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#in which i help myself to some tree-skeletons in the middle of the night
therealflowerfairy · 4 years
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I have some bamboo now.
I must have looked like a character in a Monty Python sketch, hauling a bundle of 20+-foot bamboo home by hand.
However, as it was nearly 1 AM, I don’t think anyone saw me.
It was heavier than I expected. If I need more I think I’ll do it in smaller batches.
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peeterparkr · 3 years
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red; tom’s version|two.
chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”
pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?
chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music
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Present day. One month after the breakup.
Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.
Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.
And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.
Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.
He wasn’t proud of that.
Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.
Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.
“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.
“I don’t wish to speak to you.”
Fair.
And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.
Y/N was mental.
In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.
Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.
It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.
Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.
“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“
Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”
Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”
“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”
Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”
Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.
Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.
She didn’t answer, however.
“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.
The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.
Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”
But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.
Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.
Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.
“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.
Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”
“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”
Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”
There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.
Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.
Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.
Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.
And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.
So he was trying to ignore it.
Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.
Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.
“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”
“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”
Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.
“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”
“Care to share?”
She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”
“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”
“Tom….”
“Holland.”
“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”
Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”
“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“
“I didn’t—“
“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”
Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.
He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.
He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.
Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.
“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.
Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.
The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.
Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.
“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”
She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.
She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—
“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.
She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”
“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”
Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”
“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”
Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.
“Oh?”
“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”
Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”
“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”
Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”
She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.
“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.
She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”
Tom chuckled. “I meant—“
“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”
Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”
“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”
Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.
“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”
She smiled.
She… smiled?
She smiled.
Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.
“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”
Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.
“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.
Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”
Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”
“Trends come back.”
Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”
“Do what?” Tom questioned.
“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.
Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“
“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”
“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.
The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.
Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.
Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“
“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically
Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”
“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”
Tom stared at her, “I am.”
Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”
Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.
“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”
Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”
“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”
Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”
Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.
“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.
Y/N was also a murderer.
“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”
“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“
She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”
Tom paused, in fear.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”
Tom stayed quiet.
“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”
“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.
Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.
Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.
With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.
Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.
Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.
They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.
And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.
He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.
Even Eleanor.
Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.
No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.
His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.
Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.
Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.
A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.
Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.
He really didn’t want to.
He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.
New York was a bit far from it.
The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.
But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.
His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.
It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.
He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.
Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.
He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.
The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.
Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.
The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.
How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.
Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.
He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.
With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.
“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.
Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”
“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”
The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.
“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”
Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”
“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”
“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”
“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”
“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.
“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”
“It does.”
In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?
But what did he need?
The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.
Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.
That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.
No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.
No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.
No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.
He was a legend now.
Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.
And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.
‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.
A new beginning.
Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.
Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.
Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.
He would just knock at the door then.
“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.
Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.
But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.
Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.
He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.
“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.
Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”
“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”
“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.
“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”
And they had.
Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.
Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.
But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.
Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.
He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.
Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.
“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.
The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.
“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”
Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”
“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”
“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.
Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”
He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.
“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”
Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.
“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”
Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”
Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”
Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”
“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.
“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.
Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”
“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.
Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.
Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.
She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.
Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.
She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.
Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.
“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”
The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”
“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”
“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”
“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”
“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”
“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”
Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.
“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”
“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.
“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”
Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”
“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.
Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.
Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.
Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.
And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.
Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.
“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.
“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”
Haz watched him. “Right.”
“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.
Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”
“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.
“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”
“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”
Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“
“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“
“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”
Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.
He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.
Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.
Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.
He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.
“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.
Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.
He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.
Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.
Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.
“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”
“Because.”
The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.
But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.
But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?
He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.
When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.
He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.
How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.
The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.
His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.
A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.
“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.
Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.
The beer cap girl from the night before.
“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.
“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”
“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”
Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.
“So you work here?” Tom questioned.
“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.
“Wha-what?”
“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.
“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.
“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”
“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.
“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”
Tom coughed. “Oh.”
“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.
Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“
“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.
He nodded in agreement.
She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”
Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”
She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”
She had recognized him.
“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”
“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”
Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”
“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”
“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.
“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.
Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.
“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”
Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?
“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”
Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.
“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.
“Tom,” he answered simply.
Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”
“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”
“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”
“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”
Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”
What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”
“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”
“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.
Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”
“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.
She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”
“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.
Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”
“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”
Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”
The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”
Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”
“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”
Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.
“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.
Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”
Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”
“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”
Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”
“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”
“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.
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evolutionsvoid · 3 years
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Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve.   I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web.  It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.
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yandere-sins · 4 years
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Omggg i just had a dream about denki being a ghost inthe forest in the back of my house and bening really yandere towards me and being my friend so wanna write this bb🥺🥺
Wow, dude, that’s... tough? Let me know if you ever get someone to interpret this dream, I’d love to know what it meant!! But until then, hope you can enjoy this here ^^
I suppose, warning for body horror. It's a ghost story after all!
»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««     
You couldn’t hold back the heavy breaths falling off your lips as you collected yourself. Running parkour through the forest wasn’t something you had done in what felt like forever. As a child, you had spent much more hours in between trees and thicket, but having grown up, it seemed more rational not to go out into the forest anymore.
With an uneasy feeling in your tummy, you looked around. The sun was setting slowly, and though - had you started tracking back the way you came from now - you might have made it back before night fell, you couldn’t help but worry. Cellphone signal was sparse around these parts, and you didn’t exactly enjoy camping out in the wild anymore. Back home, they’d surely start to wonder where you ran off to too.
“What are you looking at?” he asked. No leaves were rustling under his steps, but you weren’t exactly afraid of his presence. “The sun is going down,” you noted before looking back at him, standing in the shadow of a tree, shrugging. “What’s the big deal, you’ve been out here before in the dark.”
“Yeah, well, but I was a teenager back then. You know, rebellious phase?”
A burst of light laughter fell off his lips, as you passed him by, his presence trotting after you. Denki was unlike any other friend you had, honestly, unlike any person you knew too. Neither was he exactly alive nor something you could really explain. Often had you thought he might just be an illusion, an imaginary friend you made up when you were little. But everything pointed against this, as he was still here, even though you were of age now.
“Is it still far?” you asked him. It was his idea to go deeper into this forest after all. You were just visiting your family when you saw him stand at the farthest end of your parent’s property, which switched into forest instead of a plain grass field. It hadn’t been your intention to go hiking, but you couldn’t exactly just ignore him.
Not after all you’ve been through together.
Following him through another bush, you wiped your face, feeling like a million bugs just sailed down on you. “Do you remember this place?” he asked, and you opened up your eyes again to see, a big lake spreading out in front of you. At the sight of it, you had to admit feeling warmth spreading through you, fond memories of your childhood resurfacing.
“That’s where I met you first,” you admitted, and he hummed in approval, you two standing on the edge to the water, looking out into the lake. “You were so tiny back then, I still remember it! Didn’t even reach my hips yet!”
“Stop teasing me!” you laughed along as Denki grinned at you, gesturing your height. “You didn’t change at all!” you chuckled, shaking your head. “You always teased me back then too.”
“Just because you were crying and asking for your mommy! You’d get lost a lot the first few times you came into the forest after you moved here!”
“Well-” you chuckled, hesitating before you could admit defeat. “I guess I did.”
Denki nodded, his eyes sliding over you as he took you in. It’s been a while since the last time he saw you. Life had certainly changed for you, school, work, relationships - they all changed. “You changed a lot,” he mumbled after a while, brows furrowed, though you weren’t sure if it was disappointment or disapproval in his slightly translucent eyes.
“You’ve grown - a lot. You’re bigger now than me.”
As a matter of fact, his hand reached up, gesturing between you and him, showing you overtook him by almost half a head now. Kaminari Denki - his name was one of the few things you knew for sure - had always looked the same to you. Always the same height, the same blonde hair, and toothy grin. He told you once that ghosts don’t really change anymore. That’s at least, what he said. Even if you had your doubts, he called himself a ghost of something long gone, leaving you to wonder what he meant.
“Well, life goes on,” you sighed.
“For you,” he noted, a grin on his face that didn’t exactly match his rather sad expression.
“Yeah... I... I don’t think we’ll see each other much more in the future.”
“What?” he retorted. Standing a bit closer to you now, you averted your face. It felt like you were breaking up with him when he looked at you with those big, puppy-eyes, and you couldn’t exactly bear to tell him the news. “Yeah, I decided to move to a different city. I might be back once or twice a year, but well, that’s it.”
“Oh.” The way he said this, made you feel guilty for no certain reason. You two hadn’t been as close as you were when you were younger, especially after you distanced yourself from him and the forest for the sake of hanging out with other friends - real friends - and having to study hard for your exams. True, he had been there in really tough times for you. In times where you had no one, and your parents didn’t make your life easier either. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to ‘formally’ tell him you two would have to go separate ways.
Somehow, you could understand the sadness in his eyes, making it incredibly awkward for you to stand so close next to him. Kicking some loose stones into the lake, you nodded before taking a deep breath. “Yep, so that’s how it is. I better get back before it gets too late-”
“Can I show you one last thing then?” he interrupted you, and you began to stutter, unsure what to say. Something inside of you told you to not go with him. To turn on your heels and get back to your home. This forest had nothing you didn’t know about already, and the most exciting things here were mushrooms. But at the same time, you felt like you owed him this. One last favor. One last adventure with him.
His eyes sparkled up hopefully when you nodded, and he swiftly surrounded you, non-existing feet hastily climbing back into the thicket. With a sigh and the thought of ‘what did I get myself into’ you followed. It became hard for you to keep up with him, more than once losing sight of his luminescent ghost-form, but his voice led you back on track and after him. It got harder and harder to see properly as the rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, and you took out your phone camera to light your way and not stumble over too many roots.
“Where exactly are we going?” you asked, much too late, this question should have been one of the first you should have asked.
“Somewhere special!” he called back, and again, you felt the tug in your stomach to leave. It was getting late, and you had strayed far beyond the forest you knew as well as your pocket. “You have to see this!” he announced, and once again, against the better judgment of your gut, you complied, following him deeper in.
“We’re there!” Denki finally announced when you were already beyond out of breath and nerves to continue. A clearance opened up in front of you, moonlight shining down at the singular tree trunk in the middle of it. “So... what is it?”
“Well, come look!” he urged you, his form now much whiter and visible since it had become night. Hesitantly, you approached the trunk, exchanging more than once glances with Kaminari, who was snickering and grinning excitedly.
“I thought it was only appropriated to show you. I wanted you to know all about me before you decide to go.” His words were but a murmur over your shoulder, making you flinch by how close they sounded suddenly. It got abundantly clear that whatever he wanted to show you couldn’t be good, and you acted carefully as you shone your own light on your surroundings additionally.
Another careful step before you felt a hard resistance under your foot, crunching under the pressure of your weight. “Ouch!” he fake cried out before chuckling, and you shone your light upwards to the trunk, a truly horrifying sight being revealed.
Stumbling back, your hand began to shake uncontrollably. You had to grip it with your other hand before you could even control it, tearing yourself away from the sight. Unfortunately, Kaminari decided to sit on the trunk, making it hard to have a conversation with him without having the remains of a body in the corner of your eyes.
“Yep, that’s me,” he introduced almost nonchalantly, knocking against the skull of the skeleton. “Lost my way out here. Every time I decided to just go in one direction, I would accidentally sidetrack and end up back here. My phone had no connection, and no one knew where I was. I guess... it was just meant to happen.”
“Why...” you muttered, shielding your eyes from the sight. “Why would you show me this?”
“Hm?” he finally looked up at you again. Even for a ghost, he was awfully calm, showing you his remains. “Because you are all grown up now, Dummy! Couldn’t have shown you this when you were still so small, could I?”
“N-No! But I still don’t want to see it now!”
“Bummer,” he admitted, truly sounding disappointed about your reaction. “I was so happy when I met you. Finally, someone that could see me, who I could talk to! I’ve been dwelling in this forest for many years before you came around. I was so lonely, [Name].”
That’s enough, you thought. On his sob story you would gladly miss out, considering you were standing in front of his skeleton remains, talking to his ghost. If that alone didn’t make you crazy, you’d rather be cold-hearted than endure the sight anymore. Turning on your heels, you walked back to where you had come from.
“Don’t leave me, [Name],” you heard from behind you, soft and scared.
“I can’t stay, I’m sorry. I will send someone to bring back your remains and bury them, I promise! I just- I just have to go.”
“But you will get lost if you leave now. Stay with me.”
“No!” you said firmly, immediately feeling bad for being so harsh. Fighting your way back out of the clearance, you looked around, phone light in hand as you moved towards where you thought you had come from. The next ten minutes were spent stumbling over roots and vines before you shoved aside another bush, your eyes widening at the sight of Denki, sitting on the tree trunk you had tried to leave, staring at the sky.
“It’s no good. It’s dark, and you don’t have a compass either, right?”
“No, I have one,” you hissed back, opening up your phone to change to the compass app on it. “Wait!” he called out, immediately by your side with his translucent fingers slipping right through the phone. A spark threw both of you back, and you let go of the machine, the ungodly sound of it cracking reaching your ears.
“Fuck,” you whispered, panicked by now. Moving to pick it up, you saw it fell right on a root, cracking your display into two. “Stay, [Name],” he tried again, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked you. “You’re all I have. We always had so much fun, did we not?”
Shaking your head at him as you gave him a flabbergasted look, you quickly turned around, running this time. You had to get back. You couldn’t stay there. Not after knowing... what happened to him.
Out of breath and with tears in your eyes, you broke your way through the thicket, getting stuck on a root sticking out from the ground and falling right into his non-existing arms again. You were out of the clearance again before Denki could even say another word. You didn’t know how long it took for you until your legs finally gave out, tears falling from your eyes as he sat down in front of you.
With his hands on your shoulders, it wasn’t like he touched you, but you were able to imagine what it felt like, slightly comforted by the feeling, even if it was a placebo. “My family... I’m sure they are looking for me.”
“Yeah, of course. Just stay here for the night, we can try to find a way back in the morning.”
It took you another few shaky breaths before you slowly agreed, even though you didn’t get an inch closer to the skeleton that sat farther away, watching you with a crooked neck. “It’ll be alright. I’m here,” he assured you, while you pulled your hoodie over your head, laying down on what you assumed was a good place to lie in the grass. “We went through much worse than this, remember?”
His cheering up wasn’t half bad, at least your thoughts changed from the feeling of panic to the nicer memories. “I’ll always be your friend, you know? Even if you were far away, I’d still be your friend, but I like it much better when you are here. I’m glad you’re staying the night, [Name], it’s been forever since we had a sleepover!”
Denki chuckled, as his translucent body settled down next to you. “I got you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Just sleep, and tomorrow we’ll find a way back, I promise.”
“Okay,” you whispered, exhaustion falling over you as he managed to calm you down. “Goodnight, Denki.”
“Goodnight, [Name]. I am so glad you’re staying.”
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rainbows-fanfics · 3 years
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Our Nightmare (Chapter 8)
Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there  is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like  living with The Pumpkin King.
A sequel to Two Dearest Friends,  where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many  ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as  they start to spend their deaths together.
Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel
Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.
Sally prepares for an important trip today, slipping herself into her patchwork dress first thing in the morning. She finds herself avoiding it nowadays, as it reminds her of the old treatment she received back at Finklestein's. Where she was forced to use leftover fabrics and scraps to sew together just to make clothing...Looking at it in her mirror now makes her feel unpleasant. But it is the best thing to wear, if she is going somewhere that is old, dusty, and worn down.
She makes room in her basket that will hopefully be filled by the end of the day. By the time she is ready, she finds Jack idling around in his den. He looks to be somewhat anxious, pacing around in a small line in thought. He stops once she comes into the room and relaxes when they meet at the door. She leans on her tiptoes for a kiss. He receives the message and bends down to leave one on her lips.
"Are you leaving now?" He asks.
"Yes, I'm going to find the Hanging Tree and ask him if he'd like to come."
He frowns. "I doubt anything will happen while the two of you are there, but-"
"-Jack." Her voice stops his thoughts. She comes forward to rub his arm soothingly. "It's sweet of you to worry about me. I promise I'll be fine."
His posture softens. How could he not, after all they've been through? "-If you find anything that needs my attention, I'll be right in the Town Hall. You're free to come and get me."
She nods and leans forward one last time to peck his cheek. She bids her goodbye and leaves the mansion, carefully climbing down the stairs and waving to her beloved as she passes through the gates. He watches her figure disappear into town without a word, then slowly closes the door behind him.
Her absence makes him feel strangely cold.
----
It takes a few minutes for Sally to realize that she doesn't exactly know where her friend would be. She isn't sure where anyone here lives, aside from the Doctor and Jack. She wanders around for several minutes before stumbling right upon the tree. She accidentally bumps his side while he is walking by. When he turns around, he jumps in delight.
"Sally!" He exclaims, his sharpened grin widening. "How awful it is to see you!"
"Hello, Hanging Tree." She ducks to greet the skeletons on his branches. "-Hello to you five as well."
They lean their skulls to the side and greet her right back. He leads them out of the way to let her sit down for a moment. She brushes her hair behind her ear and gazes around at their environment. It is a beautiful day out right now - there are clouds currently forming in the sky.
"Is there any particular reason you're out today?" He asks politely. "I haven't seen you since that meeting!"
"There is. I was looking to speak with you." Her friend perks up at these words. "Would you happen to know where the old sewing shop is?"
"The old sewing shop, you say?" He repeats, placing a finger to his bark in his thought. "That's all the way in the Residential Hill. I haven't been there in so many years!"
"Would you like to come with me, then? I was going to look there for some sewing supplies. The Witches told me there might be some there, and I've been in desperate need for some time now..."
"Ah...they might be right. No one has checked in there for a very long time."
"That's why I wanted to ask. You know more about sewing than me, so I assume you've visited there, and you're familiar with the place..."
"Of course! I remember when I used to knit a lot back in those times. Maybe I can find some stuff for myself while I'm there. I've been at a loss of supplies like you have."
The skeletons on his branch have been absorbing their conversation intently. They hadn't interfered out of politeness, but as soon as silence settles in for a few moments, one of the skeletons decides to pry.
"Miss Sally, I must say that I'm surprised you didn't ask Jack to come with you." They comment. "I'm sure he would have been more than happy to accompany you."
She bites her lopsided lip. "Well, yes, but he seems so busy nowadays...I didn't want to interrupt his work."
The Hanging Tree laughs. "If I know anything about Jack, I'm sure he's prioritized you plenty already."
Her blue cheeks turn a little pink at his words. She feels foolish for not asking him to come. But she still has someone assist her, and that's all she really wanted from the start. Jack sounded concerned about it last night, and seeing how he acted just before she left.....she'll be sure to be more than careful, if this is truly concerning to him.
The Hanging Tree begins to head in a direction and motions Sally to follow.
"We can start heading there now, if you'd like. I wasn't doing anything terribly important. And the walk shouldn't be too long - we'll be there before you know it."
She nods enthusiastically, looking forward to their trip. They pass the time by speaking more with each other, talking about how their knitting and sewing has been going. The skeletons listen to their conversations and even join in on a few. Sally can't begin to describe how peaceful it feels to talk with someone like this. She enjoys her time with her friend, and almost forgets about the sewing shop until they finally arrive.
----
"This is it!"
The ragdoll blinks twice as they approach a strange building. It stands out like a sore claw compared to the dark, occupied structures back in town. This one stands completely alone in its place - no neighboring buildings in its proximity. It is clearly built out of wood, most of which is now long rotten and looks to be nearly falling apart. The Witches' description was fairly accurate for what she is looking at now.
The Hanging Tree steps forward and she follows him. She notices the details the closer they get. The sign hanging just before the entrance is cracked and barely hanging on its hooks. The words that were once printed on it have been stained by the sun and are no longer legible. The windows on the side of the building are currently boarded up, as the glass has been broken. The roof creaks every time a gust of wind passes by, making her wonder if it would cave in at any second.
