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Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 3

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No one would imagine that a single drop could be the start of something so big. However, it would earn itself great meaning after a while passed. Should it continue pouring, it could also summon boundless blessings and curses.

Love was almost like rain.

The Journey and the Auto-Memories Doll

That one was a rain of betrayal.

It started with a calm morning, the sky unfolding without any hints of being enshrouded in dark clouds. Regardless, it did not take too long for the capricious rain brought by the heavens to turn into a downpour rarely seen in recent years.

There was no longer any sign of the rain that had started to fall like gentle kisses from paradise on the black hats of gentlemen walking around town, over the backs of cats dozing under the sun or onto the cheeks of children who opened their mouths and burst into laughter. The current season was the end of summer, and it was raining for the first in a long while in Leidenschaftlich, where the skies were constantly clear in summer, but had the god that controlled weather gone crazy? With time, as if a bucket had turned over, the city was hit by a flood.

This story is about an uneventful day, which did nothing but pass, in the lives of people who worked at a certain postal company.

The rain and wind struck the entire building as if attacking it. The doorbell rang loudly because of this, a man standing in place and staring at it with unease.

Creak-creak, the door moved. Ring-ring, the bell resounded. Since it was ringing despite there being no customers, he had become concerned and found himself coming down from his residence in the top floor.

In the previous year, the building had been shot with rocket artillery, and not only had it earned an enormous hole but a fire had also occurred – however, thanks to the quick skills of workmen, the hole was now closed and the walls had been neatly rebuilt.

The man was a stylish redhead. He was the president of this company, which he had named after himself.

Claudia Hodgins had been left all alone in the empty postal office. Still, it was normal for him to be there, as it was both his home and workplace. However, since he was by himself at a time that would usually still be within business hours, no matter what, he looked like he had been abandoned.

The postal office had been in great turmoil because of the storm. Surely, so had its peers. With the deliveries stagnated, complaints were coming from the clients. Nevertheless, the transportation was not carried out by machines devoid of feelings. It was something done by humans, who had been given birth to by someone and who had families waiting for them when they returned home. In lieu of the unpreceded disaster, as the president, he had notified all employees that business would be closed for today.

To begin with, the customers had stopped coming in the middle of the day. If he had to say so himself, this might be the expected. Deliberately going outside amidst such strong wind and torrential rain was an act of sheer madness.

Curious about what was going on outside, Hodgins had approached the entrance from the side. He felt like attempting to open the large doors just a little. He wanted to see how inundated the ground was. Just when he slow and carefully reached a hand towards it, the door opened with force despite him not doing anything.

“Ow...!”

“Oh, my bad. More importantly, we’re screwed; it’s just impossible, Old Man!”

Hodgins was teary-eyed as his precious nose took a hit. He was lightheaded for an instant due to the pain, but soon regained consciousness. After all, one of his employees had come back dripping-wet. Hodgins pulled him – whole body wrapped in rain gear – by the arm, bringing him inside and closing the door. Although it was only open for a few seconds, the entrance was already drenched.

The visitor took off the hood over his head, allowing his face to be seen. He was a splendidly handsome and fine man of sky-blue eyes and sandy-blond hair.

“Benedict...!”

Benedict Blue. One of the postal company’s postmen, who had been working in it ever since its founding.

“It’s impossible – actually, it’s absurd! Working under this rain is absurd! I look like I’m in the bath already. I wouldn’t have come here if I weren’t soaked... Making the staff pull out was the right choice,” Benedict said as if angry-yelling, shaking his head in the same way that a dog or cat would and splattering water splashes at Hodgins.

This wetted most of Hodgins’s shirt and face, but he was unable to reprimand his employee, who had been doing strenuous effort. He accepted it in resignation, wiping Benedict’s face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Okay, stay put.”

“Uoh, what’s with you? Stop.”

“Welcome home. I was worried. Good thing you’re all right.”

“O-Oh. What, hum... I’m back... You were worried about me?”

“Of course,” Hodgins said, to which Benedict turned away with an obviously embarrassed attitude after a moment of bewilderment.

Outside, vases and planters that may have been at the eaves of people’s houses, as well as shop signs, had been turning into weapons for a while now, dancing around the city along with the wind. Managing to come back unharmed and safely amidst this weather, where one could not know what would come flying their way, was something to be happy about.

“I’m just fine. This job’s easier than running around shooting guns. Anyway, I was left with the letters and packages of a guy who fell from his motorcycle and came back by myself. Was best to do that, right?”

“Aah, so someone got hurt?”

“That newbie, Clark. But he only scrapped his knees. He fell lots of times when he was learning how to ride, but for real, it’s surprisingly depressing when you fall off other than during practice. He was crying, y’see.”

“Aah~.”

Knowing who the person in question was, Hodgins pitied him. He was the youngest postman to join the company as of late. It was difficult to find human resources for postmen as they were quick to quit.

“He’s young, after all...”

“You call him young but... he’s already a grown man. I wonder if he ain’t lying to us about his age... I thought he was a baby or something.”

“You can’t compare him to a city boy fresh from the battlefield like yourself. I’m gonna get you a towel and a change of clothes now, so don’t move from there.”

“Why?”

“You’d wet the floor. Don’t tell me to go around cleaning up where you walked.”

“Clean it up,” he said while laughing, to which Hodgins’s shoulders slumped. He was a reliable companion, but also a young man who knew not how to show respect for his elders.

——Well, guess I’m a so-called doting parent for thinking that’s cute – no, doting boss.

Anyhow, they needed towels, Hodgins thought as he went back to his room. He grabbed a few large towels and held a pair of trousers and shirt that Benedict would apparently fit into under his arm. Then returned to the ground floor. By the time he did so, the number of people had increased.

“Uwah... Amazing, it’s like squeezing a rag.”

There were three more other than Benedict. If they were to be separated by types, one of them had evacuated after receiving a report of work, one had evacuated after finishing work, and one had been ordered to clock out, but all had come back halfway through, as their bodies were about to be blown off by the overwhelming storm.

“Please stop.” There was Violet Evergarden, whose golden hair was in Benedict’s grasp.

“Why? You said your hair was wet.”

“You just want to touch Violet’s hair, Benedict. Isn’t that right?” Lux Sibyl, who had given up on wiping her glasses and was glaring at the empty space.

“That’s not it. Don’t say weird stuff, Lux.”

“You knooow, my hair’s just as long as Violet’s.” And Cattleya Baudelaire, who scowled at Benedict with her arms crossed.

The members who had been there ever since the founding were Violet, Cattleya and Benedict, but Lux, having joined midway, was now a skillful secretary who covered up the schedule of the employees and president and moved them around like chess pieces. As the four people whose ages were close to each other’s came together, the conversation naturally livened up.

“You—You’re that kinda thing. If I touch you in a place like this, it’d be that kinda thing. This is our workplace, so there’s all that kinda thing. Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing.”

“What do you mean ‘morally speaking’?!”

“I wish you wouldn’t say those things even if you think about them. Right, Violet?”

“‘Public morals’...? Benedict, what am I from your point of view?”

“V, you’re like a little sister to me... Aah, Old Man, gimme another towel.”

It was a terribly joyful thing that the company’s young aces had returned to it safe and sound.

“Everyone, don’t move from that spot no matter what. Hey, Cattleya! Don’t move!”

However, wiping all the water off the bodies of those four turned out to be a bone-breaking work.

Out of kindness, Hodgins invited the four people who had gathered up at the postal company to his residence in the top floor.

The whole floor was his apartment, thus it was quite large. A family of five could live comfortably in it. The furnishings were arranged in wooden items and serene shades of dark brown and green. It was a relaxed, adult atmosphere, where was nothing particularly funny. It had a faint scent of the perfume that Hodgins always wore.

The invited four let out sighs of relief. The biggest reason for it, although there was also the fact that this was Hodgins’s apartment, was that they were able to escape the horrible situation outdoors. With the exception of Lux, three of them were tough enough to take part in the act of physically crushing other postal companies, but human beings could not win against natural disasters.

“Hey, what do we do? We can’t go home anymore, can we?”

“There’s nothing we can do. We got no choice but stay in Old Man’s place.”

“First time something like this happens, huh. But we’re all together, so... might be imprudent of me to say this, but... it’s a bit fun. Violet, are you worried about your home?”

“Yes, about the flowerbeds.”

“You should say ‘about the people back home’, V.”

“The two went on a trip, so they are away. I promised that I would take care of the flowers in their absence, which is why... I am worried about the flowerbeds. Besides, if that house were to be destroyed by this storm, this place would meet its end much sooner... We have little time left to live.”

“Don’t go from talking about your family to destroying the company, Little Violet. Hey, hey, everyone, you’ll catch a cold so get changed first. Put the towels in the laundry basket. Benedict, don’t throw the towels wherever!”

As told by Hodgins, the employees firstly decided to change their clothes.

Violet and Cattleya had just returned from a work trip of two days and one night, thus they had a change of nightclothes in their bags, but Benedict and Lux did not. Although there was a height difference between them, Hodgins had no issues with lending clothes to Benedict, who was also a man, but there was a need for careful selection when it came to Lux.

“Shirt... shirt, shirt; all I have is shirts.”

“Hum, President, I’m fine with anything.”

“Eeh... that okay?”

As a result, the boy and girl came into the scene wearing baggy clothes. Benedict looked almost the same as when he and Hodgins first met. When he was left to chance completely naked in a desert, he had borrowed a shirt and trousers just as he was doing now. He seemed pleased with it, however...

“Feels kinda naughty...”

...the problem was Lux.

“Benedict’s fine, but maybe it won’t do for Little Lux? Is this okay?” Hodgins asked everyone with a meek face.

They all had at last settled down, each seated in a place of their preference while sipping tea. The employees were relaxing as if they were in their own homes. Contrary to the peaceful state of the situation inside, there was still a sound of rain hitting the windows and a troubled noise of something colliding against the building outside.

“What is ‘okay’ supposed to mean?” Sitting on the sofa, Violet tilted her head. Being comfortably dressed in a dusty-pink nightwear gave her usually disciplined self a slightly soft and gentle air.

“Little Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Your nightgown is cute, huh.”

“The people from the household bought it for me. Well, what is ‘okay’ supposed to mean? Was there any problem?”

“Little Lux’s clothes.”

For whatever reason, they had the person in question standing in the center of the room. With everyone’s eyes on her, she seemed uneasy.

“Hum... why do I have to stand in the middle?”

“Little Lux, stay like that and don’t move.”

“All right.”

“What is wrong with Lux’s look? You mean to say it lacks adornment?”

“Why would that be the case, Little Violet?”

“You are the one who chooses attires for us Dolls and you have particularities regarding the clothing and accessories, so I concluded that you might deem the plain shirt as not enough.”

“No, no.” Hodgins flailed both hands. The things he was saying had a moral value to them, out of fear that her outfit was perhaps vulgar.

Benedict had dealt with it by securing her trousers with a belt, but as Lux had too thin a waist, the outcome was the belt falling off. In short, she was not wearing pants. Inevitably, she was dressed in nothing but a shirt. However, her short stature fortunately made it look like a shirt-dress.

As Hodgins explained his concern, everyone said, “I see.”

Showered with their stares more and more, Lux began to blush.

“It gives off a dangerous feeling when you think she ain’t wearing any, but on second thought, isn’t that the same for skirts? There’s actually an open hole in them, but it’s not visible, so they’re classified as clothes. No big deal, is it?” Benedict had been standing with his back against the wall just a moment ago, yet had suddenly drawn close to her and started examining her fixatedly.

“Don’t say ‘not wearing any’!”

“Well, I mean, you really ain’t wearing any... but that’s okay. No biggie. You’re probably not an option for Old Man, so no worries. Right?”

“That’s rude!”

“I’m saying you don’t need to worry about that kinda thing... Should I take mine off, then? I see; I’m fine with it. I’ll be the same as you. That all right? I’m gonna take it off.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” As Benedict put a hand to his belt while laughing, Lux repeatedly hit his chest with her fists to stop him. Lux was red up to her ears. “I can’t take this anymore! Violet! Take Benedict to over there!”

“Understood.”

“Owowowow, V, ouch, that’s not it; it was the Old Man who said weird stuff first. We’re friends, so I was showing that she doesn’t have to get hung up over something like...”

Caught in Violet’s arms, Benedict obediently sat on the sofa. Perhaps in order not to allow him to escape, she gripped his hands and sat next to him.

Cattleya cut through the silence, “The tea is delicious.” She was scattered over the bed. She must have been tired from returning from the Doll business trip. Her eyes were downcast. She might be sleepy.

“Cattleya, do you not have any comments to make? I want to hear lots of opinions.”

“Eeeh, me?” Cattleya joined the needless debate as if it were a bother. “Hmmm... if someone were making her wear this because it’s their taste, it’d be gross indeed, but there’s no other clothes for her... It’d also be horrible to leave her with just a towel wrap, so I think it’s valid. Speaking of which, President...”

“Hm?”

“You’re saying that even though you pick open-chested clothes for my Doll outfits? And the times you were choosing Doll attires for me, y’knooow, you were never so considerate to say ‘not this, not this either’ when discussing it with the people from the made-to-order store...”

Her manner of speech was somewhat thorny, but Hodgins did not make much out of it. “That’s because they look good on you.” Rather, he said decisively, with an earnest gaze and excessive confidence, “Because they look good on you. Is my judgement wrong?”

“E-Eh?” Being replied to so unapologetically, Cattleya’s reasoning jumbled up, to the point she found herself wondering if she was the one in the wrong.

The Doll outfit that Cattleya usually wore was composed mainly of a crimson dress-coat, so there was no mistaking that one could not wear it unless the person was remarkably stylish. In addition, there was also no doubt that it was lascivious. Whoever looked at her would find their line of sight momentarily going to her chest. Still, whoever looked at her would remember the woman named Cattleya Baudelaire at once.

“No... it’s not like your choices are wrong... but I only forgive you because you’re the boss. I was shocked when you first showed me that outfit! I didn’t use to wear something like that before.”

“Well, but y’see, an hourglass-shaped person looks more slender when the area around their collarbone is exposed, and it’s pretty.”

An evident question mark floated above Violet’s head at the unfamiliar word. Benedict pointed a finger at the tea set arranged on the nearby table. An hourglass used to measure the time it took to steam the tealeaves was lying there. Perhaps finding the similarity between it and a plump chest and dainty hips, Violet nodded as if convinced.

“You’ve got an hourglass-shaped figure with that slim waist, so I gave you a coat-dress that puts this on display. You can adjust it with the ribbon, so it’s not a pain, right? It has a wonderful line in mathematical terms, y’know? Plus, you also have a cheerful character, so it doesn’t look vulgar. That’s important. It means that outfit takes into consideration even the personality of the one wearing it. And the owner of that made-to-order store is famous not just in this country but abroad. The outfits of our Dolls are on a whole different level in comparison to other companies, aren’t they?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I don’t want to bring this up, but they’re very expensive.”

“Eh, I’m sorry. S-Should I pay you back? Either that or you can dock my salary...”

“No, you’re my Doll, after all. Nobody waters a flower to get money off it, right? It’s fine, Cattleya. Just stay pretty. It’s exactly because I have obsessions over clothes that I don’t want to make a girl look vulgar. And it’s exactly because I like girls that I want to have them shine wonderfully. That’s also why I have a few complaints about Little Lux’s usual plain clothes, though...”

“I don’t know why you decided to run a mail service, President, but I accept that passion of yours. I’ll wear those clothes with care. But, President, I’m doing my best, so I want a new outfit. A cute one.”

Listening to the conversation of the two in silence, perhaps tired of going along with her superior, Lux looked at Violet and Benedict’s direction with a gaze that quietly asked for help. There was a gap on the sofa that seemed enough for one person to sit. Having locked eyes with her, Violet told Benedict to scoot over after a brief moment and patted the open spot. Lux sat next to them, looking happy.

“Violet, what’re you drinking?” Lux peeked at the teacup that Violet was holding.

“I wonder. I took the tealeaves that were in the kitchen. I do not know what type of tea it is.”

“Darjeeling.”

“Benedict, how did you know?”

“‘Cause that guy likes Darjeeling. All the tea cans he has are nothing but that.”

“Guess I’m gonna drink that too; my body got cold from the long time under the rain.”

“Heeey, the three of you who ended the talk before we noticed! Listen to what I have to say.” Hodgins put his hands on his hips, pretending to be angry.

“We were deviating from the main subject. We deemed that it was not a necessary conversation and took action prioritizing Lux’s rest,” Violet expressed with a clear voice tone.

“Besides, this talk’s about bedroom wear, ain’t it?” Benedict added a two-fold retort. The blond, blue-eyed duo that looked like siblings stared at Hodgins with questioning eyes.

“Ugh, I comply with you two no matter what you say when you both look at me at the same time, so cut it out. But I’m not giving up. I think she needs one more article of clothing.”

“Hum... President, I’m okay with this. I’m already thankful that I could borrow your clothes. Besides, when you make such a big fuss about it, things that weren’t lewd in the first place start to seem lewd, so to say,” Lux said, wanting to end this topic as fast as possible.

“The solution has come to me. Wouldn’t it be best if I took the shirt and trousers and had Lux wear this nightgown?”

However, Violet wound up rewinding it.

——Violet!

Lux hit Violet repeatedly in her mind.

“Ah~, that’s right. If that’s the case, I can do it too. But maybe my nightgown is too big? It’s a negligee just like Violet’s. The shoulder length might be the problem for this one...”

“Old Man, you gonna die if you don’t obsess over the stuff we wear? You ain’t. Give up.”

“No way. Days like this one don’t come by. All five of us are trapped in the company and we can’t get out. You’ve got no choice but stay here in my house, right? We’re having the best of parties, a pajama party. I want it to be a good one. But I can’t enjoy it when I’m worrying over Little Lux’s clothes.”

Benedict contemplated a reply to Hodgins’s words for a few seconds, but soon stopped. He was probably tired. He looked Violet’s way and asked, “Hey, you not hungry? I’m gonna take a look at the kitchen.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” As Benedict stood up, Hodgins chased after him.

“Benedict’s gonna make something? Yay! You guys probably don’t know this, but he’s good at cooking.” Cattleya lined up behind them.

“I didn’t say I was gonna make anything, though... Well, if you’re hungry, I can do it.”

“I shall assist you.” Violet raised her arms, rolling up her sleeves. Her prosthetics made a creaking noise.

“V, you can cook?”

“To some extent. In the military, I used to make preparations for the cooking. Mrs. Evergarden... Lady Tiffany also trained me on it.

“M-Me too... I can peel the potatoes, and stuff.” Lux hastily went after everyone. In a trail, a big move to the kitchen began to take place.

“Lux. You don’t usually cook, do you? I can already tell by just that statement. I’ll teach you.”

“Most things get solved just by peeling the potatoes... Benedict, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Am not, Potato Demigod.”

“Violet, Benedict insulted me!”

“Benedict.”

“Owowow! V—! Don’t poke my sides! A hit from those crazy-ass prosthetics of yours ain’t no cutesy way to poke anyone! It just hurts like it normally would!”

In the end, Hodgins was able to find a light feather-print sweater in his closet and gave it to Lux. As she put it on, with her short stature, its length became the same as that of a long cardigan, which Hodgins was awfully pleased with for how adorable it was.

The madder-red sky was not visible at dusk, the outside morphing into evening with no changes in the rainy weather.

Benedict made a soup at random with the vegetables available in Hodgins’s kitchen, which had seasonings in abundance, while Violet and Cattleya supplied it with cookies that they had brought back as souvenirs from their ghostwriting business trip. Lux brought over small candy marbles that she kept stored in her desk at the company, and Benedict, instructed by Hodgins, reluctantly took an expensive bottle hidden on the liquor shelf of the latter’s room.

“Hey, let’s rummage through the desks of everyone in the company. There are probably gonna be other ingredients in them.”

“If it’s Mr. Anthony’s desk, I think there’s definitely something in it. Mr. Anthony always gives me sweets... We’re in a state of emergency so I’m sure he’ll forgive us for it.”

“There were sweets in the reception guys’ desks. Would they get mad if we took them?”

“Definitely seem like they would. But this sweet... is one of the tasty ones... I wanna eat it.”

Lux, who was still growing, and Benedict, who had missed lunch and did not have enough with just the vegetable soup, procured more food. The sweets that the hungry thieves sneaked from the company employees’ desks turned out as what could be considered a big catch, and so, the five people trapped inside during a day of usual rain commenced a night party.

The five of different ages, genders and positions were already at a state where they could be deemed as a single family through the many incidents they had overcome and the time they had spent together. They laughed a lot, talked a lot.

“You remember when Violet brought Lux over? She went to negotiate it directly with Old Man with so much might, like, ‘I have picked up a puppy. Please give me permission to raise it here. Now, hurry’. They were holding hands and she wouldn’t let go of Lux, explaining the situation all at length as if to say she wasn’t gonna move until he gave the permission. The way Old Man acted so suspicious back then was a real blast.”

“I remember~! He was like, ‘Eh, “demigod”? Eh, “abduction and confinement”? Have you told the military police about that?’... President was so troubled, walking in circles around the two. It was the funniest thing of that year.”

“Hum... I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, Little Lux. You’re our main player now, so you did what you could to get where you are. You really exerted yourself in this unfamiliar land. Work for us forever, ‘kay? Rather, for me. Little Violet does some unbelievable stuff sometimes, but she generally doesn’t do anything wrong, so back then, her first-time deed shook up even someone like me, with plenty of life experience. Saying no didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I knew that President Hodgins would give you a generous treatment. If I had not concluded so, I would not have done such a thing. Thank you very much for that time, President.”

