#they ended up with all the extra bones that frogs threw out

[glaucophane]

Ichthyosaurs really just be like that.

#Guizhouichthyosaurus #paleontology #ichthyosaur #shitpost #meme #they ended up with all the extra bones that frogs threw out

[princess-yuna]

This Shall Pass

Chapter 2: Cold

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Words: 1,989 Warning: Spoilers of episode two of season two of Mandalorian.  Rated: E Summary: After some risky flying, Din crash landed the Razor Crest on a snowy planet. You have to help repair the ship to get off the planet, and you have to deal with an unexpected turn of events because of a certain child. 

Series Masterlist

You woke up with a jolt at the sudden jerk of the Razor Crest, alarmed at the sudden maneuvering of the spacecraft. “What’s happening?” Your gaze went from outside the window to the helmet of the pilot as he shifted the controls to get the craft to safety. Much like the beskar covered Mandalorian, you became aware of your surroundings quickly. Adapting has always been easy for you because your life was consistently changing. That was the Way of the life you hung up, but it was what you knew. 

“Hold on!” 

So, you did without a moment’s hesitation. There was nothing else to do but to trust Din to get you out of whatever danger he decided to put you all in. Escaping whoever was chasing the ship was the top priority, and this was why he hated when he couldn’t travel through hyperspace. The ride was bumpy but he landed the Crest, which gave a moment of relief until there was a rumble beneath the metal. Before you could say something, the ship started to fall through the hole of the ice. Everyone had been banged around, and your head hit against something hard to cause your focus to blur. Ultimately, your vision went black.

A shake jolted you up in alarm and you were faced with the visor. “Are you alright?” Again, why was his tone so gentle? You pushed his hand away from your shoulder, nodding your head. He stared, the coldness of your action caught him off guard when he had been trying to help. The pain of rejection crept through him but he didn’t say a word to you. 

“Yeah,” you grunted, your hand on your head as you sat up. A heavy sigh sounded from him as he stepped away from you to give some space as he went to check on the frog lady that had also been knocked unconscious. “Cold,” you muttered, the frozen terrain was a contrast of the sand from Tatooine. Your clothes did nothing to provide you warmth, and the Mandalorian was made aware of that. 

“I’ll find your eggs, don’t worry,” he assured the other as she croaked about her eggs. “And I’ll go find some blankets to keep you two warm,” he responded before he headed below. 

This wasn’t what you signed up for, but you already knew that jobs for a Mandalorian was never easy. This was the life you wanted to get away from when you decided to pull away from tradition. All you wanted was a simple life, but here you were on the Razor Crest getting ready to freeze to death. The ship was doomed and it would take some time to fix what had been damaged. The lady beside you croaked out of despair, losing hope that the eggs wouldn’t get to her husband on time. A frown settled on your face, knowing what she felt to lose hope.

You didn’t want her to lose faith in the Mandalorian as much as you have, so you took a stand. “We’ll get out of here, I promise,” you told the lady, and she looked up at you with big hopeful eyes. Even when you knew you couldn’t make miracles happen, you knew that you could try. As a Mandalorian, you knew that you couldn’t let Din go back on his word when he had been faithful to the Creed. 

Climbing down the ladder was a task, but you made it down in time to see Din closing the lid of where the eggs were kept as he scolded the child. Paying no mind to his business, you looked through the cargo to locate whatever blankets you could. Crate after crate, you searched until you found the blankets and pulled one out and the other you threw to Din even when he wasn’t looking. “Give that to her,” you simply commanded as you draped your own blanket over your shoulders. Wrapping it around you, your search continued for the small tool box you knew that he kept for repairs. 

“What are you doing?” 

You could feel his gaze, watching you as you searched around for something unknown to him. Din had never been so quiet with you in the past, but he just didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. The way you went about your business without casting him a single glance made him feel a heap of guilt because he had known the cold shoulder was because of his mistakes. It was sinking deep down that your forgiveness was long gone. 

“Saving our asses,” you replied after a moment, obtaining the toolbox and attempting to ignore the cold. Heading to the gaping hole of the ship, you didn’t cast a look to him as you exited. The cold made you tremble, pulling the blanket closer to your body as you assessed the problem. Everything needed work. Shaking your head, you carefully walked to the other side of the ship after taking in your surroundings. This would take a few hours, but you just hoped it would be done before night fell.

You were completely focused on the soldering when you felt a weight draped over your shoulders. “You’re cold,” came his voice. “You should go inside,” he tried to encourage, but you shook your head. The determination to get the ship out of the hole was your priority. Even when you were cold to the bone, you couldn’t stop. Your fingers felt numb as you worked because you carelessly didn’t put your gloves on. “Hey,” he called, trying to get your attention. He hated when you were stubborn. That was the Mandalorian Way in your head. You couldn’t stop until you were finished. 

“Stop,” he ordered, grabbing onto your hand and your movement stopped, looking up with him with wonder. “Let me take over.” It was like he was begging you to let him fix the damages. The damages of what happened between you, as well as the current situation. 

“We can fix it together,” you finally said, looking away from him. He let go of your hand, letting you get back to what you were doing. “The faster we fix this, the faster we get out of this stupid ice planet,” you mumbled, going back to welding the metal. 

“Okay,” was all he said, picking up some tools from the box to start working on another section of the ship. He was still close, wanting to make sure that you weren’t shaking too much because of the cold. The extra blanket seemed to help though, from what he saw. Kneeling down, he worked on an open panel, glancing at you every once in a while. “You’ve always hated the cold,” he commented.

You didn’t speak as he said that fact about you, working diligently beside him to get the ship up and running. He was still the Din Djarin you knew to love, but you still felt the frustration that was deep within. An hour possibly passed as you worked on more of the repairs with Din at your side, passing small comments here and there but not making a full conversation. This was fine, settling with making little to no noise but only the sound of the welding could be heard mixed with the howl of the wind. A peculiar sound of the child came to your ears, making you turn your head to see it walk through the snow to get Din’s attention. The Mandalorian got up to his feet, passing by you to get to the creature.

“Cya-” He cut himself off before he said your name to get your attention. “I’ll be back,” he said once your eyes met his visor. “I’m taking the kid with me,” he added on, making you nod your head. He knew your distaste for the creature and he didn’t want to force you to watch him. Always one to pay attention to details. Nodding his head, he went out of view and you looked back to what you were doing. You didn’t want to ask where he was going because you knew that he would come back. 

---

You heard an explosion coming from the ice cave, making you come to a stand. The blankets slid down from around you to the ground, and you looked to the entrance to see Din coming along. “Inside! Get inside!” Without any hesitation, you gathered everything and placed it in the box before getting inside the ship. Dropping the box down, you pulled the blaster from your belt and held it in your hand. The child, the frog lady, and the eggs were all inside. 

“Get them up to the cockpit!” 

Not going against his demand, you sprung into action and brought the baby in your arms. You made sure that everyone was up the ladder before turning around, seeing him rush in. As he ran, you shot at the spider-like creatures that chased him with the kid in your arms, moving up into the cockpit and moving back enough for him to get inside. You shot at the small ones that managed to get through the door. There was hope as he got the ship online, telling everyone to buckle in. 

Being aerial lasted a few seconds until it was on the ground again, stopped by the mother of the spider creatures. You cursed under your breath, looking up at the beast. “What did you do to piss it off?” Things weren’t looking good, but you hoped that some miracle would happen. The leg of it went through the glass and you took the kid into your arm as it started to whimper. It was in your nature to protect everyone who had been around you, no matter your feelings towards them. That was how you were taught. There wasn’t an answer to the question as the kid cowered into you, holding onto your shirt like his life depended on it. You thought it was going to be the end but then a miracle truly happened. There were lasers from the outside, shooting at the creatures that had still been left. 

“Stay here,” Din told you three as if you were planning to go anywhere. 

Maneuvering out of the chair, you set the child down and then looked around at the damages. More damages. You sighed, shaking your head as you left the cockpit and headed down to grab the tools that you have dropped. Passing through the webs, you looked for the rectangular box and found it as soon Din stepped back in. Opening the box, you picked up one of the welding sticks and handed it to him. “We have to fix the cockpit,” you told him, but he already knew that.

“To answer your question, it was the kid’s fault,” he responded, taking the welder from your hand. “But don’t blame him, he’s just a kid that doesn’t know any better.” 

Shaking your head, you headed to the ladder with the tools that you needed. “Let’s get this ship fixed, you know I hate the cold,” you told him as you climbed up the ladder to head back into the cockpit where the baby and the frog lady were. 

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, walking out into the snow to repair what he needed to on the outside. 

You looked to the kid as you walked into the cockpit and the feeling of blame still crept within you. Even when Din told you not to, you still had that inkling to blame the kid. It made you feel guilty as you thought of it some more, knowing better than to put blame on a child. You couldn’t help it though. A sigh left your lips, looking up to see the Mandalorian at the outside of the glass to repair it and you looked away when he looked in. 

Maybe one day he would see it from your eyes. 

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

[banalbones]

The Petite Prince: Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, 7, 8

Chapter 3: Of course, little prince

Summary: Roman is a child. Virgil and Logan lost him, and Remus has found a new purpose in life.

Words: 1524

Ships: Familial prinxiety, logince and Creativitwins. Eventual familial royality, roceit and DRLAMP  

Genre: Fluff with a side dose of angst

Warnings: A few swears, Remus (if that needs a warning idk), falling, arguing, small blood mention, small injury, corpse mention, tell me if there’s any more!