Her friend stops as they reach the door. Its paint is worn and a sign that reads: 'DO NOT ENTER' is placed right in the middle. She reaches for the key in her dress pocket and slowly takes it in her hands. She hadn't noticed there was a small skull on it; one that looks to resemble Jack's.
She observes the building again. It stands firmly where it is, and the sign creaks when the wind comes around.
"Something about this place makes me weary..."
"With what went on here, I can't blame you. But that happened such a long time ago. There's nothing to worry about now."
"You're right." Her fingers glide down to the key in her hand. 'And yet....'
The Hanging Tree glances at the sky and notices the dark clouds. Rain can be coming any second now. He looks back at Sally and finds her still staring at the building. He can't allow the Pumpkin King's girlfriend to get soaked under his watch! He steps behind her and motions her forward uneasily, glancing at the clouds that are coming in by the second.
"We might have to get going before it starts pouring..."
She notices what he is talking about and nods right away. They come to the door and she slips the skeleton key in with ease. The lock unlatches as she turns the key. The door slowly creaks open. To her surprise, the inside still seems to have power, as the moment she flicks the lights on, the hanging lanterns inside light up.
As the two head in, the floor beneath them groans at their weight and the door hastily shuts behind them. Sally jumps in alarm and bumps into one of the skeletons by accident.
"Are you alright?" They ask, holding her shoulders steady. She nods several times to assure them she is.
"Oh, yes, just a little....spooked, is all...."
The tree laughs. "Fantastic!"
The lanterns shine brighter as they're now in the room. She takes a good look at their surroundings. Things are deadly quiet otherwise, beyond the sound of the wind hitting the sign outside.
It is a large room they're in, filled with shelves that hold many fabrics. There are several sewing machines placed on the desks that litter around the room, as well as an unlit fireplace that sits in the back. There looks to be some sort of pantry to their far right, though she has yet to see what is in it.
All of these things are filled with cobwebs and dust. The fabrics look like they've been untouched for the longest time. The walls themselves are worn down, as the wallpaper seems to be peeling. Nearly all of the pictures hanging on the walls have several tears or scratches in them. As if someone has deliberately made them.
"Where do you think she kept the bodies?" One of the skeletons asks. They seem to be talking with the others on their branch. Sally can't help but eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Why would you even ask that? It's such a morbid topic."
"Which is what we love to talk about, isn't it?"
"Maybe the fabrics are the children..! Their skin, or their-"
"Don't say such things in Sally's presence!" Another skeleton scolds. "You might scare her."
"We're curious, that's all."
Their tree hushes them down, and they grow quiet. He returns to her side and frowns. "I'm sorry for my skeletons' behavior...they get so talkative with new things!"
"It's fine. I'm....sort of wondering the same thing...." She mumbles.
His frown deepens as he looks around. He decides not to touch upon such a subject and starts wandering around the room. She follows closely behind, rubbing her arms continuously. It's growing colder the longer they're in here, what with the gaps through the exposed windows and all. Since the fireplace is unlit, there is nothing currently keeping them warm in the meantime.
"It seems like all the fabrics are still in good condition," He comments, touching them and trying not to rip any with his sharp fingers. "Although, the dust would have to be cleaned off..."
"Do you think the sewing machines still work?"
"I wouldn't doubt it."
This springs some hope in Sally. She follows him as they look into the pantry across the room. This one has many drawers, all filled with sewing supplies that must have been kept as spares at one point. The relief on her face is substantial. She takes a look at what is inside and gathers what she needs. The Hanging Tree looks for himself and hums in delight when he finds the knitting needles tucked away in one drawer.
After they finish collecting what they desire, a thunderous boom sounds from outside. She yelps in surprise and instinctively reaches for one of the skeletons again, who holds her hands to calm her down. Rain begins to pour down from the sky. The two take one glance out of the door as the weather begins to pick up.
"Oh, no...I wanted to return to the Manor before it started raining...." She sighs.
"That's alright; we can stay here until it eases down."
Her breath starts to show in the air. "But it's getting so c-cold..."
The Hanging Tree says nothing as he glances at the unused fireplace in the back of the room. He walks over to it and notices the stacks of wood and twigs still placed inside, completely untouched. He goes through the trouble of finding some sort of igniter and lighting a small fire. As soon as the flames start and the wood catches, he motions for Sally to sit beside him.
She obeys and rests her basket by her side, watching the wood burn. She fidgets with her hands as they start to warm. They listen to the rain pour from outside. She finds some sort of calmness to it. It would be much better if she was at Jack's side right now, holding his hand as they rest by his hearth - in the safety and comfort of their own home, rather than an abandoned sewing shop...
"It isn't odd watching wood burn for you, is it...?" She asks.
"Not at all. I know not all trees are sentient like I am. Sometimes I burn my own sticks, and it doesn't hurt very much."
"Hm." She clutches her knees closer to her chest. "Hanging Tree, what do you know about this old seamstress..? I assume you've talked with her before, if you've been knitting for a long time."
"Back then, I talked to her whenever I came around to knit or use something of hers. She had quite the business going on back in the day - everyone loved her work! It was special enough to get our King's attention, and have her as his personal tailor. Even I liked what she made.
"Was she kind?"
"We all believed she was a nice lady who was incredibly talented in her field. But after learning what she did....I think that's when she showed who she actually was."
The Hanging Tree leans back and looks at the ceiling, seeming to recall something in bright detail.
"You see, she had a habit of disguising herself. The seamstress we knew was different from how she actually looked like. She was some sort of spider with button eyes...who usually had porcelain skin, but it cracked after awhile. She looked horrifying! We would have kept her around for the scares and chills had she not ....well...."
Sally glances at the torn pictures and frames on the wall. "-Do you think she did that?"
"Most certainly. She had fingers like needles - sharper than my own!" He laughs. "If you ask me, she reminded me a lot of Jack. He can do things very similar to what she did. She never participated in Halloween, but I imagine she would've had quite an impressive competition with him!"
"She sounds.....scary..."
"Yes, but she's been gone for a long time. I doubt she has any intentions on returning here. I'm sure Jack would be upset if she ever tried. We have nothing to worry about under his protection."
The fire pops and cracks loudly. They stare at it for awhile in silence, the rain still going in the background. She wonders how long this will go on. Talking about Jack only makes her long for him more. To be in his warm arms at this moment, far away from the place where this awful woman resided. She shivers a little and her friend observes her quietly.
"You know, Sally, I think you would do a great job as a seamstress yourself." He says. She blinks in surprise at the suggestion.
"Me....a seamstress?" He nods with a sharp smile. "What makes you say that?"
"I've seen what you made and how often you practice. You're very talented! Not to mention, we've been needing someone with your expertise for a long time. Everyone I know has either holes or tears in their clothes."
"Wouldn't that be a good thing, for Halloween?"
"Yes, but for every other day of the year, I imagine it's quite a hassle! All I'm saying is that...I think you would make a good one. You're more kind than she ever was, and I know for a fact that everyone here would support you."
"Where would I even start...?" She shakes her head. "I have nowhere to do such a thing, nor do I have the means to. All I have are-"
"-You have Jack."
She pauses. He continues:
"He can make things easy for you. You should bring it up to him sometime and ask if it's possible. I'm certain it is." He bows his body forward. "It will also give you something to do, and I think you deserve to be paid for your efforts. It'll bring in many opportunities for you."
She smiles and looks at the floor. The idea makes her excited...but she gets shy thinking of bringing it up to her beloved. Is she even in the position to ask for something so big? She doesn't deserve such a thing....but sewing is such a passion of hers. She can't help but imagine herself owning a shop of her own - providing her services to her friends and the rest of Halloween Town...
----
Jack Skellington taps the side of his skull as he searches through the drawers in the Town Hall.
He's been doing this awhile now, in search for something in particular. But what he is looking for is old, and was likely organized a long time ago. Something they haven't bothered to touch in years. He hums as he slams another drawer shut with no success. He then goes to another filing cabinet, skimming through the papers and folders quickly.
"Have you found it yet?" The Mayor asks from behind him, his worried eyes following the skeleton around the room. He pauses to address the question, closing this drawer shut as well.
"No. Which is a peculiar thing..."
"Maybe it got mixed up? Check the propositions."
He follows his colleague's advice and moves to another area entirely, desperately searching through the stacks of paperwork. The shorter man decides to help him and begins looking for himself, going at a much slower pace compared to the skeleton's quick movements. They keep this up for awhile until Jack suddenly stops in his tracks. He holds one singular paper up with a grin plastered on his skull.
"Found it!" He exclaims.
"Perfect!" The Mayor's face changes and comes to his side. "How old is it?"
"It was filed about 8 years ago. Was this really the last time we talked about the sewing shop?"
"I'm afraid so....it must have slipped our minds, with all the other things we've been doing..."
The skeleton clears off the desk in the room and places the paper on it. He leans over and quietly reads through what has been written down. The Mayor joins him and observes the page intently. There is a moment of silence as they absorb the information. The Mayor is the first to speak.
"Well? What should we do?"
He frowns. "If we want to do anything with it, it's going to need demolished and then a complete refurbishment. That wood can't be reliable - its structure is bound to come down anytime."
"Do we have enough funding for that? Last Halloween was a little costly..."
"Check our finances, would you?"
He nods before leaving into another room. Jack continues to look at the paper in his absence. He wants nothing more but to do something with this old building. He can't have it rotting in town while being completely unusable. He's relieved Sally brought this up in the first place...the last thing he wants is for it to come down and someone to get seriously hurt by the mess.
The Mayor returns in the room, holding a few papers in his hands. "We have just enough if we decide to cut down on the blood this year. We can't afford more canisters for the Vampire Brothers if we hope to get something done."
"Alright. That's a price I'm willing to pay." Jack briefly looks over what he brought. "What do you suggest?"
"Maybe a new restaurant?"
"I don't think it would do well. The one we have never gets crowded as it is." He taps his jaw in thought. "A blood bank, perhaps?"
"I think the vampires manage that kind of thing well on their own..."
"..."
His faces switch in despair. "I tell you, we can NEVER think of something good enough as a replacement! Something that won't lose money, and what we really need...."
"Maybe we don't need to change it into something different at all...Maybe, it can still be a sewing shop?"
"But with what tailor? Or seamstress?"
"Well, I've been thinking about it, and...Sally likes to sew. Why not have her run the place?"
"Jack, that's genius! Oh, what a horrible, awful idea!" He claps his hands in excitement. "You're telling me she agreed to it already?"
"Oh, no. I, well, haven't brought it up yet. It's just...something I thought about last night." He rubs the back of his skull in shame.
"Well, then, ask her as soon as possible so the ownership can go under her name! I've heard what she can do, and I have no doubts she'd do a fine job."
The Pumpkin King doesn't respond right away. He's still staring at the paper, holding his hand to his lips in thought. He does this for a long time as his colleague stands there waiting for his confirmation. After awhile, he slowly brings his gaze from the paper over to his friend. He looks to have a smile on his face.
"Actually, we can go ahead and put it under my name. We can start with construction right away...I'll make it a sort of surprise for her.
"Really? But you two haven't even talked about it - are you sure she wants to do this?"
"She's been making all sorts of dresses and clothes these past few weeks. I can tell she's going to run out of room soon. She needs a better outlet to express this in rather than a room."
He goes to pick up the paper again, thinking further on this. "-I won't make the decision for her, but I think this is something that she's always wanted....."
'She once told me she wanted my approval on what she made. What if she had the rest of the Town's, too? I'm certain it would make her happy.'
"Alright. Let's start putting your name on the project and planning this out. We'll hire the Behemoth...he provides labor without much pay, thank Halloween!"
Jack follows him and happens to glance outside of a nearby window. He notices the sky is now filled with dark clouds. He can hear the raindrops hitting the roof and smiles to himself. This type of weather always excites him. He can hear thunder brewing far away and notices a few cracks of lightning in the sky. Then he remembers that Sally is out right now, and momentarily stops in his tracks as he feels worry begin to consume his thoughts.
'She's still out there...Maybe she noticed the weather and headed home. I'm sure she's being careful.'
----
The Hanging Tree and Sally are having a lovely time talking to each other. They further discuss the idea of her being a seamstress, and eventually, she caves in. She confesses it was something she'd thought of before, and was even close to suggesting it to Jack the other night. She further talks about her insecurities that come with the idea - which her friend does a wonderful job with comforting her about.
It is in the middle of their conversation when they hear another boom come from outside. The wood begins to creak as the wind picks up. This is when they finally notice the storm coming, and quickly decide to take their leave now in an attempt to get home.
The air is chilly. Sally clutches onto her sides as she moves closer to the front door. It's a wise decision to leave now. The longer they stay in here, the building may not hold for very long. She doubts the wood is still sturdy after all this time. She can't ignore how anxious the wind outside makes her, with how violent it's becoming by the second....
"D-do you th-think we'll ma-make it?" She manages through chattering teeth.
Her friend seems hopeful. "As long as we hurry, I'm sure we'll beat the storm in time."
They listen to the loud creaking and groaning of the wood around them. It makes her more worried by the minute. She shivers and reaches for her friend as they approach the door. He holds her to try and keep her warm. The contact is assuring, but his bark feels like ice. He gets the message and smiles as an apology, then opens the door and allows them to leave.
His skeletons start to thrash when the wind hits them, swinging by the ropes on their neck. Sally feels sorry for them. Her hair starts to get carelessly tossed around. The tree shuts the door behind them and she uses the key to lock it. She's holding tightly onto her basket - not wanting her things to be taken by the wind.
"Here, I'll help you get home." He offers.
He quickly yet carefully guides Sally back to the Pumpkin King's Manor. Since she didn't wear anything over her dress that morning, the rain happens to soak her figure the longer they're out there. They get there as fast as they can, finding the gates to the mansion opening and closing with the wind. The Hanging Tree bids her goodbye with a last smile on his face. She understands the message behind it - remembering what she has to ask from her skeleton man, and that it should be done soon.
----
Sally returns home dripping wet from head-to-tie by the time she walks through the doors of the Skellington Manor. She feels cold as she shuts the door behind her and sets down her basket. She feels guilty for walking in while her entire figure is soaked in rainwater. She hopes Jack isn't home for a second, so he doesn't have to see her like this, getting his floors all wet-
"Sally? Are you home, my dear?"
She freezes in her spot as his voice comes from up the stairs. She finds him climbing down rather eagerly, but the moment he sees her, his expression instantly turns to worry. He practically runs over and looks at her drenched figure. His eye sockets widen in disbelief. She holds her head low, an unpleasant feeling now settling in her stomach.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"You're all wet..! Oh, if only I had given you something to cover yourself with - this simply can't do! I'm so sorry, Sally. Here, let's get you in front of the fire."
She's taken by surprise as he leads her into the den and towards the hearth. There is already a decently-sized fire inside, the flames dancing around as the logs have long caught. He carefully sits her down in front of it and joins her side right away. This one is much warmer compared to the last. The skeleton takes a rag and begins to dab at her face, getting the excess water that is dripping from her cheeks and hoping to dry whatever he can.
Zero barks in delight when he finds them down there, flying above their heads in excitement. But when he notices Sally is shivering and completely damp, he whines and floats down to her side. He receives a couple of pats to the head. She scoots closer to Jack, wishing to share whatever body heat he had at that moment. He allows her to rest at his side, ignoring this part of his undershirt moistening at the contact.
"I'm s-sorry I didn't come ba-ack sooner. We th-thought the rain wo-uuld pass...That's w-why we were wait-waiting." Her tone carries guilt through the chattering of her teeth. He has a sympathetic look on his face.
"How could you have known? Nothing is your fault at all. I simply need to help you get dry..."
He tries to hide how anxious his words are. He returned home right after he and the Mayor finished starting their new project. The first thing he did was kindle a fire to warm the cold mansion. He was surprised, however, to find the Skellington Manor completely empty, apart from his ghostly dog. He believed Sally would've been there waiting for him...only to realize that she wasn't.
He was so worried in that moment - that something had happened to her, or the storm must've caught her. He was just preparing to leave and search for her until she happened to come in right through his front doors. To find her standing there, shivering, covered entirely in water...it brought immense anxiety to his bones. He's never felt so concerned before.
He sets down the rag and goes through the trouble of wrapping his arms around her from behind. He rests his large hands in her lap. She lays her small ones over his shortly afterwards. They enjoy their contact and continue to sit there, enjoying the warmth from the fire. When he brings his hand over her arm, he finds that she's finally starting to dry.
"You had me so worried," He confesses. "I'm sure I overreacted this morning - but to find you here, cold to the touch and drenched, I-"
"We tried to get here as fast as we could....it was pouring outside, and-"
"It's my fault. I should have seen this coming. Ever since you brought this up to me last night, I...I've just been feeling peculiar..."
"Peculiar..?"
He massages her hands in thought. "I always get this feeling before a storm...it's this tingling sensation on my spine. I felt it again this morning, before you left. I thought I was just nervous. If only I had read my instincts better...I could've given you my jacket, or an umbrella, or-"
"Wait. You can tell when a storm is coming?"
"I think many of us can. It's common around here." He rests his skull atop her head. "We love this weather. But this is the first time I've ever felt an unpleasant prickling. I think it's because I knew you were out there, still."
She nestles in her lover's embrace. She gets butterflies in her stomach hearing him so worried.
"I'm alright; it's nothing to be worried about. I get this wet whenever I take a bath."
"Yes, but, still....I don't want you catching a cold." He isn't even sure if Sally can fall to any ailments, but he still feels worried. "And knowing I could've prevented this from the start-"
"Oh, Jack...I don't like it when you blame yourself like this. Really. I'm fine. I'm here now, aren't I?"
He sighs deeply. "That you are..."
His grip on her tightens. Hearing that last sentence fills him with relief. She is here now. Instead of being outside, where it is far too dangerous and cold...she's safely tucked in his arms at this second. He feels his bones stop swelling as he rests his skull on her hair. She is only a little damp at this point. He feels satisfied with this progress.
After a few minutes, he realizes he hasn't asked about her trip yet.
"Did you find anything, by the way?"
"We did. There were drawers filled with spare needles, thread, thimbles...everything I could've asked for."
He smiles. She sounds so excited. The trip must have been worth it to make. "-You didn't find anything out of the ordinary, did you?"
Her hands inch their way along his arm as she thinks of a response. Quietly, she tells him, "It was a little creepy. I didn't want to stay a minute longer."
"You shouldn't have to. You got what you wanted." He motions to her basket sitting by the front door. "I guess this means your sewing should get much better?"
"I'm excited. Really, I am." Her fingers dig into the fabric of his sleeve. "Thank you for letting me go."
"Of course, darling. I would do anything to make you happy."
He moves her yarn hair to kiss her forehead. She feels tingly as she sits there, grabbing at his him and smiling. She feels antsy all of a sudden....wanting to blurt out what's on her mind. Ask him for what she wants so dearly, right then and there...but then she gets that twinge of nervousness in her leaves that stops her. She rests in his lap instead and entwines her fingers with his, enjoying their now-dry embrace.
She doesn't notice how fidgety Jack is as well. He repeatedly runs his hand through her hair and twirls the ends of her strands in his fingers. He wants to break the news to her already - of what he plans to accomplish for her; to spoil the surprise early, just to see the bright smile on her face. But he has to ignore these impulses, figuring it will all come in due time.
They hold each other while resting by the fire for the rest of the night, both of them as restless as the other.
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stillebesat · 3 years
Text
What's in a Dream?