“Little Violet... Little Violet’s all grown up too, huh; you’ve become a wonderful lady...”

“Well, she’s got you as her example of guardian figure, after all.”

“I was raised by both Benedict and President Hodgins. You are my examples.”

“Eh, so I’m Old Man’s son...? Gimme the whole company.”

“No way! Actually, you’re taking a part of the company in the future, so that much should be fine, right?”

“You were serious about that? If you split the company...”

“Yeah, I’ll be the vice-president. V, call me Vice-President Benedict.”

“Benedict will be... the vice-president?”

“Violet, you haven’t been to the company too often because of work, right? I’ll stay as President Hodgins’s secretary, but some of the employees will go to Benedict’s side. That’s gonna be pretty lonely... Still, the company will be built inside the country, so it’ll be close in terms of distance. But it won’t be the same building anymore.”

“Other people... will also be gone.”

“Did I tell you that my role’s gonna change too?”

“I have not heard about that.”

“I’ll be transferred to training the newcomers. Violet, you’ll stay as you are. Well, between you and me, if we were to debate on which one should be the instructor, it’d have to be me. I’m good at looking after others.”

“Cattleya will be... an instructor...”

“I’ll be here like always. The Doll department that Little Violet and the others are in will stay in the main office and you’re largely in charge of the numbers in our Doll department, so your role won’t change.”

“Sounds like I don’t make money when you put it like that.”

“No, it’s not like that... I’ve been keeping the right people in the right places since long ago, right? I asked you to do this because I thought you could be everyone’s big sis. Besides, wasn’t it you, Cattleya, who immediately replied that you’d to it when I said your pay would increase if you became an instructor?”

“Well, that’s because I don’t know how long I could keep on being a Doll. It’s a job you can do even when you get older, but walking up mountains has been hard lately. Probably because of my high heels.”

They truly laughed a lot and talked a lot.

In their feel-at-home looks, they played card games, discussed memories of their trips and laughed holding their stomachs at silly stories. The night went on and on and the heavy rain outside gradually subsided, but no one said, “Let’s go home, then”. Days like these were a rarity. They all knew this much.

“I’m having lots of fun today. It’d be great if it were always like this.” The words that Cattleya muttered with a big smile spoke for everyone’s feelings.

Whenever a fun feast reached its climax, the loneliness towards the fact that it was going to end would cross the corners of people’s heads. That applied not only to this day that God had granted them but also to matters in the long run.

Perhaps the company named CH Postal Company itself could also be considered a feast to the people gathered in it. “May this dream, this fun time go on forever,” they wished.

The dream had begun with Claudia Hodgins. He then picked up Cattleya Baudelaire, Benedict Blue and Violet Evergarden.

“Make sure to just lick it. So, how’s that?”

They had built the company office building in Leidenschaftlich and started it together. As the postal business was a privatized one and the competitors were many, nobody could predict at first for how long this company would continue to exist.

“This stings.”

A local customer then came, earning them a large-scale contract in the delivery business.

“Eh~, you okay, Violet? You’re better off as someone who can’t drink...”

Their Auto-Memories Doll activities began to stand out.

“But everyone is changing.”

“Doesn’t that have nothing to do with drinking alcohol? I drink ‘cause I like it. If you don’t, then stop.”

“That’s right, Violet.”

“No... Major has a taste for drinking during meals, so I had been thinking of learning to do it one day as well. You are all changing one after another whenever I blink. I have started eating with other people quite often at work as well. I, too, shall adapt...”

Along the way, a girl who would later become a brilliant secretary joined them.

“I see... Then I want to try drinking too. I’m a secretary, after all. I have to eat out with other people. What kind of taste is it, if you had to compare?”

Despite the major changes in the personal life of each, all of them had contributed to the development of the company, to the point that they spent every single day being busy.

“Close to that of a perfume. In that it is hard to swallow.”

There would surely be many, many more changes.

“Hey, I can’t approve that opinion. Big Sis here will introduce you to delicious drinks. Rather than being taught by a man, you should learn from me. Lux, you can’t yet.”

Surely, their fates would twist further.

“Eh~?!”

“Benedict, bring another one. And something to crack it open with.”

For people to gather up, an encounter had to have happened. That was what it meant.

“Aight, aight...” Benedict stood up from the sofa. He had been dragged into Cattleya’s scheme, in which she had planned the conspiracy of attempting to make Violet Evergarden consume alcohol, because he himself had complied with it.

“O-Owah. Old Man. You were here?”

“‘Were here,’ you ask... this is my house.”

As they came across each other in the kitchen, Benedict had let out a brash voice without thinking. The reason might be that he perhaps was seen grinning as he walked in. Despite his nihilistic attitude, he was happy to spend time with his friends.

“I-I know. I was thinking you were taking too long in the toilet...”

“Cigar.”

With the kitchen’s small window open, Hodgins was smoking a cigar. All of the women despised the smell, so he rarely ever let them see him smoking. Just when Benedict was thinking about how he had suddenly stood up and disappeared, there he was, smoking in secret.

——He only smokes when he can’t calm down, though.

There was no better day to relax with their companions, and yet.

“Hey, take a look outside. It’s so quiet after the storm... like the wind. Even though it was so loud before.” Perhaps due to him being a little drunk, Hodgins’s face was red.

“True... Hey, need more booze. Ain’t there anything easier to drink?”

“Eh, why? You can’t give it to Little Lux.”

“Cattleya wants to make V drink some. Well, ain’t it okay? I think it’s about time she learns the ropes. Dunno when we’ll get to drink with her again... and it’s better to have people you get along with teaching you this kinda thing, right?”

“Eeh... it’s still too soon. If you insist, isn’t it enough to drip a drop of rum into her tea?”

“Can you even call that a drink? Make it a degree higher.”

Hodgins gave a strained smile. “Hey, hey, her big brother figure shouldn’t be saying this...”

“I say it because I’m her big brother figure. I mean, we’re getting more rookies. She’s the highlight of our Doll department. Eating with people is part of having a big job. Before she gets involved with someone who wants to make her drink...”

“Does this have anything to do with me telling you to be the branch manager?”

Hearing a slightly icy voice coming from the president, Benedict blinked. “No... sorta.”

“She’s still a child, and I’ll definitely always be with her in those kinds of places, so it’s okay. It’s still early to teach her how to drink. Nope, nope.”

“A ‘child’, you say... well, she’s got a childish side, but she ain’t one anymore.”

“She is – you, Cattleya and Little Lux, too, are all kids to me. Because you’re quick to do this kind of thing if I don’t keep an eye on you... My, my,” Hodgins said, blowing out the tobacco smoke. Mismatched as it was for someone with such a mature appearance, Benedict could get a glimpse of childishness in him.

“You’ll keep trying to do that from now on too? That’s impossible; face the reality,” Benedict bit out incidentally.

Silence.

Benedict’s words were not wrong. The CH Postal Company was growing rapidly as a business. The fact that the postal company led by Salvatore Rinaudo had withdrawn from the postal industry in the previous year had a major influence in this. They now reigned at a pivotal position in Leidenschaftlich’s postal service. The CH Postal Company would soon account for nearly all of the commissions from the people living in Leidenschaftlich. Other than being busy with work affairs, there were even discussions about relocating the head office because of problems with waiting areas and break rooms due to securing new employees.

“Like, you and I are gonna get damn busy. The Auto-Memories Doll department is gonna be the main organ of the head office and my place will be ordinary mail, right? We’ll be teaching people how things go, and I’ll be doing deliveries too. You’re the one with the busiest role. Anything and everything’s gonna be relayed to you. Getting to be close to your employees like until now while doing all that is just...”

It was natural for a company that had become bigger to do a corporative split-off and for one of their employees to manage the branch office. Benedict was still young but had the power to bring people together. The task would not be an impossible one if they put a veteran of the head office in charge of taking over it. They could do this, Hodgins had decided, thus he came up with the proposal.

“The regular meetings and other stuff that I take part in happen in the head office... It’s not like we won’t get to see each other.”

“Everyone will have a different post and position. We won’t get to see each other. Same for you, Old Man.”

“If it’s work, I can adjust it. I’ll do my best to administrate everyone so that the employees can get a time every now and then to relax like this...”

“Old Man, even if you do your best, V’s dating that nasty-ass military officer, so won’t they get married someday? Dunno ‘bout it, but... that’s why it’s impossible to always watch over us in the first place...”

Silence.

“Hey, don’t clam up.”

What was being thrust at Hodgins now was something that he did not want to look straight at, despite thinking about and readying himself for it. That was what he was being told.

“Hodgins – hey, Old Man.”

It was something that Benedict Blue had the right to say, exactly because they had been doing everything together from the start.

“Hey, don’t take it in a weird way. I ain’t saying this to be malicious. You left the Auto-Memories Doll department in the head office ‘cause your wish to watch over V is a big deal, right? I get it. She’s special to you.”

“That’s not it; I—”

“But she won’t be a kid forever. She’s different from back when she started working, with you teaching her everything. She’s someone who’s gonna let go of your hand one day. She ain’t your real daughter or your girlfriend. Then, if you had to say what she is, at the end of the day, she’s your employee. You’ll part ways one day. If you don’t get ready for that now, will you manage to get over it if she marries into that bastard’s family and he makes her leave the company?”

“Will you manage to get over it?” The question ruminated in Hodgins’s heart.

Benedict had shot him where it hurt without mercy. He was a gun expert. His aim was precise and the bleeding made Hodgins want to hold his own chest down.

——Will I recover if I ever have to be separated from Violet Evergarden? Hodgins pondered earnestly over the question. ——I don’t know.

He truly did not know.

Bonds were things that could not easily break off once they had connected, yet reality, time and busyness unpityingly caused the existence of “friends” to grow far apart.

——To the point that I don’t know, I...

Surely, a day like this would not happen five years from now. Their place to return to amidst the rain would be somewhere else.

——It’s not just her, but also you and everyone else.

To begin with, they might not even be working in the company itself anymore until then. More of them would fall for someone, nurture their love and move their places to be in life to their “homes”.

Twenty, thirty years from now, it might be hard for them to even work. Or they would not be alive – there was also that possibility.

The one who was more aware of this than anybody else was Hodgins, the oldest of them all.

——I’m the one who’s farthest apart in age.

That was exactly why he did not know.

“I have no idea.”

He did not want to see it. Did not want to think about it.

“I have too many things that matter to me, so I can’t make a move anymore. Y’know, you... you might aught at this, but... rather than when you’re young, getting hurt becomes scarier when you grow older. You start losing the energy to do your best and heal. It’s tiring. Still...”

Hodgins had thought that the youth in front of him, who referred to him as “Old Man” on a daily basis, was probably going to laugh, yet Benedict was expressionless.

“Still...”

He did nothing but listen. His posture of properly listening at times like these somewhat...

——...looks like Little Violet.

“Still, I know I’m the one who has to get moving the most. I’m getting everyone involved in the things I wanna do. That’s why I do what I have to. I also counted on you, because I trust you. I left it in your care. But... that and my feelings for her and you guys...”

“I get it.”

“...are different things, right? Y’know, you’re... mean. I’m like a foster parent to you, and yet... Even if you understand my loneliness...”

While Hodgins spoke as if bursting out, Benedict put a hand to his mouth as though to stop him. “I get it.”

Time halted completely.

Was he supporting the flustered figure of the one who was like a parent to him?

“My bad.”

Before he had noticed, he was carrying a load of things he must protect. Was he doing this due to realizing that he had left Hodgins to chance, thinking, “That’s because it’s him”?

“My bad. That just now was on me.”

Silence.

“I didn’t have to pick today to say this. Isn’t that right?”

“You think I’m being lame right now, don’t you?”

“Nah, you ain’t all that cool in the first place.”

“That’s a lie; I’m a generally-acknowledged beautiful young man... no, beautiful middle-aged man.”

“You might not be cool, but well, that’s what’s good about you. Right?”

Silence.

“The cool thing about my Claudia Hodgins is his uncool side.”

Since Benedict was speaking as if to comfort a child, Hodgins told him to “shut up”, slightly annoyed, yet burst into laughter nevertheless.

The rain caused all sorts of things to pour. The way that people were drowned by the drops trickling down from the sky inevitably made them think about something.

As dawn broke, Claudia Hodgins sat up, body heavy from not getting much sleep. When he peeked at his room’s bed, Violet and Cattleya were sleeping wrapped in the same blanket. On the sofa, Benedict was scattered about, snoring in a way that made him want to laugh.

Hodgins looked for where Lux Sibyl might be. He went down from the third to the second floor, and then from the second to the first floor. She was nowhere to be found.

While thinking it could not be possible, Hodgins opened the front door, and sure enough, he could see the figure of a girl walking down the street towards him.

The clothes she had put to dry yesterday were surely half-wet. What was it that she wanted to do outside so badly to the point of going this far? He understood when he saw what she had in her arms.

“Ah, President.”

Lux was holding a paper bag with a lot of bread in it. The amount was enough that the small girl’s face could not be seen.

“Little Lux... could it be you went to buy us breakfast?”

Thinking back, this young woman was the kind of person who was always quick to act when she was trying to do something for someone. That was all it took to be a considerate person, but without kindness in their heart, they would not turn out this way. The reason why Hodgins had nominated her his secretary was not just that she could do any sort of work.

“That’s so nice.”

“Yes, the bakery owner is very nice. I woke up a bit too early, and when I went on a walk to see how things were outside, the bakery was just about to open and they were getting ready... I went to take a look ‘cause it seemed so delicious and they told me to come in.”

“Ah, hm...”

“I was so touched when they said they baked bread for people who were hungry early in the morning, so I told them many thanks for selling them and bought lots of it. It’s the bakery from that street around the corner.”

“As expected of my secretary. Did you properly get the receipt?”

At those words, Lux showed him a smile that resembled a blooming flower. “Huhu, of course.”

For Hodgins, who had spent the night deep in thought about all sorts of things, that smile was a soothing one. It was like the water of a lake for someone who was feeling thirsty.

Hodgins wordlessly took the bag from Lux. “Little Lux, I’m seriously glad you came to us.”

“Only in this kind of situation, right?”

“All the time. Always. Little Lux, you’re still young, will probably keep working with us... and you’re such a good secretary... I’m the happiest CEO in Leidenschaftlich.”

“Are you going to hire me for life?”

“Eh?”

“Is that a no?”

“No, I could. But that’d mean working with me for life, y’know?”

“Is that bad? I have nowhere else to go.”

When asked with such an innocent look, Hodgins faltered.

“I won’t say the stuff Benedict does, like wanting the company for me.”

“Well, I might... end up giving it to you if you say that, so don’t ever. Hahah... Of course, keep working for us forever and always at my place. Huh, this is kinda like a marriage vow... Wanna take this opportunity and marry me in the future? Just kidding...” Upon thinking that the jest that came out incidentally was an unsavory one right after saying it, Hodgins looked at Lux’s reaction, only to find her staring back at him blankly. He had made himself into a caricature of an old man bothering a girl. “No, it was a prank! But hey. Little Lux, you might be the only one who can go along with me, so having this kind of small talk is... I-I’m not looking at you with dirty eyes, really! We’re too far apart in age, after all! We’re c-close enough that we can crack this kind of joke to each other, right?”

Lux pretended to think for just a few seconds. “Huhu, I can tell. That it’s a joke, at least. But not happening. We’re not getting married.”

And then, she flat-out rejected him.

“Ah, yes.” Although Hodgins would have been at loss if she had accepted it, his shoulders dropped somewhat.

“But President, I’m prepared to nurse you if you ever become unable to work.”

“Don’t... suddenly thrust such a cruel reality at me.”

“Eh, is it? From my point of view... this is quite a deep form of love. President, you’re the first decent adult who accepted me. I’ll devote my whole life to you.”

“Little Lux, you sure like me a lot. Gonna marry me after all?”

This time, Lux actually grinned and replied, “I’ll take that one home and consider it.”

“Amazing; that answer’s like the business talk at the company.”

“Because you’re teasing me... even though you’re well-aware that I don’t even know love yet.”

“Don’t know love yet”. The destructive power of those words caused Hodgins to regret his lighthearted proposal a little.

“Then, I’ll ask again in about five years. I should be at a nice middle age by then.”

“You say that, President, but you’re going on a trip with some hottie next week. I know it.”

The duo, who somehow seemed like they would or other be hanging together for a long time, returned to the office with bouncing chatter.

In order to make breakfast for everyone together, Hodgins and Lux stood in the kitchen by themselves.

Besides the already-baked bread, they would need drinks and vegetables. Those were merely simple preliminary preparations, but Hodgins felt that just this was somehow enjoyable, unlike doing the work on his own.

“President, you have yours with one sugar cube and a slice of lemon, right?”

“And for Little Lux, it’s two sugar cubes with milk, yeah? I know it.”

While arranging the bread on a plate, they also poured water over the tealeaves and left them to steam. Perhaps due to the scenery that could be seen from the kitchen’s small window being a blue sky with not a single cloud in it, it was awfully dazzling.

“Good morning.”

The next person who appeared amidst the morning sunlight was Violet. Her soft golden hair was just a bit disheveled. Hodgins’s hand naturally reached out to it.

“Morning... You’ve got a bedhead, Little Violet.”

“Excuse me...” Violet looked back at Hodgins as he caressed her head, seeming a little embarrassed. Her eyes were just slightly red. She might have not been able to sleep very well.

“Morning, Violet. Are Cattleya and Benedict also up?”

“Benedict was awake until a while ago, but when I got up from the bed, he began sleeping again by Cattleya’s side.”

“Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing. I’ll go give him a warning.”

Hodgins laughed a little, seeing Lux off as she walked away while rotating her tiny shoulders. He then turned his gaze back to Violet. Her bedhead, which he had supposedly fixed with the caressing, had returned. For some reason, both of them being alone like this in a kitchen bathed in morning sunlight struck him as extremely peculiar.

Just the two of them, having such a tender time. How many more opportunities would they have for that?

They were already at it. He should talk about something. That was what Hodgins thought, but the words did not come out of him. Not because he had no topic to discuss. He could come up with as many things to talk about as he wanted, such wanting flowers to decorate the table or that they would surely have many customers today who were unable to come yesterday.

But he did not want to spoil this morning. He felt that it might crumble if he spoke even one sentence.

Violet was there. She had her blue eyes directed his way, looking at him. It was no longer awkward for the two of them to stay silent. That was their relationship.

Perhaps still sleepy, she was in a haze. He wanted to watch her standing amidst this gentle time for a little longer.

As she would usually always seem wide-awake, Hodgins believed that she was laidback to this extent due to being in the presence of people with whom she could be at ease from the bottom of her heart. That he had played a part in this feeling of security of hers.

——Will you forget one day?

One day, the position that Claudia Hodgins occupied in the life of Violet Evergarden would become smaller.

——She only gets bigger on my end, though.

Going to the hospital numerous times. Pushing her wheelchair. Giving her a notebook and teaching her how to write.

——I for sure can’t forget. These moments, days, everything like this with you.

The fact that he had not stopped her from fighting in the war. That he had thought they could use her.

——I can’t forget.

Delivering to Violet an outfit that could hide her prosthetic arms, yet that would also make her look her most beautiful.

——I’m sure I won’t forget about this morning either.

About that quiet morning, which was much like the one from before everyone was caught in the great storm and barged in.

Hodgins touched Violet’s hair again. Although she had told Benedict not to touch it, with Hodgins, she all but slightly left a strand in his hand’s care and let him take it, almost like how a cat would do.

——Aah, I want to hug you.

He was not in love with her. That would never be the case.

However, if she were his real daughter, on days like these, mornings like these, he would have easily said, “Good morning, precious” and embraced her.

“I had a dream, President Hodgins,” Violet whispered out of the blue with a freshly awake, faintly hoarse voice.

“Dream...?”

The stunning young woman, who was no longer a girl, talked about her dream like a child, “Yes; in the dream... you owned a clothing store.”

“Huhu, that so?”

“I cannot make clothes. You told me that you did not need me, President Hodgins, if I could not make clothes...”

“That’s horrible of me, huh.”

“Even when I said I could polish the shoes, clean up or do anything, you did not listen...”

Unlike the real one, the dream version of Hodgins had apparently chosen to part ways with Violet.

“Little Violet, what did you do about that?”

“I asked countless times. However, you rejected it countless times. I thought about standing in front of the shop until you allowed me in, but it started raining like yesterday.”

“Hm. And then?”

“Major Gilbert came to pick me up and told me to come home with him, but...”

“Hm.”

“I waited for President to come out of the store even as the lights went out.”

“Hm.”

“Despite waiting and waiting, President Hodgins did not come out, and at some point, a passerby told me, ‘This shop has moved’.”

“Even though it was open until just a moment ago?”

“It was a dream, after all... And then – and then, I asked where it was and went after it. Benedict and Cattleya also appeared in-between, but they seemed to have other things to do, saying they would come after me later... As for Lux, she was the only one who had been hired by you from the very beginning, so she also asked you to hire me again, but in the end, you said no could do.”

“Hm...” Suddenly, Hodgins felt so pained about everything that it was hard to breathe. “And then, Little Violet, what did you do...?” His hand reached out to Violet.

“I kept looking at the interior of the store beyond the shop window from outside.”

Not towards her head, but towards her eyes, where her golden lashes fluttered like the wings of a fairy.

“Inside it, many people – people that I know and do not know – came and left... showing how lively the shop was.”

A sea had silently formed in them, which dissolved and disappeared once Hodgins’s index finger touched it.

