigo. Ronodin can come and go as he pleases.” Kendra said.

Mendigo stepped back and Ronodin stepped past and closed the door without a backward glance.

Knowing she lost the fight, Kendra returned to the craft room. She took that feeling, and turned it into the desire to weaken those that would make her lose with every paint brush stroke.

The second medallion was certainly more than just wood and paint when Kendra was done with it. It felt…expectant. Waiting to fulfill its purpose. A spiked trap, waiting to fall. It was kind of exhilarating, knowing what she had created had force and abilities beyond her.

Kendra had wielded magic.

Kendra looked back over the amulet that Ronodin has suggested she make, then ran to one of the books she had referenced that morning about how to build in a command. A dual check, the person had to want to harm her, and she had to want to curse them. She could make that curse.

All it needed was a second circular border with a notch, and Kendra would have to hold it and intend to activate it before it would blind someone. The pattern was more complex than what she had attempted before, but after all her reading, she felt ready. She switched to a block of wood called stiltseia, because the description indicated that it’s flowers alternatively flashed darkness or bright light each time the flowers bloomed. It felt right for this project.

Kendra worked though lunch, snacking on the bread and cheese that populated their kitchen. This time she made sure that if her carving tool was touching wood, she had her magic gathered and turned towards blinding enemies. The emotions feeding this purpose were vengeance, ambition, and desire to lash out. She didn’t have strong vengeance on her own, but Lady Kuychia wrote the book on vengeance, and Kendra had read it. Towards the end of Lady Kuychia’s life, when her husband found out about her shadow charmer abilities, he accused her of being pure evil, stole their children, and put a ‘kill the witch’ order throughout the entire countryside surrounding them. Vicariously, Lady Kuychia’s burning vengeance took shape in the amulet, to permanently blind those that would harm her.

Lady Kuychia had never gotten vengeance herself, if the handwritten note in the back indicating that the conquistadors pillaging the area around her village had hung her, after she kept putting out the fires meant to burn her. They caught her when she had sacrificed herself in a distraction to give her children a chance to run away from the Portuguese raid. Her husband had spat at her on his way out with their children. The children were captured and killed the day after their mother had died by hanging. Those emotions fueled the carving.

Except the outer notched circle. Following instructions, she focused on her need for control. The battle to control her negative emotions took place outside her body for the first time, as she ordered the power of the amulet into the circle, and into where she said they should stay. There were two different types of magic under her hands, the negative emotions of the amulet and the unyielding neutral control being pushed through her tool. Building a wall around the fire pit.

Kendra added a coat of paint right away, it didn’t feel bound tightly enough without it. This time she selected a dark purple paint, phantom tears and harpy blood. She was going by instinct, but tears also came from the eyes, and harpies seemed like the kind of creature more than happy to take out your eye for taking their blood.

It came out a color so deep, it was almost black, but the purple seemed to highlight around the cuts of her design. She hung it on a hook over the fire, next to the one she had made that morning. Three amulets down. No way to safely test them.

Crafting two amulets was exhausting enough that she wanted to take a nap. First, she had to clean up the mess she had made in the library.

Unfortunately, she had to guess at the places she had taken the books from. She had a vague idea of the organization: magic books left of the fire, histories and biographies on the right, and close to the door were the reference books, but without being able to read all the languages, she was mostly guessing.

Kendra scooted a space a little wider to make room for where she thought a book was supposed to go, and a yellowed piece of paper fell from between the spines. Kendra put the book away and picked up the paper.

To the current occupant,

You’re probably like me, someone whose abilities can only be used voluntarily, so they are keeping you locked up here until they can convince you to do what they want. I have no hope for rescue, and I refuse to do what they ask. I expect to die here, but I have hidden notes written in Silvian, and hidden them around the library to pass the time. If there is nothing else to my life, maybe these notes will make the duration easier for the next occupant.

So far I have discovered a single secret tunnel going out of here. Twist the head of the goblin statue and the wall will become permeable. I won’t survive outside this room, but maybe a prisoner better suited for this environment could use it to their advantage.

Peace,

Maykrill of Anksonling

Not what she expected to find, but she was wide awake now. It took a little bit of digging, but the goblin statue was directly diagonal behind her favorite reading chair. What kind of prison cell has a tunnel in it?

The tunnel probably didn’t lead outside, there was no way she was that lucky, but ‘anywhere else’ still ranked pretty high on the places she wanted to be.

The statue was a little taller than her palm, and currently being used as a bookend. The goblin made an icky sound when she twisted the head, like she was killing a living thing, and the small stretch of wall between bookcases became hazy. More gas than solid, and while she had to turn sideways to fit, she made it through just fine.

Unfortunately, she could barely see in front of her face. With how good she’s gotten at hiding her light, there was practically nothing. Should she un-dim herself? It would let things know where she was when she probably didn’t want them to, but she was probably already glowing a little anyway.

Kendra reached out and touched a wall, which immediately lit torches filled with the same blue fire that haunted her own apartment. Hiding wasn’t an option. Should she go back? But what was she waiting for? Ronodin wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours yet, it was mid-afternoon. She might not get a better chance to figure out more about where she was.

If someone asked her what she was doing, she would just head back. And she’d stay out of the dragon invested grotto. A quick check showed that the wall was completely permeable from this side, meaning she wasn’t going to be locked out. Unless the twisted head operated on a timer. But she wouldn’t be able to test that theory without it being too late to do anything about it. Her best bet would be to make the most of this current foray, but if she didn’t leave for long periods of time and she didn’t get locked out, she might be able to keep this secret until they were cleared to leave this place. She grabbed her second amulet on her way towards the tunnel.

So much for Ronodin winning their battle of wills. Ha.

Kendra crept along the corridor, her bare feet quiet along the ground. It sloped downward, and she thought there was a very subtle switchback before it opened another fuzzy wall. Fuzzy on her side, hopefully solid on the opposite side. Stepping closer, she tried to get a good view of the room before she set foot.

The room seemed large, enormous even. It was dimly lit with sporadic torches, the stone darker than in her hallway. A neutral jean blue darkened into marbled navy, made to look even colder by blue flame. Kendra glanced down at her bare feet, and really hoped the ruby necklace actually warmed her up and didn’t just shut off her perception of cold.

There were large structures scattered about the room, and Kendra narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out the nearest one through the wall.

“I know your mother taught you better manners than to skulk when you know people can sense you, Ronodin. Please do leave me be, I’m not telling you anything else, and this constant taunting is rather irritating, even for you.”

Her eyes adjusted as the boy spoke. Because he was a boy, and based on his voice, couldn’t be much older than her, probably Ronodin’s age. She could catch the outline of bars, bent in around a circle, like a bird cage. Almost appropriate, given that this boy’s voice was the most melodic she had ever heard. Beautiful as Ronodin’s, but in a different way. Clearer, somehow.

“Fine, I will simply annoy you in return. I don’t think High Sylvian has ever graced these halls, join in if you remember the words:

Follow the wind,

The one that blows of honey and rose

A caress, a brush, steady and slow

Follow the wind to Asamelle

Trail the stream,

Of cerulean and lily pads green

It bubbles laughter and splashes song

Trail the stream to Asamelle

Chase the light,

It hovers and flickers at the edge of sight

Whiter than ever beheld, brighter than ever-ever lived,”

The boy’s voice cracked here, and the imperfection in the perfect song made her throat grow tight. When he started singing again, it was just a little more raw, and Kendra had to cover her mouth.

“Chase the light to Asamelle

Chase the light home.

You followed the wind, and trailed the stream,

chased the light, found the dream,

Home, to Asamelle.

Moonlight blossoms, viridian forest,

Wave to the naiad, dance to the Djini lyre

Unicorns race and run through the mire

You have come home to Asamelle

Beneath the tiger sky, follow softly,

Pass tree-grown houses, and beds of petals new

The final rise gives way to Heartsworn

The crowning jewel of Asamelle

There’s so much light, it’s too bright,

Push forward; the sun was brought to house,

The virtuous beings of Asamelle

An orchestra of birds, winds, and strings

Elf and Phoenix dance with the grace of falling leaves,

Step forward, part of the dance, the moment, the chance

Asamelle sings you home.”

A tear slid down her cheek. An honest tear, her payment for the song. It was so full of love and longing; it would have been a sin to not be affected.

“Hang on, Ronodin would never have listened to me sing that,” the boy said, “Who are you?”

Kendra fled back to the library. She banged her hip on her way through the secret passage, and curled up in her armchair.

Her heart was thumping, pounding, her face hot. What was wrong with her? She just…all she needed was a moment to calm down and collect herself. That prisoner revealed a lot, she just needed some space and time from his voice to be able to process it.

The prisoner was so sad. How could anyone keep him jailed away like that? Was Asamelle his home? Why did he ever leave? It sounded beautiful, in a way that looks fragile but is more solid than anything else. A sculpture that appears to be made of glass, but is actually of ice or diamond.