Seriously. Tell me. Because I have been having quite the week of crazy dreams vivid enough for me to remember them days later and they've been....stressing me out a bit. It's hard to get a restful night's sleep when you dream like this.
Dreams I've had under cut because of length:
Tuesday Night: We were in the middle of nowhere. Desert sort of landscape. The place where three dirt roads came together. My siblings and I were 'camping' and had pulled over to investigate an old camper trailer that had been left to rot. Typical 'weathered, been sitting here exposed to the elements for ages' type of wear and tear. It was basically a skeleton of a trailer. There was even an old mattress off to the side in the dirt that was more bedsprings than mattress. Mom was there and was like "Okay, let's get in the car." so my siblings and I (3 of us) got in the car/camper and Mom started heading towards the edge of a cliff. As we were more in redrock country now/kinda on the edge of like a Grand Canyon sort of viewpoint. And I was like "Mom, you need to brake" and she was like "I'm just turning around." But she hit the brakes too late and I closed my eyes and steeled myself as the car skidded over the edge of the cliff. Because my eyes were closed I only felt the swooping sensation of falling. But when I opened my eyes again somehow the entire family had got ejected from the car before it crashed somewhere at the bottom and we landed on the side of the red sandstone cliffs which turned out to have a bit of a trail -a sketchy trail with plenty of open air where you had to edge along the side of the cliff and risk a couple of jumps over open air in order for all of us to make it safely back to the top of the cliff. My main injury was a large rose thorn that had embedded itself just above my elbow on my left arm. I pulled it out, leaving a large puncture wound there, as my phone rang. When I picked up it was my "Dad" on video call (said Dad looked like Thomas Sanders) and he was frantically packing a suitcase on the bed -throwing white clothing around- as he was talking to me reassuring me that he was on his way to rescue us and that we're all going to be fine and he'll be on the next flight over.
Wednesday Night: I was with other people in a Aquarium/University/Mall conglomerate building. The idea was to go see a show. Whether it was a movie in the theater or a show in the Aquarium is unclear, but while I was trying to grab food from the food court, someone like a 'big boss' Fury sort of figure informed me that I was a criminal and that they were trying to capture me. So instead of enjoying a show, my life got turned upside down and I had to run away from my family and friends because I didn't know who to trust and I was haphazardly trying to gather 'supplies' because I was like only 15 or so in the dream and didn't have access to everything regular adults did so I was scrambling to find money and gather clothing and my photographer cousin ended up running into me while I was on my college campus and secretly trying to help me out, but we couldn't meet for long as I was constantly running through the hallway like areas between buildings filled with grass and trees and windows that you could look inside to the classrooms and such.
Thursday Night: Me and a guy were walking along the banks of a pond when we saw this male figure (who looked kinda like the human version of Frankenstein from Hotel Transylvania 4) with half his body covered in a grey/brown mud dragging himself along the bank like a zombie sort of creature. He was doing this in a successful attempt to scare me and the other guy away from the reeds of the pond/lake we were at because (POV switch) I -the square jawed handsome guy- had just killed my wife. How I killed her? No idea. Her body (she looked like the mother from Gilmore Girls) looked like she'd been lounging on the couch and had just died. One hand propped under her head, a smile still fixed on her face even as her unseeing eyes stared at me. But there were no signs of injuries. No obvious cause of death. She was just dead. And me -the husband- decided the best way to hide the body would be to bury her in mud in the reeds of a lake, but as I was finishing the burial, I could hear this couple walking nearby, so I smeared mud on the left side of my body and began dragging myself over to them to act like a ghost or zombie so that it would scare them away. But (POV switch) I -the girl- decided that I'd had enough of creepy zombie people and returned to my dormitory (which reminded me of Hogwarts) to change my clothes and return to class. Only, when I tried to go take a shower, the girls showers were full. So I decided that I would go get clean in the boy's area. So I walked, basically naked with only a towel covering my bottom half but my top exposed through the hallways filled with guys who were standing there flummoxed that I was walking around like that and that I didn't seem to care (I did, I was just putting on an act) that I was walking around half naked in their presence.
Friday Night: I was in my bedroom, which was located on the North side of the house/apartment I lived in. I was in a basement room, in the back corner of the house with the driveway next to one window, and the backyard was behind the west one. I could hear a guy outside moving around and occasionally going into the backyard to 'do his business' aka pee on our walls. It turns out some college guy was using the driveway -which was between my house and the neighbor's house (but reminded me of my grandmother's driveway up in Wyoming) as a camping spot with a tent and everything. Which we couldn't have him there because we kinda needed the driveway to park our cars in, and when my roommate A came downstairs to talk to me about the issue, we heard the guy come down behind the house again to pee on our walls, but when he finished there was a cop there who arrested him for trespassing, but also ended up arresting Roommate A because apparently the 'special insect killer' pesticide she used to protect the plants growing on the side of our house carried an ingredient that was spelled something like "Beilium" and that was in fact a poison to humans so the cops thought that she was purposely planning to kill people because as the college students of the forensic's class told us when at least four of them descended on me and Roommate A and Roommate T that in our applications to live in the place we'd put various gothic things like ...idk... "Love tombstones, Wanna dance on graves. Best roommates are the dead ones." etc. But all three of us had filled these out in that way just to show that we had a different sort of humor compared to the other people in the area as we didn't want just 'anyone' to join us in the house to be our roommate and so the three of us had to convince these college aged investigator people that we weren't actual killers, and this was happening in my room/the kitchen so I was puttering around and grabbed a beaded bracelet of like a phoenix where the bird was 3D in beads sitting on top of the bracelet, but the bracelet was made of a tinfoil/blanket material and it folded out and became this big blanket and I was struggling to fold it back up into it's original bracelet shape (I think the colors were red and silver? maybe gold?) but it refused to fold that small and end up covering like my entire arm instead of just my wrist. I ended up giving up in favor of us taking the college students -who were outside with us talking about where they were meeting for their college graduation and basically saying "we don't know but we'll know when we know" as the closing ceremony would be happening 'soon' but first we would go grab a bite to eat and we cycled through the options but I ended up seeing Roommate A/ my sister sitting at a table of an 'Arby's so we went inside to order food to continue our discussion, but as we sat at the table the lights around us flashed three times. Which was code for "Active Shooter in the building." Everyone around us froze, counting the flashes and such and when I looked up there was a 'gunman' standing in front of the counter, with two fast food workers in black standing among the customers seated around eating their food trying to talk the gunman down. There was a buzzing in my ears making it so I couldn't understand what the shooter was saying, but the basic gist was that he would ask each person a question and if they didn't answer it right, he would shoot them. So there was "Garbled question" then BANG. Garbled question. Another BANG. And I was staring at my Cousin A who was sitting at the very front with wide eyes staring at the gunman as he turned to her to ask her a question---
Saturday Night: I had just arrived at work and was preparing to go clean the cat adoption center, only as I came into the room it turned out the adoption group we were partnered with had dropped off like 40 cats/kittens into the room. But instead of trying to fit them all into the ten cages we had, they'd placed like maybe twelve of them in the cages and then left the rest of the cats out to freely roam around the tiny adoption area, though the group had left their traveling carriers around with the doors open so the cats could seek shelter if needed,but they'd left the door to the adoption center open as well meaning that the cats could have free access to the rest of the store. However for whateve reason they had basically stuck to their enclosure. So I didn't have to worry about finding any cats elsewhere they were in this area. And one of the cats was this adorable black kitten that, when it moved, the light would catch on the fur reflecting a shimmering green peacock coloration. (the eyes on the feathers) in the fur. The kitty even had some peacock feathers along its tail. And I knew my sister would love this cat as she loves peacocks and wanted to get a cat but couldn't because her husband didn't want one, but I pulled out my phone to try and take a picture of the kitty to send to her to see if this would be the cat that would finally convince her to go ahead and get a cat, only I couldn't get a good picture because all these people kept coming into the store. First it was a huge class of like pre-schoolers/kindergartners. Then it was a group of older adults with special needs, as well as a group of people who looked to have come from a nursing home, and each group tried to come into the adoption area -which was filthy because there were cats out of their cages so there was cat littler everywhere and some of it had gotten wet from spilled water bowls and mixed from spilled food bowls so it wasn't the safest/cleanest place to be at the moment as I hadn't had time to clean the room yet. And to top it off, it was only like 7:30 in the morning. So we weren't even OPEN yet. We didn't open until NINE. So I had to fend off each group -which all had the same feisty Karen woman (who looked like our 'favorite' red headed regular customer we get into the store (she's difficult to work with)) and inform them that they couldn't be in the store at this time because we were still closed and for their safety they would need to leave. So I had to tell the group of thirty children and their six adult minders, and then the group of special needs visitors with their tenders, and then the group of nursing home people and their nurses that we were CLOSED and to leave and NONE of them were happy to hear that. But like...they were the ones who'd snuck into the building through the door of our vet clinic and not through the main store doors. So I told them to come back later. That no they couldn't see the cats as I couldn't have them in the room while I was cleaning, and that they needed to leave. No one was happy to hear that, and in the process somewhere i lost my phone and found it again in a classroom. But as I was trying to gather the supplies to clean the cages while sending people away these two girls approached me looking for replacement lightbulbs for their reptile cages and they couldn't find them. Which...we still weren't open for the day, but I ended up leading them to a little outside giftshop area where we kept our Christmas decorations -leading them through a random loading dock area filled with people working on stocking the store and such- and showed them where the lightbulbs were -though I didn't see them at first as they'd changed locations and I only found them as we were about to head down the stairs and back outside- so I was showing each customer the lightbulbs they would need for their individual lamps----
And yah....
Those are the dreams I've had this past week.
Overall my takeaway is that every aspect of my life is somehow stressing me out currently. Yaaaay.
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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years
Note
It's been awhile, hasn't it? Could you please write furious Arthur headcanons? His s/o had been kidnapped by another gang ( your choice) and write him a ransom but he doesn't give them anything, except a killing spree. He's bloodthirsty.
Okay, I only wrote 13 pages and the second half I did while being extremely tired (my fault for having too much caffeine before going to sleep). I hope it isn’t total garbage. 
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Warnings: swearing, torture, mentions of attempted rape, blood
Breathe
It’s early morning, the sun’s just risen and you’re kneeling next to the fire. You and Arthur found this place to camp last night while heading back to Shady Belle. It’s not too far from Clemens Point, the campsite the gang deserted a few weeks back thanks to the Pinkertons finding it. Arthur approached you a few days ago, stating he needed to get away from the swamps and that godforsaken city Saint Denis, so you went with him. 
You’re fairly certain Arthur’s sweet on you. Nothing conclusive, of course. It’s just a look here and there, a touch. The way he talks to you. The fact that you’re the only person he invites to come on these hunting trips. You know he has no qualms about going alone. He used to go out by himself for days on end, coming back with loads of pelts and herbs. That was when you first joined though. The past couple of months, he’s liked you to come along. 
You’re sweet on Arthur too. He’s a complicated man, capable of great measures of violence and gentleness. You’ve seen him be kind one second and become scary as hell the next. However, it was his gentleness and his devotion to the gang that first captured your attention. He’d move mountains for most of the gang members, particularly Dutch, Hosea and the other girls. You hope he’d do the same for you, and something tells you he would. Once you got to know him a little better, it didn’t take long for you to develop feelings for him. It was then that you also noticed how handsome he was and there were many nights you went to sleep pretending to be nestled in his arms. 
Arthur’s out now, probably hunting or gathering herbs. You like to sleep in later than he does, so you’re not worried. You straighten your shirt and run your fingers through your hair before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. Once you’re a little more awake, you’ll get your bow and go find him. 
The energy in the air shifts suddenly. Or perhaps it’s just the wind, but something feels wrong. You remember once in Big Valley being stalked by a cougar. This feeling is the same, but there are no large predators down this far south. Not that you know of, anyways. You look around the wide clearing and into the trees. There seems to be nothing. So why does it feel so strange?
Without warning, a lasso floats over your head and around your middle, binding your arms to your sides. The rope jerks, slamming you down onto the ground and you begin to panic. Three men, whooping and hollering, come running up. They’re wearing old soldiers’ uniforms. 
Breathe
“You sure she’s the one, Curtis? Part of that gang that took Shady Belle?” the one holding the rope that binds you says. 
A slightly fat man with a big white beard approaches you, grabbing your face hard and he peers at you. “She’s definitely with that gang. I seen her before. That big feller you with, he the gang leader?” he directs the question at you. 
Lemoyne Raiders. No question about it. You knew you hadn’t seen the last of them after Dutch robbed them of their hideout. 
“I ain’t runnin’ with no other feller,” you lie. “Just myself and my horse.” 
“Then how you explain the two bedrolls? You also got enough supplies to take care of two people.” 
You swallow. “I… I like to carry a lot of supplies. Sell them sometimes. You in the market?” 
The man grabs your collar and swiftly punches you, causing starts to blink in your vision. 
“Now tell the truth, girl!” the man hollers. 
You glare up at him and spit blood in his face. “I ain’t tellin’ you a damn thing.”
“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like the alternative.” The man flips you onto your back, binding your hands and feet together. The man named Curtis hollers again back at the other two. “Come on, boys. We’ll take her to our new place. Make her hungry.” 
“But what use is she gonna be to us?” the third man says. He has a rather stupid look to him and his eyes are too far apart. 
“Easy. That feller she’s runnin’ with. I doubt he’s gone far,” Curtis points out. “We’ll leave him a little note. Adam, you know how to write, you’ll make it up. Put down that we want Shady Belle back and $1000 with it. Either that, or we’ll send them a gift made out of this pretty lady’s skin.” 
The men chuckle darkly and you’re beginning to panic. You’re just about to scream for Arthur when Curtis kneels down, takes his pistol out, and slams the butt of it into your head, forcing you into a world of darkness. 
***************************************
Arthur makes his way back to the little make-shift camp. It’s nearly noon; he’s surprised you haven’t caught up with him yet. You’ve never slept in this late. Maybe you’re not feeling well. His horse’s saddlebags are bursting with herbs, Grimshaw will be happy at least. 
He hums softly to himself, excited that your face will be the first one he sees today. You have the brightest and warmest smile he’s ever seen. He’d pay an unimaginable amount to wake up to seeing that smile of yours everyday. He wants nothing more than to ask you out to dinner or some other date, but he’s terrified. No way could someone like you be interested in a dirty, violent outlaw like himself. 
He sees the pillar of smoke that marks your camp and his humming changes to whistling. Maybe today he’ll finally find the courage to ask you out. Unlikely. All you have to do is smile and his legs turn to jelly. Still, he loves your company. The way you point out the beauty of the world where all he once saw was the ugliness of it. Your face litters many of the pages in his journal. If only you knew how many. Probably a good thing you didn’t, he thought, otherwise you’d go running for the hills. 
He walks his horse slowly up the last small rise towards camp. When he sees it, he’s confused. You’re not there, but your horse is still tied to the small tree you hitched her to the previous night. Maybe you’ve gone to pick herbs not too far away or you’re fishing at the lake, which isn’t far either. However, when he gets closer and he sees the blood, he knows you’re in trouble. He hops off his horse and inspects the camp, looking for any clue to what happened. He finds the note. “Give us Shady Belle and $1000 or the girl dies. Deliver alone. LR.” 
His breathing becomes suddenly rapid and his hands begin to shake. He crumples the letter in his hand, the edges of his vision turning red. How dare those bastards touch a single hair on your head? He was angry when he learned young Jack had been kidnapped. It’s nothing compared to the seething hatred he feels now. He quickly throws down camp, grabs your horse and then gallops back to Shady Belle. Dutch will surely help him. 
**************************************
Breathe. 
You’re being dragged by the rope binding your feet. Your head aches and you crack your eyes open. An old, boarded-up house looms above you and you’re flanked by over half a dozen men, all in Confederate uniforms. The man dragging you stops and you look to your left and see the burned skeleton of a barn. 
“What the hell she doin’ here, Curtis?” a slightly fat, balding man demands. Based on his uniform, you’d guess he’s the boss of this group. 
“She’s with that gang who took Shady Belle. We left a note for her companion to give it back and an extra $1000, otherwise we’d send her back in a condition they ain’t gonna like.” 
“You damn fool, Curtis!” the man growls. “And when the entire gang comes up to get her, then what?” 
“We wrote her friend a note to come alone when deliverin’ the money. He ain’t gonna be a problem, Richard.” 
“He better not be. Still, I would enjoy seein’ at least one of those traitors who robbed us suffer. That was our goddamn home.” Richard looks to the house and then back to you. “Put her in the basement.” 
Breathe.
The man holding your feet begins dragging you again towards the house. You grunt loudly as he hauls you up the front steps and they scratch against your back. You start struggling, trying to grab onto anything that might give you an edge. Curtis, who’s walking behind you, grabs your hands and picks you up so now you’re being carried between the two men. 
They drop you in a room with a fireplace, a fire burning inside it. Richard enters the room, shooing most the other men out except for Curtis and the man still holding her feet. He orders them to strip you. You start fighting, but Richard and the other man pin you down as Curtis rips off your clothes, leaving you in your undergarments. 
“You wanna go further?” he asks Richard, a hungry look in his eyes that leaves you feeling cold. 
“Not yet. If they don’t show up with the money in a day or two, we’ll have some fun with her.”
Curtis looks disappointed, but he and the other man pick you up again and Richard opens up a door in the floor. They carry you down into a cellar. There are three pillars, chains attached to them. This house clearly used to keep slaves down here before the Civil War ended. 
The men drop you onto the stone ground and then Richard pulls out two pairs of handcuffs. He binds your hands together and then your feet. Then he forces you to your feet and stretches your arms up, attaching the chain holding your hands together to an old hook hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. It leaves you barely standing on your toes. 
“Get out of here, you two,” Richard says to the other men. Again, they look disappointed but they comply. Richard turns back to you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me about this little gang of yours.” 
“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” you growl. 
He chuckles and takes out a knife. “Maybe not yet, but you will.” 
Breathe. 
*********************************************
Arthur stomps into camp, still in a fury. He goes to Dutch and explains your predicament. 
“We ain’t givin’ those animals money, Arthur,” Dutch says. 
“No of course we ain’t. But we need to find her. Gather the men, let’s go hunt her down before those bastards have a chance to hurt her.” 
Dutch stands up, glaring at Arthur. He’s never tried to boss Dutch around and he won’t accept it. “No, Arthur. I need them to do work and I know you’re sweet on Y/N, Arthur, but she ain’t exactly Jack.”
Arthur’s vision has remained red the entire time since he found your ransom note but it intensifies when he hears Dutch’s words. “What, because she ain’t a kid who represents the potentials of the future, she ain’t worth savin’?!” 
“Arthur, that ain’t what I’m saying,” Dutch says quickly. Although he knows Arthur’s loyalty would never waver, he knows exactly what Arthur’s capable of. “We’ll get her before she can talk, but I just need a little more time.” 
“She ain’t gonna talk, Dutch. She’s as loyal to you as any of us.” 
“I don’t know that, Arthur. She’s only been with us for a few months and who knows what they’ll do to her. You’d be surprised how quickly people break when subjected to torture.” 
Arthur clenches his fist and Dutch takes a step back. “I’m goin’ after her, Dutch, right now whether you like it or not. I’m gonna kill all them bastards. But if she’s dead, Dutch, I’m gonna tear everything-”
“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch says quickly, knowing how easily Arthur could hurt him if he really wanted to. “Take two men, go find her.” 
Arthur stomps out of the house, still furious that no one else cares about you as much as he does. He grabs Charles and John and rides back to where your camp was in order to track you down. 
*******************************************
Breathe. 