“Major came to pick me up for the nth time and said you had told him that my standing there was causing him problems. But, for whatever reason, I at the very least knew that if I stepped away from there even for a moment, you would never let me in... therefore, I could not comply. But I did not want to trouble you, President, so I was unable to make a decision... I attempted to ask Major for instructions, but he was also gone before I realized.”

The sea – the teardrop – turned into a pearl and slipped down her cheek.

“I... I... ended up crying.” Violet stared at the sky, the look in her eyes seeming almost as if the scene from her dream was there at this very moment. “To think I would cry like that...”

“Hm.”

“That was why President Hodgins would not hire me, I thought... And also why Major had grown tired and left.”

“Hm.”

“Then, without my notice, you came outside. You looked the same as that post-war day when you went to visit me at the hospital. You were very surprised with my appearance, as I was soaked with mud and rain. And so, you said this: ‘Guess we’ll start with how to hold a needle’. You told me that you had not invited me for the new job because it would surely be difficult with these hands of mine, so I was extremely relieved... Then, then...” Violet’s words cut off at once.

Unable to hold himself back, Hodgins pulled her into an embrace as if shoving her little head into his chest.

While being embraced, Violet said with eyes that looked as though she was still dreaming, “...with some effort, I could still be helpful. I was able to confirm this, after all.”

Hearing her let out a relieved sigh in his arms, Hodgins forgot about both his and Violet’s positions, clasping her to his chest very, very firmly. “You sure are helpful... Was there anything about me that made you feel uncertain?” Upon realizing that his voice sounded tearful, Hodgins allowed the tears to overflow at the truth.

——Aah, I’m such an idiot. Got caught up in it and ended up crying too.

As the girl whom he thought of as his own daughter, despite her being an actual adult, had shed tears, he found himself crying along with her. Almost like a child. Even though he was supposed to conduct himself as an elder in this situation.

“I do not know.”

“But, has anything like that ever happened until now...? You had that dream because you were uneasy.”

“‘Uneasy’... That might have been the case. Yesterday night, I came to know that many things were progressing while I was away, so I have the feeling that I was quite agitated.”

“Sorry; we were doing things on our own accord. Even though we’ve been together since the founding.”

“No, I am often absent, and it is only natural for some things to be decided in the meantime. I am an employee. I feel that your judgement is correct. Employees must correspond to the changes of a company. My surroundings are about to change significantly. I am grateful to you, President, for letting me be here like always. However...”

“‘However’...?”

“However, I do not know if I can cope with it. With the matters regarding Major, the ones regarding the company... with the fact that Benedict will be going to a different office building. When I think about these things...”

“It’s okay.”

“When I think about them, I realize that the number of things I should prioritize has increased too much.”

“Little Violet.”

“The order of priorities...”

“It’s all right.”

“I have to deal with situations of every kind as I live, and yet...”

——Surely, Violet Evergarden wouldn’t be alive if she didn’t do that.

Always, at all times.

She had been living through corresponding to her surroundings despite being at loss regarding its circumstances, putting everything she could do to use while looking for a place to belong and an adult who would take care of her. She was not allowed to waver. For beasts, hesitation was death.

Violet did not know unconditional love. She now had at last earned herself this warm place through her efforts, but it was about to suffer a rapid change with the course of time.

After running, running and running, Violet – previously one such beast – was watching the nest she had finally found crumble down. Even when people knew they had to prepare to start running again, there would come a time when they would be short of breath and unable to move.

Violet had gone from wild animal to person.

Her human parts and animal parts co-existed, occasionally revealing themselves. When she was the animal, she simply did not mind how much a place changed as long as she could live in it. However, it was difficult to live while holding something better, more important.

Now that she had become a person through the increasing of her emotions...

“I shall fight. I can always be of use. President Hodgins, please forget this aspect of me that I just showed you.”

...she had turned into just a girl who was a little bit scared of the future.

“Please... forget about it.”

Who had made her this way? Gilbert was likely the first, but the ones who had done the finishing touches were definitely all the people in this place.

“No way, I’m not forgetting.”

At Hodgins’s words, Violet lowered her eyebrows, looking troubled.

“Don’t make a face like that; I’m not teasing. I meant to say that you don’t need to worry about it. You indeed might’ve gotten weak. But is that a bad thing? You had nothing when you met me for the first time. Not even your brooch, right...? But now you have lots of things. You went on a journey for a long time and got more stuff to shoulder while you were at it, so it’s no wonder that you’d end up in a dilemma.” Albeit knowing that Cattleya, Benedict and Lux were looking at them in shock from the shadows at the doorway, Hodgins went on, “You know... life is a journey. Little Violet, you’ll go on this journey, won’t you?”

He had already forgotten about his anxiety. The feeling of frustration at such things and the overwhelming wish to cling to someone were now gone.

“You started your journey with a little less luggage than other people, so you’re staring at your bag now that it’s gotten a bit heavy, wondering what happened to it. You don’t know what to throw away anymore.”

He was able to think, from the depths of his heart, that he had returned to his usual self. While embracing her, who was indeed still young and confused in the middle of her journey, he was finally able to think so.

“You need clothes and money, of course, and good shoes are vital. Right, and an umbrella too. When you look into your bag and realize that you actually have nothing that you can get rid of, it’s indeed a problem. Even though it’s a hassle because it’s so heavy. What do you think you should do?”

He could still be useful.

“Train... my physical strength... No, calibrate my prosthetics...”

He was still needed.

“You’re such a fool... Either leave it in someone’s care and continue the journey or have someone take half of it.”

Even if it were only for a short while.

“Gilbert will probably take half of the luggage. I can take care of the rest that you can’t carry over here. I’ll be in Leidenschaftlich forever, after all. Little Violet, no matter where you go, I’ll stay here and wait for you to come back, and no matter when you come over, I’ll welcome you. I’ll take care of the contents of your bag with pleasure.”

——Even if you only remember me a few times a year someday...

“Listen up: whenever you’re troubled, remember that I’m here. And then you’ll be able to go on a journey again anytime.”

——...I’ll ready myself to welcome you at any time of the year.

“Am I really supposed to leave my luggage here?”

——I’m the kind of man who can do that, and you need it for sure.

“Hm-hm, that’s not it. Y’see, this is about memories. All you have to do is to know. That I’m here. This is the way to make your luggage lighter. Whenever you’re having problems, bam, remember me. If you do that, the worries you have now will definitely decrease a little. Y’know, at the end of the day... people’s place to come home to aren’t places, they’re ‘somebody’. You should know that much. You’d have gone to any battlefield if Gilbert was there, right? Someday, yes, you might quit being an Auto-Memories Doll. You might not come back to Leidenschaftlich.”

——It’ll be great if this “someday” never comes, though.

“But your current memories are with me. I’ll be a representation of them. So that you, my dear... will be able to open your memories anytime. When this moment right now becomes nostalgic to you, come see me. I’ll always be here. Waiting for you. You’re feeling ‘lonely’ right now. But... Little Violet. You have me. You’re not alone.”

——I want you to remember.

“I do not understand very well... However...”

——I’m always protecting you.

“...you have always guided me.”

——Waiting for your return.

“I never doubt your word.”

——I’ll be waiting here.

“But, President Hodgins, I have only one wish.”

——I want you to show up when your journey ends.

Deciding to deal with the sobbing coming from behind the door later, Hodgins opted for staying like this for just a bit longer. Her lover might get angry if he saw it, but he had the right to do it, at least to some extent. After all, she was Claudia Hodgins’s dear employee.

Hodgins asked with a particularly gentle tone, “What would it be, Little Violet?”

Violet blinked and looked up at Hodgins. The last drop spilled from her eyes.

“If, only if... there comes a time when you will quit the postal company and start doing something else...”

“Hm.”

“...please call me. No matter where you are, I will rush to you.”

“Hm.”

“I will definitely be of help... Even if not, should your luggage become too much, please call me when you need someone to carry it for you. I shall hasten to visit you.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I, too, will carry President’s luggage. You should know it. I am strong.”

“Huhu, yep, definitely. One day, you’ll understand what I mean by ‘luggage’. Hey...”

“Hiya, I’m Hodgins. What’s your name?”

Silence.

“This kid’s such a taciturn.”

“She... doesn’t have a name yet. She’s an orphan with no education. Can’t talk either.”

“That’s so terrible of you. She’s such a beauty. Just give a name worthy of her.”

“Little Violet, thanks for meeting me.”

Love was almost like rain.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #veedit #kyoani #kyoto animation #violet evergarden ever after #claudia hodgins #benedict blue #cattleya baudelaire #lux sibyl #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation #novel

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totally-not-deacon · 2 years

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First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

Tagged by @adventuresofmeghatron! Taggin’ in turn @arcadegannonenthusist, @maxdragonnb, and @falloutglow

I don’t think I have ten ACTUAL fics published, so instead I’ll go with the last ten chapters I’ve posted.

1. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 7 - Flatline Blues

Good news never came along on its own, its shadow was always in close step. Deacon flipped the scrap of paper between his fingers, chewing at his bottom lip in thought. No, there was always a catch.

2. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 6 - Bedside Mannerisms

The twin lumps of disturbed earth now laid smooth with a coating of snow, with more falling in fat, heavy blobs. The endless gray sky matched the somber mood. Asher’s hands ached with peeling blisters from shoveling into the frozen earth alongside the settlers, laying their friends, family, to rest.

3. Say Goodbye

He’s gone. You’ve gotta stop. Come on, there’s other wounded. Please.

Hands hot and slick with blood, face salty streaked, sweat and tears. No. No, they’ve got to keep trying. Just a few more stims, keep the pressure. He’ll make it, he’ll make it, he’ll make it.

4. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 5 - Half Past Dead

Chaos erupted around them. People poured in and out of the pool house, wide-eyed and panic-stricken. Pipe rifles and flimsy pistols rang out against brilliant blue-white laser fire arcing overhead. Screams and smoke, gunpowder and blood, clogging Asher’s lungs and ringing their ears.

5. Hearts Of Gold, Ch. 1 - Mr. Postman

Diamond City, that was the goal. Strong legs and a strong back somehow got him here in one piece, and now the end was in sight. Of course, Gray didn’t really know what the plan was after that – he never was one for really planning ahead, after all.

6. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 4 - A Mutfruit A Day

Tensions ran high after Sammy, accusations thrown left and right, with Asher occasionally forced to clean up the messes left behind. Beat downs and stabbings, shootings and a few more deaths added to the chaos. A few more lives lost, and for what?

7. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 3 - Waiting Room Gossip Machine

Where’s the antivenin? Where’s the god damned antivenin? She’s hemorrhaging, it’s not stopping. Shit. Can’t see the wound site. Another one. Gunshot, brachial artery’s toast. He’s gone.

8. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 2 - Wasteland Medicine

December in the Commonwealth was always cold, sure. But when you’re also huddled against the smoke of a dying trash fire alongside every drifter in Goodneighbor? It was fucking frigid.

9. Say My Name, Ch. 10 - Something Changed

Something changed between them that day. Wanderer couldn’t explain it, but there was a shift between them, bleeding out and intertwining ever so slightly, scraping away at the barriers that stood between them. They didn’t talk about what happened in the vault. They didn’t need to.

10. Under The Same Sun, Ch. 1 - Home On The Road

Blood-soaked hands, good intentions. Glasses slipping down their nose, that can wait. One part Abraxo, four parts water. Rinse, soap, repeat. Dress the wound, clean the tools, pack them away. Next patient, please.

As for patterns? I dunno, I guess I like doing the back and forth between long, drawn out sentences balanced between short, clipped ones. I also seem to like to start in the character’s head and what they’re doing, rather than the world around them? What do y’all think, cause I’m terrible at analyzing my own stuff?

#first line meme #fallout 4 #fallout ocs #utss #under the same sun #hearts of gold #say my name #dr. asher williams #lily copper brooks #gray jimenez

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catb-fics · 3 years

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Pass the happy! 🌻 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications. 💛💛💛

Ahh thank you I love these as it makes you realise how many things make you happy! 💕

1. Pouring a glass of wine on a Friday afternoon after a shitty week at work

2. Watching Van McCann making out with the microphone

3. The postman bringing that new vinyl purchase

4. One of my anons sending me a lovely message 😍 / just catb Tumblr in general makes me happy!

5. Getting an email with this header:

#i daren’t send any more out as i can’t remember who i’ve already sent to!

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weeinterpreter · 3 years

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Wee’s Wannabe Investigation

Or: How I Did All The Mistakes, So You Don’t Have To

Almost ten years ago, I spent half a year in Tralee in the South of Ireland during my exchange semester from university. You know who also lived in Ireland, only 3 hours away from Tralee? My favourite Irish author, Eoin Colfer.

So, I thought, “I bet I could meet him in his hometown. How hard can it be?”

Well, let me tell you...

I took a bus to Wexford with a foolproof plan. Or so I thought. Once I reached, I checked the local phone book and called the first Colfer on the list. The man on the other end wasn’t too pleased (understandably so!) when I told him that I wanted to meet Colfer. He told me to call his agency.

Disappointed, I spent the day in Wexford and joined a literary evening, during which a lot of talented hobby writers read out their texts. Obviously, everybody knew each other and I, the stranger, attracted everybody's attention.

The locals started to ask me what I was doing in their little town and I told them that I was looking for my favourite author, a certain Eoin Colfer. One gentleman quipped up: “Oh yeah, Eoin. We went to school together. He sometimes comes to town. Actually, I have his number somewhere, I’ll call him tomorrow. Why don’t you come over to my shop in the morning and I’ll let you know?”

Long story short, Colfer was about to leave soon for a book tour but he promised to send over his wife with a signed book for me. Was I happy? Yes. Did I stop there? No. I went to the book stores in town and asked if anybody knew where he lived.

Why did I think this was a good idea? There really is no excuse for it, but in my head, I didn’t see myself as a creepy stalker fan. I was 21 and thought I was some sort of Sherlock Holmes, who would go on a great adventure to meet her favourite author. And wouldn’t it be so cool if this actually worked...?!

Older me: It is not.

Following the lead of a shop keeper I ended up on the highway several hours later, no Colfer in sight. I had to walk the whole way back, was chased by a dog when I tried to find a shortcut through a field path and ripped my jacket on some raspberry vines, while I was running through Wexford’s wilderness...

Have I mentioned that I have a terrible sense of direction? I got totally lost. Hours later, I passed a small cottage that I hadn’t seen on my way to the highway. An elderly lady came out, most surprised to see someone. (”Not even the postman can find this house!”)

To this day, I am not 100% sure if I didn’t step into the fairy world, but considering that I drank tea and ate cookies with the lady and was able to leave, I (mostly) doubt it. Kids, do NOT do that. I should be an example of what not to do when you come across a gingerbread house with an elderly lady living inside. It’s a wonder, I am still alive... Either way, I told her my story and spent the afternoon with her and her cats. Then, she told me how to get out of her realm... I mean how to get back to town and in the early evening, I finally reached.

I looked like I had been hit by a bus. But at least I would get the signed book, I thought, and went to the shop, only for the owner to tell me that Eoin (he, himself! The man! The author!) had actually dropped by to leave the book... I almost cried.

I did get a signed copy of “The Half Moon Investigations” and took the bus to Dublin, half-satisfied. The End? Not quite. I reached Dublin late at night and thought I could find my hostel on foot. Back then I was a poor student and tried to save as much money as possible. The walk would have probably taken a normal person half an hour. I was out and about for almost two hours.

On the way, I was surprised by a rainstorm of such dimensions... Noah would have been scared! I reached the hostel, drenched and ready for bed. I poured the contents of my bags on to the floor, only to discover that my precious signed book had also been hit by the rain.

I spent the night placing toilet paper between the pages in lack of anything else and ran into town to find someone to help me save the book the next morning. Of course, water damage is hard to fix and it took only five book shops to tell me the exact same thing.

In the end, I went back to Tralee and spent about a day, ironing the pages, crying and vowing to come back the next year to continue my search.

You (and probably the entire Colfer family) will be glad to hear that as of now, I haven’t managed to go back to Ireland. And if I do, it won’t be to stalk innocent authors...

Seriously though, don’t repeat my foolish actions, guys. It’s not cool. Go to a book signing event and tell him how much you adore him. That’s much more polite than trying to show up at his doorstep.

Also, don’t accept cookies from strangers. No, not even if they let you pat their cats!

#eoin colfer #ireland #wexford #wannabe detective #travels #favourite author #adventures #i am not a good rolemodel #do not repeat #in my head it was much less creepy #x

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pavspatch · 3 years

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Hyde United v Burnley — a personal memory

This is my recollection of the Hyde United v Burnley FA Cup tie in 1983 and the events surrounding it. As Lockdown 3 has closed Tameside Local Studies and Archives Centre, I’ve been unable to double-check some of the facts. Even so, it’s how I remember things.I hope you enjoy it.

THE FA Cup first-round match at Burnley is unique in Hyde United's long history. While it was unquestionably one of the greatest events the club has known, it was also the most divisive.

Many supporters remember it as one of the best days of their life. Yet even now, almost 40 years later, there are others who will tell you they refused to go to the game and have never set foot in Ewen Fields since the autumn of 1983.

The cause of the controversy was the Hyde directors' decision to play the home tie at Turf Moor. Some saw it as sound common sense while others looked upon the switch as an act of betrayal. It can still fray tempers.

Perhaps things might have been a little calmer if the board had stuck to one consistent message. While I never believed Ewen Fields was capable of accommodating a tie involving a third division (league one) club — not from the moment the balls came out of the FA's famous velvet bag — the initial signals from the board were that the tie would go ahead in Hyde.

One or two directors may have got ahead of themselves before a final decision was made, and spoken out of turn. Possibly some people, including me, misunderstood. But when it was eventually announced that the game was being moved to Burnley the air was suddenly so full of the smell of burning rubber that it felt as though a handbrake turn had been made.

When Hyde United's journey to the first round began, the club wasn't really at peace with itself. At the end of the previous season the directors had astonished the fans by dispensing with the services of manager Les Sutton. After cryptic messages in the North Cheshire Herald, chairman Peter Pluck stated that Sutton's contract was not being renewed as the directors felt he had taken the Tigers as far as he could.

Many supporters begged to differ. Sutton was a popular figure who had won a stack of trophies including the Cheshire League championship which had led to Hyde returning to the Northern Premier League. They couldn't understand Peter Pluck's reasoning and didn't accept it. They felt there must have been some underlying issues.

Sutton's replacement was Chorley boss Peter Wragg. Maybe it was the fact he replaced Sutton in such controversial circumstances, maybe it was because Wragg had been a Stalybridge Celtic manager, but the Tigers fans never really took to him. When he quit in 1986, Wragg described his time at Ewen Fields as something like an unconsummated marriage. it had never quite worked out.

In some ways, Hyde were underachievers during his tenure. Although there were some very promising moments, including an appearance in the NPL Cup final, and some excellent signings, such as striker John Timmons, they never quite challenged for the title. League finishes were disappointing.

Yet they did reach the first round of the FA Cup for the first time in 29 years and it was at the end of a run that was far from easy and featured some memorable victories.

In the first qualifying round, Darwen from the North West Counties League, were expected to pose few problems and so it proved. They were dispatched 3-0 at Ewen Fields thanks to goals from Steve Johnson, Peter Coyne and Terry Cook. That, however, was as easy as it got.

Hyde's next opponents were Runcorn, then one of the most powerful outfits in non-league football and boasting a very impressive record in terms of silverware. They had been Alliance (Conference) champions in 1981-2; won the Alliance Cup, reached the FA Cup first round and finished fourth the year after; and were on their way to fifth place in the 1983-3 season.

In 1986 they were beaten finalists in the FA Trophy and starting a run of five consecutive Cheshire Senior Cup wins at a time when it was a very strong competition and taken very seriously. Runcorn, Altrincham and Northwich Victoria all played at non-league's top level while clubs like Hyde, Stalybridge Celtic and Witton Albion were ambitious and difficult to beat.

Even many of the the home fans, if they were honest, were expecting Runcorn to win. Yet the Tigers produced one of their best-ever displays to not only beat their mighty opponents, but humble them. It was giant-killing at its non-league best.

The difference between the sides was George Oghani, who rendered the gap in status between the two clubs null and void. Right from the start Runcorn had no idea how to handle him. George ran the game and claimed one of the goals in a 3-0 win, the others coming from David Holt and Peter Coyne. His performance has to rank as one of the greatest by a Hyde player.

And it wasn't only the Ewen Fields spectators who were impressed. George was barely out of the showers before being whisked to Burnden Park where he was signed by John McGovern. The deal would have put some welcome money in the Tigers' bank account but it also deprived them of their best player. That didn't bode well for the rest of the FA Cup.

When the draw was made for the third qualifying round it gave Hyde another home tie, but against Tameside neighbours Stalybridge Celtic whose boss was former Tigers star striker Pete O'Brien who would soon return to Ewen Fields for a successful stint as manager.

Although Hyde were were probably favourites, the Bridge would be no pushovers. There was a bitter rivalry between the clubs and while Celtic had ended the Seventies as the more successful side, the Tigers had overtaken them in the Eighties. It was a big match in every sense of the word and Stalybridge were more than capable of putting in the necessary big performance.

In the end, Hyde won 2-0 in one of the very rare matches at Ewen Fields to be marred by crowd trouble.

The fourth qualifying round put the Tigers 90 minutes from the first round proper, a stage they hadn't reached since 1954 when they lost to a third division (north) Workington side managed by Bill Shankly. It was good to dream but everyone knew Hyde had form for falling at the last fence.