Taglist: @pricklyfish777 @sunflowerblondeuwu @itriedandimtired

                                   ̴

The floor outside of big him’s room was waaay more slippery than Roman thought it would be. But then again, the socks he was now wearing probably didn’t help.

The small royal looked down at the smooth wood floor and giggled, a devious little smile slowly spreading across his features.

Slippery, smooth, perfect for sliding around!

Ignoring the fact he could, and probably would, fall and hurt himself, Roman ran across the hall, slipping with every step, cackling hysterically as he neared the stairs.

______________________________

Remus was strolling about, letting his tentacles drag behind him on the hardwood floor of the light side commons.

These dorks should never leave this place unsupervised.

Hehe… dork…

Wonder what they’re doing… Didn’t Patton turn into a giant frog?

That’s pretty hot…

Then suddenly a crash, ending with a small lump landing on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

Oop.

Wonder what that is…

A corpse someone threw down the stairs?

A bag of bones?

He crept closer.

Is it a-

Then the lump moved... and started crying?

Wait, was that lump a… child?

A child!

Remus moved forward, summoning a stick to poke it, when suddenly the loud wailing stopped.

I thought children were supposed to cry, like all the time?

Isn’t that a thing that living children do?

Then the child turned its head towards him.

Roman?

“Roman?”

The child, Roman, nodded its head, staring at Remus in awe.

Not at Remus, he realized, but at his tentacles.

“Ten-tenacles!” The youthful voice squealed.

Remus felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him.

Mine.

_______________________________

Roman had almost successfully gotten down the stairs, and was quite proud of himself for doing so.

But then came the last two steps.

The petite prince had gotten confident, too confident, and so he let go of the rail.

That had been his big mistake.

The fall had been a blur of color and movement, and then he landed.

Roman felt a small pain shoot up his right -or was it his left?- ankle, causing tears to well up in his eyes.

He let out a loud wail.

Princes weren’t supposed to fall, that wasn’t fair!

He continued to sniffle.

Then stopped.

What if he annoyed someone?

Roman heard the shuffle off feet behind him, and turned towards the person (And their stick).

Then stopped, slack-jawed.

“Roman?”

It was Remus. Big him didn’t like the Duke very much, thought he was scary. Well, this Roman wasn’t scared of anything.

So he nodded, his gaze drifting to the bright green tenacles trailing behind the figure.

The prince’s eyes widened.

“Ten-Tenacles!”

They were so big! And they looked suuuper slimy. He wanted to poke them. How could he poke them?

“Can I have you’ stick?” he asked.

With a big stick like that, it would be easy to touch them.

“Sure.” His big brother replied in a soft voice.

______________________________

Remus handed the three year old the stick, still a bit shocked.

He had a baby brother. A baby bro!

I must protecc. He’s just a smol boy, alone in the world…

(Who said he wasn’t allowed to be extra?)

Then, a sharp pressure on Petunia.

He looked at the tentacle to see a stick, the stick he gave Roman, poking at it. And he laughed.

The little prince looked up at him, confusion clear on his face.

“Wha?”

Remus smiled. Hopefully it wasn’t too scary.

“It’s nothing. Do you want to go to my room? There’s way more stuff to poke there.”

The prince grinned and nodded determinedly, showing off his gap tooth.

Adorable. So cute. My baby bro is cuter than any of the other regressed sides. Change my mind.

And so Remus scooped the little Roman up into his tentacles, causing the smol one to squeal in delight.

“Tenacles!”

“Yup. Tenacles is right, little knight.”

Roman stuck his tongue out and harrumphed, (so pure).

“I’m a Prince, not a kni-not a knight!”

Remus felt his grin spread.

“Of course, little prince.”

And then they sank down into Remus’s room.

_____________________________________________

Virgil felt a sense of fear overtake him. They lost him. They lost the bean.

“Logan, we need to find him, like, right now.”

“I know!”

“Should we get Patton? He could help.”

He watched Logan wince.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Virgil. You weren’t there throughout the whole ordeal.”

The whole ordeal? That didn’t sound good.

“Ordeal?”

_______________________________

Logan sighed. He would have to recount the whole tale to Virgil, which would take time. They didn’t have time. They had to find Roman. But if he told Virgil later, that would also take time… Aha! A compromise was due.

“We will look for Roman first, I will tell you as we search.”

There.

This was going to be… something.

_______________________________

Remus rose up in his room, a slime-covered Roman in his tentacles.

“That fun, little Prince?”

Roman just laughed in response.

Remus, still smiling, set the smol one down, gently enough that he wouldn’t break anything. That didn’t stop the Prince from scrunching up his face in pain.

The duke frowned.

“You okay, little prince?”

Roman nodded, then stepped forward on his right leg to do… something… Remus didn’t know, and cringed in pain.

“I don’t think you are, RoRo. Did you hurt yourself on the stairs?”

“No.”

Remus stared at him.

“Maybe…”

Cocked (Hehe) his eyebrow.

The smol one groaned.

“Yeah, I di- I did. But I’m okay!”

He then took another step forward and tipped over, saved only by the mattress Remus summoned in a panic.

It was only slightly bloody. (It was drenched in blood)

He quickly summoned a different mattress (a bloodless one, don’t worry), and flicked his hand, soaking Roman with water.

He loved his baby bro, but cleaning him properly? That was a bit much.

_______________________________

Roman’s face was smushed into a mattress.

Then he smelt blood.

Then he didn’t.

And then-

“AhHhHhH!”

He was drenched in water! It was so cold!

Roman jumped up from his soft savior, ignoring the pain shooting up his foot, and scrunched up his face in concentration.

Aaaand, BAM!

The prince giggled hysterically as he splashed ReeRee with water.

“Take that, you he- you heathen!”

His brother laughed, equally as hysterical, and lifted his hand, summoning more water.

“Oh it. Is. On!”

______________________________

Logan and Virgil sank in and out of the different rooms of the mindscape at a lightning pace, all the while talking about what had happened with Patton and Janus(?!?!) and looking for the bean.

“He sank out? Before the video was done?”

Virgil was shocked. And out of breath. He motioned at Logan to stop for a moment so he could recuperate.

They were back in the commons.

“Yes, he did. And I suspect that the happenings of this ordeal is what led to his eventual regression.”

That… did make sense.

“It isn’t an optimal situation.” Logan remarked.

“No shit, Sherlock,”

“I am not Sherlock,”

“It’s an expression,”

“It isn’t in my collection of vocab cards.”

“Then add it, genius!”

“I will! Just-”

A laugh echoed throughout the mindscape.

Two laughs.

”Is that-”

“Roman?”

“And-”

“Remus?”

The pair stared at each other.

“It came from the entrance of the Imagination.”

“How is your hearing that good?” Virgil mumbled, as the two ran (more exercise? He was not fit enough for this) towards the Imagination.

_______________________________

Would they find Roman? That’s TBD.

Totally believable, dude.

It means ‘to be determined’.

Whatever.

Just get on with it, guys!

_______________________________

Remus grinned, picking Roman up off the ground and spinning him through the air.

“As your prince, I command you to s- I command you to stop!” he squealed.

Remus cackled.

Then he gently placed the smol one down and bowed. “Of course, little prince.”

After the water fight, they had made a deal. If Roman let Remus bandage his ankle, they could go do something in the Imagination. On Remus’s side.

He was a little hesitant to agree at first, but anything was better than a pained little prince. Even the ruination of childhood innocence.

Come to think of it, maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to that.

But it actually went well, so Remus decided not to think about it.

“Now, let’s go!”

The scaled-down side looked up expectantly at Remus.

“To where?”

Roman’s face screwed up in thought.

“ReeRee’s!”

I never thought I could like actual cute things, but here we are.

_______________________________

“To where?”

Roman’s face screwed up in thought.

They could go to…ReeRee’s room!

He opened his mouth to say so, but couldn’t quite form a sentence.

That was so annoying! How was it so easy for big him? No fair.

“ReeRee’s!” he managed to get out.

Yes!

Words were hard, so even one was good.

Remus picked him up.

“Off we go!”

And as they sank down out of the Imagination, the dark grass brushing against Roman’s cheeks, the wind picked up.

The paper crown sat atop his head was then caught in the breeze, thrown off and carried to the edge of the Dark Imagination, ready to be found by a very distressed pair of left brain boys.

__________________________________

“Virgil?”

“Yea- oh no…”

“Exactly.”

__________________________________

Thanks for reading this chapter of The Petite Prince!

If you want a little side story about what the Creativitwins were up to in the Dark Imagination, please let me know.

As the story progresses, I’ll probably make a bunch of fluffy side stories (excuse the pun) about cute stuff that just…happens throughout the main plot (If you people want that).

Also, sorry if Remus is a bit out of character. I’ve never written him before and he’s a lot softer with Roman, sooo, yeah.

Any constructive criticism would be great!

Thanks again!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders sides #tss #roman sanders #ts roman #baby roman #remus sanders #ts remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #creativitwins #platonic analogical #analogical #the petite prince #thanks for reading #yall are the best

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Wedding (End): Black Swan Bay Nightmare

We’re almost done with this. HOLY HECK. My brain is melting out my ears on how to finish this series in the most impactful way. MC gonna hit the end of this story like a METEOR. Just you wait!

@rurifangirl

You startle awake with a gasp. You’re lying in the snow. The breeze is frigid, but you’re well protected in layers of warm clothing and fur. You don’t remember falling asleep but you immediately know where you are. 

Black Swan Bay, 1991, Christmas Eve.