The inside of your upper left arm burns something terrible. At least the bleeding has stopped. Richard tried getting information out of you, kicking and slapping you when you refused. After two hours of attempted interrogation, he lost his temper and carved the word “traitor” into your arm. The pain was indescribable. He left you alone to hang from your wrists after that, clearly needing a break. 
It’s been at least half a day since you saw anyone. You’re thirsty and your wrists hurt like crazy from holding a good portion of your weight, the manacles digging into your skin. 
The cellar door at the top of the stairs opens again and Richard walks down. He’s alone but he’s already pulled out his knife. 
“You gonna talk, traitor?” he growls. 
“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” you spit back. 
He narrows his eyes and rubs his thumb across the blade. “You know, a few years ago, another gang came through here. Guess they wander a lot, don’t stick in one place for more than a few weeks. Called themselves the Skinners. I saw the things they did to the folk they caught. Even learned a thing or two. Trust me, girl, you wouldn’t like any of the ideas I got for you.”
He glares at you. Fear rips through your gut but you won’t give in so easily. Someone will come for you, you’re sure of it, and you’re more scared of what Dutch will do if you talk and he finds out. 
“Do your worst,” you say, a tear sliding down your cheek. 
Richard curls his lip and then slams his knife down into your thigh, making you scream. “Talk, girl,” he demands again. You quiet down, more tears falling. “Talk!” he hollers, twisting the knife which only makes you scream more. He twists, pulls and pushes the knife, trying to work anything out of you. Then, he yanks the knife out, blood spilling out of your thigh. 
“You’re gonna say somethin’! I don’t care how much you’ve whored yourself to those men, you’re gonna break.” 
You can do nothing but cry as your thigh bleeds freely. Richard reaches up and drags the tip of the knife from your neck to your collarbone, finally cutting into your chest. He draws a shallow line, making you scream again. 
Finally, Richard seems to have enough after cutting you in multiple places across your arms and legs. He huffs insults at you and then marches up the stairs. 
Breathe.
*********************************************
At the campsite, Charles picks up a trail of three horses, most likely your captors'. It’s an old trail but he manages to pick it up just fine. Arthur’s still furious and desperate to find you. 
John tries to encourage him. “We got Jack back, Arthur. We won’t have any problems finding her.” 
He couldn’t be more wrong, though. The men who captured you almost seemed to not know where they were going. The trail winds in several circles and sometimes even turns back to the way they’d come, almost like they were afraid of leaving a trail. 
The hunt lasts for hours and the sun begins to set. Charles tells Arthur to rest, but he refuses, stating you certainly don’t have that luxury. He won’t either, not until you’re safe. Charles and John decide not to argue. They know how Arthur feels about you, and how afraid he is of losing you. They agree to go on.
The trail heads further east towards the swamps and then, after hours of following, it turns west again, back towards Scarlett Meadows. Arthur’s even more furious. What the hell were those animals trying to do when they captured you? Charles asks for the note they’d left him, wondering if it could give any clues to where you are. Arthur says there’s nothing but hands him the note anyways. 
“LR,” Charles says. 
“Lemoyne Raiders,” John explains. “We drove them out of Shady Belle.”
Charles nods and his face is deep in thought. “Where would a gang that large go after losing their main hideout?” 
Arthur pulls out a map and inspects it. There’s few buildings that aren’t in a town or a city that are large enough to house a gang. Then he sees a place on the map in the direction the trail is leading. He recognizes it from when Uncle found a lead on a stage that was owned by Cornwall. They’d hid in the barn of the house and it got burned down. Shortly afterwards, he met the former owner, an ex slave catcher. He remembers the old cellar with chains on the pillars, ledgers of slaves and a slave’s old journal describing getting caught. 
“There, Compston’s Stead. My money’s on there.” 
John looks at the map and nods. “Seems big enough. Right in the middle of their territory.” 
“Let’s go,” Charles says, but Arthur’s already riding off. The group gallops through the night, the horses snort and sweat from being pushed so hard. They enter the woods right outside Comspton’s Stead and finally pull to a stop. It’s nearly dawn, the eastern horizon turning light. Arthur dismounts and pulls out his shotgun. 
“We need to come up with a plan,” John says. “What are we doin’, Arthur?” 
“Kill ‘em all,” Arthur says and then starts walking towards the house. Charles and John call for him, stating the obvious flaws in this idea, but Arthur ignores them. All he knows is they’ve undoubtedly tortured you and done God knows what else and he’s going to rip them all to shreds. 
He stops at the edge of the trees and, sure enough, there’s tents and wagons around the house and burnt barn. Hardly anyone’s awake, but two men are sitting around a campfire, sipping coffee. They’re clearly supposed to be on guard as they hold rifles, but they’re taking a break. Arthur aims his shotgun and fires, the slugs slamming into the chest of one of the men. The other hops up, only to be knocked back by another shot fired by Arthur. 
The other men start getting out of their tents, but they’re disoriented from being asleep. Some are still pulling their pants or hats on, wielding pistols or rifles. 
“Raiders!” Arthur screams, reloading his shotgun. “You’re dead, you sons of bitches! Where is she?” 
**********************************
You’re dozing, somehow able to get a bit of rest despite the immense pain flowing constantly throughout your body. There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you’re so tired you’re managing to fade out of consciousness to a point and sleep a little. That is until you hear the cellar door open. You look up and out the small window near the ceiling. The sky’s turning light. Richard walks down the stairs, his eyes dark and hungry. He closes the cellar door behind him.
Breathe. 
“You gonna talk, whore?” he growls. 
“Do your worst,” you say again, your voice no more than a soft grunt. You’re so thirsty and weak it’s all you can manage. 
“Oh I plan too. You are a pretty thing. Shame you’re makin’ me carve you up like this.” He stands in front of you and raises his hand, dragging a finger from your shoulder and all the way down your body. The way he touches you is the absolute worst torture and you suddenly realize what he’s thinking of doing. 
He grabs the top of your bloomers and begins to pull down. “Obviously knives ain’t workin’ on you. Maybe I can… squeeze your words out of you another way,” he whispers in your ear. You clench your legs together as hard as you can, but in your position you don’t have much power over what happens to you. 
Richard reaches a hand up to lift your chemise when a sudden explosion echoes outside. It’s coming from the woods. Richard steps away quickly and looks out the window. 
Another explosion and men begin shouting. You hear a man hollering a slew of insults. There’s anger in his voice, but it’s different than the anger in Richard’s voice. A kind of desperation lingers behind it. 
“Son of a bitch,” Richard growls. He pulls out his pistol and stands close to you. “Don’t worry, whore. He ain’t gettin’ to you.” 
Breathe. 
You want to cry out. You recognize those explosions well enough to know they’re coming from a shotgun. Someone has come for you. You have to believe it. 
“Help!” you try calling out, but your voice is so weak it’s hardly more than a whisper. 
“Shut up,” Richard grunts. You call out again and he slams the butt of his pistol in your face, cutting your cheek. 
The air outside echoes with more shots, more screaming. You don’t know how long it continues, but then it suddenly stops. Richard shuffles nervously, his thumb brushing against the hammer of his pistol. He stares up at the closed cellar door. You can see the sweat dripping down his face. 
The cellar door swings open, light streaming in and blinding you. Richard hesitates and then points his pistol at your head. 
“Come any closer, she dies,” he says. 
The person at the top of the stairs darts down them. You gasp when you see Arthur and he’s wielding a rusty old sword. He’s too fast for Richard and he swings the sword down and into Richard’s shoulder, burying it deep. Richard drops the pistol and falls to the ground, Arthur on top of him. 
Arthur pulls out his knife and slashes Richard’s throat, and he gurgles as the blood flows from his open neck. Arthur watches him for a second, his shirt speckled in Richard’s blood. Then he turns and looks at you, a fire raging in his eyes. 
Breathe.
“Ar-Arthur,” you groan. He gets up and grabs your wrists, unhooking them from the rafters. You sigh when your weight finally goes to your feet but you’re so weak you fall against Arthur. He grabs you and holds you tight, kneeling down so you don’t have to stand. He cradles your head against his chest, his other arm tight around your back. 
“I got ya, girl. You’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle compared to the violence that he’d just committed. 
You take in a deep breath, his scent of pine and leather flooding your nostrils and then you begin to cry. You sob into his shirt and he just holds you, rubbing circles into your back. He releases you only for a moment to take out a lockpick and take the cuffs off your wrists. When your hands are free, you latch onto him as hard as you can. 
“You’re safe, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt ya now.” 
He sighs, his arms folding tightly around you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, wanting to shut out the world. You swear his lips brush your forehead. 
“Come on, sweetheart. We need to get you out of here.” 
He starts pulling away, but you latch onto him. You feel cold and you’re terrified from everything that’s happened. He’s warm and he represents safety, protection. 
“Easy, girl. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just need to get these off your feet.” 
He lays you down on your back as gently as he can and then unlocks the cuffs around your feet. He’s back near your head and he picks you up, cradling your head to his neck again as he carries you up the stairs. You’re blinded from having been down in that cellar for you don’t even know how long. He walks slowly as to not cause you more pain and your eyes adjust to the light. 
Curtis and the man who dragged you lie dead in the living room, their bodies resting in pools of blood. Outside, you’re blinded again but you have an easier time adjusting to the light. There’s more corpses. Charles and John are looting the bodies and camp for anything they can use. They straighten up when they see Arthur carrying you. 
“Is she…” Charles begins. 
“She’s alive,” Arthur says with a shaky voice. “She’s in bad shape though. We need to get her home.” 
Arthur calls his horse and, with John’s and Charles’s help, lifts you onto the horse, which is extremely painful on your leg. You grunt and gasp in pain and Arthur says words of encouragement. He climbs up behind you and wraps a protective arm around you, grabbing the reins in his other hand. He says nothing to the other two and pushes his horse into an easy canter towards camp. The pain is too much as it rips through your body in fresh waves and sends you into a relieving world of darkness. 
***********************
Arthur arrives back at camp, followed by Charles and John. You passed out within only a few moments of riding, to which he’s grateful for. It meant you would have to endure less pain. Once he stops his horse, John holds you up as he gets off his horse. John makes to slide you off, but Arthur pushes him away and pulls you into his arms. 
Grimshaw’s making a huge fuss, ordering people around to get medical supplies. Dutch walks over to him and is about to say something when Arthur snaps at him. “I don’t wanna hear about it right now, Dutch. She ain’t outta the woods yet.” 
Grimshaw tries to tell him to drop you off on your own bedroll, which is positioned by Karen’s and Mary-Beth’s on the ground, but Arthur says it would be best if you were on an elevated bed, somewhere secluded and warm. He hauls you up to his room and puts you onto his bed. Grimshaw abruptly shoves him out of the warm so she and the girls can change your clothes and begin working on you. 
Most of your cuts and wounds are okay and don’t require stitches, including the carved word on your arm. Your leg is a different situation. The wound is deep and jagged and it’s still bleeding, though not profusely. Grimshaw says the best option would be to cauterize it instead of risk it getting infected. Karen brings her a candle and some gunpowder. 
Arthur’s standing outside his door, pacing near it. He’s terrified to hear about your condition but prays he got to you in time. He’s still wearing his bloody clothes, but as he’s not allowed into his room to change, he doesn’t care. Dutch and Hosea are with him, telling him encouragements. They’re helping until he hears you scream. 
Dutch grabs Arthur as he tries barging through the door to get to you. Arthur’s fighting hard though, so Dutch calls Bill and Charles. It takes all three men to prevent Arthur from going into his room to see you. He yells at them to let him go and after a few moments, Grimshaw comes out, looking furious. 
“Mr. Morgan, she won’t ever be able to get some rest with you screeching this!”
“What the hell are you doin’ to her?” he demands. 
“Fixin’ her leg. Think she’ll be fine and she’s asleep again.” 
“Let me see her.” 
“No,” Grimshaw says. “We’re almost done. Now how about you make yourself useful and get some fresh clothes for her. Bring up some food and water for when she wakes up.” 
Arthur growls but he’s relieved to have something to do. The others let him go and he does what Grimshaw says. She snatches the clothes out of his hand and then slams the door in his face. 
“Come on, son,” Hosea says, patting Arthur on the back. “Let’s get you calmed down. That’s the best thing you can do for her right now. She couldn’t be in better hands.” 
Arthur nods and lets Hosea and Dutch lead him into the sitting room where Dutch keeps the donation box. They get him some whiskey and some food, encouraging him to eat. 
***********************************
You don’t know how long it’s been since Arthur saved you. The events leading up to it were terrifying and awful, but the feeling of his arms around you was one of the best things you’ve ever felt. You remember how his warmth seeped into you. 
Breathe.
You notice you’re mostly on your stomach and right side in an upright position. There’s an odd mixture of warm and cool throughout your body and you’re propped against something that's almost hot. You breathe in and smell pine and leather, just like Arthur smelled when he saved you. As you dip again into that memory, the pain of your body begins coming back to you. 
You stir a bit and something moves against your back, rubbing softly. That’s when you feel arms wrapped around you. Your eyes creak open and you look up to see Arthur staring down at you. He sighs as though in relief. 
“Hey, darlin’,” he says. “Thank God you’re awake.” 
Despite the pain, you smile a bit and open your mouth to say something, but your voice doesn’t want to work. 
“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he says. One of his arms unwinds around you, leaving you a little cold. Then he hands you a tin cup full of water and he helps you drink it slowly. When the water’s gone, you start to remember the things that happened to you. 
“Arthur, I… I didn’t say anything to them,” you say, a sob working its way up your chest. He folds his arms around you again. 
“I know, darlin’, I know. Don’t worry about that, okay? Those bastards who hurt you are all dead, they can’t do that again.” 
The shock of the last few days comes to you and you begin to shiver, despite the humidity and the heat from the swamps outside. Arthur grabs the blanket on the bed packed against the wall and drapes it over you. 
“You’re okay, darlin’. I got ya, ain’t gonna let you go.” His words flow over you and the sob finally reaches your throat. He rubs your back as you cry into his chest again. You can’t understand why those men did such horrible things to you. It’s not like you had any hand in taking the manor from them. 
“Why, Arthur?” you sob. “Why’d they do that?” 
He sighs and brushes his lips against your forehead. “I don’t know, honey. They were evil men. You did nothing wrong and you didn’t deserve it, okay? Don’t ask yourself ‘why me’.” 
You nod and nestle closer into him, your left hand clutching onto the collar of his shirt, noticing the bandage around your wrist. He’s wearing his blue shirt but removed his black scarf, leaving the top three buttons undone. He’s done this before and you always struggled to avert your eyes from his exposed chest. However, you press your cheek to his bare skin. The physical contact is soothing and calming. He places a soft kiss on your forehead.
That takes you by surprise. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Arthur?” 
“Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I just… I was terrified I wouldn’t get to ya in time. That mornin’ they took you, I um, I was going to ask you somethin’ but they got you before I could.” 
He’s terrified and surprised he’s even asking you in the first place. However, when you were kidnapped, he knew he wanted you in his daily life. He was in love with you, he couldn’t deny that. He pauses for a moment, pondering what to say. If you tell him you’ve no interest in being with him, that’s going to make things incredibly awkward. 
“Arthur?” you say gently, your fingers delicately brushing his chest. “What were you going to ask?” 
“I um,” he hesitates again. He can’t look you in the face, his cheeks burn hot. “I was gonna ask ya if… If I could take ya to dinner or see one of them silly plays in Saint Denise.” 
Is he really asking you out on a date? Your stomach skips. You’ve no idea how many times you imagined him saying this, but you never thought it’d actually happen. Maybe you’re suffering hallucinations stemming from your condition, but you don’t care. You smile up at him and cup his cheek. 
“Well, I would have said yes if you asked me then. My answer isn’t changing now.” 
His lips stretch into a wide grin and then suddenly, they’re on yours. They’re slightly chapped and dry, but they’re warm. His lips move softly against yours, parting them just slightly as his tongue flicks over your lips. Your hand moves into his hair, tangling into them. 
Before things can go further, he breaks away. “Thank ya, darlin’. I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, not unless you want me to.” 
You smile at him and lay your head on his chest. It feels like a miniature version of the sun has taken residence in your own chest, sending warmth to your limbs. You suddenly can’t wait to be in well enough condition to go out with Arthur, but for now, you’re happy to stay in the safety and heat of his arms. He draws soft patterns into your skin, sending you back into an easy slumber. 
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orionnquartzwater · 3 years
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In a local witches group on my personal FB page, an admin I look up to asked us what our current altars looked like at the moment to spark up a discussion. I had an offhand picture of recently showing and explaining my faith to a friend of mine, but as I began to reflect on the items, my reply grew longer and longer until Facebook just gave up on allowing me to post it. Still wanting to share, I figured I would host my answer here.
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This is my current set-up. Please excuse some of the mess, I'm currently in the process of clearing out the old for the new calender year. I don't work at my altar very often at the moment as life has been a little hectic, but it's right above my fireplace in my living room! ♡
PHOTO DESCRIPTION WITH DETAILS AND PERSONAL HISTORIES BEHIND THE OBJECTS PICTURED: On white shelf above the fireplace in my living room is my altar, lit by a ceiling light that brings the eye to the center of the image where a wall-hanging of the elemental symbols I hand-crafted in branches and black twine covers a large portion of the white wall in the back. In the middle on the top of the hanging decor is a clear hand-crafted witch ball I made several years back when my coven was still meeting and I was teaching some of the history behind them and what they are today filled with many different herbs and a large cinnamon stick. Several natural pieces of twine hang from some of the twigs that make up the elemental symbols, used for tying and drying herb bunches above my altar, currently sitting empty. On both sides framing the mantle on the wall, there two metallic swirling candle holders, one of which has a recently gifted antique bell from my once-ignorant and oppressive grandmother about what my faith truly had meant to me on twine hanging from it. In the dead center of the altar, a large glass candle holder sits containing a layered orange and red candle, burned most of the way down with ash on the insise of the glass as it hasn't been in use for some time. Currently displayed on top of the candle is my own hand-crafted wand that sits perfectly balanced in my hand with the natural curve of the branch. It felt made for my hand as I whittled the top down and used copper and quartz to charge it, wrapping the handle and charging the energy forward with the small point I've had for years until I found why I had clung to it.
Two alabaster statuette busts of the Greek deities Artemis (to the left), and Apollo (to the right) also frame the large glass candleholder. The statues are of the deities who I worked faithfully worked with to recieve my service dog Andromeda, and thank constantly trying to honor, as everything in my life had said I couldn't receive her from time to money to circumstance to lack of outside help, even though everything else about it was said that it was truly meant for me, and I believe to this day it was due to them watching me working tirelessly to do everything on my end including my rituals and asking for their assistance that they granted me a medically healing (Apollo's side) & faithful canine (Artemis's side). I had the statues shipped to me from Greece, and the golden accents on the alabaster textiles and laurel on them are probably my favorite part of them. They're one of my most prized possessions. The two godly siblings face each other with their heads cast in different directions. Behind Artemis, slightly to her right is a black and white painting I did of the forested coast and night sky with a prominent moon bouncing off the waves and a comet in the stars above (Ironically, my dog Andromeda (Andi) was listed as Comit in the breeders list as well, something I hadn't even considered when painting and adding it to my altar). To Artemis' left is a small antler chew we took from my service dog when she was too big to use it safely any longer, as well as a small clay torso of the human form I crafted some time ago. In front of the mini painting is where I currently sit a chakra bracelet gifted to me years ago, and sitting in front of those not too far from the edge is an incense holder depicting a skeleton with roses around it as a memento mori, a circle of life as the ash falls and the incense is burned. To the left of that are some pieces of geodes and petrified woods I have that my grandmother also gifted me, two unused candles in front of those, and a petrified wood piece laying flat that holds two tiny pinecones connected by a stem and two coins for abundance beside a ceramic acorn bowl holding many gemstones collected through the years, including the labradorite my grandmother also gifted me when I was a small child and found myself connecting to the stone as I connected to the faith alone on my own. To the left of that is a tall decorative triple goddess wooden box box my dad's girlfriend bought for me, a small black and white moon phase & elemental symbol zentangle art piece sitting above it that I drew in pen in high school, and in front of them on the altar is an antique taxidermied dog-paw letter opener made of Mother of Pearl, dating the beloved Print's death as Sept 15th, 1867 that I use for directing energy, connecting to the love we hold for those in our lives, and also with connecting to the centuries past in my own hands.