And the part she didn’t want to think about: Ronodin is his jailor. He seemed to know Ronodin quite well, well enough think he could tick Ronodin off. And considering Ronodin’s relationship with his home, that song probably would. The boy thought she was Ronodin, there to question him some more. What could Ronodin want with him? How many more of her schemes would Ronodin tolerate until Kendra was in a cage next to the boy?

If she was trapped down there, would he sing for her if she asked?

No. The goal was to get out to the sunlight, not end up another bird in a cage, one much more unpleasant than her current residence. Why was he in a cage? Ronodin was all about freedom, and making sure people had the space to make their choices. He seemed to hate that Kendra was in a cage, Ronodin wouldn’t imprison someone else without reason.

Things weren’t adding up. Should she wait to confront Ronodin about it? Should she go talk to the trapped boy? Kendra thought she could make another trip before Ronodin came back tonight. Who would be more likely to lie? The boy or Ronodin?

Kendra needed facts. Evidence. Mendigo was under her full control. She had a brother named Seth. She chose to give up her memory. Ronodin loved her. She was fairykind and could use magic to make enchanted objects and see in the dark. Everything else she knew came from Ronodin’s story.

Kendra wanted to talk to the boy. And when Ronodin came back, she didn’t know when he’d leave again. This could be her only chance.

The goblin’s head was back to normal, and she broke the neck again. Kendra also took her second amulet, to weaken those who would harm her, not the blinding one. If the boy had the intention of harming her while she was down there, her curse would strike. Possibly. Not that he could do much from inside a birdcage.

The hallway had darkened, but lit once again as she touched the wall. Surer than the first time, Kendra hurried down the secret tunnel to the half-there wall. Once again, Kendra stopped.

“I know you’re there,” the boy called, much softer this time.

Gathering her courage, Kendra passed through the wall, halfway. She spotted an identical goblin statue, this time part of the brace holding up a torch, and went through all the way.

She walked forward, and a light sprung from inside the cage, small and dim, it illuminated the boy.

He was handsome. Unbelievably handsome. Kendra couldn’t remember seeing the cover of a magazine, and only knew that they depicted pretty people. She felt like she wouldn’t ever need to see a magazine; the boy in front of her screamed that kind of impossible perfection. White hair, blue eyes, unblemished pale skin, cupid’s bow lips that had fallen open at the sight of her.

Too late she remembered that she was currently wearing the stretchy red dress, a ruby medallion, a white cursed amulet (luckily that eyesore was tucked under her neckline), and her hideous orange cardigan. Her hair had been brushed and tied back before she started crafting, and she certainly wasn’t wearing the makeup in her bathroom. She felt a thousand times grungier than she had before.

The boy’s face changed, hardening, and he turned to speak to the general space around them, “Nice try Ronodin. I’m not going to lie and say I expected you to send a fake Kendra,” she jumped when he said her name, “but she really needs some work. This one barely glows, much less radiates like the sun. I’m honestly more surprised you let through such a bad copy.”

“Oh, um, Ronodin didn’t send me, I’m kind of here without him knowing, so I’d appreciate it if we could keep this a secret,” Kendra said nervously, tugging at her cardigan, hoping to turn it into something less ridiculous. “And I can shine brighter, but it seems to bother people, so I dim it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Kendra could never be dim.”

She unclenched the mental fist halfway, removing part of the block on her light, and immediately things became easier to see. One of the nearby cages started grumbling, so she dimmed it again.

He stared at her, and Kendra blushed and shifted under his gaze.

“Um…, I came to ask you some things,” Kendra tried, eyes drawn to the floor. This was not how she expected this to go. “But mostly, I really liked your song. Is Asamelle your home?” That was not what Kendra meant to ask him about, and blushed. Hopefully he couldn’t see in the dim light the way she could.

“Asamelle was the capital city of the old Fairy Realm,” he said, with disbelief. “Kendra, look at me.”

It clicked in her head, “Oh, you know me, don’t you?” she said, doing as he asked and looking at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having some trouble remembering you at the moment.”

“And I’m still having trouble believing you’re the real Kendra,” he said. “Not knowing who I am isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kendra shrugged, “Don’t take it personally, I don’t know who anyone is. My oldest memory is turning a key that made me lose my memory. My brother Seth was there, and Ronodin, also an angry guy that claimed to be the King of the Dragons, and a magical dwarf. We were all fighting over a stone and my brother kind of won, I think, then I faked my own kidnapping and brought myself here. I really am sorry I don’t remember you.”

He was shaking his head slowly.

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but I’m still having some trouble believing you’re Kendra and not some Ronodin knock off sent here to torture me,” he said, “Do you mind letting me confirm your story?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

He held out a hand through the bars, “It’s not bad, just touch my hand, and give me permission to see if you are telling the truth. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Kendra pulled back a little. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t know who or what you are. I’m sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Could all unicorns do what he said? She might be in a lot more trouble with Ronodin than she thought.

“I’m Bracken,” he said, retracting his hand and backing away, “We’ve done this before, if you really are Kendra. I’m a unicorn, and the Fairy Queen herself vouched for me.” His eyes softened, looking over her again, “I’m sorry, whatever is going on, I don’t mean to frighten you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though it will make trusting you a little more difficult. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Oh, he was kind. Why would Ronodin imprison someone like him? Being a unicorn the same age as Ronodin explained the comments about Ronodin’s mother and the polite dislike. The name Bracken also sounded familiar…

“Oh no,” Kendra said, covering her mouth. It all came together. Bracken was Ronodin’s cousin, the one she was engaged to while secretly seeing Ronodin.

Bracken’s eyebrows raised, “I will admit that’s the first time my name has evoked that reaction. You remember something about me around your mysterious bout of amnesias?”

Kendra wanted to run away again. No wonder Ronodin knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave yet; people from her old life were already tracking her here. Why hadn’t Ronodin told her? Of course, he didn’t tell her, she spent so much time fighting him. Was Ronodin worried she would leave, or demand to leave until she hated him? This was all wrong and not fair, and Kendra didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry for what old me did to you,” Kendra said. “I don’t know why I led you on, I’m sorry.” Kendra put her hand over his, which was suddenly gripping the bars of his cage. “I give you permission to see the truth of my words.”

Bracken closed his eyes, and his forehead creased, “It’s…blank. I can sense your memories for a time, then its just gone. You gave them up, but it is your mind,” he said with disbelief. “You are really Kendra.”

Bracken frowned, “There’s something awful here, dark, but nowhere near strong enough to block your memories. Do you remember any other curses? Or maybe you have a cursed item?”

“Oh, um, I made it today, to protect myself from people who would do me harm? It’s a little new, but it might be what you’re talking about,” Kendra said, pulling out the medallion.

“You did what? Kendra, you don’t make curses. That’s dark magic,” Bracken said, clutching the bars of his cell, “Listen to me closely, whatever you do, stay away from crafting curses. How can you even do that?” Which verified Ronodin’s words. Her crafting had been a secret, he did think she was evil, as was her art. There was just one more thing to check.

“Are you familiar with Mendigo?” Kendra asked.

“Your puppet? Kendra, I feel like you’re not listening to me. Whatever Ronodin said —”

“Does Mendigo only do what I say or not?”

“Well, yes, Mendigo, as I understand it, is keyed into the commands of you and your brother, and whoever you tell him to listen to.” Bracken said. “I don’t see why that’s important. Look, Ronodin is evil, you can’t trust anything he says —”

“What about my family?” Kendra asked, “Do they really imprison dark creatures against their will?”

Bracken’s eyebrows rose, “What? In a manner of speaking they do, because nothing else would have the chance to grow and flourish if we let them out. Demons, the unbound undead, dragons, they would destroy everyone and everything if given a single chance. You helped put so many of them away. They’ve killed your friends and family. It isn’t an unjust prison sentence if that’s what Ronodin told you. They all chose darkness and destruction, or it’s their nature and life sentences over huge tracks of land to roam seem more humane than killing everyone in an effort not to die ourselves. You and your family are the best people I know. Good people. Ronodin is twisting the truth for his own ends if he says differently. You are a good person Kendra, you don’t craft curses. You don’t chose evil, you can’t. It isn’t who you are. Don’t listen to Ronodin’s lies.”

“Ronodin said the exact same thing,” Kendra said sadly, and Bracken went quiet, “Except, he knows something you don’t, something we couldn’t share with either of our families because yours hates him and mine wouldn’t understand. I’ve been enchanting magic objects for a while now. I met up with Ronodin in secret, and fell in love with him. I ordered Mendigo to kidnap me from my home so that we could be together.”

“Wha-no, no, no. That doesn’t make sense,” Bracken said, hurt crashing through those beautiful blue eyes as he drew back. “That can’t be true…I…you let me into your mind a week ago. Please believe me. You met Ronodin for the first time this past week.”

“He’s a little rough,” she defended quietly, looking away, “We’re learning our way around each other again over my memory loss. He hates that we have to stay cooped up, but he knows who I was better than anyone else.”