In 1981 they had lost to Horden Colliery Welfare of the Northern League, so even though they got yet another home draw, there was a feeling of apprehension when they were paired with Blyth Spartans.

Blyth had a national reputation as an FA Cup team. In 1978, in times when everyone wanted to win the competition and no one fielded weakened sides, they had almost reached the quarter-finals which was an unbelievable achievement for a non-league outfit. Among their victims were Stoke City.

The Northern League was also something of a mystery. It included clubs such as Bishop Auckland and Crook Town who had dominated the old FA Amateur Cup, but it had remained separate from the newly-established non-league pyramid. It was known for good teams, tough-tackling and unwelcoming grounds.

A big crowd gathered at Ewen Fields to watch the tie on October 29 and there was a belief that the "impossible" might happen when Hyde took the lead through Peter Coyne. In those days, before the ground was redeveloped, the hardcore fans packed into the Tinker's Passage stand behind the Mottram Road goal and on the day the noise was deafening and the atmosphere electric.

But Spartans came back to grab an equaliser and a replay. Two days later it was discovered the winners would be home to Burnley. It was the perfect first-round tie but no one relished the thought of an early-November midweek trip to a ground north of Newcastle and with a small squad affected by injuries. The odds were firmly stacked against the Tigers going through.

As I was a postman and needed to be in work at the old Hyde Sorting Office at 5am, I was unable to go. In those pre-internet, pre-mobile phone days I had to rely on someone to call me with the result.

I fully expected the worst but when the phone rang, Dave Gresty informed me over a crackly line from a Northumberland phone box, that Hyde had actually won 4-2. Even though we only had 11 fit players, and Peter Wragg had been forced to name himself as sub, we had achieved the unexpacted. Wraggy celebrated by pouring the trainer's bucket over himself. Gary Blore, Peter Coyne, Charlie Pawsey and Kevin Glendon were the scorers.

The next morning, wherever I went, I was asked the same question: would Hyde really face Burnley at Ewen Fields? My reply was always that I couldn't see how it would be possible. But eventually I was abruptly told by a director that the tie would be played at home, so that's what I told people and the view that gained general acceptance over the next day or two.

Whether that director spoke for the club, or spoke too soon, I don't know. He may have thought the rest of the board would follow his lead, he may have got ahead of himself or he may have been talking through his hat, but as the realisation dawned that the tie had been switched, disappointment mixed with anger in many parts of the town.

To be fair, when club chairman Peter Pluck spoke to the supporters he made some very valid arguments. Although modernisation had begun at Ewen Fields it was in a dilapidated state. The main stand was made of wood and rather than having seats it had benches. No one was sure how many people could fit into it comfortably. There was no directors box. The so-called boardroom was small and grubby.

Nobody really knew the ground's capacity. Old programmes had given the record attendance as 9,500 against Nelson in 1950, yet the actual crowd that day was 7,200. As Peter Pluck said, if 5,000 tickets were sold but the stadium was full at 4,000, there was little to stop the other 1,000 pushing down a wall or fence to get in.

There was a general lack of manpower and facilities for a game that would attract thousands. There were many safety questions. How would a programme be produced and distributed considering it was usually printed on a hand-cranked duplicator in a garage? And of course the financial implications couldn't simply be ignored. Hyde would make a considerable amount of much-needed money by playing at Turf Moor in front of a much bigger crowd.

Of course these arguments cut no ice with some people and still don't. Even though the supporters club committee only numbered about a dozen, ranging from some who did a great deal to some who did relatively little, chairman Alan Barton was bitterly disappointed by the decision to switch.

The atmosphere became even more heated when Reporter sports editor Martyn Torr weighed in. Forty years ago the paper was required reading for anyone interested in Tameside football carrying columns of reports, news and gossip. In a strongly-worded editorial Torry railed against the Hyde directors and accused them of looking after the gin-and-tonic brigade instead of the ordinary fans. That was taken to be a swipe at Peter Pluck.

A week later, the argument raged on in the Reporter in a way that would be unthinkable now. The newspaper, which was broadsheet in those days, must have had two pages of letters on the subject of Hyde United v Burnley. The town was divided and it seemed there was no middle ground.

Even so, on November 19, 1983, the tie drew the biggest FA Cup crowd of the day — more than 9,000. Hyde United Supporters' Club must have organised at least ten coaches while others made their own way to north Lancashire.

And those who did go witnessed a splendid performance by the Tigers who were in no way intimidated by an expensive side managed by former Manchester City boss John Bond and featuring players like Scotland international Tommy Hutchinson and million-pound man Kevin Reeves. Hyde may have lost 2-0 but they fought every step of the way and Kevin Glendon was so impressive that Bond signed him.

The line-up on that day was Colin Darcy, Tony Steenson, Kevin Glendon, Steve Johnson, Gary Blore, Brian Hart, David Holt, Peter Coyne, Charlie Pawsey, Terry Cook and Barry Howard with Peter Coutts as substitute.

Somehow, for all the tempers lost and cheers raised, for all the highs and lows, for all the emotion expended, everything ended on a comic note.

As it was such a landmark day in Hyde United's history, the directors had decided to have the match videoed, which was quite a radical move for 1983 when affordable VCRs had only just come onto the market. There was one tape, and it was duly given to Peter Pluck to look after.

Some days later, Plucky decided to watch it and pushed the cassette into his machine. The titles flickered up showing "Hyde United v Burnley (FA Cup)" and then there was a bit of a snowstorm followed by some jaunty yet by familiar music. The no-recording tab hadn't been snapped off and Peter's young daughter had used the tape to record Tom and Jerry cartoons.

A great moment in history was lost, but it's probably better to end with laughter than anger.

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thescarletgarden1990 · 5 years

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🎈-🔍-☺️-👻-☕️-💜-

🎈- what’s a spoiler for a wip or series?

It’s still a super rough draft and anything can happen to it, but here’s a bit from the next chapter of In the Midnight Hour:

The photos covered his desk, his thumb leaving fingertips on some. Rhaegar cocked his head slightly, observing the one he was currently holding.

It's a nice shot, he thought. Might as well frame it. The smile on Lyanna's face as their lips were about to meet was as bright as the sun, almost blinding despite the terrible perspective the picture had been taken from. The photographer must have been hidden on the other side of the trafficked street, chancing their luck at taking shots where they wouldn't be covered from sight by the passing vehicles.

In the next picture, they were fully kissing, the pink tip of a tongue barely noticeable between their mouths, his arms around her waist, hers thrown around his neck.

There was no message other than Elia's name printed in a small font on a white card amidst all the pictures, the meaning clear enough. No stamp on the yellowish envelope, no address, and yet it seemed none but the postman had been caught close to his mailbox that day.

Rhaegar hid a tired smile behind the hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

The knock at the door came only briefly after, and when the idiot stepped in, he had the audacity to look confused.

"Mr. Targaryen," he greeted. "Did you send for me?"

"Sit, Baelish."

🔍- does anyone in your personal life know that you write on tumblr?

My boyfriend does, and my mom as well, but luckily she doesn’t speak English, lol. I may have mentioned it in passing to some other friend, but none knows my pen name nor where to find my fics.

☺️- a line that made you feel a fluffy happiness

From Fated Allegiance:

Did he think his heart left in the darkness of death? He was nought but a fool, for the scarred bastard was more alive than ever, threatening to burst out of his ribcage. He never thought he would live to witness such a sight, a warrior Queen that tamed direwolves like she did her dragons, a woman so lovely she looked like she came out of a fairytale, her snow-kissed hair blending with her surroundings, her amethyst eyes standing out like stars.

She was to be his wife, he suddenly realized, and for the first time in his life, he felt like everything was truly going to be perfect.

👻- 2 or 3 sentences from something you haven’t posted yet

Eheh. I don’t think that @tomakeitbeautifultolive will be mad if I post something from our WIP:

“Tormund,” Jon greeted him in turn, feeling a slight relief at the thought that the free folk had remained steadfast. Loyalty is a fickle thing, but it is power nonetheless.

He could see the hunched, dark figures of his murderers in the shadows of the cell they had been thrown into, the bile rising in his mouth, the loathe threatening to suffocate him. Jon slowly stepped into the torchlight, those treasonous heads raising at the sound of his approach.

And oh, how did he relish in the look that crossed those faces at the sight of him. Astonishment, first, a cloud of disbelief that made him smirk, for it dissipated soon, leaving only terror in its wake.

☕️- favorite passage

Picking favourites is super hard for me, damn. From Stormborn and the Black Dread:

Jon still didn't fully believe Brynna about the dragon, but it was getting late and he was tired, so he gratefully accepted his night accommodation.

“And now let me make some dinner, lad. I hope ya like rabbit.”

“Rabbit sounds perf-”

His voice was drowned by a deafening roar, the cups on the shelves trembling with it. Jon's heart soared in his chest, sudden fear at the realization that the legends he heard about in the last two days might indeed be true.

Slowly, carefully, he went out of the door, eyes wide and mouth agape at the mythic sight before him. The dragon was real and much bigger than what his imagination could ever conjure. Black scales glittering with a crimson hue in the glow of the dying sun, horrible horns on a great head of sharp black teeth and eyes of molten lava. Its wings were so expansive they were shadowing the village, the glow of fire visible through its open mouth.

The villagers that were on the streets scampered inside the buildings, barring the doors and windows with haste. He could hear a child cry in the distance, and Brynna's voice murmuring prayers to the Seven from behind his shoulders.

Jon fell to his knees, his jaw slack and his heart thundering in his throat. The dragon roared, a great breath of flame pouring from its mouth. He could feel the heat on his cheeks even from this distance, hinting at the terrible power of the dragon's breath.

“May the Mother protect us!” Brynna gasped. “It's come close tonight.”

💜- top 3 favorite lines

Even more difficult, lol! I can’t do these things, dammit. Anyway, I’ll give you three sentences that I love.

From Dust Under Brightness:

A little soft thing she was, all silver hair and doe amethyst eyes, but there was iron in her spine, fire in her heart. She could be a Queen, if only she wished, he thought.

From Under Wraps:

Daenerys cast him inconspicuous glances from the mirror, the stains caused by the salty air on its surface doing nothing to conceal the beauty of his reflection. He was currently laying on her bed – or was it theirs? - in all his naked glory, a sculpture of sinewy muscles under pale skin, his smouldering dark gaze unflinching from her figure.

From High Hopes:

Everything she ever felt just exploded then. All the anger, and the need, and the contentness, and the pain, and the wonder, and the love, the grief, the awe, the sorrow, hate, hunger, coldness, warmness, and suddenly she wasn't sure whose feelings those were. She saw everything at once, every single moment happened since the beginning of time, without any perspective. She was everything. It was a feeling so strong and intense and overwhelming, like it was annulling her, inexorably fading her own consciousness in the totality of nothingness.

She became nothing.

Thanks for the ask! ❤️

Writer Ask Game

#ask game #my fics #thank you anon!#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys ff

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bbbb-barnes · 6 years

Text

Look After You - Bucky Barnes X Reader [3]

Summery; Bucky Barnes discovers his sister is still alive and finds comfort in the endearing nurse that cares for his dying sibling

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Word count; 4336 (long one oops)

Warnings: Blood (In the first italicised part) angst and swearing.

I’m loving writing this so if you’re enjoying it please let me know, if you want to be tagged i’ll add you my requests are also open. Enjoy!!!

June 6th, 1941

The early evening orange sunset painted the whole makeshift army base in a decadent amber hue, various soldiers milled about, jostling with each other, playing cards and swapping pictures of their dames, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths as they did so. The air smelled of gunpowder and sweat and the atmosphere was relaxed, Bucky kicked his legs up and rested them on the upturned crate in front of him crossing his arms behind his head turning his face towards the setting sun, enjoying the warm feeling as it danced across his skin, he let his eyes lazily fall close as he concentrated on the Vera Lynn song crackling through the old radio nearby, he let himself relax like this for a while, it was a rare peaceful moment amid the chaos of war. A large figure heavily stomped in front of him, blocking the sun from his face and making him frown. The robust man in question gruffly cleared his throat and Bucky’s eyes flitted open. “Sargent Barnes, some mail has arrived for you” The soldier saluted with one hand and the other clutched a white envelope. Bucky waved him away signalling him to stand to attention, he did as he was told. “Thank you, Meyers” Bucky took the letter off him and gave him a quick salute, after returning the gesture Meyers stomped away. Bucky sat up and rested his elbows on his knees studying the letter, he knew straight away it was from Rebecca the slightly childlike writing was a dead giveaway and caused his face to break into a grin. These were the only letters he paid any mind to, he received many from different dames he had spent spontaneous nights with in various cities and countries in a pathetic bid to combat the loneliness of war, he always left them with promises to write back but he never did, he didn’t even open their letters. He shook those thoughts from his head and ripped open the letter, nostalgia and homesickness punching him in the gut as he saw his sisters familiar scrawl.

Dearest Bucky,

I miss you very much, Brooklyn is not the same without you. News of your death has reached the town and mama is very upset, she doesn’t get out of bed anymore, not even to take me to school or answer the postman and all we ever do is cry cry cry cry cry and cry. Why have you left us Bucky? I can’t do this on my own. We need you here. I told you not to go. Why have you left me?

Suddenly thick, deep red blotches fell on to the letter with a loud, wet slapping sound blurring the ink, Bucky sobbed in shock horror, choking and gasping as the blood coated his hands, falling from his head, sliding down his face and mixing with the tears as the liquid deteriorated the letter into nothing, until he was holding on to nothing, until there was nothing. Red everywhere, blood everywhere. He screamed but no sound came up, he screamed for his mama, he screamed for his home, his eyes were heavy, and he was so tired he just wanted to go home, and he screamed for his sister, for Becca. He never got to say goodbye.

You jumped up with a start, hands scrambling over your bedspread trying to ground yourself. Your hair was stuck to your forehead with sticky sweat and your breathing was sporadic and heavy. Just a dream, it was just a dream. You sat in your mess of blankets letting yourself calm down for a few seconds. You couldn’t shake the dream, it was so vivid and so real. You rubbed your face, which was stiff with dried tears, you had been crying. You let out a sad sigh and your heart ached for Rebecca and for Bucky, for a situation that you yourself didn’t fully understand but knew you had a role to play in bringing these two people back together, you were in too deep, but you didn’t care. You grabbed your phone which you had carelessly thrown on the bedside table to check the time, 7:28am two minutes before your scheduled alarm, you pulled yourself from the warm cocoon that was your bed and padded barefoot across the wood floor of your bedroom, your bare feet arched slightly as they came into contact of the cold kitchen tiles, you grabbed Rufus’s food from the side and shook it before pouring it messily into his blue food bowl. You flicked the kettle on and leaned against the kitchen sideboard waiting for it to boil and absentmindedly looking out of the window that overlooked the grey, rainy New York morning, your mind wandered to Rebecca, as it often did these days and you mentally reminded yourself to call and check in later. Your stomach dropped as your eyes fell on the eyesore that was Avengers HQ and the reality of the day ahead hit you full force, the nightmare had distracted you for a while and you didn’t know which thought process you preferred.

After you gulped a large, scalding cup of coffee down, took a quick shower and blow dried your hair in to lose waves you stood in front of your open wardrobe with your hands on your hips, towel wrapped tightly around your body as your freshly dried hair flowed down your back. You needed to look like you had your shit together, you had to look like you had enough money to invest in Stark industries when in actual fact you had to live off instant noodles for the past week while you waited for your pay check to come through. You pulled a black long sleeve blouse out of the wreckage before surveying in and throwing it on to a discarded pile in the corner of the room, you did this with a few items of clothing before getting frustrated and flopping down on the bed with a sigh. That’s when you saw the skin tight, high waisted, knee length pencil skirt, pushing all of your insecure thoughts to the back of your head you slipped it on with a flowing white blouse tucked in, against your better judgement you unbuttoned the top two buttons, letting a slight bit of cleavage show, you slipped on some black stilettos and decided to put some make up on, you needed to look like you came from money, not from 4 hours sleep. After you were finished you looked in the mirror, the makeup helped you look less dead, your eyelashes were curled to perfection and before you could second guess yourself you smeared some red lipstick on and took a step back from the floor length mirror that hung on the back of your bedroom door. You felt sexy, you felt dangerous, you felt like you could take on the world never mind Tony fucking Stark. You savoured this feeling, it was rare, but you liked it.

“What do you think, Rufus?” You asked opening your bedroom door dramatically and strutting out, your heels clicking against the hard wood floor, catching the attention of the chubby cat who looked up at you bewildered, he wasn’t used to seeing you like this either it seemed. You grabbed your bag, an umbrella and your white name badge, clipping it on to your blouse. You had toyed with the idea of using a fake name but that was after 2 glasses of wine on a Wednesday evening and you quickly discarded that idea come Thursday morning.

The 5 minute walk to the tower was spent with you running through your carefully constructed (you thought of it last night) idea in your head. Clock the ladies’ bathroom as soon as you enter and when you were far enough away you would ask to use the bathroom, head in the general direction and when nobody is around to stop you, make a break and find Steve Rogers. Simple. Easy. Your confident persona was starting to slip as you strode down the wet pavement, you rounded a corner and audibly gulped. There it was, in all its shiny, expensive lavish glory. You stopped for a second, taking it all in scanning the entrance where two beefy security guards stood eyes darting around the various people milling around the entrance. After a deep breath and a mental pep talk you held your head high and walked straight up to building, pushing the heavy, glass doors and stepping into the warm reception area. Whoever said confidence works was right, the security guards didn’t even give you a second glance. Inside was it was sparkling clean, marble floors, glass walls, a sweeping staircase took up one side of the room and various lavish couches were dotted around, a few men in suits occupied them and a huge marble curved desk with a large obnoxious A emblazoned on the front took up the whole back wall, you checked your watch 9:26am, 4 minutes early. You walked up to the front desk, heels clicking on the marble floor catching the attention of the receptionist and notifying her of your arrival, she was a young, pretty girl with dark hair pulled into a high pony tail. It looked like it was giving the poor girl a headache. She gave you a wide smile showing off pearly white teeth.

“Hi! How can I help you?” She chirped, bright eyes giving you a quick once over. You smiled back at her “I’m here to see Tony Stark, for the investors tour” you replied coolly tapping your name badge, her eyes followed, and she read your name and quickly started typing with her brows furrowed.

“Mr Stark is running a little late, he’ll be here in a few moments if you’d like to take a seat” she pointed a perfectly manicured finger over to a plush leather sofa. You nodded silently at the young woman you walked swiftly over to the seating area and sank into the leather, trying to find a way to sit without looking awkward, you settled with crossing your legs over each other and practising your poker face trying your hardest to not look overwhelmed.

“Rich and beautiful, a lady after my own heart” The sound of an obnoxious male voice bellowed through the reception and you snapped your head towards it. Dissenting the large staircase with incredible grace and confidence was Tony Stark. Head to toe in a pristine suit, tinted glasses were perched on his nose, his hair groomed to perfection. He had his arms outstretched towards you as he approached and you stood up quickly, smoothing down your skirt and plastering on a wide, incredibly fake smile. You saw him give you a long once over, not trying to hide it, you had to visibly stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Good morning, Mr Stark” you greeted, pulling his attention back to your face, you gave him a sickly sweet smile.

“Good Morning, Y/N” he greeted back, squinting slightly to look at the name badge you had been provided in the letter confirming your place, he extended a ring clad hand and you took it, shaking his hand swiftly, without saying anything else he began to stride ahead, climbing the stairs he just came from, gesturing you to follow. Your brow furrowed in confusion, you were supposed to be in a group. You hurried behind him, heels clicking on the floor as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

“Um, Mr Stark, where is the rest of the group?” you asked as you finally reached his side, climbing the last few steps and trying not to seem as out of breath as you were. He stopped at the top and turned to look at you.

“As much as I love the sound of Mr Stark coming from your mouth please, call me Tony, and change of plans it’s a one on one tour now, my favourite kind.” He said that last part with a wink and carried on walking down the very overwhelming hall ways. Shit shit shit, you suddenly felt sick, this wasn’t going to work one on one. This wasn’t part of the plan. Your eyes darted around nervously as you walked and you were aware that you were surrounded by high tech machinery, lab equipment, weapons and vehicles, you tried not to look like a child as you ogled at your surroundings all concealed by tall glass windows, your heels clicked loudly as you followed behind Tony. He led you into a large office, which homed a large, shiny oak desk, a full bookcase and a full glass wall, looking out over New York. He settled in the large office chair behind the desk and gestured for you to sit opposite him. You smiled and perched on the edge of the seat as you crossed your legs. Without taking his eyes off you he retrieved a intricate, crystal bottle of what you assumed was Whisky. He poured two, expensive looking whisky glasses and pushed one over to you with a wicked grin. You kept your eyes trained on him as you threw it back, it burned like a bitch, but your head was swimming and you needed to think of a plan, it all felt too real now, your chest felt tight and your hands were clammy.

“Rich, beautiful, not much of a talker and you drink whisky. Marry me?” He teased before sinking his glass and refilling them both, you drank it in one mouthful again, just because you didn’t know how to reply, you smiled at him expectantly, willing him to get to the point.

“So, lets cut the bullshit. Everybody knows what’s in here, a quick google search will do that for you” he paused to sip his drink and you raised your eyebrows at his confidence. “You don’t need a tour and you want to invest, who wouldn’t?” He asked, taking another tentative sip and leaning back in his chair, if you weren’t so nervous you’d be impressed.

“I think you’re going to have to do better than that Mr Stark. I want to see where my money’s going” you clasped your clammy hands together in your lap and he filled your glass again.