To Apollo's right sits a massive pinecone, and behind him somewhat obscured is a small wax burner currently holding the remnants of the ritual work I had been using to call forth my service dog to me as a variety of herbs, green wax for abundance and coins. To the right of that are a variety of candles, currently perching a bird's nest that had fallen out of and was sitting abandoned from the tree in front of my apartments two years ago that would have been tossed by maintainence or mowed over but found a renewed life in my practice after it sat abandoned for some time. Beside that is a squared lantern of black metal framinh with frosted glass and metallic fir tree silhouettes. Also the right of that, leaning over the edge of the mantle from a small end table not pictured is a twig broom with the bristles up. (On the very edge of the mantle also sits a large bottle of hand-sanitizer constantly in use as I live with a hospital worker, and both cleanliness and healthcare are just as important in our faith, lest we forget to take care of ourselves with the modern knowledge passed down to us now, nor forget to do our part wherever we go.)
— I haven't had the mind to do much traditional work, even here, and this doesn't include the dresser I plan on doing a fuller altar for so I can have a place to be alone, in my space, and wholly enter the circle once more as I haven't been able to do that in a very, very long time, but this one houses most of my items of power, is displayed prominently, and is curated to allow me to remember to honor my faith more and never stop working on it, taking time to stand in front of it and reflect on me, my faith, where I came from and where I'm going as well as spending a moment with the deities I honor. After my birthday later this year growing up in a household of agnostics and the faith and discomfort of my oppressive grandparents, I'll actually have been in the faith for more than half my life as I was only 11 when I stumbled into it alone, celebrated my first Imbolc all by myself by making crafts out of ribbons and buying and lighting candles, meditating reading books. I ran around with my bell wand shaking it at nature to reawaken it for spring, and I knew I would always be in the faith, and want to raise a future family in it, and grow a community of like-minded folks. I'm still always learning, and it makes me equally immensely proud and insanely humbled when I can teach others what I've learned since the faith found me. I can actually remember crying to my grandma about whether or not magic(k) could truly exist in the world and she told me if I believed in it, it DID at that age, and the feelings of finding power in my faith after growing up so alone have been unlike any other. Finding other witches was one of the most impactful moments of my life, especially growing up in a heavily Christian town of just over 1,000. Nothing has made me ever feel more fulfilled than people who know me and know I have been in the faith since childhood coming up to me to timidly ask them to teach them some things and where they could start to learn more, asking questions and finding me with a million resources for them, only to come back at a later date and truly thank me for helping them find their path to deity, to nature, to being one with the energies around us and finding power in their experiences and newfound budding faith and community. I've since found a true passion for anthropology and folklore, and I never feel more whole than working with others who share that with me. I think that my coven was one of the best things I experienced in high school, a mix of young witches learning and finding our paths and bringing our passions to life with each other and what we knew over good food, good friends and good faith wasn't something I got to experience often until then.
I'm still hoping to one day build an establishment where witches and aspiring witches can come, talk, read, ask for recommendations, be taught by local witches, take community crafting classes with history lessons, and be able to continue to provide that feeling to other folks. One of the people I ended up mentoring after they were asking me questions and for book recommendations, for clarifications and good conversation, also reaffirmed my childhood last name of faith that came to me by expressing their gratitude of my mentorship referring to me as "a willow tree I was providing wisdom, knowledge and needed shade to the growing saplings around them," and I actually broke down crying as Willow was the last name I ended up with as child, and Willowtree was the last name I had settled on after my transition. I hate the feeling of buying myself mass-produced items used for making a quick buck off a community rather than fostering the Craft, and the power that's within our tools created by hand or when they're gifted by people who impacted us with the knowledge of what they mean and the things they hold are just so much different than not knowing the ethical conditions of who made the materials, or the companies behind them pandering for money, and it's a bit of a passion project as my physical health keeps me from being able to work much on my own. I often wish I could go back and tell a young me how much I would learn and do, how many amazing people I would meet, and communities I would find, even in the areas directly around me. I think I would have been amazed. After writing all of this, I looked back and realized that my current set-up is actually doing it's EXACT job right now. As I described the objects and what they meant to me when I got them, I got caught up in it the same way I do IRL when I pass by and take a moment to think about what my faith holds for me, where I'm coming from and where I really want to take things from here. I guess it's REALLY just that effective on me that even trying to answer a question about it off-hand in a post really ends up in me really taking a minute to address who I am and the power it all holds to me, especially standing where I stand today.
Blessed Be! I hope everyone has a wonderful week.
— 12.9.2020
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pommedelamer · 4 years
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art of the pen
a/n: soo uhh it’s been a while. here’s a couple pages worth of a story idea I had, as well as my character design that inspired it! this is. extremely rough but I figured that I should get something up. hhhh I was considering turning this into a formal book with actual developed characters and plot advancement (oh god saying that gives me anxiety) but I don’t know if the content I have so far is very promising. lmk what y'all think lol
//
Character Description: This character is a young female writer. When the novel she has poured her life’s work into is denounced by publishers, she withdraws to a foreign country in attempts to kindle the flames of a new life and reignite her passion for writing. Rejection, coupled with extreme loneliness, causes her to sink into depression. She wanders aimlessly through her new remote town in search of a sense of community. She comes across this in the last place she expected when she discovers that the decrepit building in which she temporarily resides is inhabited by a troop of eccentric underground journalists. Alongside her intrepid neighbors, she tears into the controversies and secrets woven into the fabric of her town and writes like she never has before.
//
The sun peeked through the gaps in the verdant canopy above, but my journal pages were still mostly barren. My pen always seemed to still a few sentences in, flailing like a line unable to lure in a bite. I flipped back to the cover, sluggish in the evening heat. It was adorned with pressed indigo flowers on a cream-colored background. Some of the pigment in the flowers had escaped under the pressure, and each blossom was framed with a deep purple halo. The wind sent the pages tumbling in a delicate fan, and suddenly I was a vandal, a delinquent with the gall to tarnish such beauty with the aftershocks of a passion that had run its course.
A cloud crossed over the sun and the forest floor seemed to close itself off, a flourishing ecosystem in which I was a parasite, leeching off its natural resources to fuel my own unavailing pursuits. I felt the crabgrass clawing at the soles of my feet as I reread the fruits of my two hours. Oh. My breath thickened in my throat and the canopy of branches above shifted in the wind. I suddenly felt compelled to trek back to the little corner market and seek forgiveness for the heinous crimes I’d committed inside the lovely journal with the flowers festooned across the front. And then I’d make a pit stop back at my publisher’s to apologize for my persistence with that novel I’d probably packed with even more of my insufferable delusions. My pen felt leaden and foreign in my hand, and I let it fall to the forest floor in penitence.
I stood up and saw that a thicket of scraggly trees was eyeing me curiously. It could just be a hobby, I told them. They remained steadfast, bony limbs still contorted in thorny skepticism. I didn’t quite know what they sought from me, but I wanted to oblige them. Something to unwind with in the afternoons. The forest was drawing further and further away from me, the thrushes and jays flocking in the leaves of a far-off pine tree, the wind gently guiding the little saplings away on their scrawny legs. A shadow crossed over my bones, and I knew that it was a lie. I wanted to crawl out of the skeleton that had confidently put pen to paper every morning and leave the remnants to disintegrate on the forest floor. I scooped up the marred pages of the little journal and tucked it away. Just something to pass the time. If that.
                                                         ❋❋❋
The town had fully transformed itself when I crossed onto Washington Street. The daytime freshness had long since evaporated from the air, a numbing sense of finality sliding into its place, a reflective epilogue on the day passed. The possibility that I’d felt on my trek to the market that very morning remained in the air, and, silhouetted against the cloak of night, it was mystifying and beckoned me through the alleyways and over the crosswalks. In spite of my spirits, my eyes were dazzled with it. I watched as my shadow, elongated by the streetlamps, tapered off into drains and crept up the sides of buildings, beguiling the eye with its disappearances and reappearances.
I arrived at my complex and allowed myself a moment to take it in at nighttime for the first time. Unlike some of the buildings that retained their daytime charm in the dark, 42 Washington Street took on an air of its own. The streetlamps threw long, delicate shadows over the siding, and the balconies seemed to withdraw back into the wall for the night.
I fumbled with my keys and let myself in. I was immediately enveloped with cool air that seemed awfully artificial, if the sputtering air conditioner on the far wall was any indication. The lobby had also fully adopted the nighttime guise, the broad armchairs appearing to purposefully hold their poses in the dark, as if they had once been dancing. Even the idyllic watercolor gondola painting mounted on the wall behind the front desk had shifted in the night, now depicting rafts traversing the inky river Styx.
“Your first night at 42 Washington, I assume?”
It took me a moment to locate the speaker, tracing over the corners of the room that the moonlight had claimed. It was only when I stepped back and observed the room again, allowing my gaze to slip beyond the cool puddles of light on the wooden armrests and coffee table, that I found the source.
Completely submerged in shadow, a man was reclining on a velvet armchair. Even entirely cloaked in dark, I could tell that he was incredibly tall, almost larger than life. One of his legs draped over the side of the chair, and his foot still managed to touch the ground. His left hand curved over the other arm of the chair, spanning the entire width. He wore a plain button up, the hem of which fanned out onto the chair. I saw an object on his lap that I recognized from my own fruitless pursuits, as a journal. His was almost bursting at the seams, the binding probably beginning to fray under the stress. I saw movement inside the shadow that overtook half the man’s face, swallowing up his likeness so that his features were still up to my imagination.
“It’s a completely different place in the dark, all transformed and the like. One might say we have two buildings for the price of one. It’s a bit of a joke around here.” He spoke as if he were scribbling on a page, the drawl of his voice trying desperately to align itself with the words in his head – as if I’d walked in on him in the middle of constructing his own universe and it hadn’t quite stopped for me. My eyes fell on the fountain pen dangling between his fingers that I’d dismissed as a cigarette, and I realized that was exactly what he had been doing. “But it’s best to keep it between us. If the landlord catches on, you can expect rent to double in price. All the apartments are the same around here, and the landlords are no different. They’ll take anything they can get.” He laughed faintly, and the shadow shortened as if the man had tipped his head back, lost in thought. There was a brief silence, during which I realized I hadn’t yet uttered a single word. “Are you a writer too, then?”
The question was wholly disarming, catching me right between the ribs. I hoped that the night would obscure the rivers of uncertainty it sent ghosting over my skin and coursing through my veins. My heartbeat rattled against my ribcage as I willed myself to respond.
“I’ve dabbled in it. So one might say I am, but ... no, I suppose I’m not, by definition, anyway.” I was again grateful for the anonymity the night provided, for my voice was telling a story of its own, one that I’d recently established was no longer mine. “What might give you that impression?”
The man shifted forwards, the contours of his face revealing themselves inside the beam of moonlight that fell at his feet. I rushed to dismantle the collage of shadowed features I’d loosely fabricated in my head, although it was not far off from what the moonlight illuminated before my eyes. I observed that, for as much as he liked to talk about it, the man’s face was not like 42 Washington Street. “We have a certain look about us, I s’pose.”
My hands wrung behind my back as he propped his elbows on his knees. I couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d detected during this shadowed analysis. I was sure the distress his question had instilled in me had not gone unnoticed, but he did not question it. He did not question me, and I did not question him.
The man skimmed through the pages of the teeming journal and produced a piece of brown paper that, from the looks of it, had been folded up to four times. “If I’m right in my assessments and you’re interested, there’s a group of us around here. I think we’d all be open to more writers in a town like this.” He placed the paper in my palm, and I nodded.
I unfurled the paper and scanned it quickly as I walked.  I was already halfway down the hall when a blank space on the flyer piqued my curiosity. “Excuse me, sir, the address-- it seems to be missing?”
But the enormous man had already eased back in the armchair, hands closing around the journal as the shadows overtook him once more. “It does have the feel of a haunted house around here, doesn’t it?” He mumbled into the dark.
*~to be continued~* 
feedback would be appreciated :)
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soapyloulanie · 4 years
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Ya Dead Ya Dead (YDYD), Solo Soapy Edition Entry #1 - Making Friends
For anyone who isn’t aware of the series, Achievement Hunter did the YDYD series which is where when you die, you’re dead and that’s the end (unless someone could make the Tower of Pimps in Season 2). I’ll be trying it out single-player mode so no one will be watching my back or there to save me if I muck up. I’m not a good minecrafter at all but it’ll be fun to be challenge myself to be more cautious and survive, rather than submitting to death and respawning like nothing happened. Without any further ado, let’s jump straight in!! So I don’t spam people who don’t care, adventures will be under the cut!! <3
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I started pretty close to a village when the game loaded in so I may or may not have raided their chests, farm, and a bed or two and some carpet before setting off for the night, walking away with chest and head armour as well as an iron sword. As I didn’t find a suitable location to build a base, I mined into a side of a hill and continue to do so until daybreak arrived. I managed to get more iron to complete my armour set as well as make iron pickaxe, axe, and an extra sword.
I may have forgotten to take screenshots from level 5 to 17, but I basically travelled until found a grassy area just outside the forest biome (where the village was). Lovely flat ground or ground which can easily be flatted for a cheeky little base and future farms is what I was hoping for and I found that it was abundant in livestock. 
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I made a single floor house with stairs for the next future floor up. The positioning of the chests will be changed to a more suitable position but for now, I’m happy I have somewhere to safeguard my shyte. 
After setting up my base operations, I started to make a farm to grow wheat and sugar cane from the ‘villagers gifted’ supplies and river bends I passed. I went back towards the general direction of the village to explore and fill out a map I made, on the way I found some bones laying about so something killed a skeleton at some point, which I used to befriend an adorable little wolf I’ve dubbed Wolfy/Doggo. The amount of times the little cutie has startled me, by teleporting in front of me or running straight past me suddenly, is too damn high!! On the plus hand, at least you can get them to sit down and stay <3
When I reached the village for a second time, more of their crops have grown (I did replace the ones I plucked, I’m not a complete monster) so I nabbed a few but wait, what was that?! Is that a fox? My spirit animal?! How long have we had foxes in minecraft?!! I lost about 2, maybe even 3 in-game days feeding a fox sweet berries for it to ignore me and leg it away. I figured afterwards when I was making my way back home dejectedly that maybe it was cause I had a wolf with me.
Whilst chopping trees down, I heard fizzing and instantly bolted for my life. A creeper exploded the tree I was just at. If I was any slower, I guess that would have been the end of that run. Luckily, Wolfy also dashed for it and was unscathed. I’ve known this wolf for about 50 odd minutes real time and I was already caring for the damn thing more than myself. No one hurts the doggo (it’s still a wolf, Soph!)
Many map exploring later, I headed back home and continue to build my house.
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Whilst building, I heard hissing getting closer and closer then extremely close, when I turned around, I saw this spider hanging out on my construction beams. I left it be and it tripped a few times according to the little pop up subtitles.  During my time with Spidey, I tried to feed it steak and pork chops cause I saw someone saying something about riding the spider but it turns out that they wanted to be able to and I should’ve read the forum properly before trying to shove meat into its mouth for a good couple of minutes. After the 2nd day of building, it disappeared so it either went somewhere else or died and I didn’t notice. The Spidey will be missed dearly. We were almost good friends~
During the building process, a creeper would not leave the outskirts of my home alone whatsoever. I stupidly decided to drag it away from the house to take it out elsewhere so it didn’t damage anything. What did my dumbass do? I ran and fell into a water hole where the creeper followed me in and proceeded to corner me, I tried to hit him with my sword but panic-y Soaps equipped a potato to fight with instead. Insert screaming whilst trying to switch and not die whilst running anywhere slowly in hopes of escaping. In the end as it started to fizz, I attempted to jump past back into the middle, still panicking a lot. I should’ve died there and then as I got caught in the blast. I got flung up in the air and landed straight back into the watery depths. Somehow it only took off 2 and a half hearts and 1 and a half hunger points. Even with armour, creepers have one-shot me so it blew my mind that I was fine. Must have been a combo of the water and armour but I felt pretty damn lucky.
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After several days of building, I finally have a finished house or at least the initial design done, I’m a sucker for extensions. I know I said I’d have a house which doesn’t go from small base to larger upper floors but I really wanted to do a patio sheltered from possible rain, cause I’m a saddo for aesthetics like that.
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I had plenty of iron ingots spare after making duplicate tools so I decided to make an Iron Golem to help look after the place and keep the animals company whilst Wolfy and I go off adventuring. This is my first major achievement (well second since I like the house design) as I’ve never made one before. I even sheared a pumpkin for the first time too! It seems silly that I’ve had the game for around 4ish year and still know next to nothing, I just play in bursts and then bail for months on end ... Ooopsies!! I don’t know how to make nametags yet but for now, I dub my cute wolf, “Wolfy” and the Iron Golem, “Squilliam Fancyson the Third TwoPointOh” for now~!
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Here’s an update on the farm situation. There’s food on the go and 4 sheep (and a cow who followed the wheat too)!! It probably seems silly that I’m happy about achieving so little but my creations aren’t usually anything good so when something likes better than shyte, I’m proud lol
I still need to learn a better way to farm but for now, somewhat strip farming will have to do~ :)
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Cover Photo/Wallpaper created by LockRikard on Nova Skin with my own added writing on top.
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ashleyswrittenwords · 5 years
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How To Be A Queen [Part 7]
Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.
Warning: None
Previous
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Part 1
How To Be A Queen
I woke up this morning with a stumble in my step and a desperation to eat more than any lady should. Today, I reminded myself, I am not a lady. Or royalty, or anything of the sort. I was Zelda. Just like yesterday, and just like tomorrow. Zelda.
I fumbled around the pockets of the trousers I wore for the last week and after blindly patting around I procured a thin leather strap. I was not in the mood to even attempt to style the rat's nest that sat on my scalp, instead settling with combing the more obvious bits of hair and tying up the rest in a rather messy bun. I peered into the dresser mirror. My eyes weren't even all the way open. The nest on my head was smoother, but easily resembled a pile of hay. Oh, well.
A glitter on my finger caught my attention. On my middle finger was a gold band. It was simple, as it was supposed to be. I was gifted it on my 13th birthday. It was supposed to symbolize my sincerity and purity. On the night of my wedding there is a ring ceremony of switching it to my ring finger. Which, in all honesty, was pointless. It just screams out to everyone that I got laid. I pursed my lips. I had forgotten to leave it when I left. There was no point in having it now.
There was a quiet tap at the door. It shuttered as it slid open.
"Oh, good. You're awake. One of the girls prepared breakfast. I've also brought a change of traveler's clothes."
Impa closed the door behind her, giving one disapproving look at my hair. "You look like you've never been near a marbled floor in your life."
"Oh good, that was the look I was going for actually."
She shook her head and pulled a chair up, "I do suppose you've never had the chance to get ready by yourself before. Sit child."