“That’s a lie,” Bracken insisted, “He doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t know that falling rain makes you think of your friend Lena. He doesn’t know that your favorite way to travel through the air is being held by the Dragon Raxtus. He doesn’t know that your cousin Warren would die for you, after seeing you die once already and being unable to stop it. Ronodin knows you less than you know yourself right now. I get that you-you might not be able to believe me right now, but find Seth, find your grandparents, they’ll be scouring the earth for you. They love you so much, and you love them more than anything in return.”

Bracken’s voice was low and sincere. His voice had cracked again, like it had during his song, his tell that the emotion was just too much. So utterly certain he was right. But Kendra didn’t know a Lena or a Raxtus or a Warren. And she couldn’t ask Ronodin about them, because then he would know she went wandering.

Why couldn’t the old Kendra have fallen in love with Bracken instead?

“Why did Ronodin imprison you?” she asked. “Was it…was it because of me? He and Seth mentioned that we were…intended.”

“Oh, um…I mean…That’s not...we’re, um,” Bracken said, flustered. He wasn’t blushing, but unicorn blood was silver, could he blush? Did he sparkle more in the light when blushing? Pooling silver instead of red? “I would have come for you, I swear, but uh, Ronodin got to me first. I’ve been here a week-ish. Hard to tell the days, the guards aren’t regular on feeding us. I’m not sure what he wants to do with me. He was helping overthrow preserves and trying to set dragons on the world to massacre humans, so I was sent to stop him, but he got the jump on me.”

Ronodin would try to negotiate better circumstances for the dragons, and starting them from a place of freedom is something he would do. Keeping Bracken for no reason? That didn’t sound like something he would do. Bracken being sent off to stop his cousin? Bracken looked fit, but she would probably bet on Ronodin in a fight.

What was the truth in all of this? Where was it? Except she knew where it was, locked away with her memories. This was the first time she felt like she needed her memories. Kendra had missed them before, but if what Bracken said was true, then Ronodin was brainwashing her. If what Ronodin said was true, she had purposefully led Bracken to believe the way he did, and she had escaped from the consequences of the harm she caused someone who seemed so honest and sincere. Why couldn’t she just know. Like a normal person.

“Would I give up my memory so my brother wouldn’t have to?” Kendra asked.

His eyes were soft, awkwardness leaving, “In a heartbeat. Seth has suffered much, often by his own folly, much because he was a child in a world too dangerous for someone with his curiosity and kindness. He has trouble knowing who to trust. You supported him, gave him strength, pulled him out of his misery, helped clean up his mistakes, but you wished you could bear some of the burden for him. If given the chance to spare him pain, to keep him from messing up without his memory and creating new guilt, Kendra Sorenson wouldn’t hesitate to give up her memories.”

His hand raised, and she noticed a piece of hair falling in her face, he hesitated just short of her, and then pulled his hand back to the bars.

“Sorenson,” she said, fixing the loose hair on her own, because she’d start crying if she didn’t speak, “Is that my name?”

Bracken nodded, smiling, “Kendra Marie Sorenson. Your first name came from a book your father loved, your middle name is the same as your maternal Grandmother’s middle name.”

“I want to believe you,” Kendra admitted. “But from the things I know for certain, you’re probably a victim of my own lies.”

“You are goodness,” Bracken said simply, “Goodness and light. Ask yourself if what you’re doing feels right, feels good. If it makes you a better person who helps people and creates good things. Don’t listen to Ronodin, don’t craft curses. If you find a moment to escape, take it. Take it and don’t look back. Head to upstate Connecticut, ask for the Sorensons. You’ll find people who can help you.” Bracken tensed, “My jailor is coming, hurry away, don’t stop.”

Kendra rushed to the goblin statue, twisted the head, and hurried back up the hall.

Back in her little apartment, she took off the amulet and held it up. It had felt good crafting it. Honest. Part of who she was before that she had reclaimed. What was true and what was false?

#Forgotten Light #Bracken #Kendra Sorenson #Brackendra #I love this chapter so much you have no idea #Thanks for being patient #The hyperfixation choses you #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch

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jisungyah · 3 years

Text

Dream State - 22 : HoOoNG~

“That was unessarily loud” Hyunjin stated, hands clasped to his ears looking up at Wooyoung from his seat on the floor.

Wooyoung saw San gulp, eyes still staring back at him. He didn't look back to Yeosang who he heard taking a sip of his drink a little too loudly.

Hyunjin's hands left his ears, now supporting him up instead as he stared at Wooyoung, his mouth agape waiting for some explanation.

Stupid, Wooyoung was stupid, he was embarrassed and felt guilty because he got caught. A palm raises to cover his face he couldn't believe he thought he could get away with some stupid plan.. it wasn't even a thought out one, he just wanted to avoid San.. he didn't even know why? only the reasons he made up for Hongjoong and Yeosang.

"I'm Wooyoung.." he let out a sigh before continuing "..the same Wooyoung from the Haechan Neck account, I didn't want to tell you at first cause it's embarrassing honestly.. being known as ‘the flirt’ online would ruin our first impressions..but lying about it is probably worse but, I just panicked.."

Wooyoung had been keeping eye contact with San through the whole confession, practically pleading San to forgive him with his glassy eyes.

"it's okay I get it.. to be honest, I kinda knew you were Wooyoung um.. I was just waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to say it I guess..", the eye contact was broken for a few seconds as San tried to consider his next words, once connected again Wooyoung's eyes were starting to fill with more tears, "Really it's fine! we all have an online facade.. right?" San nods to himself and turns to the two others for a little help.

Yeosang was kinda thrown off by this reaction from San so he kept quiet while Hyunjin reassured "RIGHT! if you're hyuck's neck maybe we could be moots! you wouldn't happen to know King Xiaojun... "

Wooyoung was not expecting the conversation to turn to Hyunjin admitting he was an 18+ RP account. As Hyunjin rambled about his account being worse in ways they couldn't imagine, far worse than just flirting as a parody account, Yeosang nudged Woo as to say 'I told you so'.

"you know since we're all friends and this has kinda cleared things up.." Yeosang started.

"Okay but I'm seriously really sorry, that was stupid and I don't wanna blame alcohol but I get more obnoxious when I'm tipsy.. and I was even panicking before so-"

Yeosang rested his hand on Woo's shoulder to calm him from babbling further.

"tsk Wooyoung obnoxious?" Hyunjin let out, laughing to himself while taking a sip of beer, when he finished he realised the others hadn't reacted. Maybe the alcohol was getting to him already. "woah. Wait ! that sounded offensive.. I meant like you're really not obnoxious if we're talking 'obnoxious'? we're talking Minho"

"So we're all good? Wooyoung you don't have to keep apologising, stop worrying about it" Yeosang reassured, hand now wrapped around Wooyoung's shoulders. San giggled at Woo's little pout and if Wooyoung's heart wasn't fluttering already it was racing now. "May I ask ..? did you do the same to Yeosang?"

"Well.. no Hongjoong got to him first"

"SO YOU WERE GONNA..?"

"No !Yeosang !" "Bitch I know what you look like!" "BITCH?! I didn't even know you could use that word!"

"Oh.." San seemed to be a little disappointed but no one seemed to notice, Woosang busy teasing each other while Hyunjin laughed at their banter.

"But wait, how'd you know I was Wooyoung? I mean like Haechan's Neck.." Wooyoung inquired turning back to San, sitting up fixing himself after sending Yeosang into a laughing fit with tickles.

"I recognised you from a photo you sent in the group chat"

"w-what?! which pic?"

"When you announced that you went back to your natural hair..? It was only half your face but.."

"I-"

"Idiot, you sent it to both group chats" Yeosang finished Wooyoung's sentence beginning another set of laughter for himself. Wooyoung gave a glare as a first warning, then raised his hands to his friend's waist threatening Yeosang with more tickles which got him to shut up immediately.

"But I was really doubting myself.. added up though. You and Yeosang, Seoul Uni.. but.. didn't you say to Min you weren't coming to the party?"

"We forgot about Min!" Yeosang exclaimed.

Thanks to San's question Wooyoung was reminded to check his phone, silently asking the group with his pointer finger up to excuse him for a moment as he scrolled through the 'PARTY' group chat’s messages. The others quietly waiting for some update on their mutual friend.

"He seems pretty content with Taeil"

Yeosang gave him a stern almost threatening look, "Twice, you said you'd be there for Min"

"Fine.. what do you want me to say?"

Woosang seemed to have a private conversation to themselves before Wooyoung was focused on his phone and Yeosang turned to question San, "Wait, Min said you weren't replying to him? and you haven't been active on the group chat"

Wooyoung whispered something being Yeosang's pick-up line, Yeosang ignoring him keeping his eyes on San like he was in trouble.

"I was busy being lost.. and classes and when I wasn't in class Seonghwa kept me busy" a gulp preceding San's answer.

San seemed to retreat a little to himself, head down unable to make eye contact with Yeosang which caused the latter to feel guilty.

"Sorry, of course you were.."

"To be fair we both were busy with each other too" Wooyoung said to ease the atmosphere, finally putting his phone back in his jacket's pocket.

"Well that's cause you wer-" Wooyoung knew Yeosang was going to make fun of his panic about San and the party, swiftly interrupting with another apology.