Of all the orphans that day, you were the oldest and the number 3 ranking. You were tall, muscular, but your body was not womanly like Khorkina. Your hair was black as soot and your eyes were charcoal. You weren't a white icy queen, like Renata. So you had no one to dance with you at the party.

The blizzard that day was very intense. The wind howled around you like a screaming demon. But you stood tall against it, looking into the distance. Not a ray of light could be seen in the sky. The world was plunged into a thick darkness and the whirlwind swept the snow powder into a white dragon in the sky. Black Swan Harbor closed the main entrance. All the doors and windows were boarded up so that the snowstorm would not affect the atmosphere of the Christmas party.

You walk toward the recreation building, Golden Hall, where the party was being held. You’re not hampered by the snow or the wind. You were a hybrid and this great storm was only a mild inconvenience for you. You lift your head and look behind you. Your instincts were trained and always good. You could sense when you were being followed. You wait for several seconds, but nothing happens. You turn around and continue to walk.

You push open the door, and the warm air and music poured in, shards of gold leaf flew in the air, and the golden hall was brilliantly lit.

 Soldiers played accordions and young girls sang and danced. Children gathered around the huge Christmas tree to make wishes and tiptoe to reach the gifts on it. The scent of beef soup, baked sweet cakes and the perfume of women filled the air. The appearance of the Doctor sparked a tidal wave of applause as the Doctor greeted everyone with his hands raised.

 "My dear friends, today is Christmas and an important day for Black Swan Harbor. Our friend Major Bondarev from Moscow has confirmed to me that our research work has been highly commended by our superiors! Soon we will be able to go home in groups to visit our families. Everyone here will be rewarded, you will have military medals and be able to go to the Caspian Sea for vacations! You are a credit to your country! Let's sing and dance! On this wonderful night!"

You stand apart from it all. Your heart filled with a terrible rage and sadness. Liar. He’s a liar. He was lying this whole time. 

The golden hall was getting more and more lively. The room was getting warmer. The young people were dancing the sailor dance. They got so hot that they took off their uniforms and threw them aside. The nurses took off their outer clothes, showing the white lace of their underwear under their undershirts. 

They had all been drinking a lot, and their eyes were nakedly provocative. The smell of hormones overpowered the smell of perfume, stimulating everyone's body to redden. They danced and embraced. The soldiers put their hands in the undershirt of the nurses, they bit each other's lips like lovers and bloodthirsty beasts. 

The children also stirred up, following the adults' example and hugging each other in a face-to-face dance. Anton and Khorkina are eighteen years old, Yakov is sixteen years old, and look very different from the thin and small Renata. The boys' upper lips had grown moustaches. While the girls' breasts had filled out and their waists swayed lightly as they walked.

You press yourself to the wall, but they still come at you, hands searching, not asking you to dance but chasing you! You cover yourself with your hands, swatting away their fingers, slapping their faces. Their faces are horrific and stretched into rictus grins. Their eyes are wide and blood shot.

You flee. You run into the night!

A loud bang! And you throw yourself to the ground. A ball of flames is rising from the laboratory building, red and gold, mixed with black smoke. Debris is thrown into the air, streaming fire behind them like fireworks.

Every single building went up in flames like this. But everyone was in the dance hall. Finally, the Dance hall itself went up.

“Renata! Renata!” You are running and the shadow is chasing you, faster and faster!  You skid to a halt.

Four children are on a dog sled. They’re trying to run. But Bondarev is approaching them. Bondarev pulls a gun. With expert precision, he puts a bullet into their hearts. One for each child. You fall to your knees and that’s what saves you. Visibility is down and you don’t move as he looks around. Next to his foot is a small piece of chocolate. Vera.

A hand takes yours. It’s Renata. You crawl away and she leads you back to another sled. This sled was pulling something large and very heavy. Along with your friend Z, who smiled at you sleepily. He wasn’t tall and proud. He was weak and couldn’t even walk. He looked at you directly and asked. “Who is that?”

Suddenly, everything stops. The wind, the snow, Renata, the explosion. Time completely stands still and you’re the only one moving.

“Who… is… that?” Z asks again.

This was a dream. You knew what was going to happen next. A big explosion, bigger than you’ve ever seen in your life even up until today, would turn all the Black Swan Bay into ashes. You and Renata would be shot from a helicopter. Renata would push you into the icy sea.

But despite your mind going through the beats, the image before you didn’t change. You follow Z’s gaze and you see a man in a tuxedo looking bewildered. “Ruri…?” You tilt your head. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The dream ends. You open your eyes. It’s still dark, but the air is warm. Your chest and stomach hurt. You’re staring into the eyes of Ruri Kazama. Those swirling hypnotic mandarin shapes were the last thing you saw when you went to sleep. “Where am I?”

Ruri Kazama does not answer. “How did you break it?”

“Huh?”

“How did you break it?” Ruri’s voice was a low threatening growl. “No one has ever broken free from me.”

“Break… what?” 

You’re surrounded by deep humid forest. The air was alive with insect sounds and sounds from croaking frogs, and night birds, nothing like the silent howling of the winds of Siberia. The sky was still dark and the wind still blew and the rain still fell. Ruri Kazama is staring at you. 

His bone spines are still embedded in your body, pumping a steady supply of clean blood to keep you from turning into a deadpool and dying. You don’t remember when you fell asleep or how long you’d been out. “Where are we?” You ask again.

“Tama River area. It’s all woodlands here. Very isolated from Tokyo. I’m taking you to where God will awaken.” He finally speaks. 

“Okay. What about Herzog?”

“He won’t touch you. He needs me. He will honor my request to have you there with me.”

You look down and see that you’re high in a tree, several yards off the ground. Ruri Kazama’s long white hair drapes like fine cloth behind him. Ruri Kazama has changed from his tuxedo to the great colorful kimono of the stage. You’re still in your wedding dress, but the skirt has been cut shorter so as not to be so unwieldy. 

He crouches and then jumps, hovering over the canopy of green leaves. He jumps from tree to tree like someone dancing over stones to cross a river. He’s so graceful, his long hair sails behind him like a tropical bird. These mighty leaps were like the rocking of a rocking chai. Even though he would jump over twenty meters at a time, he landed with silent grace. You found it soothing.

Once Ruri Kazama killed Herzog - again - you wondered what he would do after that. What was his end game? Even though he was lovely as a human, it turned out that he had the same philosophy as Herzog. The winners devour the losers without mercy. You didn’t think there was any real limit to his killing. Even though he said he would go back and become a performer of Kabuki, it was far more likely that he would go back and kill his brother and every Hydra member. Cassell would send their members after him and he would kill them all too… or die.

Who would he not kill? Who would not hunt him? Both of those lists seemed to begin and end with your name. You were the last person in the world he wanted. You were the last one in the world he trusted.

All noise in the forest has fallen silent. Dawn is breaking but it’s still dark with clouds. There are no birds. The wind rattles the naked treetops. When you turn and look, everything is covered in a heavy layer of what looks like snow that has miraculously endured the heavy rain. On closer inspection, it looks more like spider silk. The blanket stretches as far as the eye can see. Under the blanket is a thick layer of dead leaves as though autumn came and the trees dropped all their leaves in a matter of hours.

“We’re here.”

“Everything… looks dead.” You say. “What’s are those white threads?”

Ruri is accustomed to explaining things to you now. “It’s a growth from God. It’s feeding on all the surrounding life. It detects a heartbeat and quickly cocoons it. We have to keep moving or we will be swallowed as well.”

You were on the edge of the silky, fungal growth. Looking further into the woods, you would see that the trees ahead have been completely encased like cocooning insects. Even the ground was covered. “How are we going to make it through all that?”

A loud thumping sounds overhead. Ruri stands up as a helicopter flies low. Lightning flashes and you see it clearly in relief against the sky. 

“Hold on.”

He unsheathes his sword and the power from it lifts him in the air with an extra burst of height and speed. The ground races away from you and the black helicopter rushes towards you. The open cockpit comes into view and he lands cleanly without a sound. A seat was open so he sat himself down as though he were a simple passenger.

"No. That's something like spider silk!" The pilot said. He spoke in a quivering fearful voice, like he was seeing a ghost.  But the ghost was behind him. He was going to die. He didn’t deserve it. But you couldn’t stop Ruri.

Not yet.

You only watch as Viper Fang appears in his hand and pierces the copilot clean through the head, his blood filling his flight helmet.

 "You…  who are you? How did you get up here?" The pilot turns in a panic and you see he’s wearing a Cassell College badge and what looks like a camera on his head. The black lens shimmers like an eye. It would see you, attached to Ruri Kazama.

Viper Fang moves so fast, the cherry-red blade seems to grow from his heart in a flash. You couldn’t speak out loud but you mouth the words as clearly as you can to the camera. “Caesar. Don’t worry about me. Thank you. Goodbye.”

A terrible sound resounded through the helicopter, the sound of a long sword being drawn from a heart, the blood spurting, sounding like wind.

You weren’t on the helicopter for long. It turned out you were less than one kilometer from the great hole in the ground that held the underground lake full of mercury. Without a care, Ruri Kazama leaped from the helicopter. You look up and watch it fly away to crash somewhere. The ground rushes towards you but Ruri uses Viper Fang against the ground, buffering your descent politely before landing. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder, using your hair as a veil to look through. All the members of the Devil Clan around you are shocked by your sudden appearance. Ruri Kazama stood still like a demon. His eyes glowing in the steady downpour, daring anyone to approach. But no one does. Quite the opposite. They are curious about you, but the killing aura is so strong they swallow that curiosity and decide that some answers aren’t worth dying over.