I followed suit and sat. Impa pulled the leather strap from my hair with ease and my hair sprang into frizzy mess once more. "Now follow me in the mirror, Zelda," she began taking my hair into her hands and narrated a process of how to properly style one's hair without an extra pair of hands. After a few minutes of struggling and strained fingers I managed to do a proper bun that satisfied the Sheikah woman.
"Just because you've been traveling with a man doesn't mean you need to get ready like one," she muttered, handing me a set of clothes she had brought in. "Nor should you wear their clothes."
I laughed at her sincerity and thanked her. She rambled a little bit about the village and how cold the winter would be as I undressed myself.
"They're saying it will be one of the coldest winters in years, Zelda. I think if you are going to Hateno like Link had told me you should leave today before nightfall if you want to beat the snowfall."
As my head popped through the thin first cotton layer I looked at her in disbelief, "Today? But I'd like to spend more time here. With you."
She shook her head with a smile, "I'm afraid the goddesses haven't deemed it so. These are the perfect conditions for a blizzard. And whenever we have a large snowfall, the mountain passes get blocked for days. Unfortunately, I wouldn't want to risk Link and yourself being stuck here when a whole world awaits you."
I scowled, "Rubbish."
Despite my sour mood, the clothes fit like a glove. There were two long white layers with a pattered black and green bodice that laced in the front. I held the laces in my hand and looked up at my host with a light blush, "I'm sorry, could you help me? I've never tied a bodice before."
Breakfast was divine. I ate canned peaches and strawberries with porridge, and though it wasn't my usual favorite from Castletown it was a welcomed treat. A tea pot was set down by a girl who Impa had said was a priestess in training. I smiled and thanked her. It steamed through the spout and I looked just beyond it at a blond headed man already asking for a third helping. The girl giggled at his aloof grin and took the bowl away from him with a red face.
"Have you no shame, Captain?" Impa addressed him.
"I'm afraid not, ma'am," he answered easily.
Impa let out a "Hmph!" and turned to me, "I attempted to teach him basic etiquettes before you were his charge."
"You were?" I looked over at Link, who in turn held a grin.
"An emphasis on attempted."
No wonder they were so comfortable together. Impa nodded, "Your father had asked me to vet him before his promotion. As you can see his mannerisms weren't what won me over."
"It's okay, Lady Impa, you don't have to tell her it was my charm."
Impa failed to hide a smile, "It certainly was not."
I laughed. "I don't think it was all for naught, I don't think he spoke more than a sentence to me the first two years."
"Is that right?" Impa asked, "Probably a good thing, if you ask me. Once you start getting him to talk about himself he doesn't shut up."
"That's not true!" He said. Much to my amusement, I watched Link and Impa bicker from my seat. I could only listen with a smile. For some reason, I enjoyed this. It differed greatly to the silent meals in the great hall, but it was welcomed. I giggled at one of Impa's retorts. The uneasiness between Link and I had apparently been dissolved. The possibility of it resurfacing once we leave today made me nervous, but I pushed it aside finding them looking at me. Link had just finished his question. Embarrassed, my cheeks warmed, "I beg your pardon?"
"See!" Impa interjected, "Impeccable manners. You could actually learn by example."
Link half acknowledged her with a smile and looked back at me with concern creeping into his voice, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine!" I said while I messed with what remained in my bowl as a measly attempt to distract myself from the way he looked at me.
"I'm sorry you have to leave so soon, Zelda," Impa said gently. I shook my head, "It's not your fault. I'm not upset."
I shrugged, glancing at Link, "We can always come back, right?"
"Don't look at me, Princess," he said, laughing a bit at my question, "I'm just along for the ride."
"And my door is always open for you, Zelda."
I felt suddenly bashful, "Thank you."
The outdoor air was a shock to my system. I had been spoiled the last day with a warm bed. I tried to engulf myself with the coat I was given. It was grey and lined with fur on the inside. Someone lifted the hood and let it drop over my head, dipping in front of my face. I saw Link kneel in front of me with a broad grin, "You ready?" A boyish excitement peeked through, making me smile without my meaning to.
I watched him wait for my response. "Oh!" I scrambled, "Where is Impa?"
"Behind you," she responded. I spun around and gave her a tight hug.
"You're coming back," she said as a statement, not as a suggestion. I nodded eagerly. "Good," she hugged me back, her voice dipping into a more professional tone, "We need to talk about how you will address your court."
"I know," I said pulling away. She was right. I was thankful to have someone like Impa there to help. It made me feel less alone. With a bout of waving, we parted. I rushed to catch up with Link's long strides. It had snowed overnight and the inches of snow crunched under our feet. I wished I could say goodbye to Rivka and her mother, but it seemed it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps next time we were in the area.
"Where to next?" Link said as we entered the mountain pass.
I looked at him weird, "Hateno. Where else were you thinking?"
"I dunno," he shrugged, "It'll be underwhelming compared to everything."
"Doubtful." A gust of wind came through the pass and I gasped as the hood flew off, letting the cold hit my face and neck. "Keep your hood up, it would suck if you get sick," he said, adjusting his own. Tufts of blond hair overflowed from his dark coat.
I held onto my hood as another gust blew past us, it was almost violent. I wonder what would've happened if we stayed longer than we should have. Despite the chill, I was entranced by how much heavy snow changed the scenery. Plants and grass that were poking from the ground when we arrived was now deeply entrenched in snow. The trees that loomed over us were skeletons. It was quiet other than the crunch of snow under our feet. The depth had gotten so deep that I opted to tail behind Link and follow his footsteps. Every now and again he would look back to check if I was still there. And each time I would smile because I didn't know what else to do when I looked at him.
It took us longer to get through the trail than we expected. If I had to guess maybe two hours compared to the hour long ascension. We took a path that led us farther south. The mountains opened and not long after were in the distance behind us.
"I didn't get Aryll anything."
"Hm?" I was pulled out of my thoughts and saw Link debating something in his head. The snow wasn't as heavy here so I hurried to walk alongside my guide.
"I didn't get a souvenir for my sister. She'll be mad."
"Well, what do you usually get her?"
Link paused, "Girl stuff. From Castletown. I've bought a gown for her before - of course it didn't fit. A necklace for her birthday. I think one time I bought her a diary. She never used it."
"Oh," I pondered, "What does she like?"
"Girl things."
I blinked, my eyebrows drawing together, "Like what?"
He shrugged, "Hair and jewelry or something. She doesn't really express much interest in anything other than astronomy, but she already has a telescope."
"She likes jewelry?"
"Yeah, but we never really could afford anything growing up. I think Aryll was forced to grow out of that interest."
I pulled at a band around my middle finger, "Here, give her this."
I held out my palm. It was my gold ring. "Zelda," Link sounded surprised, "I can't just take this."
"Why not? It's nothing special. I only wear it on formal occasions."
"You know why," he shook his head, "It'd be wrong for me to give away my charge's purity ring."
My cheeks reddened, "Don't say it like that. It's not- We aren't-"
I was lost for words as unnecessary imagery rushed through my head.
He raised his eyebrows at me in a knowing expression, "See?" I mumbled my frustration away and glanced at our bag on his back.
"What?" He said, noticing the smile playing on my lips.
"During the era of the Middle Kingdoms, wives would give their husbands the rings after," I wiggled my eyebrows, "you know."
Link's face went blank and he looked at me strangely. I expected a response attune to "Go on…", but he didn't say anything.
"Sooo," I prolonged the 'o', "We just have to find someone to marry me and then he can give you the ring."
"Yeah, no," he rolled his eyes as I began laughing.
"Why not? I think it's a fool-proof plan! It'll totally get the heat off your back."
"Sure, let's go back and get ahold of that one guy from the ball," he said, taking long strides. I picked up my pace, unbelievably amused by my own banter. My face scrunched up. "I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole."
"I wouldn't let you come within one-hundred feet of him!" Link exclaimed, "Hylia willing."
I beamed, forgetting completely about the cold. My face dropped as I remembered something. "Link! Stop I need to get something."
Link did and I took the moment to reach into it, rummaging around. It was forcefully pulled low by my weight.
"Ow, quit it," he said, kneeling slightly. "I'm not a pack mule, Highness."
I flicked him in the head, "I told you to stop calling me that, Pack Mule."
"Um, it's Sir Pack Mule to you. I was knighted by you-"
"Aha!" I yelled out, producing an ivory comb from the bag. "Give her this."
I made sure to bring a comb when we left Impa's house, and they were like the ones from the castle. It was made from ivory and fine-toothed, on the handle was a delicately carved flower. If Aryll wanted to, I suppose it could be used as decoration .
"Where did you get that?"
"Impa's house. Don't worry, I asked to steal it."
Link took it out of my hand gingerly. "I think Aryll will love it."
"Really?" I grinned. He nodded, lingering a bit. "Come on, we'll get off track."
I complied. We walked further and eventually we reached a bridge. The lake was frozen over to the point where I thought it was a field of white, it wasn't until I heard water was when I questioned Link about it.
"Lake Siela is known for freezing only the over the top," he had told me, "A lot of travelers have fallen through and died because of it. People think the water is just warm enough from the hot springs runoff that only the surface is affected. Others think the lake is cursed."
"What do you think?"
"I think we should walk over the bridge instead."
As we were reaching it, we noticed a woman standing around.
Was she… singing to her horse?
"Link," I whispered aggressively, "That's the same woman from the campfire."
"From Kakariko?"
"No, the stable."
He grew quiet. I looked up and he had a set expression on his face. Somehow, I could tell that he was debating if we should turn back. I wasn't so alarmed by her presence, but Link's reaction when he saw her that night unnerved me. I had thought it was because it was the first person I spoke to since leaving the castle, but he didn't act the same at the village. Something was wrong.
"I'm sure she's fine, though," I said more to assure myself.
"Your ring."
"What about it?" I thumbed the side of the band. I felt him move closer and my heart jumped when we brushed sides. Hot fingers interlaced with my own and my cheeks flushed. My brain stopped working. All I knew was that Link was warm and he smelled good. With that thought being processed properly, I realized how strange it would be to say that aloud. "Switch it to your ring finger," he finally whispered. It sounded like he knelt to my ear to say that. His voice was low, but my stomach seemed to drop lower.
"O-Oh."
Suddenly I was aware of how I was walking, how my hair looked, how my frigid hands were starting to sweat, how I was breathing, amongst other things. Despite it all, I unfortunately took my hand away from Link and switched the ring before unceremoniously slipping it back into place. My breath was uneven as he tightened his hold.
Thirty yards turned into fifteen and then into five.
"Hello there!" Link bellowed, he sounded completely different from before. I tried searching for a word to describe it and quickly settled on jovial. In some respect, with the same assertiveness as Uncle.
She turned towards us as if she was expecting company. "Well! What a coincidence to see this happy couple again!" Her eyes were the same piercing color. I hadn't noticed her tan skin that night, but it's deep complexion contrasted perfectly to the winter wonderland around her. Her cheekbones being more extenuated. It occurred to me that she may not be Hylian as I had assumed earlier. However, she wasn't tall like a Gerudo. My thoughts were put to rest as her eyes scanned me. I smiled politely despite feeling violated by her gaze. I involuntarily squeezed Link's hand, feeling reprieve when I felt him return the pressure.
"I thought you two were engaged!" She gasped audibly. My heart jumped.
"You caught us!" Link laughed, it sounded foreign to my ears, "We got eloped in Kakariko."
"How romantic!" She smiled widely. I smiled back, hugging his arm.
If you're going to play the part… at least make it convincing, right?
"We'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid we'll miss our honeymoon. Happy Midwinter!" He said bowing his head and pushed against me to start walking. Admittingly I almost tripped on my own feet but was saved by lumber support.
"And what is this lovely budding family called?" She called behind us.
"We're the Foresters," he said, glancing over his shoulder.
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yuki-yozora · 4 years
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Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)
 : !!:  Author's notes ◌ °: !!:
﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎
Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “
If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.
As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *
I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “
That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *
The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹
If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °
Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *
· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·
Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)
CENSOR:
Not for fragile hearts.
CONTAINS
(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.
GENRE:
Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance
˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *
1 Chara is a boy;
2 Has original characters.
˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *
1 slight violence;
2 Citation to depression;
3 drama.
Attention:
Big chapter ahead.
﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎ ﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍ A year has passed… No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)
We.
I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life. Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him. Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:
"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"
Heh. People can be cruel.
We were four. He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old. The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted. Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity. He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him… That was two years ago. I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted. Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape. He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo. Affectionate surname. We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye. Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...
It was like magic.
The search began in a human pursuit. All in vain. Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.) The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised. Escape, death. I thought of all this. But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate. All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work. It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes. To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'. All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security. Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me. Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off. No strolling around, (Y/N).
* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.
A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself. This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation. Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:
* But no one will come ...
I got. Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it. With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance. I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence. I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom. A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned. At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….
Ah…
I looked into the mirror.
* After all, it's still you.
Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully. This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.
" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face. " I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.
It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)
I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later. Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out. A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.
So ... so ... perfect.
Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment. Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything. A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games. I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed. Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner. Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last. Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.
A bang ... Coming from the room. Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door. My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon. That stick was from Luka ...
More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins. This was strangely familiar. I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.
* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.
I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased. All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception. I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago. The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party. The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall: - You know where to find me. - My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.
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"... All right, all right. "
I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving. I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door. I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things. Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing. I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait. Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this. I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.
* You are full of justice.
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It was night when I started to cross the forest. The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back. Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared. I needed to continue. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all. Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting. I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.
* You need to move on.
Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding. As expected, climbing was not an easy task. The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks. My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything. I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away. Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.
- It is not bad. -
With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get. My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh. " Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.
" What you want? " I growled. He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin. " Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.
* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.
" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "
With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness. A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground. I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty. Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw. It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin. Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time. Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose. It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him. He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core. Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion. One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility. No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.
" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. " He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. " Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave. " Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed. It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel. Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole. Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him. I was completely defenseless. There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red. "Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -" And a kick threw me in my death. Soon, only darkness painted my world.
*It's the end.
· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes
My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator. If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it. (Y/N) - your name (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color More legends will be added in the future! Word Count: About 2,880 If i use any images similar to the game can be found on the Gamejolt website. They do not belong to me.
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pencil-free · 4 years
Text
Red Gold - Chapter 1
Genre: Urban Fantasy Subgenre: Mystery Rating: 13+ Warnings: Blood, Violence, Magic Systems that make No Sense
Quaint, cozy, and available announced in large, bold letters across the advertisement on my phone. I glanced up from the scream and grimaced. The cabin itself screamed old and collapsing with the last tenant buried somewhere in the woods nearby. It was available, though, if I had to give the ad any credit. And for cheap. I had no idea why. The half mile walk down a beaten dirt path was a scenic route through the old, overgrown forest that didn’t open up so much as unwillingly parted for the crooked house. The trees still did their best to reach their branches overhead, their limbs just above the roof. Moss swallowed up one wall of the house while vines crawled across another. Where a time stained window had broken, a vine had taken the opportunity to expand its reach inside. I could feel eyes on me, and more than one pair. 
“Are you trying to sell me Narnia or something?” I asked, and I tried not to flinch when something small stirred up the dust piled against the windowsill. The landowner, however, seemed to take my question with a positive attitude. Lucky me. The man looked like someone trying to get a dilapidated cabin in the middle of the woods off his hands. Which was, to say,average enough, with just a hint of oddity that drew the eyes back to him. I did not want to keep my eyes on him, afraid that the longer I looked, the more I would question my decisions. But I had little choice as it was, and this small house of his was my only choice. And so I looked at him. 
He didn’t look very old or very young. He had dark hair streaked with grey that curled to a strong chin and his skin was smooth but for crows feet around his wide-spread eyes. He wasn’t very tall - not an inch above me - but I still felt my head tilt up as I spoke to him. He hadn’t stopped smiling since I’d met him. 
“Or something,” he answered, rocking forward on his heels with a soft chuckle. “I don’t remember there being a lamppost in the back, but you’re more than welcome to check for yourself.”
“I’ll just take your word for it.” Something told me that if I turned my back, I’d easily find a snake biting into me. Or a knife. I winced. I’d promised myself not to think like that when I first found the offer online last week. 
Wren’s Woods was the name for the forest and the town it grew in. It bordered another, larger town, made popular and busy by its sprawling college campus. The campus that, as I was informed of just last week, I would be attending. Things moved fast after that. They had to. I was off the waiting list, but a month too late to be accepted into the dorms. Off campusing living was denied to freshmen and, unless I did some things I would regret later, getting into a fraternity house was out of the question. At least until rush week, depending on if I was still alive by then. Other rentals were too expensive and any potential roommates to share the monthly costs were already paired up after a summer of making friends and connections, which left me with, well, the not so family friendly Mr. Thomas. “Would you like to take a look inside?” How could I say no when he asked so nicely? I answered with him a nod, afraid my voice would betray the cool and calm air I tried to put on. I didn’t have to worry. The wave of rotted wood, dust, and mildew that rolled out of the front door wiped the passive expression right off my face and I hid a disgusted frown behind a raised hand. The door cracked when the landlord tried to close it. The rent was cheap, I repeated to myself like a mantra. Maybe a prayer. The utilities were included. The rent was cheap. Utilities were included. The landlord gave up with the door and flashed another one of his smiles. Would my parents drive the three hours back here to pick up my body? “I wish-” I started to mumble from behind my hand, and stopped with a shuddered breath when the landlord waved an arm in front of my face. “I’ll get that fixed, don’t you worry,” he said in a way that made me worry very much. “And that, too.” He moved his gesture to the back of the main room. The crack from the slightly ajar door that might or might not get fixed let in a thin strip of light that did little to brighten up the room. The hole in the ceiling, however, did, and it fixed its spotlight on a large pile of leaves. The source of the rotten smell, I assumed. Prayers weren’t going to make that go away any time soon. “I just wish-” I started again, and the landlord interrupted me with an apologetic cough. “The bedroom is this way,” he directed, and he shuffled towards a door on the left. I followed, if only because nothing could get worse than it already was. It would take a month just to clean the cobwebs out of the corners and another still to get the stench out. A shopping list was already formed in my head as I took a brief look at the next room. A bed frame was already shoved against the far wall and a dresser faced a large closet. There was no question about the questionable cabin; it was dirty and old but it was a - mostly intact - roof and that beat a camp in the woods and homework done in the light of the moon. I reached for the closet door to check for skeletons, just in case. I had to yank hard to get the doors open and I fell flat on my back when a squirrel hissed at me from behind the doors. There were no bones, thankfully, but the grass and sticks packed tight between the shelves inside were almost just as bad. The little pointy claws that swiped at me were even worse. At least skeletons couldn’t give me rabies. “I wish you’d stop!” The words were out of me before I could think about them. My lips tingled as they uttered them and I rubbed at my mouth when I realized what I’d said. The squirrel gave me another warning swipe before darting out of a small hole in the wall and I flinched when a second one chased after it. I shook my head as I climbed to my feet. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of, I told myself. They wouldn’t be back after that. “I’m guessing you don’t have anything against pets?” The landlord didn’t laugh and I didn’t either. “You know, because of the..” I gestured with a flimsy arm at the messy nest in the closet in lieu of words as they died in my throat. The man’s eyes were still bright and stared straight at me but the smile was nearly gone. It was more creepy to not see it. It made his mall, round face even smaller. It would be easy to remember it for whenever I was asked to help the cops create a sketch, I guessed. “I don’t any have real restrictions,” he said after another moment of silence, cheery Maybe he’d just finally understood the joke. My mouth pulled back in an uneasy and quiet laugh. “Do you have any other questions? What do you think?” “I think…” I thought that I had no choice. That, if I did wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of a serial killer in the room that at least I wouldn’t have to worry about finals. That maybe every single thing that had happened today were all just separate coincidences. And I thought that idea made me sound too optimistic. If I’d learned anything in the past few years it was that it was never a coincidence. “I think maybe I should look for that lamp post just in case. Which I can do at any time…” I paused to let the nausea to settle in my stomach. “Since I’ll take it if I can.” “It’s all yours, Cameron!” The man threw a hand out in front of me faster than I could blink and gave a firmer handshake than I thought his thin arms were able to. I made a mental note of that as we headed back into the main room. It was all my spinning head could do as I shuffled after him. He knew my name. I hadn’t remembered telling him my name. Had he gotten it from my initial message to him about the cabin? A small stack of papers were arranged on the kitchen area’s island in just seconds afterwords, but the details were lost on my. Doubt and more frustration than I was proud to admit filled my head instead of the list of agreements I signed. Only a few words got through the fog, but that was a problem for future me to handle. If there was one, that was. “-and any other questions, just ask for Wren.” I thought I was going to black out. “Wren? As in Wren’s Woods?” He didn’t seem as phased and laughed my own startled shock off. “This place did used to have a real name, but I’ve lived here for a long time - longer than that school you’ll be going to up the hill. Soon this was the place that Wren lived in. Wren’s Woods. If you stick around for long enough, maybe they’ll start calling the river Cam’s Creek.” He winked. “It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” I winced. “Just show me where else I have to sign before I change my mind.”