"Sorry I- .. We-we're all over the place but I just didn't want Mingi to feel alone or left out, so I um pretended I was busy with an assignment than coming to the party so he could text if he felt lonely.." Wooyoung explained.

"Oh .. that's actually really nice of you..."

Wooyoung didn't mean for anyone to feel guilty but that's how San felt now, knowing he was doing what he didn't want anyone to do to him to one of his best friends.

"I mean Wooyoung doesn't seem like the one.." "Wooyoung is just that nice" "-the kind to lie out of malice! he even taught me that phrase"

Hyunjin and Yeosang accidentally talked over each other but Hyunjin continued anyway, starting to become less aware of his surroundings. He was swaying side to side to the faint music, eyes closed barely open when he responded to the others.

They kept the conversation going, allowing some time for Woo to reply to Mingi and trying to distract Hyunjin from drinking any more. Soon their hyungs gathered with them, Hongjoong tried to slip away for Wooyoung's sake but Woo caught him, it wouldn't hurt they'd be leaving soon anyway.

Although Hongjoong couldn't even introduce himself before San announced that they should get going, saying it was getting late for a school night and Seonghwa wasn't in the best state either. Hongjoong seemed to match Hwa, their few more drinks than what they planned beginning to show some effect on them.

They exchanged goodbyes before introductions could take place, San and Minho helping Seonghwa stand straight, his arms around their shoulders, getting hold of him before he could flop down on top of the boys on the couch.

"Hhhow much longer you guys stayed? we-we we can have fun by ourselves"

Minho noticed Hyunjin's state which was.. pretty drunk for Hyunjin, he left San with Seonghwa while he tried to pull Hyunjin away to leave with them. Wooyoung didn't notice San already leaving with Seonghwa, preoccupied with a whining Hyunjin trying to get away from Minho's arms.

"I'll help you out with Hyunjin if Yeosang is alright enough to get Hongjoong" Wooyoung offered.

"awwhhhh Wooyoung-ah don'tlet-let- don't be such a killjoy cause of Minho!" Hyunjin grumbled escaping from Minho, only to stumble into Wooyoung's arms, face pressed to his classmate's chest causing him to giggle.

"Seriously Hyunjin, how's Kami gonna react seeing you like this?" Minho sighed finally trapping him.

"Ff*ck.. I forgot"

"You're not sleeping over, I'm surprised you didn't get a curfew"

Hyunjin stopped squirming, trying to get himself together when he remembered he'd be returning to his parents in his drunk state.

With the help of Minho and Wooyoung, he made his way down the stairs safely with Yeosang and Hongjoong following behind them, conversing about nonsense until they reached the bottom.

By the time they got down, Seonghwa was free from San's grip trying to make himself comfortable on the side of Minho's car, even after San offered his shoulder as they waited for their driver.

Minho took care of Hyunjin the rest of the way to his car, a few more waves goodbye before the 'Just gotta TOUCH' boys were all seated in the car.

San now in the passenger seat, Minho still the driver ready to take the boys home safely. The other two boys sharing the back seats, leaning on each other still somewhat awake but on the verge of sleep. Hyunjin trying to sober up before being dropped home to his parents but the alcohol in his system tempting him to a short nap. Seonghwa was out of it only half awake because he had some thoughts to discuss with the boys.

The trio left behind began their walk together after seeing Minho drive off. Wooyoung taking over Hongjoong duty knowing Yeosang's stop was only a five-minute walk away, although with their current pace the time could be doubled.

Wooyoung didn't know whether it was Yeosang slowing down in consideration for Hongjoongs drunken state or because he also wanted to enjoy more time together, even if they technically weren't alone. He appreciated it though, the dark night allowing stars to glow through even when the city lights fought against their shine. Setting the mood..

The odd car passing by allowing a flash of light to hit Yeosang, who was shielding the light from the slowpokes.

The short distance they travelled so far was mostly filled with silence and a few grunts from Wooyoung struggling to keep Hongjoong up because he was distracted by Yeosang.

The few street lights they walked by flattered Yeosang's features with its warm rays, catching him in the process of thought.

Wooyoung was getting used to Joong's weight over his left shoulder. Yeosang suddenly turning back after taking in the stars, causing Wooyoung to trip on his step.

Yeosang meeting Wooyoung's admiring eyes as he looks back to check on the two. "You know you don't have to walk me back, maybe I should be helping you get Hongjoong back to yours"

"No we're getting-" "No no we'll get you back safe first!" Hongjoong speaks up, whispering a sorry for interrupting Wooyoung. "We're getting you safely back to your dorm, we can just take the bus from your place to ours. I can handle Joong"

Yeosang seemed to take their answer but then a smirk played on his lips before mentioning, mostly to Honjoong, that San was still looking for accommodation.

"Yeah I know Yeo.. I was in that conversation with you" Wooyoung tried to dismiss it.

"Yeo?" Both older males asked at the new nickname.

"What? you both call me Woo?? its just a nickname"

"huh, I like it.." Yeosang blushed on top of the residual tint of the alcohol in his system. He never really had nicknames from friends mostly just family but he was called "sangie" or "sang" and although Wooyoung had texted him the nickname before, it felt different hearing it out loud.

"Does that make me Hong?"

Wooyoung giggles at his Hyung still under the haze of alcohol, eyelids half open and sporting a small pout.

"hehe yeah, that makes you Hoooonnngg~" Messing with the pronunciation of the new nickname earning a disgusted judgemental look from the now called Hong. [like how he said in the one ep of ateez salary lupin]

"Soooo San..??" Yeosang starts up again after a few giggles from the '99 liners at Hongjoong's reaction. The trio now continuing their journey after their short pause.

"We said we'd do interviews sooo.." Wooyoung hoped his mention of their plan would prevent Hongjoong from thinking about just giving San the spare room.

"San..? but Seonghwa said-oh wait yeah we can get San an interview! he seems nice I mean we just goddamake sure he leaves the nsfw stuff on Twitter"

"pffft-" "JOONG!"

"I thought it was Hong!?" Yeosang blurts while laughing

San content staring out the window watching the street lights go by but he notices Seonghwa from the rearview mirror pouting. A small smile on his lips with his tongue peeking out trying to take a quick picture while the older had his eyes closed from drink and tiredness.

"Y'all didn't get to meet Hongjoong" he whined a little like a disappointed child when he saw San facing him. San is quick to take the picture and drop his phone but not quick enough to turn around before Seonghwa's eyes are fully open.

"Sorry Hwa-hyung, but I'm tired and you didn't seem to be handling the alcohol well" San spoke with a faint but reassuring smile before turning back to sit in his seat properly.

"San was the only one to not meet Hongjoong, and me and Hyunjin were literally right there" Minho added, trying to make Hwa less frowny-faced.

"Correction, Hyujin and I."

"Oh just shut it Jin and focus on sobering up before we get to your place, your lucky enough I'm giving you extra time heading to Seonghwa's first"

Hyujin is now sat straight, rolling his eyes at the driver sat in front of him. "Oh San! did you know Joong and Woo have space? maybe they can take you in" Hyunjin suggested while brushing his hand through his hair gathering himself together, it would only last a bit longer before he’s feeling woozy again.

"They do? but .. I don't know I-I don't wanna be taken in like a-a a stray cat.."

"I mean you're not far from one" Minho commented flashing San a smile before quickly turning attention back to the road. San was always compared to a cat sometimes even to his own cat by Mingi and his parents. He didn't know whether it was because of his physical features or personality, maybe even both? But he was surprised and flattered that Minho noticed since he had three cats of his own.

"I-I didn't mean for it to sound like that! what is wrong with me today ahhhggghh"

"you're literally always like this?" Minho replies when he spots Hyunjin throwing his head into his hands in an exasperated manner.

Seonghwa was mumbling something about Mingi and Yeosang in the last few minutes of their drive. He didn’t form enough coherent words for the others to make sense of it.

They finally reached the house. San was glad that Seonghwa’s aunt was already asleep but kept the door open for them. Somehow San manages to help Seonghwa into bed and takes off his make up, not bothering to try changing him into PJs. He also ends up charging Hwa’s phone and setting an alarm for him before he takes care of himself.

San plops himself on the bottom bunk of Seonghwa’s older cousin’s bunk bed staying in the room across from Seonghwa, for now at least. Bringing the nearest plushie to his chest to cuddle that night San also picks up his phone to check up on the others.

Pan ic :

Well the jig is up! don’t know how far pretending to be jongho wouldve gone anyway..

also didn’t Hong say something about not drinking too much earlier and he’s going home like that?? i think seongjoong bad influence on each other but wooo ooo WooSang going strong ... for now

pt.21 < Masterlist > pt.22.5

[ Social Media Woosan AU:

Having finished his first year of college, Wooyoung spends his summer with friends.. online friends mostly., friends made through his Lee Donghyuck parody acc..