“You see where its going every day sweetheart, you see how much profit is in these walls just by walking past, I’m a busy man I don’t have time to show you everything” he refilled his own and held It up to you, he was insanely relaxed, you sipped your drink this time, attempting not to wince at the burn.

“If you think getting me drunk is going to help your cause, you’re wrong” you stated flatly, trying to buy some time. He threw his head back and laughed, loud and obnoxious.

“Worth a try” He chuckled, finishing off his drink and stretching his arms behind his head, looking at you over the top of his glasses.

“Can I use your bathroom?” you blurted out, at a loss for things to say and needing to pull yourself together. He sighed and sat up straighter.

“Just down that hall way, then take a left” he pointed in the direction of the east corridor and you stood up quickly, feeling a little light headed, hoping he didn’t see your slight stumble you hurried out of the room and down the looming corridors heading in the direction he pointed. You took the left but strode straight passed the bathroom, seeing an elevator at the end of the corridor you hurried into it, there were too many buttons and none of them made much sense, so you jammed a few hoping they would take you were you need to go. The elevator dropped quickly, and you gripped the hand rail for balance, it stopped abruptly and opened up into a dingy, large garage filled with various shiny sports cars, you figured you wouldn’t find Steve here, so you pressed another random button and the elevator jolted to life and shot upwards. The pristine steel doors shot open on to what seemed like a communal living area, the place seemed slightly lived in cushions askew on the large sofa, a sweater was thrown over the side, the large TV was on playing a movie you didn’t recognise, the place opened up with a lot of natural light and had a large kitchen in the corner with all the gadgets you could name, this place was nice. You stepped out and the elevator zoomed away again, you suddenly felt very uncomfortable like you were in somebody’s personal space. Despite everything in your head telling you to flee this place, you softly walked down the corridor connected to the large communal area. There were multiple closed doors lining the carpeted hall way, the doors were numbered and had high tech looking locks on them. You reached the end of the corridor and stopped at a large, glass wall that loomed over a huge gym, this seemed like a very high tech facility. Your eyes scanned the floor and did a double take when you noticed a figure in the corner you didn’t see upon first inspection, you put your hands either side of the glass to get a better look at the tall, hunched over figure sat on the bench in the corner of the gym, he had his hands clasped together and dark, long hair covered his face, in a instant his face snapped up and his icy blue eyes met yours, you audibly gasped and stepped back quickly, his eyes made your blood run cold, you knew those eyes, you had seen them before. His face was emotionless and he was just staring into your eyes and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his, you felt grounded to him In this moment, and nothing else seemed to matter and you don’t know how long you stood there staring at him, staring at Bucky Barnes.

“So how exactly did you acquire your fortune again?” a hard voice came from behind you and you yelped in shock spinning around and pressing your back against the glass wall, looking at you visibly irritated was Tony Stark.

“My parents?” you tried with a small smile, but you knew you had been caught, he raised his eyebrows at you and snatched the tinted glasses off his nose with a large sigh, he started walking and gestured for you to follow, you quickly obliged. He led you to the communal area and pointed at the sofa, you sat down timidly, he loomed over you.

“Okay kid, just so you’re aware this place is heavily armed, try anymore funny business and I can obliterate you in two seconds” he started in a warning tone and you visibly cringed, he continued without waiting for an answer.

“You couldn’t stop your slack jaw from falling when you saw the most basic tech, you winced when drinking expensive whisky, which went straight to your head, you’re nervous as hell and you’ve gone walk about in my tower. So, unless you have a really good excuse you need to leave, like now.” He stepped closer to you, so he was literally leaning over you, giving you a hard stare with a quirked brow almost begging you to question him so he could use all the weapons he’d been boasting about.

“I need to see Steve Rogers” you blurted out and he looked visibly unimpressed, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger, shit you couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“We’re just letting crazy fangirls in now, right get out” he stepped back and gestured towards the door, you stood up and took a step towards him, a pleading look in your eye.

“Please, its about Bucky, its important” You looked into his brown eyes and he scoffed at you.

“Barnes, really? leave now” He grabbed his phone and put it to his ear, tapping his foot. In a fit of confidence you pushed his phone out of his hands, you weren’t getting this chance again and if you couldn’t say you did everything you could then you couldn’t live with yourself, he looked at you like you had just fucking shot him.

��Did you really just- “he started to shout but you cut him off.

“Look I need to talk to Bucky or Steve okay, its serious it’s about Bucky’s sister it about Rebecca, she’s alive but probably not for much longer, I shouldn’t have come in here like this and I’m sorry but I’ve tried everything else and I don’t know what to do but I promised I would help her so PLEASE” you gushed, squaring up to him, you felt a lump form in your throat because you had gotten this far, he couldn’t turn you away now, he looked bewildered but before he could speak, a heavy set blonde man you had only ever seen in pictures emerged from the corridor, he planted himself in between you and tony and looked down at you with intense blue eyes.

“Becca’s alive?” he asked firmly, and you just nodded violently.

You threw the pictures down on the table, one you had printed of you and Becca last thanksgiving, old pictures of Bucky and his family and letters from Bucky to Rebecca. You were sat around the large table in the kitchen area with Steve and Tony. You had apologised to Tony, but he still seemed wary of you, staring at you through yellow tinted lenses constantly. Steve just looked through the papers you had given him with his brows furrowed.

“I promise you, I’m telling the truth” you had blurted out your story when Steve told you that you had five minutes to explain yourself and you jumped into the story, assuring them you had proof too. Tony looked to Steve with apprehension who looked up from the letters and sighed.

“This all checks out, what can I do?” he asked, eyes on you and you felt your shoulder sag with pure relief.

“Well, she’d love to see him, to see both of you. I just didn’t know with um Mr Barnes’ situation” you trailed off awkwardly not knowing how to refer to it. Tony laughed, Steve cringed. Steve raked a hand through his short hair and thought for a few moments.

“We could just bring her in here we have top of the range medical facilities, it makes sense” Tony announced, he sounded bored as he leaned back in the kitchen chair, the thought made your heart drop.

“No, that’s not a good idea, I’ve been caring for her for years, you want to take a dementia patient out of her home a shove her in a sterile facility where she doesn’t know anybody? its cruel” you protested quickly, the thought dawned on you that these two men could override your decision in a heartbeat, it scared you. Tony narrowed his eyes at you, opening his mouth to defend himself before Steve quickly interrupted.

“You’re right, let’s set up a meeting, ill come with him and you’ll be there too. If anything goes wrong I can control Bucky, if you can handle Rebecca” his face was sombre, this was probably a hard situation for him too you realised. You nodded and felt a weight lift off your shoulders, you weren’t sure how the meeting would go, but you did all you could possibly do to help, and you felt accomplished at that thought

“Thank you, Mr Rogers she… she never got to say goodbye and it kills her, this means the world” you thanked him sincerely and his eyes softened a little.

“Please, It’s Steve and you really care about her huh?” he asked with a small smile as his eyes fell onto the old picture of Bucky and Rebecca, outside their childhood home.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” You answered honestly.

“So, you’re a nurse?” Tony asked disbelieving still staring at you, you broke into a grin without thinking and his mouth quirked a little at you. “No, don’t make me smile I’m still mad at you” he announced pointing at you before getting up and leaving. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Florence Nightingale” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator, he sent you a wink before he zoomed off and Steve breathed out a laugh.

“Sorry about that” he apologised slightly awkwardly, hands fiddling with the pictures.

“Don’t be, I’m the one that lied my way in here” you laughed slightly, and he joined in as you stretched your arms. It had been a long day.

“Tomorrow” Steve said abruptly, before you could question anything he continued “Buck’s had a few good days, ill talk to him about all this and if he’s up for it, we’ll stop by tomorrow is that okay?” he looked a little nervous at the thought and to be honest so were you, you wanted it to go well but they were both very unreliable, unpredictable people.

“Tomorrow is good, we’ll see how it goes” you reassured, and he nodded satisfied with your answer.

After scribbling your number down for Steve, insisting he keep the photo’s you brought and a slightly awkward hug, you clicked out of the building, stopping to give Tony an overenthusiastic wave when you saw him on the way out, which he returned with a middle finger. It was warmer out and you walked home slowly, you couldn’t help but feel enthusiastic about tomorrow, you called up Becca on the way home, who seemed confused so you didn’t mention Bucky but you felt better for talking to her, after saying your goodbyes you rounded the corner to your apartment block, you realised two things, you needed more friends your age, and you were going to meet Bucky Barnes tomorrow and of all the things you should think of him, all the preconceived notions you should have, all you could think about was him and how excited you felt about seeing him again.

Tag List :

@mizz-kraziii @bookluver01 @38leticia @emmapaisley18 @nyxveracity @acambridge @turdblossommm

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jilychemnerd · 6 years

Text

Petunia’s Last Stand

Part II (Part I here)

It was an ordinary day, the sun was shining, birds chirping, and Petunia Dursley was spying on her neighbors as she did her gardening. It was early in the morning and she greeted the postman as he dropped off her mail. She sifted through the envelopes as she brought them inside, but stopped dead in her tracks when she came across a letter addressed with painfully familiar cursive. Petunia looked around to be sure no one was watching as she scurried into the house, as though just the presence of this letter would create gossip.

It was early in the morning, but Petunia poured herself a large glass of wine in preparation; she needed something to take the edge off before she dared open the letter. Plied with alcohol, she sat at her kitchen table and carefully opened the envelope as though it contained something dangerous. She cautiously removed the letter and opened it up to read.

She forced herself not to cry, although there were tears threatening to fall. The first she had heard from her sister in 18 months would be through the girl’s messy cursive. She finished her glass, took a deep breath, and read.

“Petunia,

It’s been so long since we last spoke, please know that I still wish the best for you.

I’m writing to tell you that I’ll be getting married tomorrow, to James. I so wish we could have invited you, that we could have used this celebration of love to catch up. But I hope you understand that it is for your own safety that you cannot attend. There is so much you don’t know about my world, so much I neglected to tell you. My world isn’t as full of happiness and peace as I led you and Mum and Dad to believe. I wish so much that you could be there, I miss my sister.

And though my world is so full of conflict, it is also full of love. I hope you’ll be relieved to hear that I’ve not been alone, you should be unsurprised that I’ve made my own little family of misfits.

I’m willing to forgive, if you’re willing to accept.

All my love,

Lily”

There they were, the tears she had been holding back, streaming down her face. Petunia had harbored guilt over not including her sister in her own wedding party, but at least she had the decency to keep her on the guest list. Despite her sister’s words of reassurance, it hurt to be excluded, it felt like an act to intentionally bring her pain. Petunia, so focused on the gibe, didn’t consider what her sister’s words meant, didn’t consider that her sister was in danger.

She angrily folded the letter and hid it in the bedroom, Vernon would fly into a blind rage at her sister’s suggestion that they would ever need her forgiveness.

Petunia splashed water on her face, took a deep breath, and carried on with her day.

3 months later, when Petunia realized she was pregnant, she was sifting through boxes in her bedroom and came across her sister’s letter. Whether is was hormones or the power of time and an open mind, Petunia decided to reply.

“Sister,

I hope your wedding was all you hoped for. While it hurt to be excluded, it would have been no place for normal people like us. I have some rather good news to share with you, if you’d like to hear it over dinner. I’ll reserve a table at Chanderson’s on the 15th of December for a Christmas dinner should you choose to accept.

Petunia Dursley”

Satisfied with her generous invitation, Petunia mailed the letter off before consulting with her husband. When Vernon arrived home later that night and asked about her day, she replied, unthinkingly, that she had invited her sister to dinner next month.

The clatter of a fork hitting the table was Petunia’s first indication that her invitation had been a mistake. The next clue was the reddening of her husband’s face as he slowly asked, “You. Did. What?” It dawned on Petunia that the last time they had seen her sister, it was her husband who declared they never wished to see her again.

Petunia quickly clarified that she had not invited them to their home, but to Chanderson’s, the swankiest nearby restaurant. Vernon began to sputter and finally declared, “Impossible! We must meet them at least as far as London! That way they won’t be able find an excuse to return home with us! Most importantly, we can’t go anywhere people will recognize us… people will talk.” Petunia quickly agreed to her husband’s terms and the couple continued eating dinner.

As the couple was heading to bed, Petunia informed Vernon that she received a letter from her sister informing them that she and the boyfriend they met had gotten married. Petunia softly told her husband, “We’re having a child, Vernon. I have to give her another chance, she’s my sister and this is as good time as any to reach out.” Vernon softly kissed his wife’s forehead and nodded.

#jily #Lily Evans #petunia dursley

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oh-beyond · 7 years

Text

The Postman AU - Part 4

Your parents tried to have children for years… They were desperate to conceive a child, almost gave up on the idea, until finally your mother got pregnant with you. Fragile child, born underweight and prematurely. You were the light of their eyes. Now you were a teenager and still treated you as if you were going to get broken. Homeschooled and trapped in your house. You didn’t need anything from the outside world.

Nothing. Until you saw the postman one day.

Angst/Fluff/Smut

Lay x reader

Masterlist

< Part 3 - Part 5 >

Summary: Yixing learns that even though everything looks bright, he still can’t have everything.

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

“As you heard it Marie, and he is coming for dinner to officially ask for ___’s hand in marriage”

“Changwook oppa!”

“I will not hear anything negative about this, Zhang Yixing is going to be your son-in-law, whether you like it or not Marie”

*****

“You got her pregnant!”

“What? Shut up Baekhyun”

“Then give me an explanation to this”

“It seems odd alright Yixing my friend, Moon Changwook? Asking you to marry his daughter? And pay your tuition? What in return?” asked Junmyeon rubbing his chin narrowing his eyes.

“My tuition in return of marrying his daughter. That way I can send money to my mother without having to work. He said he will help me with that too”

“Then she must be ugly” teased Baekhyun.

“No she isn’t!”

“What’s the catch, I agree with Junmyeon-ah here” added Yifan that was having none of this.

“She is sick, he needs me to take care of her forever” he replied naively.

“See? Now it’s starting to make a little bit of sense Yixing didi” said Luhan patting his friend’s back.

“No, no, I think I might of worded that wrongly”

“No hyung, you actually didn’t. The man is cunning, he isn’t giving you anything for free here. You are marrying his sick daughter that can’t be a wife fully”

“Baekhyun-ah!” spatted all at the same time.

“But it’s true! Why would you take a sick girl and make her your wife? You haven’t even had a girl before and this man wants you to marry his defective daughter”

“I can’t believe I am hearing this” said Yixing getting on his bike “and I certainly don’t want to”

“Wait Yixing” called Junmyeon "ignore Baekhyun you know how he is. I’ll come with you to the dinner, but firstly let’s dress you to Moon Changwook’s standards, you are no less than him. In the contrary you will be better than him in every sense”

A week later...

“Dress nicely ___, we have an important visit today”

“Appa please, I don’t want to be in another boring party with your partners, I will read a book instead”

“Why are you said baby?”

“Nothing, It will go away”

“You liked going to the lake ___?”

“I did, and I miss Zhang Yixing, was he fired? Did mom do something or asked you to-”

“Get dressed, wear that pink dress I got you from Nagoya last time”

“Sure appa”

Your mom helped you get ready, she was acting very strangely, you watched her reflexion in the mirror, she looked melancholic as she brushed your hair.

You didn’t dare asking her, but she definitely didn’t look happy at all, even though she was wearing one of her best dresses looking stunning herself. You assumed that she might not be in the mood to meet with other the partner’s wives today. She was antisocial anyhow and she disliked having a lot of people in the house.

“Samo-nim, they have arrived” announced Ada.

Your mom just nodded fixing your earrings “we will be right there”

“Mom? Mom are you crying?”

“I’m alright, just- let’s go”

“Mom? What’s wrong?

“Come on they are waiting for you”

“For me?” you exclaimed walking behind her “who? Who Mom!? Mom!”

And there he stood, Zhang Yixing, looking painfully gorgeous. Your heart racing uncontrollably when you noticed how well groomed he was and how natural he looked in your house, standing in the front hallway, your father greeting him and another young man next to him.

Yixing looked up meeting your shellshocked gaze. You had to hold onto the handrail because it felt dizzy suddenly. He was just as shy as you were, but at the same time he looked confident and too handsome for your poor health to handle.

“Come on ___, get down already and greet the guests”

You went down, slowly, never breaking eye contact with Yixing, he was blushing and kept rubbing the back of his neck, noticing his handsome friend patting on his back.

Finally you walked towards them hooking your arm with your dad’s.

“I know you are surprised honey, but this dinner is for you. Please greet the guests”

“Hello, I am Kim Junmyeon” you extended your hand and he shook it shaking it enthusiastically.

“Hi ___, how have you been?” said Yixing taking your hand placing a light kiss on it.

You flinched at the contact, immediately looking at your dad and searching for your mother who wasn’t even there anymore.

Your father smiled before guiding Junmyeon to the living room leaving you with Yixing alone.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-shouted “what is happening? Why haven’t you delivered the mail all this time? What are you wearing?”

“Shhh, come on let’s not keep them waiting” he said placing his hand on the small of your back making you shiver “you look so pretty ___, so much that I want to kiss you, like the other day”

“Yix-”

“Guys are you coming?” asked your dad.

“Yes, yes sajang-nim”

The dinner was placid enough, most of the time was your dad getting really interested in Junmyeon’s family business, your mother took an obvious interest too. And that was all good because it left you with loads of opportunity to look at your angel. He was adorable as he chew on his steak, he was confused to see the amount of cutlery not knowing which fork to use, the cherry on the top was when he poured water in the wine glass, he was so cute. Bless his soul, you were starting to have the urge to feel his chest next to your ear, to hear his heartbeats, to make sure that all this was real and not a dream.

“Desserts are to be served in the garden please Ada”

“Yes sajang-nim”

“It’s too cold outside, ___ can’t come out” stated your mom.

“She can Marie, please Ada get something warm for ___”

When Ada came back with a quilt, Yixing took it from her hands wrapping you with it. They all went quiet watching the scene, you felt exposed because your cheeks heated up clearly giving away how affected you were at his proximity.

You sat in the garden swing, Yixing was hesitant for a moment before sitting next to you.

You ate desserts in complete silence, your mother had her eyes fixated on Yixing and you noticed how hard it was for him to even swallow.

Random conversations that took at least an hour before your father started asking Yixing questions about China and his studies.

“So I think Yixing has something to say? Right son?”

“Ah yes, yes” he looked at Junmyeon for support, he smiled and nodded.

“Yeah tell us our dear beloved postman what you have to tell us”

Your dad elbowed your mom for her to stop, Yixing cleared his throat resting his arms on his thighs entwining his fingers together.

“I- well I would really hope… I mean-”

“Yes son?”

“I-“

“Come on Yixing-ah” said Junmyeon with a bright smile.

It made you nervous, could it be?

“I would like to maybe ask ___’s hand in marriage? Please?”

Your mother scoffed looking the other side, you knew she was most probably cursing under her breath, her face factions turning into menacing. But that didn’t matter when you saw your father’s reaction, he smiled and relaxed his back in the chair.

“I will- I will finish my studies, and I will be a doctor, and I will make you proud of me. I promise sajang-nim”

“___ is 17” stated your mom.

“Well, I mean if ___ is alright with the proposition, they could get engaged now and maybe get married after Yixing finishes”

“But appa! That is too far away”

“What do you say Yixing?”

“I think we could get married, she won’t distract me. I can do it”

Your father got up and so did Yixing, he hugged him and tapped his back “just take it easy boy, we will discuss the details later. Congratulations!”

You stood up not believing what was happening.

“So you agree ___? Will you be happy to marry Dr. Zhang Yixing?”

“Appa! Yes?”

“Yes honey, I am happy for you” he hugged you lifting you off the ground spinning you around.

Your mother couldn’t take the sight, she stood up getting inside the house ignoring everything. It pained Yixing but he didn’t want to ruin the happy moment.

Junmyeon tapped on Yixing’s back “this suits you my friend, congratulations, your bride-to-be looks like she really likes you” he whispered in his ear.

Yixing giggled now looking at his friend who was now congratulating your father. It was now time to face you, look into your eyes, his fiancée’s eyes.

His bride.

“Is this happening? ___? You will be my wife?”

“Guys, I think you should get inside, it is kind of chilly” suggested your father winking.

“And I will take my leave, I have work tomorrow morning” announced Junmyeon.

“Don’t worry we will drive Yixing back home, thanks for coming”

Your dad guided Junmyeon to the door while you took Yixing’s hand to get inside. He let himself get dragged by you thinking that this couldn’t just be real. He was there, walking in your house, with the knowledge of your parents. You, his fiancée.

His.

You finally stopped turning around to face him. He didn’t even notice where you had taken him lost in the thought that he was going to be able to tell you how happy he was without feeling any guilt.

“This is my favourite part of the house”

“Mine too”

“Silly Yixing, it’s the first time you’ve been here” you said slapping his chest lightly.

“It is because you are in it” he confidently said bringing you closer to him from the small of your back.

“Oppa” you struggled to verbalise.

He tugged a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze intense and mighty enough to melt metal. He blinked slowly caressing both cheeks, scanning your face in detail. It was intense. Everything about today was intense, you wanted to ask a million things, but you also wanted to stay like this. In silence. Looking at each other..

“You will be my bride ___. Mine, for me. You will be mine” the gruff in his voice and low tone… the amount of times he said ‘mine’

You trembled, you blushed, but nothing like when you felt his fingers travelled to your jawline.