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abdostoryblog-blog · 4 years
Text
The Beginning
As the night is getting closer, more and more travellers are to be found in camps and cities, and I was always a social butterfly, but I guess they are not so talkative. I guess they all have their worries and maybe they do not have time to relax a bit and have a chat… I hope that the people in Velia will still remember me. I miss my friends from there.I will begin first by introducing myself and sharing a bit of my background. I am Arilisu, a 28 year female, born in a mediocre family, but with a great intellect. My mother was a skilled warrior in her early days, then she met my father and she quit her dangerous life to take care of our cute house in Loggia Farm and tend the crops. My father was a skilful trader and managed to put the basis of a small business… he had as friends some interesting characters, or this is what I remember since I was a child. He was mostly gone with his trading and sometimes going on adventures, but he wasn’t a skilled combatant like my mother. However, one night, someone knocked at our door back home and told us that he was found dead in the forest near the main road to Heidel…. And told that he was probably killed by thieves that sometimes steal from wandering people…. It does not make any sense to me, as he was a good man with no real enemies, so his death is still shrouded in mystery…
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However I spent most of my life helping my mother and having fun with my friends. I also took up some combat skills from Itai (my mother) as she taught me some of her moves… she always said to me that I have that special something inside me.
One day I woke up though out of nowhere near the Forest of Seclusion with this tiny little black spirit talking to me and giving helpful advices …. I can’t seem to remember much about the recent past… the only memory I had was when I was saying goodbye to my mother as I was on my way to Velia to meet a friend…
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There were plenty of other people “appearing” out of nowhere next to me, all talking with their own black spirit … I tried asking them what is happening, but no one seemed to care, maybe they were worried about themselves too.
I was sent to do some tasks and I had to kill Grey Foxes …. These cute little animals I used to play with when I was a kid, I had to slaughter some of them to proceed forward in my journey…. I got sent to the Ancient Stone Chamber to speak with Edan and I can’t believe I lived so many years not knowing about these wonderful artifacts that were so close to me!
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Even though the place was in ruins (seriously?) I could feel a strong energy wanting me to go deeper and search for more. I saw all these skeletons, all this statues and runes …. No wonder the soldiers guarding this place are not getting bored… there is always something new to discover.
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I finally reached the Ancient Stone Chamber where Edan was expecting me. My head started to hurt a bit and my heart was pounding pretty fast… I could feel the energy, or something burning inside me, flowing inside me, trying to reach out, but I was trying to keep calm as I wanted to know what he wants from me and how I can be of aid.
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They “saw” my black spirit … or they felt it. They told me that I am contaminated and I should get rid of it as soon as possible. They wanted to separate us, but the Black Spirit started absorbing the energy from the chamber, getting more intense until he froze time for a few seconds… It was just me and him moving in this timeless space, I could feel the rush even stronger inside me and that is when he grew a bit bigger and everything went back to normal… He told me that we will take care of each other … and to be honest, I trust him. Edan told me that Red Nose, the imp, stole a piece of the artefact and his powers grew stronger, attacking everybody in it’s way… he sent me to discover more about the Black Spirit and about Red Nose to Feinia and Cliff, with some more killing on the side, this time, the poor tree spirits that just want to be left alone in the forest… 
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As I put my foot out of this forest, I was surprised and shocked to see a cruelsome battlefield between the imps and the humans, each trying to give its best, each with their own motive… I took the side of the humans and I helped them recover some goods from a lost Wagon the imps destroyed….
Guess all this killing is making me worthy to reach Cliff, the captain, who is looking for adventurers/mercenaries to do its killing jobs and send me to Red Nose…
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I had to take my time and commemorate the lost lives…. They might have attacked us, but imps are still souls in this living world, whether we like it or not. Yes, I did kill this body, but the path of becoming a great warrior is to also acknowledge your fights and your enemy’s right to live…
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After killing those poor tree spirits and killing more imps, I guess it was enough to earn Captain Cliff’s trust so I can get to know more about everything that is happening. I was invited to meet him at his tent in the Western Guard Camp… I hope that I can at least get some rest here and find something to eat as I am starving from all of these things that happened in less than a day!
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I managed to get some rest in his tent and enjoyed the moment a bit as he was busy with other travellers when I arrived. I was invited to take a seat and enjoy a nice warm meal: a great vegetable soup with some grilled vegetables and a nice steak. I also tried one of their famous cheese! And It was tasty indeed!
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I managed to meet with Cliff, finally, and he congratulated me for helping with the imp problem. However, there is still more of this to come so he sent me to meet with the Blacksmith to get some better gear.
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As I left his tent, I said to myself there is no point in rushing, so I took my time to explore the camp more and found this lovely vendor lady that let me search through her potion boxes and I found 2 health ones! The great thing is that I didn’t have to pay for them, which kinda reminds me … I am kinda broke so maybe I should start doing some more jobs around here… However I seem to get closer to Loggia, where my mother lives, but my memories are still gone. What have I done in the past? How long have I been missing? And why do I feel like I have to strength to do everything?
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I also took a moment to take a look over the field …. So much blood and so many dead bodies …. It is awful what is going on here …
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Miguel, the Blacksmith, was a really nice guy and he helped me repair my equipment. He also said that I can buy gear from him should I ever need, but I guess for now I am just fine. I seem to sometimes get a piece of armor or gear whenever I am completing a quest, besides the silver I am making, and not to add, the experience I get! We had a few drinks in the sun and he sent me to speak with Feinia for more info about what I will have to do. And yes, it involves more Imp killing.
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As I was going through the Western Guard Camp, I met the Stable Keeper and he told me I looked like my father…. I was very curious what was happening so I talked to him a little bit more about this subject. He wasn’t one of my father’s friends, but he knew him as my father was sometimes coming here for trading and to meet with old friends. From what the stable keeper told me, my father knew even Cliff, so I guess the apple is not far from the tree J He told me that my father had helped him with a horse once but he never managed to pay him back. So he gave me one of his young horses, Gold, for free, because he appreciated my father. I guess I am pretty lucky today because all these walking and running will get me tired soon! And this cute horse will surely help me in my travels! It is a good thing my mother owned several, and she still has her best one, Pipi, with her, so I know at least the basics of owning a horse! I am probably sure he will become my best friend!
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As I was on my way to Incas, a Node Manager I was sent to check up on him and see if he needs any help, I met a weird couple(?), a human and a shai, the last one being depressed and sitting in the middle of the road. I later found out they have a weird fetish and a dom/sub relationship, with the shai being hired to fulfil the human’s desires, and to be pretty straightforward, the shai was hired to eat ass.
Guess a lot of things happen in this world, no?
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Incas was a lovely guy, although, the same as other people that give me tasks or quests, he needed my help to kill some more imps and 2 imp altars. Seeing one was pretty extraordinary as I never thought how they would imagine and celebrate their “spiritual life”. Now back on my way to the camp, and this time, by foot, as I forgot to bring my horse with me. Well, I guess walking isn’t that bad…
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As the night is getting closer, more and more travellers are to be found in camps and cities, and I was always a social butterfly, but I guess they are not so talkative. I guess they all have their worries and maybe they do not have time to relax a bit and have a chat… I hope that the people in Velia will still remember me. I miss my friends from there.
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One last glimpse over the battlefield before I will head to get some nice sleep here. The scenery is beautiful and I always enjoyed nature. I am proud of being a Lahn, just like my mother used to be and I hope I will find more about the recent events in my past.
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Had a few drinks before going to bed, guess this was all for my first day in this journey. And yes, I do like making sexy poses sometimes! I will head to sleep in this nice comfy bed and I will get ready for tomorrow, a new day full of adventures!
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rainbows-fanfics · 4 years
Text
Our Nightmare (Chapter 3)
Summary:
Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.
A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.
Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel
Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.
--
The Pumpkin King is surprised to find that he sleeps in the next morning, waking only when the sun manages to peek through his closed curtains. He surfaces from his sheets and stretches, hearing several of his bones popping as he rolls his skull to the side. A blissful sigh emerges from his lips as his frame relaxes. He wonders why he feels so good until it hits him. That's right. Sally gave him that massage last night, didn't she? That must be why he slept for so long; he's never felt so much tension leave his body before...
Jack climbs out of his bed to change into clothes, leaving himself in his undershirt as he heads downstairs. He's in the middle of buttoning it when he brings his skull up to find a figure already sitting on the couch. She's brushing her hair and staring out of a nearby window. The smile grows on his face as he hurries along with his shirt, rushing over to meet with the woman. She glances up when he's a foot away, her eyes drifting down. He notices the dampness of her hair, as well as the few droplets of water trickling along her cloth skin. He leans down and lays a kiss on her scalp, placing a bony hand on her shoulder.
"Good morning, Sally. You're looking refreshed!"
She smiles as he pulls away. "I used the shower in your bathroom. I've been waiting to dry in the meantime."
He takes a seat beside her. When he turns his skull, he finds the window beside her open, allowing the sun to seep in and soak into her skin. He admires the way the sunlight reflects off her skin, as well as the few glints of the droplets still left on her frame.
"I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about that," He brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. Still a little moist. "-I was wondering if you'd find any use out of that restroom..."
"I can wash, but not that often. It takes forever for me to dry." She wrings her yarn hair to get the rest of the water out. "How did you sleep?"
"Very good, actually. I don't think I've slept that soundly before." He pauses before giving her a smirk. "-And how did you rest, my dear? If I recall, you slept for a good hour on my chest."
He can see the red tint on her cheeks. "I slept as good as my first night here. But it was more comfortable, how I feel asleep..."
His bones tingle in delight. He comes forward and leaves a kiss on her scalp, musing to himself how lucky of a man he is to be with this woman. He stands from the couch and makes his way into the kitchen, where he plans to prepare them a quick breakfast for the morning. 'I really should set us down together sometime and have a nice dinner...' He thinks to himself. He grabs the ingredients from the cupboard and listens to the humming from the other room. His frame naturally relaxes at the sound of her voice - reliving the moment where she sang to him, hoping, deep down, that another day like that will come...
Eventually, he finishes a couple servings of eggs and brings them to his beloved in the den. She thanks him as she begins eating. She compliments his cooking once more, and he thanks her warmly. Everything about the situation feels great for both of them - being comfortable enough to eat like this together already. Sally hopes things will only get better from here; that they can share peaceful meals all the time and she won't feel fatigued from slaving over the stove like before.
"Do you have any plans for today? I'm curious on hearing them if you do." Jack brings up as they finish their breakfast. She sets down her fork and thinks for a moment.
"Well, I wanted to go into town today, and start buying some supplies to sew with...with all that space, I want to start working on some new clothes right away!"
He chuckles at her enthusiasm. "That's great, Sal. You found somewhere to get supplies?"
"Not exactly. I'm hoping to find a place." She notices the frown on his skull and her posture deflates. "What's wrong?"
"-Well...Halloween Town doesn't exactly HAVE a seamstress anymore. We used to, years ago, but...she moved away, and there hasn't been a place like that in town since." He can sense her sadness and places a consoling hand on her back. "But I'm sure you can find a place that offers some fabrics or sewing supplies! I know the Town Hall has some extra supplies laying around..."
"I guess I can give it a try, anyway. It's been awhile since I've been out in town by myself." She rubs her arm before slowly dragging her eyes to his. "-Wh-when can I leave...?"
"What was that?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to say that." She squeezes her eyes shut. "I'm used to asking the Doctor when I want to go outside...."
The skeleton frowns as he notices the frustration building for her. He leans forward and rests his arms around her, bringing Sally into a close embrace. He feels her relax in his grip and inhales, presumably the cologne still lingering on him from the other night. He runs his fingers on the back of her head, humming in delight at their contact. They both relish this moment of ease, and she doesn't think of what she just said or why she said it. All she knows is that Jack is here, and he's allowing her more freedom than she's ever gotten.
"You've got all this time for yourself now, Sally. You can spend it however you want, wherever you want. I'd just like to know where you are so I don't have to worry if you're not here." He presses his lips on her forehead. "And just to let you know, I'll be in the Town Hall if you need me at all today."
She winces. "-And interrupt your work?"
"You are much more important to me than that." He pulls back to look her in the eye, touching the tip of her nose slightly. "I'd drop everything for you in an instant."
She grins and closes her eyes as he taps her nose again. "Thank you..."
----
The ragdoll bids goodbye to her Pumpkin King as he leaves for the morning. She refrains departing from the mansion right away, deciding to make a small list of what she will need for everything she wants to make. Fabrics are definitely her priority right now, but more sewing needles wouldn't hurt, and she lost a thimble a little while ago...Her lips drop into a frown as she writes this all down. How can she even FIND these things if there is no seamstress in town? Or anyone else with this hobby, for that matter? The only one she knows is the Hanging Tree, but he must be busy with other things...
By the time she is ready to go out, she has her basket in hand with her list in the other. She hopes to at least carry something in it by the end of the day. She takes her time walking down the Manor's staircase outside, and opens the gates to Halloween Town. There are people out today=. The ragdoll wears a smile as she passes by fellow citizens. Most of them return her greetings, the Corpse Family happily waving to her and some of Jack's previous friends acknowledging her as they pass by. It leaves her feeling confident as she approaches the shops and stands she's seen before. Her eyes lead their way to Witches' Goods, the only shop she recognizes.
The ragdoll wastes no time entering through the open doors, hesitating as she peers around inside. Nothing much has changed since her last appearance here - which, come to think of it, has at least been a couple of years ago! Deciding she is far overdue visiting here, she begins to walk around the shop in search for anything she can use. After minutes of searching, Sally unfortunately falls short as she can only find potions, magical items, and a few miscellaneous things she can't identify. She turns her head and notices the Witches sitting behind the counter up front, in the middle of a conversation, giggling to themselves quietly.
Sally sighs in relief as she approaches them, clutching the basket in one hand and waving with the other. "Hello...I was wondering if I can have some help?"
Helgamine and Zeldaborne glance towards her. Their eyes dart to each other as the smiles fall off their lips. The ragdoll tightens her grip as she lets her arm fall, and watch as they turn to her with sudden smug smiles. She recalls them being very talkative from their previous encounter. Seeing them fall silent upon greeting them gives her this uneasy feeling...
"Why, sister, look! It's Sally! The source of all the talk in town today!"  Helgamine drags her gaze to the shorter witch, who chuckles in reply.
"It sure is! I can't say I'm surprised she hasn't changed from those rags she wears all the time." Sally quickly glances down at her patchwork attire. "-What do you want, Doll?"
"Um...I'd prefer it if you called me Sally." She nervously corrects, hesitant to come any closer towards them. "I was just wondering if you had any cloth to spare? Or any sewing supplies at all?"
The sarcasm is apparent in the reply. "Now, why would we have any of that?"
"Well, I'm not sure. If not, I would like to know who does. Can you tell me?"
The Witches look at each other again, and already can the taller woman sense this will not end kindly. They remove themselves from their seats as they approach her with their hands behind their back, eying her frame from head to toe. She bows her head down and turns red when she hears them laugh. What could be so funny?
"You might want to think of fixing your stitches first! All of them just look so ugly...and not in the terrible way! Why, any second it looks like you'll just fall apart!"
A long hand shoves her to the side. Sally regains her balance quickly and steps back in surprise. That's when she finds Zeldaborne down at her feet, touching the ends of her dress and scoffing. "-I don't know why Jack fell for you! You dress like you live on the streets! He should be with someone much more proper."
All of these words sting deeply. She can feel her chest growing cold and her throat too hot to form any words. She feels defeated when Helgamine narrows her eyes at her, leaning forward a little too closely for her comfort.
"And why did he pick you, anyway? We've known him longer than YOU have! You've been assembled for...what? A few years now? Why would he be with a woman who looks more like a human instead of a monster?"
One word manages to leave her dry throat. "What...?"
Zeldaborne snickers. "Yeah! You don't look scary at all! I bet you wouldn't hurt a rat!"
"-Why would she, when she's so ugly that the rat would just run away?"
"Haha! Good point! Jack's going to grow so bored of you knowing you can't scare. He's the most terrifying man around, and he doesn't need someone like you slowing him down!"
By this point, she can feel the tears threatening to leave her eyes. She wants to defend herself; assure them she can be scary and that Jack truly does love her despite everything...but she knows her words will fall on deaf ears. The two continue to laugh at her as she stands there, dumbfounded, and quickly decides enough is enough.  She darts out of the building gnawing at her lip, knowing that if she lets herself stay still, she will break down crying. And she can't do that in the middle of town....not when she just left such a good impression at that meeting!
The further Sally goes into the crowds, the more she sees the distasteful look from some of the women. The Undersea Gal scoffs at her as she walks by, causing her to sink her head into her shoulders. Then some of the other ghouls give her sour looks and one even bumps her side as she walks past them. Sally notices the loose seam on her arm from the encounter and stops to tighten the stitch. As she does, she looks up and finds the same group of women smiling in delight at her struggle. A huff leaves her ruby lips as she quickly finishes the job, and she darts away from the crowds.
She doesn't really know where she's going. Anywhere people can't see her, she supposes. But the longer she leaves herself alone with her thoughts, thinking about what those witches said to her and all the distasteful looks she got in town...the more horrible she feels. Her whole body turns cold and she suddenly has an urge to go home. To hide behind those walls and never come back out...so those women can have what they want, and for her to suddenly disappear from everyone's deaths. Her leaves feel fragile as she approaches a building, and she slowly moves her gaze up to see where she has led herself:
The Town Hall.
Sally vaguely wonders what brought her here, and then it dawns on her. Jack is inside. The man of her screams, the one who told her she can come to him if anything happened....he's only a few steps away, and her body knows she wants to see him. He's the only source of comfort to her right now, and she kunderstands if she flees to their home and locks herself away, it would only be the same as when she lived with Finklestein.
Holding her breath, she climbs up the steps and opens the door slowly.
----
The tall skeleton is in the middle of his work before the Mayor comes into the room, carrying a small stack of papers with him. He glances from his desk and watches as the papers are set on the corner of his workspace. The coworker grins as he pats the top of it with his small hand, looking rather proud of the new paperwork he's leaving for The Pumpkin King.
Such a sight would bring some slight discomfort to the skeleton before - but now that he has someone to come home to after all of this is done, and he doesn't feel stressed one bit. In fact, he finds himself looking forward to wait awaits him in that pile. He feels greatly motivated by Halloween again; a spark that has left him for years, suddenly ignited again...and all because he's happy, now. He simply couldn't ask for anything else!