Will he be ready to spend his second year with these crackheads ? and what if his twt crush starts attending his university ? ]

A/N if the hyung isnt always accurate its because they are close friends and dont say it often.. also its been awhile .... college was hard second semester soo i didn’t get a chance until recently sooo sorry its very late

#DREAM STATE #woosan #woosan au #atiny #ateez #ateez social media au #ateez au #NCT #nctzen #nct au #nct social media au #social media au #skz #skz au #skz social media au #markhyuck

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awintersrose · 3 years

Note

ObiKabu for kinktober #15 would be interesting.

Kinktober Prompt 15 - Impact Play (From this list of prompts)

This one is more rated M...

His skin is the first thing to draw the eye, genetically unique and begging for adornment. Adornment is something Kabuto can easily give.

The true challenge is the pride in the older man's eyes, his stance, the line of his spine. It would require building up, breaking down. Exploration, study, and a trained hand.

Working over a submissive is quite like a complex dissection at times - taking a specimen apart using the very building blocks of systemic response and release. Only these specimens, both precious and conscious, have the benefit of learning who they are, who they could be, who they would be under his control.

Kabuto is well accustomed to bestowing such gifts on deserving targets.

From the moment he sets eyes on Obito, the decision is made, the plan formed, right down to the implements, namely a sweetly crafted leather martinet gifted to him by his first master.

Learning from the best has had its benefits. Namely exposure to Leather culture steeped in tradition and protocol, most of which he’s adopted as part of his chosen play style. The rest is all his own, and that’s what leads him here, with an especially wondrous specimen all too willing to be tied and plied with pain and the prospect of pleasure.

“I bet no one’s ever used that on you before.”

Kabuto pauses. There’s no need to allow anyone to see him ruffled by such a statement, and really, it’s a silly one.

“I was mentored by a leatherman, and thus spent a lot of time in that community. I’ve bottomed before.”

“Yeah, but did you enjoy it?” Obito’s lips quirk in a slightly cocky smile.

It’s annoying. It’s entrancing. It feels a hell of a lot like a challenge.

“I don’t see where that’s of consequence. It was educational, as it was meant to be. I take it you think you can do better?” Kabuto loops jute rope around Obito’s chest, threading the ends through the bight.

The taller man stoops slightly so that his mouth is close to Kabuto’s ear. “I know I can.”

Definitely a challenge. One that Kabuto would be apt to ignore were it not for the hairs standing on end along the back of his neck and the curiosity that runs rampant at a single thought.

“Then I suggest you put your money where your mouth is. Prove it.” He smirks, letting the rope fall. “I presume you know what you’re doing, yes?”

Somehow their positions are reversed against the wall and Kabuto’s not quite sure how it’s happened. All he knows is that Obito is very warm and very close, with fingers poised at his chin - staring him squarely in the eye.

“I know what I’m doing, cutie. Take your clothes off and I won’t ask you to call me Master.”

“I would have undressed anyway,” Kabuto grumbles, unbuttoning his shirt and laying it aside, followed by his pants. “And you’ve not earned the title so that’s a moot point.”

“Well now you get to undress for me. Same limits as we discussed, or do you have anything more I should avoid?” Obito’s right hand spans Kabuto’s throat, tracing the fluttering pulse there and noting its urgent beat.

“No, my list was comprehensive. I’ll safeword if I need to.” Kabuto peers up at him, rendering a dare of his own. “Shall we begin? Show me what you were so confident about.”

“Oho, aren’t you demanding? I will. One thing first,” Obito traces his jaw then deftly removes Kabuto’s glasses, setting them aside. “Now turn around and put your hands up on the cross.” He gestures to the St. Andrews cross nearby.

Effectively blinded, Kabuto reaches up to hold onto the rich mahogany with a slight sigh. The relief, however, is short lived as leather falls run the length of his spine, then pure warmth presses flush against his back.

“If you safeword or take your hands down, I’m going to stop. Understood?”

“I understand,” Kabuto replies.

It takes active effort on his part to suppress the shiver that lingers somewhere around his spine, but when a hot exhale rushes across the nape of his neck, his ear, his reactions are rendered involuntary. He can practically hear Obito smile.

“I’m not going to expect you to count, but I am going to expect you to feel every. Last. Bit.” That teasing voice turns darker, almost purring, as if the man has become another person entirely. “And maybe, just maybe you won’t keep those sharp teeth gritted the whole time.”

At once, there is cool air at Kabuto’s back and the first strokes fall, criss crossed lashes laid one at a time across his shoulder blades, their warm points of impact radiating outward. The sensation steals his breath for all that the strokes are light.

He’d nearly forgotten what a good flogging feels like. The martinet’s falls are shorter than is usually optimal, but they are lavish and well tooled - and they bring Obito closer in proximity. Besides that, Obito wields it well.

Kabuto does own twin bullhide floggers that would be even more appropriate for the task, but as additional strikes are laid with almost mathematical precision several times over, he forgets all detail of the implements - too focused on the here, and the now. Obito seems to read his reactions in an instant, switching the pace, increasing it, laying incendiary stripes down the muscles of his back and his hips with near flawless technique.

Each fall leaves a mark, even if invisible, stealing away a piece of his sanity, his resolve. It’s as if the dark stranger is weaving a spell wrought in pain and slow-burning pleasure, turning Kabuto’s very nature against him. He had no intention of truly surrendering to his chosen submissive, merely enduring this little challenge, and yet he hears Obito laugh softly in response to something.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s because he’s uttered a sound.

“Kabuto - it’s alright if you like it. Let me hear you.” Obito’s broad hand runs the length of Kabuto’s spine and hot lips brush the skin of his neck just below his ear. “I want to.”

The unexpected softness leaves him reeling just before Obito draws away and lays another series of deft strokes across his buttocks and thighs, the martinet whipping through the air so swiftly that Kabuto can hear the tell-tale sound in anticipation.

Like it? Is that what’s happening? He could yank his hands away from the polished wood, call red and stop the scene in its tracks. Could, but doesn’t. The way that his mental capacity is drifting slowly from his grasp is alarming to say the least.

As leather makes contact with skin, another sound, a gasping sort of cry, gets bitten off in his hearing. The husky voice behind him still urging him on confirms that he is in fact the one guilty of the utterance, and the slight humiliation makes him feel as if he’s teetering on the edge of something.

He just might fall.

It’s strange. Nearly discomfiting. A soft haze lingers short of his inner sight, blurring the edges of sensation and emotion - a bit too far to reach. This is just as well when he’s not so sure he wants to relinquish a logical headspace. Yet as the scene meets its pinnacle, it seems it’s no longer his choice; everything becomes gently fuzzed over, less sharp… better than he imagined.

So, this must be subspace.

Obito’s hands, now free of the implement, trace the fiery heat glowing upon Kabuto’s skin, as if to soothe, never losing contact as they glide up his shoulders and slowly toward his wrists. His chest meets Kabuto’s back as he guides both hands away from the posts and secures Kabuto in a solid embrace. And just like that, the scene is over.

“Such a good boy.” Obito’s whisper is nearly tender, an unexpected anchor. “Thank you, Kabuto.”

Being called anyone’s boy should rankle and twinge, but somehow it doesn’t. Perhaps in combination with the play session, this is something to be documented in full, perhaps tested once more for the sake of confirmation. Being thanked, on the other hand, feels just right, and as he leans back against Obito, he turns to give him an imperious look.

“You’re welcome. I admit your technique was satisfactory - you didn’t lie. But next time - I get to do as I like with you.”

A smug grin crosses Obito’s lips as he leans in closer, brushing lips against Kabuto’s cheek. He can feel his new play partner’s breath stutter in his lungs. “Something tells me we'll see about that.”

AO3 Collection

#obikabu #obito #kabuto #naruto #naruto shippuden #rose's delayed kinktober #there was another request for this same prompt but I could only choose one #the rarest of rares #another to add to my list #my fanfics #awintersrose #if you enjoy it please let me know?#or visit the collection on AO3 #Anonymous

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rhnuzlocke · 5 years

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Chapter Seven: If You Can’t Rock Me

Ren and Tāraki stood in the immaculate hallway on the top floor of the Devon building. Despite donning the most businesslike outfit she had in her vapor box, Ren was feeling rather underdressed for the occasion, especially when a woman in a custom tailored suit emerged from the office across from them.

“Mr. Stone will see you now.”

She held the door open for them, and Ren thanked her as they went in.

The walls of the generous office were covered in cases of specimens from glittering crystals to polished granite. The floor was beautifully striated, pink marble that was somehow still less impressive than the lobby, which had them walking over an incredible array of intricately arranged fossils.

Mr. Stone stood from his large desk on the far end of the room to greet them. He was an older gentleman with silver hair and a perfectly trimmed beard.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Kosugi,” he said as he shook her hand. He then he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Nonsense, it is I who must thank you,” he said as Ren sat down, and Tāraki jumped to the arm of the chair. “The package you recovered was an extremely important prototype. My company and I are indebted to you.”

“You are welcome, sir. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

He gave a warm smile—warmer than she had been expecting. “That is very admirable of you, Ms. Kosugi, but I did not invite you here just to thank you personally.”