The well is many meters across and spanned by a large cross beam. Ruri walks over it and stands there, holding onto you.

White filaments crawl all over the inner walls of the water storage wells. They grow from the bottom, like the mycelium of some kind of mold. These mycelia can not only stain soil and trees, but can even penetrate steel. They can grow to several meters long, hanging on steel beams or trees, like countless slender hands swaying in the wind.

On the cross beam, Ruri seemed to fall asleep, his long hair drenched by the rain. There was nothing to do but wait. His eyes were open but empty. He was like one of the wooden doll children. He would move when instructed.  He didn't say anything and didn't listen. You immediately adopt that empty eyed posture. It is as familiar to you as a sort of meditation. The lightning flashes again and you see a smile on his pale empty eyed face.

The people working in the well were wearing protective clothing with extremely corrosion-resistant coatings to protect them from being stained by the white silk. The pumps are working at full capacity and twelve streams of blood red water are pouring into the deep well. This chemical reagent was mixed with the serum extracted from the deadpool fetuses. 

The bones of dragon-like and snake-like corpses were soaked in the mercury tainted well, and the bottom of the well was still filled with the deadly mercury vapor, so the Hydra members did not have time to explore the well thoroughly. The Iwarui Institute concluded that there was no longer any living thing in the well, but right after they left, a large number of bubbles were rising from the bottom of the water, as if something was spitting bubbles at the bottom of the well.

Humans always repeatedly make this kind of mistake. They never really understand the dragons, always imagining them as creatures similar to themselves.

White bubbles piled up on the surface of the water like foam. The heavy smell of blood filled the deep well and the water temperature gradually increased to near boiling. Millions of dead lung snails floated up with the bubbles. Their stench from being cooked alive and the smell of blood became a putrid aroma, enough to make an ordinary person gag. The pool of boiling water was like a soup pot full of flies.

The King General Herzog strolls along the beam after Ruri Kazama and praises him in a poet-like tone: "Smell it? This birthing smell! This is the smell of life being born! That great life is waking up! This day Satan returns from hell to earth, and it will cleanse this rotten and bony world with fire, and a new world will be reborn by fire."

He stopped. Ruri stared at him with a clear threat.

“Oh come now, won’t you let me see her? It’s been so long!” He pleads.

After a moment’s consideration, Ruri pulled back the veil of your hair. You were staring at Herzog with your tongue out and your eyes crossed.

Dr. Herzog leaned back and clutched his stomach in roaring laughter. He staggered and slapped his knee, whooping and hollering like a mad man. “It’s been so long, MC. You haven’t changed one bit! Hahaha! Hahahahahaha!” He lifts his mask slightly to wipe away a tear. “Never one to take anything too seriously.”

Ruri Kazama did not answer. He just smiled grimly, as if he was incomparably joyful.

“The god has awakened. Now please lend it your precious blood for a moment and pay homage to the newborn god." The king general patted Ruri Kazama's shoulder while still chuckling at you.

And just like that, you were accepted onto what you were sure would end up a killing field like Black Swan Bay. Herzog will not let anyone leave this place alive. You were sure of it. But you play along and smile. Just like in Black Swan Bay, he will hype everyone up that they’ll be able to go home. Everything will be amazing. And then...

Boom.

Ruri Kazama drew his long knife and slit his wrist, pouring his blood into the deep well. It was only a few hundred milliliters of blood, and there should be no trace at all after being diluted by the large amount of water in the well, but at the precise moment those blood beads touched the surface of the water, the whole red well shook, as if something huge was stretching its body in the depths of the mercury.

"Sonar detects large object coming up to the surface!" The engineers working at the bottom of the well stepped back in fear, leaning their backs against the well wall.

 The King let out a large dramatic shout.   "Let's welcome the return of God!'' 

#Dragon Raja

[lolo314]

Soma Week Day 4: Laughter

Title: Late night pic-nic supreme

@soulxmakaweek

 Notes: There are mentions of depression and a suicide attempt. Keep that in mind before reading. Also, yes, this is for laughter. Oops.

@friday1221 thanks for another collab!

Summary: After Soul's abrupt return during the weekend Maka makes it her mission to make him laugh. AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045280

The sound of the frozen water filling up the glass was the only audible thing in the apartment. Soul was away for the weekend and so she- eagerly waiting for the chance to bury her nose in the warm pages of a book- had picked out a few in advance, but now she found herself searching for any signs of life in the small room. She downed half the glass before retreating to her pile of fluffy blankets and turning on the TV. Movie night without Soul commenting on every little thing doesn’t feel like movie night… She looked back at the unfinished book on the table, contemplating whether or not she could actually focus, when she heard the door open. Who… I thought I locked the door. She shot up and took a fighting stance, ready to greet the intruder. When the door finally opened she froze.

“S-Soul?” they starred at each other for a few seconds before he broke the silence.

“You gonna punch me or what?” he walked past her and into the kitchen, kicking the door closed behind him . She was momentarily stunned, watching him pick up one of the milk cartons and gulping it down. She ignored his annoying habit, opting to ask the question that was burning her.

“Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow night?” he rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the warm welcome. “he tossed his jacket on the couch -missing by a few inches- before opening the door to his room.

“Did something happen?” he shook his head before heading inside. He muttered a goodnight and closed the door. What’s up with him? She decided she’d ask him about it the morning, when he was in a better mood. Maka picked up Soul’s jacket, sighing to herself before retreating to her room, book in hand.

  When Maka woke up the next day, Soul was still fast asleep. She didn’t pay him much mind, certain he was only sleeping in. It was a Sunday after all. She ate some breakfast before starting working on one of their assignments.

It was past lunch time when she put the pencil down. She stretched her muscles, hearing her bones cry in response. Soul hadn’t shown any signs of life since she woke up, so she decided to knock on his door for a warm good morning.

“Hey, Soul?” she wasn’t surprised to find him buried under the covers, curtain drawn. She made her way to his bed, careful not to disturb the quiet. She was about to yell his name again when she took a good look at his face. His eyes where firmly shut and his brows were furrowed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Soul?” one hand on his shoulder and his body shot up. After a few shallow breaths, he looked up at her as if her was seeing a ghost.

“Maka?” he sat up and looked around the room before falling back onto his pillow.

“Nightmare?” He shook his head and stood up. She observed him closely as he moved about, trying to understand some of the things he wouldn’t share.

“It was nothing. “After switching out his now wet sleeping shirt he walking out without another word. She flinched at the sight of his scar before turning her attention back to his face.

“It didn’t look like nothing” he didn’t stick around to hear her. He walked to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

“What’s up with him? Did something happen yesterday?” she considered this as she made lunch. He’s always more cooperative when he’s fed.

Her worry only grew after two hours of Soul locked in the bathroom. She knocked a few times before placing her ear on the door, only finding silence.

“Hey, Soul? Are you okay?” when no answer came she built up the courage and looked through the keyhole. She could almost hear Soul in her head. I’m not a perv… I’m just worried. She froze. Wait. Where’s Soul?  Her mind was instantly flooded by thoughts about every possible scenario. Did I just not see him exit? Is he in his room? Did he leave? She pushed them all back and took a deep breath. If she hadn’t seen him, she’d definitely have heard him. After retrieving the extra key, she stood in front of the door once more. After too many minutes of contemplating, she pushed the key out the other side, hearing the clank as it met with the tiles. She hesitantly pushed the door open.

“Soul? Are you in here?” no reply. For a split second she thought he was gone, when she saw him, fully clothed and submerged in water, his eyes closed.

“Soul?!” she almost slipped as she run to his side and struggled to pull him out.

“Soul!” she attempted to get him out of the tub entirely, but he was heavy and his clothes were soaked.

“Hey! Wake up!” she pressed her hands to his chest, trying to remember anything she might have learned about CPR, when he started coughing.

“Oh my god, for the name of death, you scared me!” she threw her arms around him, ignoring his wet state. She pushed off him, not giving him a chance to talk or complain.

“What happened?” he caught his breath before answering.

“I fell asleep.” He stood up and tried to twist his shirt in hopes of drying it.

“Why were you having a bath with your clothes on?” she moved in front of him, blocking his path.

“I just felt like it. “He gently pushed her to the side and stepped out of the tub, spilling more water on the floor in the process. She placed a hand on his chest, stopping his advancement.

“Wait here. I’ll bring you a change of clothes. And after that I want an honest explanation. “she picked out some of his clean clothes before returning to find him gone.

“Soul?” that was when she heard the front door close.

“Hey!” she sprinted outside ,finding him few steps away from the staircase.

“Where are you going? You’ll catch a cold!” He rushed down the stairs, Maka run, reaching out in hopes of stopping him. When they reached the sidewalk, she finally caught up to him and grabbed his hand, completely out of breath.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” he tried to pull away, but her grip was stronger.

“Soul, talk to me.” Her voice was shaky from the chase but she didn’t let him slip from her grip. He shook his head, still struggling to free his arm.

“I just feel like a stroll. “ Maka tried pulling him, but he didn’t budge.

“You’ll catch a cold going out all wet like that.” He stayed silent, avoiding looking her in the eye.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up…” she tried pulling again but his feet stayed firmly stuck to the pavement. She moved in front of him, taking his face in her hands.

“Look at me. What’s wrong?” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry…” he removed his hand from hers and walked away, leaving her stunned. She could only stare at him as he walked away.

  As the hours passed, Maka’s gaze moved between the clock and the door.

“Come on Soul…” he hadn’t taken his phone with him as he left and he was at neither Blackstar’s nor Kid’s. Thoughts about Soul’s whereabouts didn’t let her sleep than night.