“Oppa”

“You are so delicate, so beautiful, so unique and pretty” you felt his nose nudging your neck as he spoke those words “I will be the best husband, you wait and see, you will be proud of me. I’ll take care of you and love you forever. This I promise you”

“Alright, you are speaking ahead of yourself Yixing my dear”

Both of you flinched at the poisonous voice of your mother speaking way too close.

“Mom!”

“Samo-nim!”

Both of you spatting at the same time.

“Follow me, and you ___, to your room. We will have a word tomorrow about this”

“But mom!”

“NOW!”

You huffed in discontent and did as she ordered. Leaving Yixing to face his fate. Your mom was already upset about all this. The scene she witnessed wasn’t helping the cause.

He followed her in silence till they arrived at the impressive kitchen.

“Stay here”

He didn’t dare to argue, he just stood watching her bring a bottle of wine and 2 glasses.

“This is a wine glass, same one you used to drink water. Not blaming you of course, how would an ignorant hungry beggar like you ever know something like this?”

She poured a glass extending her hand “here”

“No samo-nim, I don’t drink”

Your mom scoffed turning her face before she bursted into jerks of sarcastic laughter.

“Yeah I guess you can’t afford it. Hasn’t your decent handsome friend ever invited you to drinks?”

“I don’t drink” he repeated.

“Take it! You will need it for this conversation. Don’t keep my hand extended for too long beggar”

Yixing exhaled trying to keep composure, when he went to take the glass she let it fall to the floor. The glass naturally shattered into pieces the dark red substance creating a mess.

After gasping and acknowledge what just happened he lifted his head to meet with the sinister and satisfied grin your mother wore.

“Clean it!”

“Excuse me?”

“Clean the mess you made!”

“I didn’t do anything”

“Yes you did, are you arguing with me beggar? You irked me, therefore you did. Now clean and clean my feet” she added giving him a cloth.

Yixing crouched in the floor as she lifted her foot to his face level “like this you look much better, exactly where you belong”

“Samo-nim-”

“You filthy rat! Opportunist… you might of have fooled my kindhearted husband and my naive daughter, but not me”

“I didn-”

“You will get your tuition paid to be a respectful doctor and on top of that my precious daughter. What do we get in return?”

“I will protect her, and love he-”

“She doesn’t fucking need protection from a rat like you” her voice full of disgust “and don’t you dare touch her ever again, you filthy postman. Disappear and don’t dream big. Now clean all this before you leave”

He thought about it. He was dreaming big, the tuition, his mother never needing anything ever again plus a bride. The bride of his dreams really. Pure, elegant, beautiful, loving, cute and naive for him to shape and mould as he pleases.

And sick.

Weak.

While he was healthy and any girl would love to have him.

Why was he thinking of the situation with different eyes right now? Perhaps was the way Marie talked to him? He was trying to find the proof that he wasn’t an opportunist but in the contrary he was going to carry burden.

“Yixing? Son I was looking all over for you? What are you doing?”

“Ah sajang-nim, I just dropped it and...”

“Nonsense, Dr. Zhang Yixing himself?”

“Sajang-nim” he spoke trying not to seem affected “thank you”

“Call me abeoji from now on. What’s wrong son?”

“I don’t think I can do this? I feel like I am taking advantage of ___”

“Yixing listen, don’t say that, ignore Marie, she is just stubborn, look how happy you are making ___, she’s never been this happy, you will bring her the joy that I can’t or her mother can’t bring her. I really mean it”

“Can I just tell her goodbye?”

“I’ll give you 10 minutes, she’s in her room” your father tapped Yixing’s shoulder.

“But-”

“Marie... I will distract her, now go” he motioned with his hand for him to go.

“___, can I come in? ___!” whispered Yixing.

“Oppa?” you opened the door surprised.

Yixing covered your mouth with his hand making you walk backwards as he looked behind him making sure no one heard. His neck was stretched right in front of your eyes... his neck... his neck veins...

Zhang Yixing was just perfect, you were afraid to unwrap him to reveal more greatness, he was out of this world, more beautiful than any model from your magazines.

He closed the door pushing it lightly with his foot as one hand was still covering your mouth, the other over your hip.

“That was so loud ___” he whispered.

He was warm, you didn’t want him to let go of you, if anything maybe get closer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like th-aaat oh... what are you wearing? Not wearing? I’m sorry, I’ll better leave” he stuttered removing his hands in panic placing them behind his back looking away when he realised you were basically only wearing a pyjama top, and didn’t have the time to wear the lower part to it.

“Wait, you just came”

“But you...”

“I’ll get dressed, don’t go”

You walked to towards your en-suite bathroom to get the other piece of clothing missing, he looked at his feet bitting on the inside of his cheek, scolding himself for even thinking of looking at you as you walked away.

But his demos won the battle. He darted his gaze and took in your body from behind as you walked. You were very petite, but surprisingly where he was looking you were just perfect, rounder than expected.

You came back dressed smiling brightly.

“Oppa!”

“I really need to get going, I just came to ask you a question. Are you really happy? You won’t regret marrying me?”

“Should I ask that question instead? Look at me, I’m nothing, I’d probably get weak if you hug me too tightly or if you kiss me or if we...”

“If we what?”

“I...”

“You are so cute, I love you ___, I really do” he caressed your hair coming closer “I will take care of you”

“You won’t hate me for being weak? What if I can’t do those things?”

“You will, we will... listen, I need to go, but leave the back door open. I’ll come back”

With that he disappeared.

****

It was warm, your bare thighs feeling his legs entwining with yours, a sudden tug at your waist as his arm wrapped securely around your waist, his nose at the back of your neck hearing his pants clearly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“___, wake up”

You hummed, but you couldn’t wake up, you were tired, your body exhausted from all the excitement of the day before.

“Oppa”

“At your service my bride” his voice sounding husky, making all your hairs stand.

He pressed his chest to your back fully, feeling more of him. All of him. He was strong and healthy... and you couldn’t even open your eyes.

“Please? Or maybe you need to be awoken like sleeping beauty? Is that it?” he asked detaching himself, letting your back flat on your mattress.

You smiled, your eyes still closed, waiting for his lips to mould over yours.

“I am not going to until you ask me to”

“But I’m not pretty now” you whined slowly opening your eyes.

He was way closer that what you thought he would be. You felt his fingertips tracing your lips, you found yourself wanting to touch his hair that fell over his forehead.

“You are always pretty, I was watching you sleep for a good while. I can’t believe you are going to be mine” he continued now his fingers getting bolder travelling to your exposed skin at your collarbones.

He exhaled loudly, you noticed his Adams apple bobble nervously so you closed your eyes at the sight. Your body felt warm and you liked the overwhelming sensation.

You felt his nose nudging yours as if asking you permission for his next move that was imminent, resting his hand bellow your ear. He lowered himself further his lips finally landing over yours, this time harder than the last time he kissed you. He pressed them and you heard his loud exhales that fanned over your face. You were trembling again, but so was he. You felt it when your hand fisted his shirt.

“___, what have you done to me?”

“Oppa, I can’t breath”

“Neither can I” he said before claiming your lips again.

He angled perfectly to make you part your own, and when you did he lost control. He kissed you sloppily, almost as naive and innocent as you.

Inexperienced.

He lost himself and his tight grip made you dizzy, excited but anxious at the same time.

He moved to your chin peppering open mouth kisses travelling to your jaw and collarbones.

“Oppa~~~” your voice no longer audible even to you.

“Yes baobei, yes, yes”

His kisses harder, felt like he would bruise your skin. It was a sweat pain that you wished you could exchange, but your limbs felt numb, as if you had left your body and could no longer even fist his shirt.

“I can’t, I can’t breathe” you whispered.

“You are so soft, you smell so good, my baobei. Wo ai ni, wo ai ni baobei, xie xie baobei, wo ai ni”

He started blabbering in Chinese, and as much as it turned you on, you were really struggling to breathe.

“Oppa, move!”

Yixing felt as if a ton of bricks just fell over his head. He detached his lips from your neck in alarm, you were panting heavily, you still looked delicious and it make him feel bad that he wanted to continue.

“___! What’s wrong?”

“I can’t breathe, I am sorry oppa, I want to, but I can’t”

His excitement died when he realised how selfish he was being, he knew you were weak, but his greed...

Even tho it was going to be really hard.

He decided not to touch you ever again...

_____________________

A/N: Thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed. ^_^

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pg58cwybrksi · 7 years

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i think the problem i’ve always had with my birthday is that i’ve always seen it through the wrong lens. i’m unlikely to change that now, but when i was younger it was a “who would hit me up???” competition whereas it has since become a “wow my guy you still haven’t accomplished shit nor are you any closer to actually accomplishing what you’d like to lmao” kind of thing. like everybody else (except, seemingly, very successful people) i’ve always wanted to do 1000000 different things with my life. even now, i can’t figure out what that is so i spend 12 hours a day in an office selling software and being moody on the internet (still). van gogh didn’t just pick up a brush and hit us with the portrait of the postman joseph roulin. coltrane probably played some music before we got a love supreme. neil armstrong almost killed himself on multiple occasions getting ready for the moon landing. i can’t get started on anything, though. here’s to another year on this rock.

The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of the day, The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme, The similitudes of the past and those of the future, The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings, on the walk in the street and the passage over the river, The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away, The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them, The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore, Others will watch the run of the flood-tide, Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east, Others will see the islands large and small; Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high, A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them, Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide.

It avails not, time nor place--distance avails not, I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence, Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt, Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd, Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d, Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood yet was hurried, Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick-stemm’d pipes of steamboats, I look’d.

I too many and many a time cross’d the river of old, Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high in the air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies, Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in strong shadow, Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south, Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sunlit water, Look’d on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward, Look’d on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet, Look’d toward the lower bay to notice the vessels arriving, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor, The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars, The round masts, the swinging motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses, The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirls of the wheels, The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening, The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite storehouses by the docks, On the river by the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank’d on each side by the barges, the hay-boat, the belated lighter, On the neighboring shore the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night, Casting their flicker of black contrasted with red and yellow light over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets.

These and all else were to me the same as they are to you, I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river, The men and women I saw were all near to me, Others the same-others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them, (The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)

What is it then between us? What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails not-distance avails not, and place avails not, I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine, I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it, I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me, In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me, In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me, I too had been struck from the float forever held in solutions, I too had receiv’d identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew should be of my body.

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locshar · 7 years

Text

The White Princess Diaries- Ep 2

This is how the Yorks do York!!

The White Princess –Episode 2 but feels as if it should be Episode 14…

And he’s still not in it – even as a ghost…

Good news TWP diary readers!

This one will be a lot shorter!

Partly because I got bored half way through and decided to find out how long it took my colour-changing kettle boil water. Honestly!

BUT – I had been told my most favourite guy (next to Aneurard) would be making a star appearance – which was very magnanimous of him as he never appeared anywhere in TWQ (at least not in the Starz version eh diary readers…he! he! he!)

So – I girded my loins, poured a very tall drink, and began:

Warning! Social media revelation!

Remember that little craze about the ‘is the dress black and blue or blue and gold?’ I bet you didn’t know it was a Tudor invention. Mini-Lizzie-ish wears one gown throughout the whole of this episode, despite getting rounder with a big- but big- but definitely a bit bigger baby. I was so relieved to see that the Battle of Bosworth made very little change on the budget for women’s clothing (apart from a significant reduction in the size of Cecily’s hat collection and the fact that Henry now seems to be clad in the finest carpet)

Going back to said gown (yes we are) What is interesting ( to me anyway) is that the top of the gown was blue (I think) and the bottom of the gown was gold ( I think) and to me it seemed in danger of merging totally into one colour as she got bigger.

Or – it could have been a cleverly crafted represented her transition from the House of York to the Bungalow of Tudor – so she sort of became a Yudor - not to be confused with Yoda! (Jedi is she? In the wrong production she is).

That’s that lot off my chest, so here we go, *strains of all too familiar music are heard ..*

Well – King Whoenry appears to be wearing a smoking jacket (pity its not blazing) and Mini-ish Lizzie s in said confused about its identity dress. (apparently now available to buy £40 should do it). All to show you that he now really fancies the bloomers off her and she is playing all hard to get (see that attitude disappear by episode three…) #spoileralert?

Oh for George of Clarence’s sake – now we have the Battle of Bosworth being reenacted in a bird cage. Honestly! It’s a bird cage! ‘How cheep’ I hear you say! And you would be right to twitter! I think they made it out of all the spare wood from the trees they hauled into Bruges – er I mean – Westminster –when Eddie had that marvelous masked ball! You know! The one where his wife wore a unicorn head and his brother went beserk!

But who is that by the door? Oh my god – its Moaning Morton – we know it is him because he tells it is and is very helpful by also reeling off all his titles because he is also very peeved that he was not in the earlier episodes. After all, did you know it was him who actually persuaded Rory of Buckingham to have that awful haircut!

Now Dr Whoenry is going on a royal progress. An ideal time for the flowers in the attic (which is where Woodiwitch and her children now appear to live) to regale us with lots of little details that we would not know have happened since King Richard was killed (sob sob sob wail! I will never get over that….obviously)

Apparently Stafford has not bent the knee (well there were two of them really so there would be four to bend)

Hang on! Cursed Codpieces! Francis Lovell did what?

Now apart from all you first time TWQ watchers who may be going “Who?” I can assure you that Francis Lovell (King Richard’s best mate and part-time camoflague expert) NEVER EVER EVER bent his knee to Tudor.

Now – I admit. He may have wanted to bend his knee and plant it squarely in the royal jewels area of a certain Chewdor bloke, but that’s it. Now it appears “Lovell is our man and when we find him…”

Well best of luck with that then as I searched all ten episodes three years ago with a tooth comb and a magnifying glass and never got a sniff! But, for dramatic licence I bet Nokia Ned may suddenly have his GPS turned on and find him with no trouble at all #spoileralert

Now they are all getting dressed in up in everything to go everywhere (Yes they are EE Mobile) – but not York. It seems there is no service there. Or no one wants to pay service to him. King Henrywho decided to wear black (very fitting) and even found a sword to play with. Even if he wasn’t quite sure which was the sharp end.

Shirking Stanley loves his new velvet beret so much he has hardly taken it off at all since he bought it. And I bet is it reversible!

Even the horses are decked in gold plastic – sorry – expensive gold armour.

King Whoenry is in a real strop because he keeps telling us there is NO WAY he is going to York as they are all bad men up there who loved a man who according to some historians never ever went further than Warwick. But Mini Lizzie-ish is determined he will go to York, because she is secretly writing to her ex-lovers very best ex-mate who you haven’t seen before and asking him to kill the husband she now has and making him an ex-husband! This series is almost ex-rated. (its certainly not ex-citing)

Because King Whoenry is scared, he puts his best crown on and crows on about Margaret of York (last seen in 1468 exiting over the channel) has attacked two ships with the aid of Captain Jack Sparrow – and has obviously done that because Henry is such a clever usurper he has stopped all her trade restrictions (God this is painful and apologies – I invented the Capt Sparrow bit in there just to liven up the script. It was actually Capt Birdseye)

The silent ladies-in-waiting can't be bothered to wait and all bugger off somewhere to be silent somewhere else but no one realises – or cares.

Now there’s rather a lot of royal mail – and no where near enough of a certain royal Male –as there are letters flying about all over the place. To Francis Lovell, and Harry Stafford (the dead one?) and my sainted the king’s lady mother.

Ooh look – just in time! it's Nokia Ned. And he has a letter saying Henry’s no good in bed – does no one realise he could have just sent a text and stayed in the stables?

Lizzie-Mini-ish is now off to York because King Whoenry has been told if he doesn’t go to York he will have to go to bed with no dinner.

Everyone is worried about Mini-Lizzie-ish because although her child is blooming no-one can even see it beneath the very slim 22 inch waist encased in the gold-not blue-not gold gown. I’m not. She is not pregnant – obviously – only in this epic – sorry episode!

But now she can’t go because of the swearing sickness – oh sorry – it’s the sweating sickness – its just this episode which is making me swear. So instead of her daughter the older Lizzie-ish decides she is going to York and even packs a nice flock suitcase –and uses Nokia Ned to print off her bedding – sorry – boarding passes.

I then got very confused – but maybe because my kettle actually started to boil colourfully! There were some children, the sight of King Henrywhos chicken legs in bed and then the children appeared to be being attacked by Cardinal Moaning. (Well we didn’t see any of that in TWQ did we ladies! Hmnnn? What does that say about a Tudor court?)

Basically Lizzie-Maxi – is now a prisoner to prevent her going north of Warwick and Moaning Morton will pray for her - like bugger he will!

Can I summarise this next bit? Please? Great!!

1. Henry has a cloak by Axminster. It certainly isn’t a shag pile!

2. His armour appears to be gold PVC

3. Everyone is getting sick (I know the feeling)

4. Lady Elizabeth De La Poodle (geddit?) is shocked when she is told she can no longer ride side-saddle because times have changed! Bloody hell! Thank god for the Tardis! We are obviously now in the 19th Century!

So they all sod off to York (other northern cities are available)

Lizzie Maxi is now ripping up her underwear, writing on it with blood, and giving Nokia Ned another ring. Unluckily this time, he doesn’t pick up. He’s a bit thick and it takes his horse – Shergar – to tell him his phone is ringing (sorry – show him where Elizabeth’s ring has landed in the long grass!)

Suitably engaged (he! he!) – she now flings her underwear out of the window so that Nokia Ned can hoof it up to a nice country mansion where Francis Lovell may well have been living since 1473.

Now that King Whoenry has left London – Moaning Morton is shutting the whole of the city down and leaving everyone in the dark. Teddy (the Earl of Warwick – not the dead one tho) wants to play “Fox and Geese” but Moaning Morton has hidden all the toys away. Bloody spoilsport! I bet that is because even Teddy could have beaten Dr Whothehellishe at board games.

Now The Duchess of Hatlessfield is back and so goes to visit everyone in the dark and is so pissed off she decides she is going to Burgundy because that’s where all the booze is!

But meanwhile…somewhere in leafy England… the postman has arrived…..Nokia Ned rings a bell ….a door opens… an old man with an Aneurin-Bur coloured beard answers the door and takes a letter from him…no one speaks a bloody word mind you during this scene…..so this could be a completely different programme or the adverts…but then, the letter says….something like…

“Dear Francis Lovell, I know you really have lots of important titles as you were the most influential man in England apart from the King in 1483-85 but I am rapidly dying of blood loss and have already written 40,000 words. We are so sorry but we won’t be able to meet you in York now as my battery is flat and London is completely in the dark. As we can’t get there would you mind awfully forgiving Emma Frost and Philippa Gregory for leaving you out of The White Queen completely and for not casting Henry Cavill in your character now they have realised you actually existed - and go and stab Henry for me. Thanking you in anticipation. Ex Queenie and her sprogs”

Now I know we didn’t see Aneurard’s best mate inTWQ (neither did he) but I know a few things about Frank (we are on good terms!)

a) He was not older than Aneurard – or King Whoenry – in fact he was about the same age as King Whoenry.

b) If he had a beard – it would not have been that one.

c) He did not spend his months after Bosworth living in a house, a very nice house in the country….he spent most of them in sanctuary

d) He did not bend his knee….oh, done that one.

So – after a lot more of whatever went on – we are in York! And the good people of Yorkshire have already heard about King Whoenry as the mayor ( I assume) steps up – looking all northern in the best Starz tradition – ie he is wearing a pork pie hat – and hands over all his money to the king. You didn’t see that in TWQ either #justsaying

There is a flurry of activity, Gandalf in a blue cloak – oh sorry I think that is supposed to be Francis – and because King Henrywho can’t hide behind anyone this time he gets wounded. Disclaimer – other versions of this historic visit to York are available.

Cue horses riding about in Sherwood Forest ( aka Yorkshire) Bells ringing – a very dark church where the king takes refuge and a sudden clarity when he remembers he is 28 years old. Nice to know they got his age right here – they couldn’t make their minds up in TWQ.

So, the rebels with a bloody good cause ride north and are chased by Stand Up Stanley. But him and his 30 men are stopped by 5 rebels parked across the road and as Francis disappears into Sherwood forest in his hood ( this is how legends start girls and boys) Stanley – or it could have been Grasper Chewdor – bored now - decides that 30 against 5 is not good odds for him so they let them go.

They then report back to King Whoenry that they lost him at Middleham. Where? Is a entire audience now looking around at each other and saying “Where’s Middleham?” OK – think north of Sheriff Hutton…sorry Woodville Manor North Yorkshire!

And still Francis has not said a word as he rides of back to Bestwood…with his merry rebels and a friar – they are so tired they need to find some tuck….

Well that excitement over – heres the rest in a nutshell…

I. Lizziemini is still in the same frock

II. People are dying of the swearing sickness – I call it that because Dr King Whoenry swears it was nothing to do with his mercenaries brought out of prision to usurp a country

III. Lizzie maxi is playing Rapunzel in a Tower

IV. A priest is smoking in the diddly diddly cloister

V. Henry can write (see below)

VI. Lizzie ish pisses off Moaning Morton by breaking into the treasury and stealing all Henry’s (well Aneurard’s really) gold

VII. Breathing in very deeply is apparently a medieval form of abortion

VIII. Teddy and his sister give all the gold away to the poor ( Hurrah for the Yorks)

IX. Everyone is now playing ‘Fox and Geese” at least they are all wearing beaks

X. Lizzies (x 2) are both fed up of being cooped up ( I told you HortonhearsaWho was a chicken!)

XI. James of Scotland needs a wife – so Henrywho thinks it could be Lizzie (which one? Who cares? It doesn’t happen!)

XII. Mad Cags is told to stop flirting with NotGrasper

XIII. Princess Cecily doesn’t do much but at least she’s got off the bed but is writing secret letters to Mad Cags – well no one else want to hear her whinge

XIV. All of the people are suddenly cured and thank MiniLizzi for it – which pisses of her mum because she wanted everyone to die, whoever was left to blame the king, and whoever was left, probably Francis, to kill Dr Who.