“You really don’t have to do anything,” Ren said firmly. She had hoped to avoid a reward after purposefully letting the thief go… twice.

“Please allow me to anyway. It is only fair,” he insisted. “I’d like to offer you full access to all of our nav apps, free of charge, and of course upgrade your nav to any model you choose. We also have an extensive line of accessories for trainers that may be of use to you. Ms. Ikeda will assist you as soon as we’re done.”

Ren weighed whatever was happening in her conscience against the risk of exposing herself and Josh for a moment before realizing it was moot. Despite Mr. Stone’s jovial bearing, she could feel that he wasn’t going to budge.

“That is very generous, sir. Thank you.”

“Very good.” He regarded her for a moment, hands knit together and thumbs wandering back and forth. “There is one more thing. This in no way effects anything I have already offered, and you are under no obligation to accept, but I was hoping you might run an errand for me—paid, of course.”

Now that she wasn’t expecting. “What sort of errand?” She asked carefully. She saw Tāraki cock his head in her periphery.

“Delivery. Specifically taking the parts you returned to me twice to my son in Dewford. It would be a great personal favor.”

The odd feeling that had prodded her back in Petalburg Woods reared up stronger than ever, and she gripped the arms of her chair. She had let go of the idea of asking questions before she even entered the building. Now there was no way not to.

“Before I decide, I have a few things I would like to ask.”

“About the incidents?” he asked, and she confirmed with a nod. He was sharp. “By all means. You and your pokemon were, albeit unintentionally, put in jeopardy. You are perhaps owed some manner of explanation.”

“Thank you, sir. Can I ask why you sent your top fossil scientist to deliver this prototype and not a courier? It seems like, as the head of the department, he might have other things to do.”

The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly before he leaned back a bit. “Ah, yes, under normal circumstances I certainly wouldn’t have, but since this was sensitive material, I needed someone I trusted. Devon may make most of its money nowadays from navtech, but I founded this company as a fossil revival center, and that has always remained my passion. Graeme has been here since the very beginning, and I’ve worked with him for much of my life. He is a close friend.”

In that moment, Ren resented her gut just a little for being right again because now she had to follow it. “Please excuse me—I don’t mean to sound rude or accusatory—but it seems as though Dr. Arden, and by extension yourself, may have expected an attempted theft?”

“To be perfectly frank, yes. Yes, I did.”

“So, do you know who is trying to steal this prototype and why?”

“Yes, I believe I do.” For the first time, Mr. Stone’s flawless posture wilted ever so slightly, and he paused for a moment, as if reluctant to elaborate. “This may sound strange, and I hope you will forgive me—I do not mean to cast aspersions—but I am fairly certain Magma is behind the attempted thefts.”

Ren had no idea what that meant or why he should feel uncomfortable saying it. Tāraki tilted his head all the way in the opposite direction, brow furrowing. He was doubtless even more lost than she was. “Is that… a criminal group?”

“Heavens no!” Mr. Stone exclaimed, raising his hands as if to push that idea away from him. “I forgot you are new to the region. No, Magma is a humanitarian organization. Their focus is infrastructure and affordable housing. I collaborated with them recently on the Rusturf Tunnel project.”

Mention of the tunnel made Ren’s chest tighten. “I’m sorry about the collapse.”

“It is unfortunate,” he said with a sigh, “but not your doing. Problems with the Whismur plagued it from the beginning. I suppose Captain Seaborne was right after all…” His eyes drifted out the window as he fell silent.

Ren felt a pang of sympathy. Continuing to pry didn’t seem kind anymore. Mr. Stone was under a lot of stress, and this wasn’t just business to him. But she looked over at Tāraki, saw the confusion on his face, but when their eyes met he smiled and nodded encouragingly. Her resolve hardened. He couldn’t understand much of what was being said, but he trusted her to make the right choice. They were all relying on her.

She didn’t mince her next words. “Do you think the project may have just been a way for them to get inside information about your company?”

“I admit to briefly considering the possibility.” He rearranged some items on his already orderly desk. “However, taking into account the organization’s history and having met with their leaders personally, I find it unlikely that their work up until this point has been some kind of smokescreen for criminal activity. That is to say, I do not believe this was motivated by greed. It seems more likely to me that they have found some way other than public appeal to further their agenda and that the technology they are attempting to steal will help them in some way.”

Now that was an interesting wrinkle. “And what exactly are they trying to steal?”

“A new type of energy converter,” he answered easily. Ren had half-expected him not to disclose anything at all. And that made her feel better even though things had become more complicated.

“So with all of that going on, why ask me to take the package?”

“Firstly, you have already proven yourself trustworthy. You had ample opportunity to take the parts yourself, knowing full well that they must be very valuable, but instead returned them twice. Secondly, since you are not a Devon employee or affiliate, Magma is unlikely to suspect you are carrying anything for us. And thirdly, if they do find out, you have already demonstrated you are a competent enough trainer to fend them off.”

“Oh.” That was all very well reasoned. “Thank you, I guess.”

“That being said, I very much doubt they will come after you. I wouldn’t have asked you if I thought they might. However, I completely understand if you don’t want to take any more risks. It is your choice.”

“He had such a reassuring way about him, that in that moment I really did believe everything would be fine. And I think he did too.” If he is anything like Steven, I’m sure he would never have sent you willingly into harm’s way. “No. He wouldn’t have.”

“I’ll do it. I’d like to visit Dewford anyway.”

“Thank you very much, Ms. Kosugi.” His relief was even more gratifying than the genuine gratitude in his expression. “Once again, you are really getting us out of a bind. Will you need travel accommodations?”

“Ah, no sir, or I don’t think so anyway. Captain Briney offered me a ride.”

Mr. Stone smiled broadly. “Jim? Well, that works out very well then. He has a lovely boat, and his cottage is quite close. Do send him my regards. I haven’t seen the old rascal in quite some time.”

Tāraki climbed up her shoulder and wrapped his tail around her neck. “Will do, sir.”

...

Ren walked out of the Devon building with the prototype in her vapor box and her bag full of new tech. Mr. Stone had not been kidding about the trainer equipment; Ren had to admit she was pretty excited to try out her collapsible screen and use her new solar generator the next time she camped out. But the shine wore off quickly as her mind wandered, and she soon found herself watching her boots tromp down the sidewalk. Without Mr. Stone there to reassure her, doubt was creeping back in.

“That went well!” Tāraki piped up by her side.

“Yeah, he told us a lot more than I thought he would,” Ren admitted distantly.

Tāraki cocked his head, trying to look up at her face for a moment or two before giving up. “Though I guess I still don't understand all of it.”

“We should tell the others. Come on, I think there's a park nearby.”

It was small, like most things in Rustboro, but there was a pond with blooming lily pads and a pretty little gazebo. Ren let out the rest of her pokemon, and they listened as she and Tāraki explained the situation.

Ren expected them to say something when she was done—opinions, comments, at least one question—but none of them did.

“Are you really okay with this? I mean, I’m not even entirely sure what I’m getting us into.” She looked from one to the next and was met with nothing but mild confusion.

“You’re the leader,” said Akahana at length—deliberately, like she was explaining something obvious. “It’s your call, trainer.”

Iki nodded in agreement, and none of the others raised any objection.

“Wait, hang on, that’s not the way I want to run this team.” Ren swallowed, a little shocked at her own dismay, but it did nothing to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “It—it isn’t right. You’re my partners. I want your input.”

Hakeka grumbled, and Panahi nodded along. “Maybe not how I would have put it, but you have a point.” Ren gave her a questioning look, and Panahi elaborated. “It’s just that you’ve already accepted.”

“I would go give it back right now if it mattered to you!”

“I’m sure you would,” Panahi said delicately, obviously still at a loss for what exactly the issue was. “Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“No, I do.” Ren looked at them, hoping one of them would understand, give her something so she could stop sliding helplessly downwards.

They looked at each other, and Akahana’s tail twitched. Finally Hakeka grunted.

“What do you want from us?” Akahana translated.

“I just want to know what you think! I know I already explained things, and you all seemed okay with it, but maybe I didn’t really give you all a choice. I want to give you a choice. Besides, you’re all smart. I just thought—well, maybe we shouldn’t be relying on only my judgement all the time. Please just tell me what you think. Should we do this?”

There was another silence and a few more glances between the pokemon before Māia piped up. “Why not? Even if another one of those Magma trainers comes after us, we can totally take them. We’re strong!”

“That’s right!” said Tāraki. “We’re all getting to be pretty good battlers.”

“He said they probably wouldn’t know it was us anyway, r-right?” Iki asked. “It doesn’t seem too dangerous.”

“And we could use the money,” Akahana concluded.

The last two weren’t as forthcoming, so Ren prompted them. “Hakeka, what do you think?”

Hakeka snorted, followed by some gurgling.

“She thinks you worry too much,” said Tāraki. “Seems like a low risk with a high reward.”

“Ahi?”

“I agree with everyone else, Honey. But listen: it’s great that you want to know what we’re thinking and all, really it is, but it doesn’t change the fact that you have the final say in the end. You are the leader. You need to own your decisions and take responsibility.”