Maka walked to class, hoping to see him sitting with his feet on the desk, laughing with the others. Her spirit dropped when she was faced with his empty seat. She sat next to Blackstar, throwing her books on her desk, making everyone’s heads turn. She ignored them, too preoccupied by Soul’s disappearance to care.

“Morning nerd. Why so glum?” she sighed and fell back on her chair, not finding the strength to reply.

“Is it Soul?” Tsubaki’s head peeked from behind Black Star’s. She nodded and rubbed her eyes, trying in vain to wake herself up after a sleepless night. .

“He didn’t come home yesterday. “was all she managed to say.

“Awe. Did you two lovebirds get in a fight?” she would normally be embarrassed by his comment, but the stress helped her dismiss it.

“No… He’s been acting strange ever since he came back on Saturday…” Liz’s head popped up from behind them.

“Where was he?” Maka’s shoulders dropped. Everyone’s questions were valid, but they only frustrated her more, knowing she didn’t have any answers.

“I don’t know… And then yesterday I think he tried…” her voice trailed off. Naming it would only make it more real and she wasn’t sure she could face it.

“I’m sure he’ll come back today, Maka. Please don’t stress so much over it. “Tsubaki gave her a sympathetic smile. She realized she probably looked paranoid. He’s an adult… not coming back one night is not the end of the world… It didn’t help to shake off her nerves. That was when Professor Stein entered the classroom.

“Hello Class. Today we will be dissecting frogs.” All students groaned in unison.

“But sir. We’ve done that like... so many times. Even the guy who fainted all the time is desensitized to it. “Ox nodded, reinforcing the boy’s statement.

“Well then, we should do it again so he can pay better attention. “

When the bell rung, signaling the end of class, most students shot up from their seats.

“Hey, we’re going for lunch. You coming?” her friends were all looking back at her with matching concern and it pained her to worry them so much, but she needed to find Soul.

“Sorry, I need to have a word with professor Stein. Thanks though. I’ll see you later. “she gathered her things, watching them walking out of the classroom before making her way down the steps to the front desk.

“Professor?” he looked up from his papers, putting his pencil down.

“Yes, Maka? Do you have any questions about today’s lesson?” she shook her head.

“It’s about Soul…” she kept her eyes to the floor, trying to hold back stress tears that were threatening to fall.

“Take a sit.” She nodded before sitting herself, feeling as if all her strength had left her.

“He didn’t come home last night. I think… I think it’s getting worse again…” he considered her words before answering.

“What makes you say that? Did something happen?” when she didn’t continue he stayed silent, pushing her to give him more details.

“Yesterday… Before he stormed off… I found him submerged in the bathtub… he said he just fell asleep but I don’t believe that…” Stein nodded, placing his head on his palm. The silence was only served as a gateway for her worries to consume her completely.

“What do you think I should do?” it took him a few minutes to reply, the anticipation doing nothing to relieve the tension.

“I would suggest you don’t pressure him about it anymore. If it is what you are suspecting, you need to make him feel safe, not interrogated. He will talk when he is ready. Make sure to keep an eye on him. “she sighed.

“If I find him…” she didn’t make any move to live until the door burst open and the last person she wanted to see walked in with open arms.

“My sweet daughter! “ Spirit run towards her, his smile disappearing when he got a better look at her grim expression.

“What’s wrong, Maka? Is it that octopus head? Did he do something to upset you?” she opened her mouth to dismiss him, but he kept on talking.

“I knew I should have thrown a punch when I saw him, just in case this happened. “ Maka glared at him, putting a stop to his blabbering.

“It’s no-“she stopped mid sentence and looked up at her dad.

“Wait. You saw Soul?” he nodded.

“Yeah, he was at deathbucks. I saw him on my way here. “She shot up, not believing the words that came out of her mouth.

“Thanks papa!” and then she run out, as fast as her legs could carry her, ignoring Spirit’s protests.

  Maka pushed the doors of the café open, rapidly looking around the space until she spotted a white spiky head in the sea of people. Stein’s words replayed in her head, reminding her to take a breath and consider the best approach. She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to run and give him a proper Maka Chop before throwing her arms around him. Instead, she quietly walked to his table and sat on the seat opposite him.

“Hey stranger.” She put her hands on the table with a smile on her face. His eyes widened before awkwardly turning back to his drink. His surprise to her sudden appearance was evident in the way his eyes kept glancing her way, but never lingering for too long . The biggest surprised seemed to have come from her reacting. Didn’t expect that, did you Soul?

“Hey…” was all he said in the end. His eyes kept moving, scanning the room, looking at everything but her. She tried her best to pretend it didn’t hurt her.

“Espresso?”She gestured to the mug in front of him. He nodded, clearly dumbfounded by her actions, looking at her as if she was an alien. She only smiled before taking the mug in her hands and taking a few sips.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asked casually. Her smile widened when he shook his head, still too shocked to speak.

“Great, I haven’t either. We should go grab lunch. I was thinking sushi.” It was hard getting the words out, given her distaste for fish, but she was doing this for Soul. He looked even more confused.

“You hate sushi.” He took another sip of the espresso, now sitting on the centre of the table.

“People change. “she sipped the last his coffee and took out a few coins, placing them on the table.

“Come on, let’s go.” He could only stare as she pulled his arm and led him outside. She didn’t let go of him until they reached the sushi place, neither of them speaking a word.

“Here we are.” She breathed in before pushing the door open, determined to make this as fun for him as possible.  She worked hard to keep the smile on her face, even as her insides were turning upside down. They sat down on one of the seats next to the window.

“ So, what’ll be today? My treat.” She stated before turning her attention to the menu in search of anything that didn’t include fish.

“Uh, Maka?” she didn’t let him continue.

“You like Tuna right? “he placed his hands over hers, lowering the menu, looking at her in the eyes for the first time since he came back to the apartment the other night.

“Maka. Look at me.” She was momentarily stunned. He didn’t have to voice it, she could see the concern is his eyes. Why is he worrying about me? This is supposed to be about him… She flashed him her biggest smile, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

“What’s up?” she tried to keep the lie going, betting on hi letting it slide, allowing her plan to continue.

“You tell me. Why are you acting all happy and laid back?” the look in his eyes almost made her tell him everything right then and there.  But she held back from that.

“Why wouldn’t I? I think I’ll get the noodles. Should we order?” her attempts to distract him only seemed to tick him off.

“Because I left without saying anything? Because I skipped class? Because I was gone for an entire night and you should be mad at me!” his voice echoed around the room. All heads turned to their table in disapproval. Soul slouched, seemingly trying to disappear from existence.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to yell. “she looked at his face, filled with apologies and guilt. Despite her best efforts to sound carefree she knew he could read between her lines. He knew her better than anyone after all. It’d be next to impossible to hide her feelings from him. She was drowning in her worries, trying to maintain any form of control and they both knew it.

That was when she realized she had played this wrong. Soul could see through her every lie, every unspoken word. There was no point in trying to hide it.She let her smile drop into something apologetic. Something genuine.

“I should be the one apologizing… I realized I was pushing you… I’m sorry…” she didn’t want to ruin the mood completely, so she shook her head before he could continue the conversation.

“It doesn’t matter now. All is forgiven.” He didn’t say anything more, only nodding in response, which she was grateful for.

Maka spent the rest of their lunch date thinking of ways she could get him to open up to her.

She glanced at the clock and back at Soul.

“It’s getting late. We should probably go back to school. Training is starting soon. “she gathered her things and stood up. She waited for him to complain, but he only followed her, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want Sid to scold me again.” He smiled widely and walked out of the store. The layers of sadness behind that smile broke her heart. You can read me perfectly Soul… But so can I.

“You commin?” he looked over his shoulder holding the door open.

“ Yeah” She smiled quickly before catching up with him. They fell into step with each other, heading back to the Academy.  

When they got to class, Soul chatted with everyone as if nothing was wrong. Maka, stood next to him, watching him put on fake smiles for everyone, feeing even worse than she had that morning. No one else seemed to pick up on the pain behind his jokes. So much so she almost thought she was imaging things. Almost.

 “Ugh, I’m beat.” They walked towards the apartment, building up a slow but steady speed, Soul’s hands behind his head. She kept her gaze on the ground, avoiding looking at his face for too long.

“You okay?” she could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t want to be face his mask.

“Yeah, I’m fine. “she knew it was obvious she was lying, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to his face again. He came to a halt and turned towards her.

“You’re Maka Albarn.  You don’t walk with your head down for no reason. So, what’s up?” she cursed her horrible acting skills, as well as her low sprits. She finally looked up at him and gave him the best smile she could master.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just thinking about school.” It took all of her strength trying not to look away from him. She didn’t like worrying him, especially when the only one he should be worrying about was himself. He didn’t seem convinced but he dropped the subject and continued walking.

When they got home he retreated to his room, wishing her goodnight. When she closed the door to her room  she let her body slide to the floor. Her heart ached, her brain was racing and she felt pathetic. He figured out what I was doing immediately. He won’t let me spoil him at all… All she could think of was Soul as she changed out of her uniform. She missed his smile. His laughter.

“I need to get him to laugh.” She muttered before drifting off into uneasy sleep.  

  The next day Maka awoke with newfound confidence. She had lived with Soul for years. She knew how to make him laugh. She made breakfast for the both of them before packing her things, leaving a note for Soul before grabbing her keys and walking out.