XV. Yes, I am losing the plot. And the will to live (and what plot?)

XVI. King Henrywho suddenly realizes Teddy is not so bare of lineage as he thought – remembers he is a York – and locks him up in the Tower. That will be the last you see of him – until he is at least 54 and meeting Perkin Warden

XVII. Oh yes – where has he gone?

XVIII. The peasants are revolting ( the old ones are the best)

XIX. Dr Whoenry is so frightened that Mag Cags is going to knit him a personal bodyguard.

XX. The king is not at all happy that his wife is more popular than him and people shout out for her in the street (note to Lizzie – avoid Paris and Mercedes Benz cars)

XXI. Francis is now in Burgundy – I hope he has taken his Visa-card with him as if he ends up in the wine bar with Duchess Dyson it could be expensive. I bet she sucks up some drink!

XXII. Grasper and Strange – or it’s that Strange Grasper are being sent to Burgundy (psst don’t mention the trade restrictions!)

XXIII. Stanley is pissed that he wont get the chaunce to shew erf his accent and his nuu beret!

XXIV. As it is now raining the king is in a pac-a-mac. Its not just any pac-a-mac – it’s a designer leather pac-a-mac. Its DickheadNY!

XXV. Suddenly Not so Mini-Lizzi is nine months preggers and it is time for her confinement. The bloody lycra in that blue-but gold-but blue dress is amazing!

The end – I can’t wait for Ep 3 – apart from I can- just to see what happens when the booze cruise hits Burgundy.

Appendix 1

“Dear Mrs King Whoenry, this is your husband writing to you from York. Well, its my scribe writing actually as I don’t now how to and all the furniture has disappeared and so I am stuck with standing up, swanning around in my best Berber, and glowering at everyone like a sulky teenager. A man you will never have heard of called Francis Lovell has stabbed me in the flesh! Yes! Me! I have flesh! Ok I know it looks like scales but I am using medication and hope it will get better soon….anyway… so I am wounded. Not mortally. In fact, its barely a fleshwound. More of a scratch really. In fact, it probably never happened at all. So, I am coming home. Its raining, my carpet is very wet and heavy, my plastic armour chafes and as I have eaten my fill of Yorkshire Parkin. In fact if I ever hear the word ‘Parkin’ again, I will have someone’s head. Honest! Your Tudor husband, Doctor King Henry the King of Kings. PS…will you still be wearing that blue-but gold-but blue dress when I get home you minx? You know how partial I am to a bit of parti-coloured damask!”

Appendix 2 –

Dear Francis Lovell

If you fancy a pint, I can hop on the next P&O Ferry!

Much love – your favourite diarist (and author of Desmond’s Daughter).

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tenyearsapeasant · 7 years

Text

38. Newspapers and Broadcasts

"Media," when translated into Chinese, is literally "the medium for spreading." It includes newspapers, magazines, books, and other "planar media", as well as news broadcasts, television, movies, blogs, microblogs, WeChat, etc. Its definition will surely expand in the future.

When I was a peasant in Libeishang, my main media contact with the outside world was through the newspaper and news broadcasts.

1. The newspaper

For as long as I can remember, my family had ordered newspapers in Shanghai. It was either the Liberation Daily or the People's Daily. I had even made an extra large mail slot to make it easier for the postal worker to deliver the paper. This mail slot was used from 1962 all the way until the building was demolished in 2006.

When I moved to Jiangxi, my mom advised me to order a newspaper when I got there. If I read it often and thought about it, I wouldn't say anything wrong. No wonder she was always poring over the newspaper at home - she had to teach my father what to say when he went to work the next day.

After I had settled into Libeishang, I went to go find the Lugang postman, Old Xu. I wanted to order a subscription to the Jiangxi Daily. Old Xu said, "The higher ups just announced that each production team needs to order a copy of the Jiangxi Daily. It costs 12 yuan a year, and the production team is supposed to pay for it. We plan to deliver them to the residences of sent-down youth if possible, and the higher-ups seem happy with that course of action."

Perfect! I would be able to read the news in just a few days. Newspapers that had been read found another important use as toilet paper. We Chinese have a tradition of respecting paper that has words on it, but these were desperate times. If we didn't use the newspaper we'd have to learn the ancient practice of using bamboo strips, rocks, or straw instead. The only thing to remember was to make sure that there were no pictures of our leaders on the paper - that could be very problematic if someone were to report it.

The Jiangxi Daily. The heading uses the calligraphy of Chairman Mao.

After a few months, the only villager who could read the paper complained. He said that us sent-down youth were monopolizing the newspaper. I agreed, so I went to the store and bought some wire. Then I asked the villager Zhang Meifa to help make a clip for the newspaper. I put up the paper by the storehouse, so that anyone could stop by and read it. I was responsible for changing it out every day.

That villager was quite pleased, and went to read the newspaper almost every day. He'd sometimes come visit me to talk about current events. Even though I had only a few years of schooling myself, I was disappointed by his understanding. Many events were very difficult to explain to him.

I didn't expect the other villagers to start making fun of him after a month. They said that, just because he could read a little, he thought he was so much better than everyone else. They said he was pretending to read the newspaper every day, just to show off. His wife said they were running low on firewood at home - he should be spending that time gathering firewood instead of reading the paper. At some point this got to him, and he got in an argument with someone. Then he stopped reading the newspaper.

Since no villagers were reading the Jiangxi Daily anymore, hanging it up by the storehouse was not particularly helpful. The villagers suggested I just take it down.

In about 1975, Old Xu told me that production teams could choose to order Reference News. This was a Chinese newspaper, an "internal publication." It had lots of international news, but individuals were not eligible to order it. Only offices could order it, as a group. In Shanghai, my father's office had a subscription. He'd often bring it home during lunch-time, and bring it back to the office in the afternoon. I could only skim it during his lunch breaks.

I told Old Xu, the villagers were already upset about being forced to pay for the Jiangxi Daily. Since the Reference News had to be ordered by the production team, and I was the team leader, would it be possible for me to pay for it myself? Old Xu agreed to my proposal.

The Reference News; the calligraphy of Lu Xun graces the heading.

From the Reference News, I could see the news printed by foreign newspapers such as the New York Times. I could also see headlines from Pravda, and many other countries' newspapers besides. All in all, despite being heavily filtered by the Chinese government, it still reflected the state of the world somewhat accurately.

2. Magazines

Magazines are quite similar to newspapers. As I was growing up, my mother ordered several subscriptions for me: Children, Children's Times, and Youth Literature and Art. When I think of these magazines now I feel a rush of nostalgia.

In 1975, after learning the basics of agricultural machinery repair in Lugang, I bought a few books on the subject in Shanghai. Not long later, I felt that I needed to keep up with new developments in the field, so I went to find Old Xu. I asked if he could help me order a subscription to Agricultural Mechanics. This was a monthly magazine. When I went back to Shanghai, I went to Lugang Commune and canceled my subscription.

Later, when I got to Shanghai, I began to read Dushu (trans: Reading, one of the most influential literary magazines in China), which was also a monthly magazine. I was one of its earliest subscribers. After I moved to America, I asked my little brother to continue my subscription. When my friends visited Shanghai, I would ask them to bring my backlog back to America. I keep it by my pillow and read it every night. There were a few articles about the new advances in astrophysics that took me several tries to understand.

Dushu magazine, first published in 1979.

Telegraphs could also count as "media." I remembered an article about when the victors of World War I wanted to give the German-occupied province of Shandong to the Japanese at the Treaty of Versailles. As a weak country, the Chinese delegate was unable to influence the matter. He told Liang Qichao, who was outside the meeting area. Liang Qichao then ran to the telegram station and sent a long, eloquent telegram back to China. This kicked off the May Fourth movement.

In the following decades, many major political and military figures in China would publish long telegrams in the newspapers.

Even during the Cultural Revolution, people would send "tribute telegrams" to Chairman Mao, reporting good tidings. These would be simultaneously published in papers. And after Chairman Mao's passing, people sent "mourning telegrams" to Beijing to show tsuccessor loyalty. I never really figured out if you were supposed to go to the newspaper or the telegram office first. And if you were posting the message in a newspaper already, why even send a telegram?

For most people, telegrams were fast but expensive. Each character was three cents, with an additional half a cent for coding the characters into numbers. So they were only used for urgent situations. For example, "For Some Name at Some Address, Some Road, Shanghai mother gravely sick return quickly" was eighteen characters. That would be sixty-three cents, plus a twenty cent flat fee. It came out to eighty-three cents, which was ten times more than the eight cents it took to send a piece of mail. But the telegram could arrive the next day.

A telegram envelope from the 1970s.

There were nearly ten families living in our building in Shanghai. In the seventies, we sent over a dozen children to various villages. Latermy little brother told me that every year the telegrams would come pouring in before the new year. If you heard a motorcycle, odds were that it was someone delivering a telegram. The contents were mainly about when and where to pick them up at the train station.

When I went back to Shanghai, I never sent my parents a telegram. I would bring all my luggage back on my own with my carrying stick so I could surprise them!

3. Radio broadcasts

The leader of the sent-down youth in Libeishang was Cui Yinghui. He was very smart. He had a perfect score on his middle school placement test; before the Cultural Revolution, during "educational reform", he even taught Chinese to other classes as a seventh grader. He was famous throughout the school for his academics.

During the Cultural Revolution, he was quite ambitious, and joined the biggest Red Guard group in his school. He worked alongside a group of smart and hardworking high schoolers. According to him, when they met, they were afraid of being overheard by other groups. So they took chairs to the middle of the sports fields and met there. There was nowhere to hide, and they could know exactly who was listening.

In the village, he was also very active. Soon after we received our resettlement fees, he took out three months' worth and bought a radio from the general store for thirty-five yuan. This was the first radio in Libeishang history.

That night, we four boys huddled around the off-white radio, twiddling the tuner and scanning for radio stations.

The one with the best signal was the one run by the People's Liberation Army in Fujian. This station had to be quite strong to send messages across the strait to Taiwan. Among other things, this often broadcast parents who were on the mainland asking tsuccessor children to come back for dinner. I thought to myself, if my father had gone to Taiwan in 1949, maybe my mother would be on the radio right now asking for his return. But then I wouldn't even be here to listen, since I was born in 1950.

The Central People's Broadcast and the Jiangxi People's Broadcast were also quite clear. Of the Shanghai stations, we could only occasionally make out whatever was at 990 kHz.

Surprisingly, we could also hear the Voice of America broadcast. This was an enemy station. "Receiving enemy broadcasts" was disallowed - if someone caught us, we could go to jail. The signal in Libeishang was very good, since, unlike in Shanghai, there were no specialized jamming stations.

Outside of the Voice of America we received two other enemy broadcasts.

One was the Sound of Free China, broadcast by the Republic of China in Taiwan. The signal was not particularly strong. Despite imposing martial law himself, Old Chiang Kai-shek was still claiming to represent "Free China". This channel was unique in that, every once in a while, it would ask someone in some region to take down a series of numbers. This was obviously some sort of coded message for American or Taiwanese spies in China.

Were there really this many spies in China? I thought this might just be a bluff by Old Chiang. But many years later I read something about the KMT war hero Dai Li. He was tsuccessor head of intelligence. In the fifties, several years after his death in a plane crash, KMT operatives allegedly extracted his family members and brought them to Taiwan. I guess spies really did exist! Later I learned that, even before the revolution, the KMT spies were very effective. They were able to target Chairman Mao's residence for bombing, and ambush Zhou En-lai's caravan.

The other enemy station was one that only broadcast from 7:30 to 8:30 at night. This was the Voice of the PLA, had quite a weak signal, and had different frequencies night to night. This radio station kept talking about the "Mao-Lin cadre" as the "Bureaucratic military establishment." It spent a lot of time defending the disgraced Liu Shaoqi.

We also received the Soviet broadcast, Sound of Peace. It was very clear. Once considered a "friendly station," as relations with Russia deteriorated it became an "enemy station." Despite criticizing the Cultural Revolution, it seemed to take a warmer tone than other stations.

In any case, we couldn't receive many stations in Libeishang, and about half of those were enemy stations. When we first heard these broadcasts it was very exciting and novel, and we would listen until late at night. We knew this was forbidden, so we were always a little scared when we were listening. We sat in silence while we listened, and never discussed what we heard afterwards, as if it hadn't happened at all.

After a few days, both because the novelty had worn off, and because staying up late was beginning to affect our work, we cut back drastically. After Cui Yinghui left, I bought a nice radio from Shanghai and brought it back to Libeishang. I only listened to it occasionally, mostly to tune in to the Voice of America.

The Voice of America was broadcast for a large part of the day, and had a large variety of content. Not only did it have news and interviews, it had the "900 sentences in English" educational program that later swept the nation. This program was where I heard of the radio announcers Zhou Youkang and He Lida. The news was also reported in Cantonese.

In the middle of September of 1971, I turned on my radio. I heard a report from the Voice of America that there had been an incident at a military airport near Hangzhou. The artillery company tasked with defending the airport was now pointing its guns at airplanes within the airport, and no airplanes had flown at all in Chinese airspace for several days. Something important must have happened within the Chinese government.

If this was all true, then something very big was happening.

After about ten days, I heard a rumor that Lin Biao wanted to usurp power, and ended up dying in an accident.

Though I knew something was coming, I was still shocked by the news. Vice-Chairman Lin Biao was Chairman Mao's designated successor. It had been written into law already. His previous successor, Liu Shaoqi, had been purged only five years prior - what happened with Lin Biao? Chairman Mao was already 78, and Lin Biao was only 64. And his ascension was already in law. There was no reason for him to jump the gun.

A few weeks later, we all congregated in the Lugang Commune to listen to a reading of the official documents. They announced that Lin Biao had committed the treasonous crimes of opposing Chairman Mao, opposing the party, and betraying the country. I heard that in some other places, the militia stood guard outside the meeting-rooms where this was read.

Soon, it was the end of the year. A party official in Lugang told me something about the Lin Biao incident.

The story went that after the official line was announced, even the old ladies in the villages knew that Lin Biao was a bad man. When two of them were chatting, one said, "Have you heard of Lin Biao?"

The other replied, "Yes, he's a bad man, I think he was the Vice Premier."

"No, I think he was the Vice Chairman. He did many bad things, have you heard?"

"I heard he stole three chickens (trans: three chickens, 三只鸡, san zhi ji, sounds like the Trident plane (三叉戟, san cha ji) that Lin Biao was on)."

"No, I heard he stole a whole flock! (trans: a flock, 一群, yi qun, sounds like Lin Biao's wife Ye Qun 叶群)."

The thrilling political machinations at the nation's top level had become the butt of a joke for those at the bottom level.

From another point of view, this sort of satire would not have been possible, let alone popular, even a few years earlier in the Cultural Revolution. This would have easily gotten you labeled a "counter-revolutionary." But the existence of this joke showed that the people had begun to tire of constant political turmoil.

When the Gang of Four was destroyed in October of 1976, I first heard about it through the Voice of America. It reported that, despite not having official confirmation, there were already celebratory parades springing up in the streets of Beijing.

Later, the Voice of America interviewed a founder of the CCP, Zhang Guotao, who was living in Canada. He asked if this would cause a split in the party. His response was that the earlier split was because they were too young, and the party itself was too young. Now that the party had matured, it would not split.

Two years after the destruction of the Gang of Four, the Voice of America ran an analysis on who would be the new Premier. They believed that Li Peng and Tian Jiyun were most likely, and gave the edge to Li Peng. At the time, neither of them were famous or high-level party officials, so the Voice of America ran profiles on both. Later, Li Peng did become the premier. I guess the American intelligence agents were pretty good at their jobs.

Beginning in 1974, Shanghai assigned a large number of party officials to support its various sent-down youth across the country. They were stationed in the various prefectures. A party official by the name of Chen was assigned to Yongfeng. He was a member of the public security bureau in the Hongkou district of Shanghai.

One day in 1976, he came to Libeshang looking for me. After some chitchat and dinner, he formally suggested that I should go to Shaxi Production Brigade to lead a sent-down youth farm. I was skeptical. First, bundling all the sent-down youth together might make it easier to administer, but could we really understand the people in village that way? Besides, I was already deeply familiar with Libeishang, and had no desire to switch villages. So I found all sorts of excuses.

I told him that there was a local saying that "the Jiangxi soil is light; if you walk five li (trans: a mile and a half) you'll hear eighteen different languages." For example, Ma Liping's village, Gaokeng, was about five kilometers away and the dialect was already noticeably different. If I went to Shaxi, ninety kilometers away, I would surely have trouble understanding the local villagers. Would he really make me re-learn a local dialect from scratch?

This was the first reason I found. It seems kind of childish or unreasonable now.

People are hard to persuade, and I didn't really want to persuade him. We talked until eleven at night, him always attacking and me always defending. In the end he was unable to persuade me. He was tired, and I let him sleep on my bed. I went to the next door over.

He saw my radio, and turned it on. Suddenly the Voice of America was playing. After a few minutes he turned it off.

A transistor radio much like Jianfeng's.

I found it hard to sleep after that.

Many sent-down youth listened to the Voice of America broadcasts. It was common knowledge, we just didn't talk about it. The Lugang Commune even accidentally re-broadcast it once, making the entire commune "receive enemy broadcasts." No punishment came of that incident. Besides, ever since President Nixon visited China in 1972, relations with America had been warming up.

But Mr. Chen was a member of the public safety bureau. Did he know that many people listened to this broadcast? Would he confront me about it tomorrow, or use it as leverage to force me to go to Shaxi?

The next day, when he got up, I had already made breakfast. He didn't say anything, and left after breakfast. I sighed with relief.

In 1989 there was a great deal of political turmoil in China. From the beginning of martial law in Beijing to the massacre, the situation was in chaos. It was hard to know which of the many rumors were true. AT this time, many families in Shanghai would get their news from the Voice of America. They seemed only to fear that others wouldn't know this, and turned up the volume. Maybe they were sympathetic to the students' cause, and used this as a small act of political expression.

After arriving in America, I found that the American people don't know that the Voice of America even exists. It's a government-run radio station, and many major broadcasts in America are run by private corporations. When the Voice of America was created, these corporations were worried about their market share. So they lobbied in Congress until a law was passed.

The law stipulated that the Voice of America would only be broadcast outside of the United States, with the purpose of spreading American values and allowing the people of the world to understand the truth about current events.

American natives were thus unable to hear the Voice of America.

4. Wired broadcasts

Around 1972, we began to receive another kind of broadcast in Libeishang. In contrast to the wireless transmissions of radio, these were wired. The Lugang Commune set up a wired transmission station, and requested every household in the commune to install a loudspeaker in their home for one yuan and fifty cents.

Hooking up the loudspeakers was not difficult. We chopped down twenty or so cedar trees and stripped off their bark. Then we dig pits every fifty to sixty meters and set the poles. We bought two big spools of wire - over two hundred yuan - from the store in Lugang and attached to the broadcasting station. We then nailed it to the telephone poles all the way back to Libeishang, and attached it to a terminal on each family's speaker. The other terminals we just connected into the ground.

A speaker for the wired broadcast.

Because the wire was bare, when it rained the sound would be quieter, and there would be some static noise. The villagers said it was the sound of the rain.

The speakers would come on every night at seven. First, the song "The East is Red" would play. After that introduction, the announcer would announce, in Shanghai-tinted Mandarin, "This is the Lugang Commune broadcast station. We are beginning broadcasting now. Next, please enjoy some music about the revolution." Then "The Dan Flowers Bloom a Bright Red in the Mountains," a folk song about the successful conclusion of the Long March, played. The broadcast station rarely had their own programs. They mostly either played revolutionary music, or re-broadcasts from Yongfeng or Jiangxi or Central stations. When it was done, the announcer would say, "This is the Lugang Commune broadcast station. Today's broadcast ends here."

Unfortunately, most villagers in Libeishang couldn't understand Mandarin. So the broadcast didn't reach many people.

Once during a rainstorm, there was a loud thunderclap which broke some households' loudspeakers. Since they couldn't understand it anyways, they didn't spend the money to buy replacements. The new ones were over twice as expensive. In the end over half of the speakers had broken.

5. Floating balloons

Speaking of enemy broadcasts and media warfare, we once received a special kind of media in Libeishang. These were floating balloons from Taiwan.

Some time after the destruction of the Gang of Four, my friend Zhang Shouren came up to me with two sheets of paper. He had a strange expression on his face as he said, "Look, Old Xia, I found these in the fields." These were about four by six inches each. The paper was thick and glossy.

On one there was a caricature I'd never seen before. Chairman Mao had been drawn like a pig, ferocious and repulsive. On the other was written "The Mao-Zhou conflict is beginning again." There were two groups of people depicted beneath it, all of whom were very ugly. On the left was Hua Guofeng leading Wang Dongxin and others, while on the right Ye Jianying was leading Deng Xiaoping and the rest. The two groups were arguing about something.

I went to the production brigade, curious to know more. The secretary said that they'd received many of these over the past few days. Yushan Production Brigade and Cunqian Production Brigade also had received these. He then asked me what I knew about this.

I said that I knew that we were still at war with the KMT in Taiwan. The artillery in Fujian would still fire frequently. I had heard that they would launch balloons with propaganda, which would then float over here and release their leaflets. I heard that the big balloons could carry several hundred pounds!