“I didn’t know why that made me so uncomfortable, so I didn’t say anything. And she was right: I am responsible.” Perhaps, but not for everything you think you are. “And what is that supposed to mean?” If you wouldn’t hear it from Steven, you will not listen to me. Not that he has any authority on the subject. “Then why are we talking about it?” My hope is that you will see it yourself. That is why we are doing this exercise. But it won’t work if you are so defensive. “Alright, I’ll try not to be.”

“I—thank you, Ahi.” Ren took a deep breath and nodded, face set. “Okay. We are going to do this, and I’ll take full responsibility for what happens. But I just want all of you to know that I never want to make you do anything you don’t want to do. You should be able to make your own decisions too.”

“Awesome! So when are we challenging the Gym?”

...

The Rustboro Gym stood out boldly from every other building in the city, not just in size but in architecture—if it could be called that. The exterior looked more like a jagged, natural rock formation than a human structure, yet it was still regular and purposeful. Ren wondered if it was pokemon-built. Kai confirmed for her that is was, more specifically, a team of Lunatone, Solrock, and Probopass.

The lobby doubled as a gallery of the Leader’s personal rock and fossil collection, much like Mr. Stone’s office. This one turned out to be more like a museum, albeit a small one, with informative plaques next to each case. The glass roof, which had been invisible from the outside, flooded the space with natural light. Beyond the desk at the back of the room was a thick glass wall that opened onto the arena. Kai hung back while Ren and Tāraki approached the receptionist.

“Hello miss,” the receptionist greeted her. “Ready to take the Gym Challenge?”

“Hell yeah!” Tāraki cheered, bouncing up and down on Ren’s shoulder.

“That’s right!” Ren echoed.

“And what badge will you be aiming for today?”

“My first.”

“Oh! I would have guessed second or third with a full team like yours.”

“I may have over-prepared a bit,” Ren admitted with a shrug.

“No such thing,” the receptionist responded with a smile. “I’ll just scan your trainer ID and get you started. Would you like to battle the Gym trainers at your badge level before the leader?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright then. I’ll put you on the roster. You can enter the arena as soon as the other trainers are ready.” She fixed Ren with a knowing grin. “I don’t think you’ll need it, but good luck, Ms. Kosugi.”

Ren’s face began to twist into discomfort, but she covered it with a smile.

What did she say that upset you? “Living in a new region, surrounded by strangers, I kept forgetting that most of the League employees would already know me or at least recognize my name. The expectation would be enough, but I… I know Otōsan and I have a lot in common, but I like to think some things are different.” Is this another point we must revisit later? “Yeah. Won’t be able to avoid it.”

Kai went to look at one of the cases, and Ren and Tāraki to look out at the arena while the Gym staff and students prepared. Tāraki climbed the glass with his amazing toe pads to get a better view. It was significantly larger than standard and contained uneven terrain and rocky outcroppings rather than being packed flat. Massive fossilized skeletons loomed over the defending side, and the recessed viewing stands were almost hidden in the towering rock of the adjacent walls.

“It really is your kind of battlefield, no?” Ren asked Tāraki. He snickered gleefully back, wiggling in place while his face stayed glued to the glass. “We’re gonna crush this.”

Kai offered her a good luck handshake when it was time and went to sit in the stands with the Gym’s more experienced trainers and other spectators.

Ren sent out the rest of her team to watch, and the first trainer sent out a Binacle.

Ren nodded to Hakeka, and she trundled forward. The starting whistle sounded, and the Binacle fired off a Sand Attack, but Hakeka turned and received it with her cap, saving her eyes. Knowing the Binacle wouldn't move, Ren didn't have her wait for the dust cloud to clear before launching a Mega Drain that took it down.

The rest of the trainers went by nearly as fast. Tāraki faced a Dwebble and easily defeated it with his superior speed while Hakeka downed a Rolycoly, Roggenrola, and finally a Carbink with a combination of Leech Seed and Mega Drain.

When that was done, the Gym leader herself finally appeared. She looked younger than Ren knew her to be, though that may have been the twin buns on her head or short, stylish dress and colorful stockings. She walked out to the center of the arena to greet Ren.

“You’ve battled all of the badgeless trainers who are in at the moment. Very thorough.”

“It’s such a great opportunity for experience. I didn’t want to miss it.”

Roxanne smiled broadly. “Excellent. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ren.” She extended a hand, and they shook.

“Likewise.”

“So are you and Stripes ready for your lesson?”

“Yep!” Ren chirped and then something hit her. “Wait, how did you know his nickname means stripes?”

“Oops! Uhhh…” Roxanne floundered, and Ren’s face pinched in pain.

“Oh Arceus, there’s not some kind of League chat that he talks about me in, is there?”

Roxanne chuckled sheepishly. “Yes, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Ren grabbed her head, posture shrinking with mortification. “Don’t worry about it! It’s not nearly as bad as when Wattson spams us with pictures of his grandkids. And Phoebe and Sidney are real shitposters… Come to think of it, Steven and I have been kicked off a few times for talking about fossils. Apparently we’re supposed to ‘keep that rock shit to ourselves’ and ‘not freak everyone out by blowing up the chat with eight-hundred-and-sixty-three messages.’”

That pulled a chuckle out of Ren. She had to wonder who was the admin if not the Champion, and who was reprimanding?

Roxanne smiled before leaning in, face suddenly stony, and she gripped Ren’s shoulder firmly. “But seriously, this conversation never took place.”

Ren snapped to attention. “Hai, sensei!”

Roxanne straightened up and smiled again. “I like you, Ren. Let’s get started.”

They paced back to their squares, and Roxanne sent out a Geodude.

“Alright, Shima, Knock ’em dead!”

Tāraki ran into the ring and tensed, whole body quivering with excitement.

“Celestine, Rock Throw!”

“Dodge and Mega Drain, Tāraki!”

The Geodude started hurling rocks, but Tāraki skittered out of the way and dove behind the nearest rock. He climbed it and leapt from one to the next, zig-zagging but drawing ever closer to his opponent. The next projectile flew over his head as he ducked and danced away from three more, grin broadening. He used the last as a stepping stone to reach the top of a high boulder and launched a Mega Drain at the spent Geodude.

“Nice one, Shima!”

“Tackle, Celestine!”

“Quick Attack!”

The Geodude lunged forward and leapt up, but Tāraki slammed its arm on his way down and knocked it off balance. It crashed into the side of the boulder and rolled to the floor.

“Tackle!”

“Mega drain!”

The Geodude charged, but Tāraki flipped over it, bouncing off its head with his hands. Before the Geodude could come around, Tāraki sapped its remaining strength, and it rolled to a stop. Roxanne withdrew it.

“Well done.” She sent out a Nosepass. “Akivi, let’s hem in this acrobat: Rock Tomb!”

The Nosepass’s palms glowed, and rocks began to hail down around Tāraki on all sides. He hopped around trying to avoid them but had nowhere to run and disappeared beneath them. His head popped out as a stone fell away, and he strained to free himself as the Nosepass prepared to hit him again.

“You can still hit her from there!” Ren called to him. “Use Mega Drain!”

Tāraki stopped struggling, charged, and fired. The Nosepass remained impassive, but Tāraki glowed as its energy flowed into him, and he burst out of the rock pile.

“Rock throw!”

Tāraki dashed from one piece of cover to the next as projectiles fired at him and shattered.

“Mega Drain!”

“Tackle!”

Tāraki stopped moving to charge up his attack, and the Nosepass ran at him. Tāraki’s Mega Drain landed, but the Nosepass was undeterred and crashed into him. He went flying back but landed on his feet on a bit of high ground.

“One more Mega Drain!”

“Rock Tomb!”

The Nosepass readied her attack, but Tāraki was faster. The rocks she was lifting fell to the floor before she could fire them. Tāraki puffed out his chest as the last of her energy flowed into him. The Nosepass drooped ever so slightly and was still. Roxanne withdrew her.

“Congratulations you two!” Roxanne called, withdrawing her pokemon. She walked down into the arena to meet Ren in the middle. Tāraki leapt down, and Ren caught him in her arms, holding him to her chest as he squeezed her neck.

“You’ve certainly demonstrated you know the basics.” Roxanne continued. “Plenty of trainers can win their first badge with a simple type advantage, but the way you countered my attacks shows dedicated practice and solid strategy.” She pulled a small box out of her pocket and offered it to them. “I’ve rarely been so happy to hand over a badge.”

“Thank you,” said Ren, and the strain in her tone took her by surprise. She should be happy about this. She had been a moment ago, but now a familiar dread clawed at the back of her throat, squeezed her ribs. She remembered the heat coursing through her veins as she directed Tāraki, and her arm gave a throb.

“And Ren.” She wrenched herself back out of her head to look Roxanne in the eyes. “Good luck with whatever you decide. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do.”

The pressure in her chest lifted and sighed back into position. A smaller smile returned as Tāraki wriggled up around her neck to get back to his usual spot on her shoulder. “I won't.”