  When Soul woke up that morning he felt tempted to bury himself under the covers once more and stay there to rot. Instead, he let his feet dangle off the bed, eventually mastering the will power to get up and walk to the kitchen, not wanting to worry her any more than her already had. He stopped in the middle of the small room. She’s not here? He looked around, even though he could feel the quiet lurking on the walls, as if challenging him. Let’s see how many hours you last when left to the mercy of your own demons. He was convinced he could hear the snickering, glad to have him at their mercy as he stood in front of the fridge. It took him a few minutes to notice Maka’s note.

“I cooked pancakes. Eat up! I won’t be long.”

“Where did she even go?” he scratched his head before sitting himself on the table and stuffing his face with one of the pancakes, trying to fill the void he felt with syrup.

 First stop: The convenient store.

Maka scanned the shelves, double checking her list to make sure she got everything she needed before walking to the register.

“ Thank you” she walked out with two large bags in hand and set off to her next stop.

Second stop: Craft store.

She felt like she was back in elementary school as she filled her cart with art supplies, scissors, multiple colored papers, as well as some chunky markers. She had never fancied herself an artist, but she reminded herself that she was doing this for Soul.

“Are you organizing a party young lady?” the woman at the register seemed very interested in Maka’s plan. After all, she had only entered the store to buy notebooks and pens for school prior to this.

“Something like that. “she smiled and walked off, feeling more optimistic than she had in days.

Final Stop: Record store

She scoured the jazz section for a good ten minutes before finding what she was looking for. She carefully lifted the package, inspecting for a good few minutes, making sure she picked out the best one before getting in line.

“Maka, it’s not often I see you here. How is Soul?” she glanced at the bags in her hands and looked up at the man.

“He’s about it be a lot better. “ When she pushed the glass door open, her body swaying from the excessive weight, she realized this had taken her longer than intended. She looked at her clock, hoping she’d have time to prepare everything.

7: 32

She pulled out her phone and dialed the one person she was sure would be able to help her in her scheme.

“Hey, Blackstar. Are you busy?”

 “Won’t be long my ass.”

Soul grunted, throwing himself on the couch, face flat on the cushions. At least she won’t have to see me in this sorry state… He hated himself for worrying her and he hated himself for considering giving up. She’d never forgive me… He felt his phone buzz, burying his ears under a pillow, wishing for the vibrating to stop so he could resume to his mopping. When it didn’t he grunted and tried pushing himself off the couch, landing on his ass in the process. He pulled the vibrating device from his pocket and put next to his ear, stomach still connecting with the carpet.

“What?” he wanted to disguise the annoyance in his voice, considering it could be Maka, but he felt too emotionally exhausted to do so. He stopped worrying about it when he heard the voice on the other line.

“Hey asshsole! I see your brood level is at a peak toady.” Blackstar’s voice rang loudly inside Soul’s ears.

“What do you want?” he had tried to keep his feelings to himself but that went out the window somewhere between Maka leaving and falling on the floor.

“I’m boored. Let’s hit the field!” his body was instantly perplexed by the idea of getting up and exercising.

“Not today” he was about to hung up when Blackstar starting screaming in his ear.

“Come on man! It’s been too long! I wanna hung out. Besides, if you don’t come, I’ll come drag you here myself.” Soul groaned, loudly.

“Ugh. Fine. But we’re going for food. I’m not in the mood for moving. Deathbucks, fifteen minutes. “and then he hung up, ignoring his friend’s excited yelling. He looked around the apartment once again, half expecting to see if Maka walk through the door. When she didn’t he pulled himself to his feet and walked out, locking it behind him.

 “Hey stranger!”  Blackstar’s hand shot up the moment Soul stepped through the door to the café. He only shrugged as he walked over and landed in seat opposite him.

“What’s good?” Soul felt something stir at the pit of his stomach, half-hoping for Blackstar to lash out at him for being rude.

“Nothing.” He did his best to smile, trying to eliminate the worry everyone around him seemed to be feeling these days.

“Tell me about it. I’m beat! How many essays can one man write before he goes crazy?” he threw his hands in the air, huffing dramatically.

“Since when do you do homework?” Blackstar crossed his arms, making a point of looking away from Soul.

“That is SO rude. I always do my homework. Unless I’m really bored.” he lifted the menu, hiding his face behind the pages even though they had both visited the café enough times to know what to order.

“Exactly my point.” Blackstar laughed at that, dropping the book and signaling for the waiter.

“You got me there. Hey! We’re ready to order.” Soul sighed, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“You’re too loud.” his friend only smiled widely, clearly very proud of his achievement.

“Not exactly a thing to be proud of…” Once the waiter took their orders they got to chatting about nothing in particular. Soul tried his best to stay focused on the conversation, putting his thoughts about Maka on the back of his mind, oblivious to her plans.

  “Hello? Soul? Maka peered her head in the apartment, insuring the coast was clear before she stepped in, dropping her bags on the floor, glad she could finally give her arms a break. She gave a silent thanks to Blackstar before getting to work.

  “I wanna go home. It’s late and I miss my bed.” Blackstar’s hand on Soul’s wrist on gripped harder as he pulled him along the quiet streets of Death City.

“Stop being a kill joy! I am way more fun than any fluffy blanket in this city. No scratch that, better than any fluffy blanket on the planet.” He looked over his shoulder, flashing Soul a full teeth smile before moving both of them along.

“You’re unbelievable…” Soul sighed in defeat, finally giving up any attempt to escape. He friend’s attempts to lift his spirits were well-meant, but all Soul wanted was to crawl back into his bed and never get up again. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible, so all he accomplished was to feel like shit for being a terrible friend.

Blackstar had been quiet for a while, leaving Soul in the company of his inner demons. Hey demons, it’s me, your boy. Soul tried to laugh, but it came out as a grunt more than anything.

“Okay. I think we’re good. You are now allowed to go kiss your bed sheets.” The obnoxious boy turned on his heel, Soul’s chest almost smashing into him.

“What made you change your mind?” the idea of ever questioning his return to his bed was painful, but the sudden change made him too curious not to ask. Did I finally piss him off? I deserved that.

“I just think home will be more fun for you. See ya!” he winked before taking off in a hurry. What’s he on about? Soul put his body on auto-pilot and dived back into his thoughts, letting his feet him walk through the familiar streets.

  When he stepped into the living room, the room was quiet. Maka’s scent filled the space, alarming him to her presence. She must’ve gone to sleep… He muttered a goodnight before retreating to his room.

 2:00 AM

Maka slowly pushed the door to Soul’s room, trying not to wake him as she stepped closer to his bed.

“Hey, Soul. Wake up.” He was visibly shaking, eyes squeezed shut. Another nightmare… Her worry only increased as she caressed his face, pushing some strands of hair away. She’d seen him in a similar state before, but it never ceased to frighten her down to her very core.

When they had first started dating, every time he was awoken by nightmares he would crawl into her bed and she’d hold him until he fell asleep. After some time though, he stopped entirely. She still remembered feeling so happy, thinking he had finally pushed away his demons, when she walked in on him, shaking just as he was doing now.

Maka pushed the tears away and gently touched his shoulder.

“Please wake up for me.” Soul shot up frantically looking around him before his eyes focused on hers.

“Maka? What are you doing here at… 2 AM? Are you okay?” she bit back a sigh at his needless worry over her, and gave him a sweet smile.

“Come with me.” He looked at her quizzically, the worry still evident in his stare.

“Did something happen?” she shook her head and took his hand, slowly helping him off his sea of blankets.

“I need to show you something. “She handed him a hoodie to throw on before walking out, urging him to follow her.

“Where are we going?” he followed her up the stairs, never ending his stream of questions. Once they had reached the door to the rooftop she turned around and smiled at him.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why do I need to close my eyes?” he frowned.

“Because I said so. Come on, close them.” He finally did as he was told, shutting his eyes closed.

“Now what?” she opened the door and pushed him forward.

“Open them.” Soul’s eyes widened.

“What is this?” he turned to look at her, her smile visible even in the darkness of the night.

“I call it the late night picnic supreme.” Blankets and pillows were arranged on the concrete, forming a circle around a small table packed with snacks, a small record player sitting underneath. Fairy lights were scattered around the space, creating an almost magical scene. But Soul’s eyes rested on the banner, which hung above everything else.

I love you.

He tried his best to push back the tears forming in his eyes, turning his body so he was facing the mastermind of the charade, flashing his biggest and most genuine smile in weeks.

“I love you too.” She seemed taken aback for a moment before twining her fingers with his and guiding him to the table.

“All your favorites. It took a lot of effort to prepare this so you better eat up!” he was momentarily stunned. The amount of time it must have taken her to prepare this weighed on his mind, but he pushed all worries aside and said the only thing that came to mind.

“Thanks, Maka.” She only smiled and sat down, urging him to dig in.

“Is it good?” she had put down her fork and looked at him intently as he took his first bite. He smiled.

“Better than good.” A laugh escaped her lips, and with it, the load on her shoulders seemed to vanish.

“There’s one more thing. But I think I’ll make you wait a little longer. “She winked at him before returning her attention to the food in front of them.

  After they put aside the pile of empty plates, Maka turned her attention to the radio player, back turned as she fidgeted with the machine for a few minutes before turning up the volume and turning to face him. He was about to question her when he heard the first notes play.

“Is that what I think it is?” he focused his ears on the music, certain he was mistaken.

“It is exactly what you think it is.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as possible. After the initial shock, Maka hugged him back, holding on to him as if he could vanish any moment. He felt her shake in his arms as tears begun falling down her eyes. His heart ached knowing he made her cry. He pushed her away from him so his hands could cup her tear-stained face.