"-And here they are! All of the new Halloween ideas, freshly printed! They need your signing, and then we can move on." The Mayor tells him with pride. Jack pushes aside the stack for now.
"Great. I'll get those done by the end of today."
"Horrible! Thank you, Jack." He begins to leave the room until he suddenly stops. Even with his gaze down, the skeleton can hear his faces switching. This must not be good. "-Oh, by the way...I could have sworn I heard a woman crying somewhere outside! And it didn't sound like the pleasant types of cries...I tried to find out who was out there, but I couldn't find anyone! It's gotten quieter now, but still..."
"A woman crying?" He repeats, taking his attention away from his work. "Goodness, I hope they're alright...I better check to see if there's anyone out there."
"Awful idea, Jack! I'll be in here if you need me. I hope whoever it was just had a terrible fright!"
The taller man nods in his direction as he leaves the room. As he scans the rooms, he tries to listen for the source of any crying. He comes to no luck with anywhere inside, and decides to bring his search outside of the Town Hall. He catches the sounds of sobs as he inches closer to the back door. He opens it and peers around - eventually finding a ragdoll bunched up beside the set of stairs. For a moment, they both grow quiet. Sally looks up, surprised to find the concerned face of Jack looking down at her. He quickly shuts the door to approach her.
"Sally! Are you alright? What happened?" He asks, offering his hand. She observes it for a moment before wiping away her tears, slowly taking it and allowing him to help her to her feet.
"Oh, Jack...it was terrible! I went into town today to find what I needed, and the worst thing ha-happened...."
He notices her distress and decides to go somewhere they can have some privacy. He knows just the place and starts patting her back as he leads them down a trail. She looks confused the farther they go from the Town Hall, but when she turns her head and finds the gates of the graveyard, she relaxes her shoulders. Jack leads them both to the spiral hill, where he carefully sets her down first before sitting himself next to her. There is barely any space between them - he ensures they have contact the entire time of consoling her.
"Now, isn't that better? No one can hear or see us." He brushes her hair aside. She sniffles and nods slowly.
"Thank you...I'm sorry I had to come like this. But I couldn't....help it...."
More tears emerge from her eyes. Jack frowns and gently guides her into his arms, letting her weep on his chest. He's sad to admit that such a thing has happened before - Sally has been through a lot, and her best comfort was letting it all out on his shoulder. He doesn't mind when he feels her tears wet his suit, and brings his arms around her to keep her in an embrace. They remain like this for a few minutes until her tears run dry. She finally leans back to look at him properly, the sorrow still apparent on her features.
At her silence, he prods. "Now, what happened to get you so worked up...?"
"I went to the witches' shop to ask if they had anything I needed. What a mistake that was..." She looks away from him. "Instead of helping me, they started saying all of these awful things about me....li-like I wasn't scary, and that it-it was a mistake for you to be with me..."
"Sally-"
"-I know it's not true, but it hurt to hear those things. And I feel even worse for leaving. I couldn't say anything to them. I just....left."
Jack remains silent for a few moments as he watches her look at the ground. Here he was, thinking the town took their relationship greatly with how they talked to them yesterday...yet, that was far from the truth. The band really was right. All of the jealousy was pushed down, and the witches found an opportune time to take it out on Sally. 'Well, I'm not going to have any of that.' He thinks to himself. 'No one should think they can talk to her like this and get away with it. Not even if it's my own citizens...'
He takes her hand holds it endearingly in his, moving his skull closer to her. "I am so sorry that happened to you...Sal, I promise you I'll talk to them and let them know right away that they can't speak this way to you."
"You know I appreciate that, but it's not just them saying those things. I'm....I'm upset that I couldn't tell them that." She squeezes his hand hard. "I couldn't stand up for myself..."
"Don't be so hard on yourself...it hasn't been that long since we've told them. You shouldn't have to deal with this with everything else going on. I don't want you to be burdened with something I can easily fix while you're adjusting to moving in with me."
He leans forward to kiss her forehead, and she shuts her eyes tightly. He's right. She has so much she already has to deal with...this jealousy from some of his fans shouldn't concern her so much. Not when she knows he'll come in and do the right thing. He's only showing his protection and care for her, and she should be grateful for that. Maybe some other time she'll have to try gaining the same confidence as him....
"Thank you. I'm sorry you have to deal with this, Jack. I didn't think-"
He covers her lips quickly with his finger. "-No, no....you don't have to apologize for a thing. I should have known better than to assume EVERYONE would be fine with this...I'm just going to have to give them a good talk to get my message across so you won't have to worry about this anymore, Sally."
Before she can rebut, he quickly adds, "-Your safety is my responsibility. I don't want you to feel like everyone is upset whenever you're in town. You deserve to live a comfortable life, and I'm going to give that to you."
And just like that, she feels the sadness dissipate. She thanks him by lunging forward and hugging him tightly, so much that she starts to feel her seams loosen. A tear manages to escape from her eye, but she can't help it. She feels so grateful for this skeleton man caring so much for her...He truly understands how much she is going through and is willing to do anything to help her. She suddenly understands that coming to him was truly the best option.
----
He spends time with Sally until she feels comfortable enough to return to their home. He ensures she is alright before they depart. The Pumpkin King immediately makes it his goal to confront the witches before returning to work. It isn't a very merry trip as he comes into town, and while he greets anyone he passes by politely, he understands he won't be as kind as soon as he's through those doors. He even goes to the extent of closing them once he's in Witches' Goods, and starts looking for the sisters right away.
They are in the back of the shop laughing and gossiping. Jack doesn't mind interrupting them as he suddenly rounds the corner and clears his throat to get his attention. They are understandably taken by surprise and jump in alarm. The moment they see his hollow eye sockets, they relax and start smiling, even cooing slightly. The skeleton frowns as they begin to flutter their eyes, already acting completely innocent on the outside.
"Why, Jack! What a horrendous surprise!" Helgamine giggles. "What can we do you for?"
"I think you have a pretty good idea on why I'm here."
Zeldaborne plays dumb, resting a finger on her chin. "That can't be true! We're always honored when you stop by for a surprise!"
He cuts to the chase. They'll try to distract him otherwise. "-Sally was here today, wasn't she?"
"Who....? OH! You mean the ragdoll!" He arches a socket at that wording. "She came in here asking if we had sewing supplies!"
"CLEARLY we didn't have any! We sent her on her way."
"Yes, but according to her, you said some very insulting things before she left. I'm just wondering on what you said to her...?"
Helgamine playfully pushes his arm. "Come on, Jack! It's not that big of a deal! Maybe she got hurt over some things we said, but we didn't really mean them!"
"She came running to me, crying. That's not just 'some things'. I want to know what you said to her that could have hurt her so badly."
Zeldaborne rolls her eyes as she caves in. "All we said to her was that she wasn't scary and she shouldn't be holding you down like she is! Which is true! You're the most terrifying man out there! And she's....well..."
"-And maybe we mentioned a thing or two about her stitches and the way she dresses....very odd, that is!"
He frowns. He can already understand how badly that must've came from their mouths, and how Sally took it...he feels awful for letting this happen. How could his own citizens exhibit such behavior? Most of them were the friendliest out there; their whole motto was NOT to be mean or cruel! The Pumpkin King crosses his arms as he lets out a dragged sigh. Even if he's known these women for longer and highly respected him....he can't let something like this slide. He couldn't die with knowing this is how they treated Sally.
"You know I admire you ghouls-" They fawn over this, which he ignores. "-And you've known me for quite a long time--" "We sure have, Jack!" "-Then you should know that I will not tolerate this behavior, and I'm going to politely ask you both to give Sally your respect when she's around."
They both gasp. Helgamine is especially shocked. "-What? But she's.....not SCARY! How can we sit here and not say anything while you're with someone who couldn't even-"
He holds up a hand. "-I'm stopping you right there. It doesn't matter how Sally looks or whether or not she can scare...you should still respect her because she's a citizen like everyone else. She's been through a lot more than you think she has."
"But-"
"-But nothing. I know you girls can be so much worse. Frankly, I don't understand why you're acting this way to her." They open their mouths to respond, but he already knows the answer. "--Sally makes me a very happy man, and the least I'm asking is for you both to be happy for me. And if not, then I will seriously be thinking of excluding you two from this year's Halloween for showing such nasty behavior."
"No! You can't do such a thing....we promise we'll be better!" They plead.
"Then I better not hear of this happening again. And while you're at it, talk some sense into the others who feel this way, too. I'm sure you've convinced them of such untrue things already."
Feeling his patience running thin, he starts to leave their store. His point got across and he doesn't feel like listening to their excuses anymore. This entire situation frustrates him, and he wishes not to deal with it again. Before he can take a step out of the door, he feels something clawing at his leg and glances down to find Zeldaborne clinging on it. The look in her eyes is desperate as he urges her off.
"Please, Jack, don't be upset with us! We didn't mean to hurt Susa- er, Sally's feelings! We didn't think she'd take such things that way..."
"Yeah!" Helgamine chimes in from behind. "Most people take such things as a compliment! It's like telling the Wolfman's his breath smells like the sewer!"
"Sally understands things a little differently. All I ask is that you be patient with her. That means not saying anything that sounds insulting." He places an exhausted hand on his skull. "I'll give you two the benefit of the doubt, but from now on, don't treat her any differently than you would with me."
"But she's not-"
"Someday, she may be your Queen." They turn silent at this. Even Jack finds himself in a knot as the words leave his tongue. He clears his throat. "Have a horrible evening, ladies. I hope not to talk about this again."
He leaves the store with no interruptions this time, except something feels different about his rib cage. He chooses to ignore the feeling as he begins his way home.
----
He finds Zero waiting for him the moment he opens the door to the Skellington Manor. The dog barks happily at his master as he watches him pass by. Jack hangs up his suit and goes to the couch, feeling much too exhausted at that moment. As he rests his skull on the cushion, he suddenly feels the presence of someone nearby and opens his eye sockets. That's when he finds Sally looking down at him. She leans forward to leave a kiss on his skull.
"Are you hungry?" She asks. He sits up in his seat.
"It's been awhile since I ate. Why do you ask?"
"I want to make us some dinner tonight. As a 'thank you' for talking to the witches." Her look turns concerned as she rounds the couch to sit by him. "How did that go, by the way...?"
"Well, they certainly understand it was wrong of them and I am sure they won't be doing it again." Something about talking about it makes his bones grow cold. "I hope that's the only talk I needed to have with them."
"Did they say they were sorry..?"
Jack suddenly feels very stupid for not making them apologize for such an ordeal. But it shouldn't have been to him, anyway. It should rightfully be face-to-face with the woman they insulted.
"No, but why don't you come on by their store tomorrow and ask? I'm sure they will."
She looks very hesitant with the idea, but nods anyway. "Alright. I'll do that tomorrow...hopefully they'll help me with what I need..."
"I certainly hope they can. They shouldn't be an issue for you anymore. I'm sorry that had to happen."
"It's alright. I suppose I can look forward to trying to make them my friends, then..."
He closes his eyes and smiles. Sometimes he wonders if she has the heart he's missing. Sally suddenly stands from the couch and dismisses herself into the kitchen, where she presumably is going to start on their supper. Jack starts a fire in the hearth while she is busy, and watches the flames dance around in silence. Eventually, the sky turns dark outside and the room is illuminated in oranges and yellows. Zero lays by the hearth and begins to nap, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.
He can't get his mind off of what he said to those witches. Had those words truly meant to leave his lips? Had he even thought of such a thing prior to that moment? Something just upset him hearing Helgamine and Zeldaborne speak of Sally like she meant nothing...when, really, she meant everything to him. They've known each other for a long time now, and while they've only moved in together lately...it felt like he's loved her his own death.
He brings his gaze to the fire with three words in his mind:
 A Pumpkin Queen....
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kinoalyse · 4 years
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10 Photography Tips for Bloggers
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LEARN PHOTOGRAPHY BASICS
There are hundreds of thousands of blogs out there that offer the basics of photography but the reason this stands out is because there is a surprising lack of quality photography across travel blogs. Therefore, one way to shine among the crowd is by showcasing your photography. First, explore the "Exposure Triangle," which is the relationship between aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. There's no shame in using automatic but sometimes a scene needs your assistance, such as a bright sky against architecture or a prop (wine bottles, ice cream, etc.).
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Perfect Sky But... This isn't a terrible mid-range exposure but if you point your lens to the sky (or "expose for the sky"), the sky will be prefect but your architecture might be too dark for us to recover in post.
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Perfect Interior, But... With an automatic camera, if you point your lens at the interior, this is what it will produce: perfect interior with a blown out sky that's impossible to recover. An automatic camera automatically exposes for where your lens is pointing. For the advanced, if you move your exposure square, it will expose where that square is when you lightly press the shutter. By learning how to use your camera more effectively, you can produce better work that stands out. If there's demand, I'm happy to write a quick and easily digested blog about photography basics. Leave a comment below or Tweet me if that would be helpful.
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EXPLORE DIFFERENT GENRES
Second, what is the theme of your blog? If it's quite specific, such as food around the world, consider the different angles you can take to tell the story of that food. What of the chefs, the building, where the food comes from? To illustrate, a typical food blog features the food and wine placed on their table: food photography. However, if you want to tell a different story and, again, offer a fresh perspective, start exploring different genres of photography. In order to photograph the chefs, one would want to dabble in portraiture or street photography. Furthermore, to tell the story of a restaurant with a history, consider architectural photography.
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Night Changing the time that you shoot can completely diversify your portfolio and is more visually interesting.
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Portraiture Portraiture helps blogger to pull readers into their story. See Using Human Elements for more information.
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Architecture Architecture connects readers to where you are and the people who inhabit the location. Always tell a story.
Take Notes
Travel takes a lot out of us. As you shoot, remember to take notes of your experiences, especially as you move: one city contains any number of photographic features in different sectors and you may not realize you've changed locations. Take notes of your surroundings to make sure you aren't misleading your readers and especially in case you decide to make money with stock photography in the future. https://vimeo.com/286921266
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Tell a Story
Telling a story requires creativity and a willingness to explore different shooting methods. For example, street photographers use a method called "shooting from the hip." Instead of shooting from a standing position, the camera is placed near their hip to not only give their photos a different angle, but the camera is less obvious. In this photo, I had visited a city with a couple of famous landmarks and decided to skip them entirely in favor of exploration. I later realized that this town had been devastated by an earthquake years prior. At first glance, this is just an archway with a window reflecting the sunset. I wanted to invite the viewer to look closer for the story, the acorns littering the ground, unkept foliage, cracks in the stone. It becomes quite clear that this section of the city hasn't been maintained by citizens in years.
Leave White Space
White space is empty space within your photo, perfect for banner backgrounds because it lacks 'business' against your font. Play attention to white space while you shoot. skeleton plans, open schedules
plan flexibly
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The rewards for patience is often worth the story itself. Be patient if your sunrise isn't incredible. Stay another half-hour in case the rain lets up. Flexibility in photography means using the unexpected to your advantage. Planning a vacation and having an open mind is totally different from patience in photography. When you plan your locations, remember that the weather, people, situations are not always as expected. Use these 'problems' to tell a story.
Use A Human element
Thank you to CrossroadAdventure for the question! A human element adds relatability to your scene. First, let's observe an ice cream cone in front of a famous landmark.  keep to your tone
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Photographer: WeNeal's Photography and Retouching Alongside the right blog tone, this is a genuinely effective photo. Additionally, there is consideration for the framing and elements: they've gone with pastel nails and vibrant ice cream colors along with framing the fountain behind them. Coupled with the correct tone of a blog, this photo can be especially effective: it communicates a story in front of a famous destination and two people enjoying their cloudless afternoon. A human element also adds scale. Without the photoshopped man in the background would you look twice at this photo? A viewer has no concept of how large the driftwood and bushes are nor the rock in the background. Further, it was shot wide angle so scale is already an illusion. Placing a human element psychologically brings the viewer in. Simultaneously, a human element invites them to look again, even search for more easter eggs (hidden elements). This also means people stay on my website longer. My visitor retention skyrockets when I add something relatable. I have a lot to say about props: for more depth, Using Human Elements discusses more on the stereotypes of photography and how you should plan your own photos. Create Scale
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Edit consistently
In addition to sticking to your tone, you should edit your photos within one blog post identically and within the blog itself, similarly. In the gallery below, two of the photos match styles. The other two were edited as I continued to learn and, as such, lack a cohesive style. Look specifically at the blues. The first and second photos were edited with the same saturation and hue of blue in Lightroom. The third has intense, saturated cyan and more rusty yellows. Finally, the last photo has darker blues and far less vibrant than the others. Much like the tone of your text, don't stray from a specific style in a single post.
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get creative with props and people
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perspective Change the angle. Crouch, look up/down, creative placement that isn't from a standing position
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light Look for interesting light such as bokeh, light filtering through the trees, and soft reflections off glass.
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composition Find interesting foreground and background placement where your subjects can interact.
BEST CAMERAS FOR BLOGGERS
Until I am blue in the face: the camera does not contribute to the artistry of photography until the mind behind it understands how to use their camera as an intended tool. However, some cameras do make layman lives easier.  Here is what I recommend for different types of bloggers - thank you to Dancing Pandas for the question! Cheap powerhouse: Canon G7 X Mark II
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This is my vlogging camera, nearly four years old and is still kicking after moving around the US and overseas multiple times. Not only is the camera itself small and lightweight, the batteries and chargers are as well. It takes gorgeous photos, has stabilization for video, and a wide range of automatic features, such as timelapses and night photography. For the layman and especially for the price, this camera is a dream. Compact DSLR: CANON REBEL T6
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My first DSLR camera was the Canon Rebel T2i, my first truly daunting purchase. The T6 is a better camera and less expensive. It takes quality photos and has features like wifi connectivity, creative tools like HDR, and great autofocus. It has similar power to more expensive cameras without the weight and complexity, although the crop censor is something to consider. The Rebel line continues to impress. ACtion Camera: GoPro Hero 7 BLack
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The GoPro is a huge contender. For action without quality sacrifice, 4k video, voice commands, automatic HDR photography, timelapse and hyperlapse photography, wifi-enabled... I envy you if you've got this mounted. I can't wait to see what they do next: GoPro created one smart camera for any situation I could dream of finding myself in. The best part: it's relatively cheap compared to any other cameras on this list. Best mirrorless: Sony A7 II
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Although there is a newer Mark III model out, I think it has an overwhelming amount of bells and whistles. This version remains one of the best mirrorless, lightweight cameras on the market. It is able to automatically shoot simple, automatic photography but the moment you decide to really get into shooting, it also comes ready with professional features. It's the middle ground between professional and hobbyist. Phone photography: Samsung Galaxy S10+
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At the end of the day, the best camera is the one you have with you. Camera photography is no joke. Samsung's Galaxy S10+ features a wide angle lens (equivalent to 12mm) and crazy manual control you usually only get from a paid app otherwise. This also means control over your focus. Want dreamy backgrounds? You got it. Insane zoom? Comes standard. It also takes full 1080 60FPS video for that extra bang for your buck. BEST DRONE: DJI Mavic Air
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If you don't have a drone can you even come to the photographers' table these days? DJI has made droning more accessible than ever through their Spark and Mavic Air. I recommend the Air specifically for professional bloggers as it is lightweight and compact, contains a wealth of features (timelapse, tracking, full HDR, even filters!), and comes with everything you need to get started. Quality drone photography and video? Look no further. DJI Mavic Air. If you want more of me or my work: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | Art Industry Read the full article
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