Ren thanked her again as they parted and walked slowly back to the rest of her team waiting in the challenger’s square. Even after all that strain, Tāraki’s tail waggled with frenetic energy behind her head.

“Well, Tāraki, is it everything you hoped and dreamed?”

“Hell yeah it was!” he crowed, and Māia whooped, pale underwings flashing. “That was so much fun!” Ren couldn’t help but smile, and Tāraki grinned back at her. “Although, I wouldn’t have minded evolving super dramatically in the middle of the match like Jay.”

Ren laughed. “Maybe next time.” She held up the badge to him. “Should I put this away or do you want to wear it?”

“I don’t care about that thing. No offense. I mean it’s shiny and whatever, but I don’t need it. I just want to battle like that again! Really push myself, you know? That was seriously awesome!”

“You were seriously awesome. I’ll take it into consideration.”

“I’m taking the next Gym!” Māia reminded them, shoving Tāraki’s tail aside to claim Ren’s other shoulder.

Kai came bounding out of the stands. “You did so well! That was such a cool battle! Using the terrain like that—all those awesome flips Tāraki was doing—we have to battle again!”

“Alright,” said Ren, stifling a giggle.

“But you probably have to get going…” He stared down at his feet.

“We’ll see each other in a week, just north of Slateport, right?” He glanced at her as he nodded, and she flashed him a big smile. She wasn’t sure which of them needed the reassurance. “Train hard between all the science or we’re gonna beat you into the ground!”

“We will!”

This time, when she hugged him, it wasn't stiff.

“Um, could you maybe do me a favor though?”

“Sure! What's up?”

“Could you get me Steven Stone’s autograph?”

#ORAS #nuzlocke #storylocke #Mr. Stone #Roxanne #Ren #Kai #Taraki #Akahana #Iki #Panahi #Maia #Hakeka #lgbtq #chapter

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amycathryn · 6 years

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Bad Psychic

Why I'm even writing this.

In a perfect world, there would be no bad psychics. All psychics would be honest, everyone would be deeply connected with their intuition, and Nutella would be free.

In a perfect world.

In short: I'm frustrated.

I'm frustrated with bad psychics giving unethical readings. Unfortunately, big egos have put a negative stereotype around this profession, and I'd like to shed some light on that. In this blog post, I'll give some clarity on how to spot the differences between a good and a bad psychic reading.

Another reason I'm writing this is because people value the words of a psychic. Many clients seek us out when they're vulnerable and in need. As psychics, it's our job to step out of the way and let the divine (spirit) give them the guidance they need, and remind the client that they're in control of their own lives. Anyone doing differently is on a power trip or trying to sell you something, and shouldn't be in this profession.

Another reason psychics can give bad readings is because they aren't channeling properly. They're tuning into the wrong frequencies (something other than their guides) and delivering messages from something other than the highest vibrating frequencies. This leaves plenty of opportunity for the ego to step in and mess things up with hubris and self-gratifying false statements. Most often, these types of psychics don't even realize they're doing it. It's usually a result of a psychic not practicing proper energetic hygiene, and their ego creeping in a bit. Regardless of whether a psychic is deliberately giving a bad reading or not, It's important for clients to spot the "tells" of a bad reading so they can discern whether or not the information gleaned is something they should take seriously.

How to spot a bad psychic

The quickest way to spot a bad psychic depends on how you answer the following question:

How did the reading make you feel?

Did the reading inspire you, or upset you? Did you receive clarity, or did you feel like you were put in more of a fog? Did you cry after your reading because you were empowered, or because you were scared or hurt? Were you energized after your reading, or drained?

In short, a bad psychic (and a bad reading) will upset and/or drain you. Regardless of what is channeled, it's the delivery that is crucial when it comes to a psychic's ethics. Does that mean all readings should be positive? Not necessarily. Should all readings be empowering? Absolutely. Don't misunderstand me, clients don't always receive the news they want. I'd love to be able to predict everyone's lottery numbers — but alas, that has yet to happen. I'm not saying all psychics should be "Pollyannas", either. It's how the information is delivered (in a way that reminds the client they're in control of their own lives) that matters most. Psychics should always deliver messages of caution with love and the knowledge that the client has the power and is in control.

Spotting a bad psychic

Here's a list of some of the things bad psychics do during readings, and why they're bad. If you see a psychic doing any of these things during a reading, run for the hills!

Black readings — One of my biggest pet peeves. A "black" reading is when a psychic tells you that you or someone close to you is going to die, or something tragic or negative will happen. This is inaccurate for 2 reasons: First, spirit doesn't reveal to us the exact time, date, or how we're going to die. That's not how life (or even death!) works, and how we pass is up to our higher selves because of: Second, FREE WILL. Time is written in sand, not stone. Fate is anything but "fixed", and anything unpleasant in our futures can always be lessened or avoided altogether with the choices we actively make in the present. If a reader doesn't clarify these things, they're just trying to scare you.

"You're cursed!" — No, you're not. This is a classic tactic amongst con artists. It's usually followed with, "I can remove it for x-amount of dollars". "Curses" only have as much effect on you if you believe them. I have yet to have a client that's been "cursed". Besides, if anyone was throwing negative juju at you, there's PLENTY of metaphysical tools out there that any psychic can point you towards in order to protect yourself. You don't need a psychic or a spiritualist to solve your problems. We're only here to give you the tools you need to solve your problems yourself.

"You need to come back for more readings/sessions/etc..." — No, you don't. It's the goal of a psychic to make a client less dependent on the reader. Any reader that claiming that you need more readings or sessions is more focused on sales than the healing. That's usually a good indicator that they're stuck in their ego (and focused on making money) more so than helping you. A good psychic will sometimes even put a restriction up with clients (such as only one reading a month) to keep clients from becoming addicted to readings.

3rd-party information — When a reader starts going into another person's personal life without their consent, that's not a reading. That's being nosey. That's also a good indicator that they're giving an empathic reading, when they should be channeling the information (that's two different frequencies). Unless it's your underaged child or an extenuating circumstance, what's going on in someone else's life is none of your business, or the psychic's for that matter. Discretion and privacy should always be taken into consideration during a reading.

Throwin' shade — When a reader starts dropping names and dissing other psychics, run. This is a sign they're in their own ego, and not in the best place to give a reading. It's kind-of an unwritten rule amongst psychics to not judge each other. We're all different. We all read differently. We're all going to channel information in a different way, and that's what makes us unique. There's no "right" or "wrong" way to read — as long as it's from a humble space and channeled from the divine. How one psychic reads the cards, or what type of scrying tool they use shouldn't be judged as right or wrong. When a psychic starts comparing themselves to others, or worse, claiming they're the "best", run! I can guarantee this person isn't going to give you an accurate reading because they're too deep in their own ego. In the end, we're all on the same team. We need to support each other, not cut each other down.

Obsessed with labels — Having a PhD doesn't make one psychic better than another. I've noticed there are a lot of classes on psychic development and spirituality out there, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. I myself have taken classes. It's getting fixated on the labels and waving them around (as a form of comparison to other psychics) that the problem arises (see previous point). A good psychic focuses on how they can be of service to the client, not how much they get to brag to themselves.

Constant validation — When a reader needs constant validation, that's usually a red flag. It's to be expected with beginners, but not professionals. Another thing to look out for is generalities (read: Barnum effect) and excessive repeating and body language reading. That's usually a good indicator that they're too busy focusing on whether they got that one thing "right" with you than on staying in channel to relay the information like they're supposed to.

The Ego Monster

The "ego monster" is a term I borrowed from John Edward's book, Infinite Quest. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. The ego is indeed a monster that can find its way influencing even the best of us. It's the hubris within ourselves that can very easily get in the way of the message in any psychic reading. It's the inner drive to be flashy and feel important. When the ego monster gets in the way, it overshadows our ability to be humble and receive accurate messages for our clients.

The ego monster is dangerous for both readers and clients because it not only gets in the way of providing accurate readings, but it also limits the reader from their own spiritual growth. When a reader stays in their ego for too long, they end up starting to block themselves from the messages they need to receive in order to advance spiritually.

A good psychic just shows up and does the work. The only reason we should be psychics at all is to help others. It's not about feeling special or important, and it certainly isn't about the money. If a psychic is pursuing this profession for any other reason than to help people, they should not be in this profession.

Psychics aren't special

"I'm not a special little snowflake" is something I often find myself saying to my clients. Everyone can hone this skill and do what I do. The sole purpose I do readings is because I find it fulfilling to help people in this way. It brings me joy. That's the only reason why I do this.

Call me crazy, but it's my goal — and I think it should also be the goal of every other psychic — to make my profession redundant. Moot. It's my goal to show my clients that they don't need me — and to give them the tools they need to empower themselves with positive spiritual knowledge. Spirituality and intuition should be normalized, not hoarded. The more we empower our clients, the more we're spreading and normalizing spirituality. The more we normalize it, the more our society is in touch with God and the divine. The more everyone connects to God, the more this world becomes a better place.

Isn't that what we all should strive for?

#spirituality #psychic #reading #intuition #bad psychic

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