“You don’t have to worry about me so much. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” His lips pressed against her in a light kiss. He stayed silent until her breathing evened out, hands still around her back.

“I never told you where I was that weekend. Or why I came back, did I?” he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“Wes had called me a few days prior, practically begging me to go home for a few days. And since the hole family was gathering he thought it was the perfect chance.” She never interrupted him, only listened, allowing him to vent after bottling his feelings up for so long.

“Safe to say it didn’t end well… Everyone was asking questions about school, my progress, you… Wes kept telling me to stay… “his voice trailed off. He felt her hands over his, her warmth enough to help him relax a bit before her continued.

“I was going to take one… just to help me get through the night, but my old man sort of walked in on me. And then the storm started and everyone was yelling and I couldn’t… ” Her head shot up, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“Take what?” the anxiety in her voice was evident, and he wanted to disappear right then and there.

“Prozac… “He lowered his head, waiting for his well deserved scolding for lying to her about being off it, but her voice was no more than a whisper when she spoke.

“I-I thought you were off that… I thought you were getting better… How long have you been back on it?” he averted his gaze. Her hands found his face and she turned his so she was looking him in the eye.

“About two months now… I didn’t wanna worry you… But it seems I managed to do the opposite… I’m sorry.” He tried to get up, but she took his hand and pulled him back to her, tears streaming down her face.

“You absolute idiot!” her hands around him squeezed harder.

“You shouldn’t worry about me! You should think about yourself! If I hadn’t found out about this what would you have done? Sit there and suffer alone?” he opened his mouth to reassure her that he would be fine, knowing the words were a lie when she put a finger on his lips, silencing him.

“Please Soul… I want you to help you… I want to be there for you… Because if you don’t make it, I… I don’t know what I’ll do… I need you… So… let me in…” her lips pressed against his and he could almost feel her pain as they moved together. When they finally pulled away they were panting, tears streaming down Soul’s face. He thought he’d been doing this to protect her. But her words made him realized he had made things so much worse for her. He imagined her heart breaking if she found out he was gone ,the thought alone was almost enough to break his.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking out all the tears he’d been holding back until then. She rubbed his back in circle motions, trying to take as much of that pain away as she could.

“It’s all right. You’re going to be all right. I’m here for you. You’re going to get through this… ” When he felt he was calm enough to form a coherent sentence he pulled away and looked into her eyes before locking their lips for a brief moment. An unspoken promise. I’m going to live … I’ll get through this. Because you’re with me.

“Turn down the music! Some of us are trying to sleep!” their neighbor’s voice rang from the first floor.

“We’re trying to have a moment!” Maka yelled back, her hands still in his.

And then he laughed. He laughed harder than he had in months. And then she laughed too, as if it was contagious. A promise of good things ahead.

#somaweek2020 #soulxmakaweek #soul evans #maka albarn #soma #soul eater #soul x maka

[jelanisaeed]

Fight Scene - Bakari

“Duck!”

The voice of his archers resounded in a pleasant echo. Grateful didn’t begin to explain the rush of happiness as he rolled away from a gush of acid. Green like the sickly skin staining the bodies of these mutant frog demons. They locked their unfocused gaze on him as their long tongues swiped their warty lips.

Bakari frowned. With a quick enchantment, he became a puppeteer to dozens of scattered arrowheads across the bloodstained field. And felled his assailant with a rush of only two.

Naturally, he smirked. Weaving through the battlefield wasn’t hard now. Gained more arrowheads to orbit him with quickly spoken enchantments. The best lesson Bavual taught him after those months. With a flick of his wrists, demons melted away into puddles of sticky green goo. Even the best of them—a blotted scorpion with a thin needle stinger—succumbed to his might.

Ironic, though Bakari didn’t waste time contemplating the ways of the universe. All that matter was the safety of his team. Thankfully, his efforts saved quite a few from sneak attacks. Of course, conjuring the occasional shield didn’t hurt either.

Saves us a laundry bill, he whistled as green goo slid down his glimmering shield of cobalt mana.

Larger demons always gave the worst goo-baths. This one with the mangled features of a wolf and spider fused in an unholy union. Personally, Bakari saw its death a favor. No way living wasn’t difficult for it. And his job as a Dajide Murengo dictated he bring peace to nature. Though he wished for another way.

“Archers!” He barked, backflipping away from a heavy swing from a mutated bear. “Aziza’s Tears!”

Arrows rained down from above and killed many off the smaller demons in their way. The bear hung on, riddled with arrows as purple blood leaked and matted its fur to its back. It moaned, falling to its knees as fresh tears twinkled down its face. Bakari frowned. Perhaps had the cards been different, they’d live in peace. Not forced into a war didn’t ask for.

A war Bakari never wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Bakari whispered and rocketed another arrowhead…right through the head. “I pray the kiinbies grant ya new life.”

A hunter’s prayer he learned from Big Mama. Suppose to cleanse the arrow and lead the spirit to the afterlife.

They could all use a spiritual cleanse after this. Bakari surveyed the area with a frown. The bodies of the fallen weren’t far from here devoid of their precious mana. Soul-stones harvested if those gaping holes meant anything. Mourning now wouldn’t change their fates. He only wished the kiinbies were kind to their aggressors.

“Stay strong,” he proclaimed, oozing pulses of positivity through his empathy. The effects were instantaneous as brilliant energy enveloped them in body mending hugs. “We finna survive.”

Bakari knew survival well and refused to miss this date. Hopefully, they didn’t mind the extra company.

Though they might have to postpone. A chill ran up his spine as a heavy shadow weighed on him. Hot breath slapped at his neck and he shuddered.

Bakari leapt back and ignited fistfuls of cobalt magic against his heads. His remaining arrowheads floated above as he glared at the enemy. A demon far larger than any before towered over them. Decked out in intricate, ceremonial armor and thick spinal spikes. An awful pair for those rotten teeth it flashed through the afternoon light. Or the green salvia stained across its dry, purple lips.

“Figures,” Bakari scoffed and summoned with bow. Gently, he drew back the bowstring. Magic howled through the weapon, calling forth a notched arrow of pure magic. “Back off—Fell Sniper!” The arrow flew with his remaining arrowhead following close behind.

Only to be swatted aside by the demon’s heavy, spike-ridden club.

“I’m starin’ to hate y’all,” Bakari deadpanned.

The demon only roared before rushing in. It swung its heavy club, but Bakari ducked. Reeling back a magic coated fit, he howled before slamming a punch into its chest. It’s armor cracked as its skid back, winded as its club flew from its grip. But Bakari wasn’t finished. Howling dogs filled his ears and a stream of cobalt magic erupted from his hands and smashed into the demon! Carried it off far as it cried out in pain.

“Block that,” he snarled, landing a solid kick through the skull of a creeping frog.

Despite his wishes, however, he knew it wouldn’t stay down for long. Demons that strong never did. They went for rounds and some claimed they didn’t feel pain.

Bakari chased after it, notching another magic arrow. His soldiers tried to follow, but he scolded them. They were there to hold the line.

The crash site wasn’t far from him. Calm except for the shifting rocks pilled on top of each other. From the demon, he assumed. Frowning, Bakari circled it tensed. It had to be alive; Bakari felt the beat of mana drumming at his senses. So why—

Grrrnghhhnnnnnn!!!!

The boulders exploded in a thick purple haze, sending harsh tremors through the earth. Bakari shielded himself from the biting winds. Closed his eyes for a second too long. When he opened them, the demon stood before him. With a hideous grin, it swung at him.

Thank Lord Mavu his shield materialized when it did. Half-baked; however, it covered only his front and his back his back exposed to crash into the rockface. “Gah,” he cried out. But managed to roll away just in time, narrowing avoiding being smashed beneath the demon’s feet.

Grrrnghhhnnnnnn!!!!

Not face enough to avoid the meaty head before it seized his face and yanked him up. Weightless was a strange feeling Bakari never liked much. Nor the wind whipping his body as the demon swung him around.

Then came the pain.

The sharp, burning pain like massive glass shards piercing his skin. He screamed, but the hand muffled him. Already he felt his magic go to work as howling dogs filled his mind. Just need a minute to lick his wounds like only the best bloodhounds—

The pain flared up once more, stalling his magic. He didn’t even notice the weightlessness this time. Only the pain. Harder this time as the demon applied pressure.

Harder—the grinding rocks echoed in his ears. Whispering pitied apologies as they bared witness.

Harder—he waved them off, preferring nothing more than driving an arrow through the demon’s—

Harder! The wind snatched from his throat. His magic went into overdrive. Barking orders as it dulled the pain and healed the wounds. But it wasn’t fast enough.

Harder!

Harder!

His throat burned. Raspy and sore from each barely concealed scream as the demon.

Harder!

Harder!

Bakari braced himself for more, but it never came. Fatigue, perhaps? Heavy breathing bounced through his ears, but Bakari didn’t know where it came from. Not that he had much breathe left. His burning eyes made seeing impossible, but mind knew this well. Sightless and degraded much like all those moons ago. When he was only a child struggling to survive with his family. A child who saw too much. Years ago, he pledged to never be helpless again. To find the strength to overcome any obstacles. Yet the object of his fears had him trapped just like all those moons ago.

No, he willed his trembling arms up and grabbed the cold metal of the demon’s gauntlet. I ain’t, he breathed, fortifying his bones and augmenting his muscles with magic. The bloodhounds howled through his ears. And he squeezed. I ain’t gonna die here!

Tighter—the metal groaned under his grip.

Tighter—creaking echoed and Bakari pumped more magic through his body.