Later, I learned that we sent balloons to Taiwan, too. Beyond propaganda, we also would send small bottles of Maotai liquor. The idea was to get them to drink the Maotai and become homesick. The Taiwanese balloons once made it to India, which raised ire about a Republic of China invasion of India.

I had only ever seen Chairman Mao depicted with a benevolent smile. I had never imagined that our enemies would draw him in this way. That night, I dreamed of that piece of paper, and woke up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding. I thought about it some more. Hadn't I only seen dehumanizing pictures of Chiang Kai-shek? Beyond being ugly, he also always had a bandage on his head.

Only after communications resumed between the two sides did I learn that Chiang Kai-shek was actually quite good-looking. I had read some numerology book which started off like this: "Southerners who look like northerners are prized; men who look like women are prized." It only got to various divinations about how to get a government position or how to get rich later. I analyzed the two leaders with this framework. Mao and Chiang were both southerners, but they were tall like northerners. But Mao was also a man with feminine features, so he was one notch above Chiang in that respect.

Over a month later, villagers were still finding these sheets of paper in the fields and turning them in to me. This damnable paper was such high quality! It had been sitting in water for over a month but was still as good as new, the pictures still clear as day.

I don't know how the quality of our own propaganda stacked up. I'm sure it wasn't worse.

#mass media

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birdsofchristmas · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: The Lamp

Our story starts off in a more humble climate than others you may have heard, moreso than Manhatten, suburban chicago, the North Pole or a giant department store. The camera starts at my feet and pans upwards to a sign reading “East Hastings” in Vancouver’s iconic Downtown Eastside, revealing the Carnegie Hall in the background.

My first apartment in Vancouver is just around the corner on Cordova & Princess. Down the street in Gastown is the first restaurant I took a job doing dishes at, during my first Christmas in Vancouver. Incidentally, this would end up being the last house I lived in while I still had both my feet.

Not long after I moved to this interesting winter wonderland shared with cockroaches, rats, traffic noise, lineups towards a soup kitchen, and the occasional flooded basement a doctor said my right foot had had enough. My poor foot had done it’s best to support me for years after a childhood accident and it was time to send it to foot heaven. I wondered if foot heaven was the same as cat heaven, which is where my mom said my brown cat went to after it fell out of a 2 story window.

It shouldn’t be too surprising my right limb and I had to part ways- honestly I’m surprised it hadn’t gone sooner, or that it wasn’t joined by another appendage. You would be too if you’d seen some of the crazy winter antics my dad and my two brothers and sister got upto each year around december.

One year in the 90s saw our family cross country skiing when a blizzard brought the entire city of Nanaimo to a standstill. The marsh is perfectly safe, it’s frozen over he would say as we coasted confidently onto its icy surface. Or the time my dad tied a GT Racer sled to the trailer hitch of his 15 passenger van towing it on the backroads of mount benson, only stopping when he would notice the sled veering off towards a ditch.

Not long after losing the foot I also lost the apartment I was living in while trying against my sister’s advice to carry on as if things were normal.

At the time the housing crisis in Vancouver was in full swing, and when most folks weren’t either ice skating down on Robson or taking in the German Christmas market they were looking for a place to live for January.

They like me had done the best with the apartment they had- they had put plastic over their heritage windows to cut down on the BC hydro bill, they had placed the Christmas tree in front of the large hole in the drywall the last tenants had left, they had poured nearly half a bottle of pine extract into their scent diffusers to cover up the cigarette smell in the hallway, they had set up all manner of elaborate rat traps to avoid being contaminated by the plague, they had insisted to the landlord that, yes, those dark looking spots under the sink are black mold, all the while dreaming of finding a more ideal living situation.

To put it simply, it’s difficult trying to find one of these rumored nice apartments, much less trying to do so with only one foot, hopping from one viewing to the next trying to outrun the rest of the marathon of young professionals in search of the holy grails of affordable living.

At last I resigned, calling my parents half a month before Christmas to tell them about my housing woes. Well, just come home for the season, my dad said on the phone, it’ll just be for a few months until your foot man or whatever you call him makes you a new leg and you’ll be walking again in no time! Really, it’s what you should done in the first place, come home and we’ll take care of you.

So on to the ferry I went with a backpack containing a modestly redacted version of my life in Vancouver, the rest of it residing in a friend’s garage for the winter. I was trying not to slip and fall with my single blundstone and crutches, somehow avoiding the 3 ferry sailing waits that would transpire in the days to follow.

As luck would have it I arrived just in time to help my mom set up her elaborate Christmas village- arranged with a stunning eye for detail and careful planning- most towns and cities in Canada would have a hard time comparing to the structural engineering marvel and ease of traffic infrastructure my mom had created.

There was hardly ever a traffic jam in “The Winter village of Avonlea”, and the crime rate was next to zero. “Over here we’ll put the post office, and across the way we’ll place the butcher adjacent to the bakery” she would instruct me, “so the postman will save time gathering groceries on his way home from work, and we’ll place the city hall on the corner of Bedford Halls Lane and Bing Boulevard.”

Oh and don’t get me started on the tree decorations. My dad was allowed to pick the tree out, and that was the full extent of his involvement. Every year it became the host to a multitude of angels, small wooden sleds, doves, owls, pigeons, even the occasional crow. There were glass spheres coated with gold, silver, and platinum. Snowglobes snowed every day of the week, lords leaping and ladies dancing in circles all the way to the shining pinnacle on top of the tree. Some years it was another larger angel, other years a star, one year it was curiously a picture of elvis.

When it came to Christmas decorating my mom was the queen of the ice castle. My dad was self-decidedly in charge of creating our seasonal chaos scenarios to prepare us for adulthood, while my mom was in charge of everything inside the house. You dared not alter the carefully planned set up in any way lest you awaken the demon Krampus.

That was about 6 years ago, and of course things have changed since then. I now have 4 legs instead of only 1. I have my actual leg, my brand new prosthetic leg, and a climbing leg and a running leg. You have every leg you’ll need to carry out a great bank heist, my sister-in-law joked. I would need to I figured in order to continue paying for them. All said and done the price of a leg is pretty well comparable to a brand new honda accord.

After a harrowing few years of recovering and moving back to Vancouver, going from one house to the next, and I was finally in a moderately stable fairly well priced townhouse. It was Christmas again and this year I was heading to the ferry to see my mom and dad who still lived on the island. I had a smaller backpack this time as well as a curiously shaped duffel bag with a surprise for mom. Looking at the bag you might think it was a pile of field hockey sticks, or a set of broken golf clubs. In reality it was one of my retired legs, refashioned with a black fishnet stocking, a black high heel and a detachable light and lampshape.

You see every few years the legs wear down and they need to be replaced. like a ford car or an apple computer these things don’t last long, even with casual use. Once they’re retired they make a surprisingly great basis for all kinds of creative art sculptures. Thus was born a beautiful lamp centerpiece to my mom’s carefully thought out Christmas decoration extravaganza, which I had assumed she would love.

Arriving at the house I almost slipped on every icy step to the front door. The sandpaper I’d nailed to the stairs when I first moved home had worn down from repeated use. It didn’t help I was half blinded by a recently updated series of LED lights surrounding every tree, shrub, corner of the house, and window. Even the snowpeople couldn’t escape the maniacal creeping LED vines.

The house inside was decorated equally as elaborately with little left to the imagination. I hugged my mom and dad, carefully moving my body in twists and turns to avoid knocking any of the holiday flourishes over, like those weird people you see in grocery stores who try to sneak past you without touching you or making eye contact.

Since all the siblings have moved away home and founded small Christmas-minded colonies of their own my mom had gotten even more carried away with the decorations, making you feel like you were stepping into a densely forested North Pole mock up in a department store. She loved it, Dad appreciated it, and the grandkids were only allowed in with careful supervision.

“Well mom, I brought you a gift for your decorations” I said with a laugh opening the bag. I pulled out the awful, gloriously gaudy leg dressed in holiday cheer, in my mind a beautiful iconic recollection of the great holiday movies of old. I traipsed through the dense menagerie of holiday decorations and gingerly placed the lamp in the picture window, fully in view from the sidewalk.

Plugging it in the light sprung to life with a soft brownish glow emitted by an edison style bulb. My mom’s face was aghast at first, as if she had seen jacob marley ascending the staircase towards her room covered in chains.

Her expression then softened up a little bit and she said with a smile “Oh dear, that’s awful… just terrible”. My dad was laughing as he walked to the kitchen and back with 2 cans of Wildcat in hand. I pulled off my leg for the night and we sat under the glow of the lamp, the tree, the village, the decorations, and the christmas hearth log on channel 3 and talked cheerfully until I fell asleep on the couch.

The next morning I woke up at instinctively at 7am to see the morning sunrise reflect off Mount Benson and reached for my leg.

Now, one thing you might not realize about putting on a prosthetic leg is there’s a process to it, like putting together a desk from Ikea. It starts with either a polyurethane or silicone liner you roll onto your leg, followed by a gel sock covered in fabric or a few layers of wool socks before putting on the leg itself, in my case followed by rolling on another silicone sleeve that attaches the prosthetic to the rest of my leg holding it all together.

I stood up and walked towards the kitchen for a coffee, as I did I noticed something was off in the living room. The lampshade was missing. In its place in the reflection of the picture window I saw a red and white cylinder shape that ascended into a curve. While I was sleeping my mom had replaced my prosthetic leg lamp with a candy cane, and the lamp was nowhere to be found. “Hey Mom”, I shouted upstairs, “my lamp! Where did you put it?” “It’s in the trash out by the the curb” she shouted back, “out front.”

Just then a sanitation truck was pulling up beside the bins on the front sidewalk. One of the bins was overflowing with a familiar looking piece of footwear sticking out prominently from one side. It was my new $35,000 prosthetic leg with a brown leather blundstone still attached to it, being lifted up towards the crusher.

I lept for the door and ran down the stairs slipping on the icy porch! “ hey wait!” I shouted, “my foot!!!” As I ran my right foot was snagged by a lights cord and I fell flat onto my face in the snow, then snapped back. By the time I reached the sanitation worker he was laughing and he said, “hey, what’s with the fishnet?” I looked down, and adorned on my right side was the bottom half of the leg lamp I’d made for my mom, complete with a fishnet stocking, a black high heel, and a long brown extension cord.

By some weird twist of fate she confused the two and had thrown my good leg in the trash in a careless effort to rid her house of my hilariously ironic gift! I had tripped face first into the snow because the leg lamp was still plugged in!

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thelostcatpodcast · 5 years

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THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 3: EPISODE 08: THE PERFECTLY ORDINARY DAY

SEASON 3: EPISODE 08: THE PERFECTLY ORDINARY DAY Episode released 21st May 2017 http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-3-episode-8-the-perfectly-ordinary-day

all songs in this episode written and performed by A P Clarke, EJ Lee and C Collins

I woke up and it was a day very much like any other day. I was a little foggy in the head, and my cat was lost. I swear, I am never going to find it. But, still: I had some coffee and I went out to look for my cat

THE LOST CAT PODCAST SEASON 3, BY A P CLARKE, EPISODE 8, THE PERFECTLY ORDINARY DAY

AP: So I was walking along the road of my weird old town, just as normal, and I saw a dog amble past me that I did not recognise from the neighborhood. And it was all jolly about its business as it bounded off towards the park. But where it had come from, there was a strange shimmering in the air, bounded by bright colours and, just on the egde of my hearing, I could swear, an odd beeping noise.

And I could feel my spirit rising. I could feel the fog lifting and the confusion melting away. I felt so strange. I felt... like singing...

<music starts 'Weird Old Town'> This weird old town this broken down old town From the top of the mound, to underneath the ground I’ve been going around and around and around,

This weird old town This broken down old town And of all of the things that I have found In this old town:

I know the patterns of the paving stones I don’t even trip on one. You learn not to step on any cracks, as it will crush the flowers coming through.

I don’t know why I feel so great on this perfectly ordinary day But this old town is my old town and I am here to stay

<muffled beeping sound> <talking> There! that weird old sound can you hear it? never mind its time for the next verse:

This weird old town this broken down old town I been beaten and been butchered and pushed around But I’m not going down

I know where I am by the leviathan I can read the writing on the dark cloud There are gods and monsters round every corner and all of it is real

I don’t know why I feel so great on this perfectly ordinary day But this old town is my old town and I am here to stay

<muffled beeping sound> But what’s that sound? It's so vague and undefined like a half remembered dream I feel like I am fading...

what is that sound... it's so annoying... I feel like I am fading... what is that sound...

EJ: I turned off my alarm and I woke up. I was feeling bright and refreshed and my dog was gone again. I swear he does this every week! And I always get into crazy adventures when I try to find him! So I had some herbal tea, and I went out to look for my dog.

THE LOST DOG PODCAST SEASON 3 BY EJ LEE, EPISODE 8 THE PERFECTLY ORDINARY DAY

<music starts 'In My Town'> In my town friends are always around Good morning neighborhood, how are you today? on the streets, sidewalks under my feet Waving hello to the postman on my way

Downtown to look for my dog I wonder what adventure he's leading me on But I know no matter what it will always be OK it's just another perfectly ordinary day.

I could sing everyone is dancing We're all in unison the moves really slay Join in too, as best as I do Before moving on, my dog wants to play

Down the hill to look for my dog I wonder what adventure he's leading me on But I know no matter what it will always be OK it's just another perfectly ordinary day.

Through the park, but I can't hear his bark I bet he's in the square chasing birds away what's the hole, over by the flagpole Swirling colors and light that don't seem to fit.

I feel scared, this reality's teared But I bet my dog went through this new way

Through the anomaly to look for my dog I wonder what adventure he's leading me on But I know no matter what it will always be OK it's just another perfectly ordinary day.

right then, let's go through!

<talking> And on the other side of the anomaly I looked around. Something seemed off, but I saw a dog nearby and I asked them if they knew where my dog was. But the dog just ran away. It didn't even say goodbye. And then I looked around and realised this world was very strange indeed What the heck is this place?

<music starts 'I don't understand this world i'm in'> Why is no-one even singing? Why is no-one even dancing? Why is the sun not shining? I don't understand this world i'm in, this world i'm in.

I don't understand this world I'm in Why can't the animals even sing? Why is nobody happy, why are people on fire? I don't understand this world I'm in

There are no rainbows only rain There's rats the size of cats in drains There's scary statues everywhere There's something trying to bite me

There's no color only grey and drab There's sentient sad pavement slabs Spiders hunting up higher Birds are losing the will to fly

I don't understand this world I'm in Why can't the animals even sing? No-one is happy, why are people on fire? I don't understand this world I'm in

<talking> And then I saw this strange dude and I swear he was just like someone right out of my dreams. I think he was looking for a cat. I went up to him and I said "Hey there."

AP: Uhh, hey there back. Umm, who are you?

EJ: He seemed nice, if a little scruffy. I wondered if he could help me find my dog.

AP: Umm, hey, hold on. I'm the one who does the narration round here, yeah?

EJ: No, this is my podcast: The Lost Dog Podcast.

AP: This is The Lost Cat Podcast.

EJ: You're just a character I meet on my latest wacky adventure.

AP: I am writing you.

EJ: You are seriously strange.

AP: who do you think you are?

EJ: Who do you think you are?

<music starts 'Who Are You?>Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

AP: You're a reflection in the water left behind When I am gone you disappear, just an image in my mind

EJ: Who are you? You'r the shadow on the wall of a cave tangible as rising smoke. With the fire, you will fade

AP+EJ: Who is really real, really? Is my voice just reverberations of your clanging of the bell? A character in a story that someone else will tell? Who is really real? Who is really real, really?

AP: Now they start to ask the question: maybe they are not real EJ: maybe I am not the one who is the teller of the tale EJ: Hey! You didn't make me feel that, now I see him doubt himself AP: maybe I am not the one who is the teller of this tale

We each wonder how to tell if we are real or dream I am real, or am I real? And just what does this mean?

AP+EJ:Who is really real, really? Am I the glowing moon above? or the rays thrown by the sun? Who is really real? Who is really real, really?

EJ: The music starts to fade, is my world slipping away? This existential crisis has me questioning everything. What proof could I possibly bring? That my life isn't also a dream? Capable of ending at the beep of someone else's alarm The clock gets reset, my world comes to an end I can't wrap myself around this, how are you staying so calm? I'm lost in this cold grey city and so is my dog i've never been so sad and lonely and there's no-one else around me who can even understand what I try to express I can't seem to connect but I refuse to accept That I am someone else's echo in this world that I didn't expect On this perfectly ordinary day I woke up this morning on a perfectly ordinary day.

EJ: Oh, this was awful. I felt terrible. I was never going to find my dog and everything could only end badly. I felt so lost and confused.

AP: And with that, I knew where EJ was coming from. And suddenly I knew how I could help...

EJ: Dude, i'm right here.

AP: EJ came from a world where everybody sang. There was music everywhere, and everything was great. But now EJ was in this world, where things were... different.

EJ: Seriously I am right in front of you.

AP: And I knew how I could help. I brought out a bottle of wine.

EJ: Yeah I know, I can see it, but you carry on.

AP: And I poured two glasses and I passed one to EJ.

EJ: And the offer felt... true. There was comfort in it. And so together we drank a large glass of wine.

<music starts 'Solace In The Darkness'> When you think you can not go on When the night has gone on too long The weight is too heavy, there are far too many Or you feel there is no one at all

When the ties are tied far too tight when the ties that bind are untied. The forces outside, and the pressures inside They'll crush you like you’re nothing at all

There is no light that can dispel this darkness No ladder we can climb from this hell. But I’ll sit with you and offer a glass and some solace in the darkness as well.

Don't worry, it's far worse than you think Don't worry, all your fears will come true The quest finally done, the prize so hard won and it wasn't worth it at all.

When the distance is measured in years and you are lost in the space between stars You think you're alone, well you are all alone with all of us lonely old souls down here as well.

There is no light that can dispel this darkness No ladder we can climb from this hell. But I’ll sit with you and offer a glass and some solace in the darkness as well.

But I’ll sit with you and offer a glass and some solace in the darkness as well.

EJ: And something about the song gave me an idea.

AP: I also was having an idea at this time, I should say.

EJ: Yeah, OK. You see: my dog was a part of my world, and so full of life and singing and so, the further away from my dog we are, the sadder we will be, but as we get closer, the songs will get happier. All we need to do is sing a song and follow the happy tune.

AP: This actually sounds exactly like the idea I was just having! It just might work!

EJ: It's worth a try.

AP: And so we set out to test our idea... that we had both had.

EJ: Yeah sure, bro. Let's go!

<music starts 'To Find A Dog'> Singing a song, to find a dog If we follow this happy tune we'll find him easily This makes complete sense and it's totally normal On this: a perfectly ordinary day.

Oh no, this doesn't feel right I think we've taken a wrong turning I feel like everything is gonna go bad Do not look at the statues let's move on

Let's head downhill from the Lightning Tree I can feeling my heart lifting my pace is quickening Everything is going to be OK

And as we turn towards The Weeping Park it makes me suddenly introspective. Like 'who is real?', and 'what is the point?' It's a sobering perspective.

But this is the right way, I can feel it in the air Come on let's go. Everything is going to be OK

Oh no, I think we've gone wrong there's no hope at all We're never gonna find my dog And the dark cloud hangs so heavy over us all

Hey did you hear a bark from over the hill? Did you see a tail wagging behind those trees? We're so close I can feel it in my heart Come on let's run I can see him now

Everything is going to be OK EJ: There's my dog AP: There's your dog EJ & AP: We found the dog OK Everything is going to be a OK On this: a perfectly ordinary day.

EJ: hey there, dog! How're you doing, dog?

Ruff, ruff, ruff-ruff!

A dog. Yes, I am a dog. I'm so happy, that you found me. Yes, I am a dog.

A cat? Yes, I met a cat. Although not a hound, a friend I found. Yes, I met a cat.

A dog. Yes, I am a dog. I'm ready to leave. Yes, I am, ready, please, let's go, please, yes, I am A dog.

Woof!

EJ: We found my dog!

AP: That is one hell of a dog you have there.

EJ: Hey, thanks for helping me AP.

AP: That is the least I could do. I am glad I could help.

EJ: And I'm sorry I called you scruffy.

AP: Well, I am.

EJ: This turned out to be a really amazing adventure after all! And you know what, I kind of feel like singing again! 1,2,3,4...

Hey there dog, so glad that I came along On this adventure you brought me on today With this cool guy and we drank some wine But now it's time to go back to our reality

through the anomaly back to our world See you around you weird old world Check out my podcast for adventures like today on this: a perfectly ordinary day

Ok, we're going through now. See you! Hope you find your cat!

AP: And that was that. The distortions calmed down. The colours faded. The anomaly closed. And my town, my weird wonderful broken-down old town went back to normal. I went back home, keeping my head down, of course, but with a spring in my step and a tune on my lips, happy that I had helped EJ find their dog. And their podcast sounded cool too. And I got home to my small room without my cat and went to bed, and had another glass of wine.

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

Links

thelostcat.libsyn.com

twitter.com/LostCatPod

thelostcatpodcast.tumblr.com

facebook.com/lostcatpodcast

soundcloud.com/a-p-clarke/sets/the-lost-cat-podcast

apclarke.bandcamp.com/releases

Also: EJs band, Candy Cane: https://candycane.bandcamp.com/album/candy-cane-2 Wiiging Out Podcast: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/wiiging-out/id1182822098

#cat #dog #lost cat #lost cat podcast #podcast #audio drama #audiodrama #transcript #musical #musical episode #horror #comedy #alternate dimensions

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