Tighter! The metal caved in and the demon screeched. Something thick and warm dribbled down his arm.

“I ain’t gon die,” Bakari pushed the hand up, ignoring the screaming in his tired muscles. Slowly, it lifted. And he rose to his feet, holding his hand overhead with a bloody grin. “Or lose!”

His massive wings bloomed and unfurled from his back, glittering. Bakari took to the skies, dragging the demon with him as his beautiful butterfly wings gave heavy flaps. Higher he flew until the world became an anthill to him and spun. Howling, he threw the demon down with all the strength left in his arms.

He wasn’t done, however. He opened his arms for an empty embrace. The bloodhounds howled once more, releasing pounding magic through his veins until it oozed through his dark skin. His arms flowed through practiced patterns. Drawing in the mana from the world around him before resting above his head, hands clasped.

And countless arrows materialized above. Cobalt like his eyes and pointed down at the plummeting demon.

“Hunter’s Tears!”

The arrows shot after demon and soon an eruption echoed through the air.

Bakari flew down and found the demon in a crater. Deceased with arrows riddled through its chest and single one plunged through its forehead. He frowned. Perhaps things could have been different. Maybe it deserved a ending better than its slow dissolve. For now, however, he chose not to worry.

Right now, his friends fought for their lives across this horrid field of decay. And he refused to leave him unaided.

Bakari unzipped his pouch and out came a flock of magic seals. “Great hunter of the Black Moon—Mlinzi,” upon his words, the seals ignited in a burst of magic. “I beseech thee, bestow upon me thy grace!” The seals flocked to their positions, draining their magic into the earth. As for Bakari, he sank to his knees and clasped his hands in prayer. “Bless this land with thy breath!” The howls reached a crescendo as he slammed his palms into the ground.

“Hollowed Hut!”

His magic surged through the earth and rose in wispy streamers of light. Knotting togethers as the howls came down from their height. Yet the magic only went higher. It’s chosen form bathed him in a comforting light and made the sweat pouring down his skin worth it. Even licked away his wounds as it gave its own howl to the heaven.

The deep, soul-rattling howl befitting only the strongest of bloodhounds.

And the strongest it was. The massive hound tossed a glowing bone into the sky, howling as it shattered and raining glimmering rays of light across land.

“Be safe,” his wings retracted deep within his soul-stone. Exhausted, Bakari collapsed as rushing feet echoed around him.

The darkness returned. But this time, he welcomed its embrace.

#Philosian #Fantasy #Afrofuturism

[blue-echoinglights]

i sent you a note the other day.

well, ‘sent’ is a strong word. i stood in front of the ocean and willed my thoughts across the waves. i don’t have the guts to actually say them out loud, much less write to you.

you used to say that i was brave, that you admired my way with words. i used to laugh, and say you were brave to even be friends with me. it was, and still is, something not everyone could do.

in fact, i don’t think there is a single person besides you who could.

-

we’re driving down the coast, and i keep forgetting to look at the road. she laughs when she notices, and tells me that if we live near the ocean, why do you still stare at it?

a wry smile makes its way on my face. the freckles on her cheeks shimmer with the afternoon sun, and her laugh crashes on my ears like the sea.

it never gets less beautiful- no matter how much time i spend looking at it, i reply.

-

when we are 18 and stupid and a bit too drunk on the possibilities that our lives hold for us, she asks me a question.

“If you could have an ideal life, what would you do?” she’s lying next to me on her mom’s ratty picnic blanket, our elbows touching gently. her eyes are lost in the heavens, alight with the hopes of the future.

it’s incredibly clear tonight, but i’m too lost in my clouded thoughts to realize. a stray curl rests gently next to her temple, lifted in the breeze. i can’t help it and reach out to tuck it softly behind her ear.

she turns her head, and her gaze is too bright, too piercing. i move my eyes away and rest my hands behind my head. the stars are flickering. somewhere over the hills, a truck passes on the freeway.

after a moment, i grin. “i would be a baker.”

she laughs, startled. she remembers our last adventure with dough and yeast and flour covered hands and fire alarms. “we know how well that went last time.”

“i would call it ‘charcoal treats for the brave’.”

she’s still grinning. ‘i would be first in line, every morning. you know me. can’t get enough charcoal.’

my smile widens, but we go silent again. just for a moment, i listen to the waves crashing below the cliffs. an owl hoots, far and echoing.

i speak up this time. “what about you?”

she sits up, still quiet for a moment. when i finally look over, her face is full of determination and wonder. “a sailor.”

“oh yeah?” my eyebrows go up.

her mouth quirks, eyes locked on the horizon. “i’d have a sail boat, and cross the seas with my dog sidekick that I name scooter. watch the sunsets and write some books. maybe i’d sing for the mermaids on my way.”

“can’t forget the mermaids.” i quip, a bit too seriously.

our gazes finally meet. her voice softens. “no, we can’t forget the mermaids, can we.”

i love you, i think. i love you i love you i love you.

-

when we’re 15, and young and scared, she comes to class wearing makeup.

that in itself wasn’t unusual. her eyeliner was always perfect.

but today it wasn’t.

“hey,” I started. stopped. she isn’t looking at me. “what’s up? i saved some skittles in my lunch for you. my mom bought extra-”

she cuts me off, softly. “thank you. i’m okay though.”

my mouth clicks shut.

her curls shift as she opens her notebook. her cheekbone looks shadowed in the cheap classroom light, jaw clenched.

i sigh. “that bad, huh.”

she grits her teeth. “that bad. she told me not to come back for the week.”

i pretend like my vision isn’t shifting red, and try to keep a light smile. “well, you know you’re always welcome at my house. god knows you’re already there most of the time. i’ll text my mom.” not that my mom was a saint either, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

we were just friends, anyways.

(and if her mom’s neighbors suddenly strung up a truly obnoxious number of rainbow colored items in their yards, well. that was none of our business)

-

“there,” she says. “almost done.”

the grass i’m lying on is starting to make my legs itchy, but i’m completely still as she traces lines of paint along my arm. she’s told me not to look. something about a surprise.

“you said that ten minutes ago,” i tease.

she scrunches her nose at me. i resist the urge to reach up and kiss it.

i lock my jaw and flick my eyes to the clouds instead. bird song fills the air, light and airy, and the skies are a sharp blue against the treetops. the winds tousle my hair, honey sweet with the scent of spring. 

her voice cuts in, a bit distracted. “you know how artists are. gotta get everything just right.” she’s adding details, i think. i can feel the feather-light dancing of careful brushstrokes along my wrist.

“well, i guess that’s what i get for being best friends with a perfectionist.” a snort is her only reply. she knows i’m even worse.

it’s a beautiful day, the kind of forest scene where you expect the frogs to speak and faeries to giggle behind toadstools. she had convinced me to stay in the shade, where she had laid her art supplies. i hadn’t the nerve to say no.

there’s something to be said about art in the making, i think, watching her eyebrows crease as she mixes colors. something kind of raw about it. honest.

the thought makes my lungs tighten a bit. honest.

maybe i should be that more often. for my own sake.

i push the thought away as she sets her brush aside and sits up, excited. “okay, i’m done! you can look now. and don’t-”

“-judge, i know, i don’t know why you’re always on about that, your art is always-”

my eyes catch on the scene spreading along my arm, and the words leave my mouth. she’s painted the sea, stretched from wrist to elbow, glowing in the warmth of the setting sun. the palette is stunning, and if I look close to my elbow, i can see a little sailboat with a dog perched on the prow. my heart beats fast, and sure enough, there’s a tiny shadow of a mermaid waiting patiently on my wrist.

“-perfect,” she says, and i look up to see her watching me.

“yeah,” i say, not looking away. “perfect.”

-

i have bad days and good days. she knows this. i know this. i can’t help but wish it was otherwise, sometimes.

today is a bad day.

i haven’t responded to her calls. my phone is somewhere lost in my rumpled bed sheets. maybe i threw it across the room. i wouldn’t remember.

the fan circles above my head, too fast and too slow. my head aches and my pupils are unfocused by now, but i can’t look away.

the summer heat sits heavy in the house, and so does the feeling in my chest.

maybe it’s for the best, something whispers. maybe it should happen this way.

the carpet is too thin. the floor juts into my shoulder blades, my hip bones. a spider crawls along the door frame, and my eyes track its graceful march.

maybe she deserves better.

the door slams open downstairs. i can hear keys being thrown carelessly in the ceramic sea shell bowl we keep near the entry way.

“Rachel?”

i close my eyes, willing the voice away. just leave.

the footsteps get closer, determined in their intensity.

please.

in the hallway, the steps pause briefly at the bathroom. the relief in the pause is just as audible. too many bad nights have ended there.

the reminder causes more aches to spread through my temple. by god! for your own sake-  

she palms the door open. “God, Rachel, I thought-” her shoulders droop, and her voice softens. “I don’t know what I thought.”

i’m silent. go go go please just-

she kneels next to me, and a soft touch gently pries open my fingers from where they’re fisted in the carpet. she guides my hands and my back until i’m curled around her middle. the first sob is silent, a hot exhalation of breath.

stay. oh god. just please stay. her fingers cradle my neck. the sobs are wrenching their way out of me now, audible and terrible. “I know,” she says.

please don’t leave.

“I know,” she whispers into my hair.

you’re the only one i’ve got.

-

sometimes when we’re in public, i look at her and think- how does no one else see this. can they understand the sheer devotion and love i hold for her? me, an apostle to the holy? me, a follower of the light of the suns, a servant at the alter, a serf of the divine.

i follow her like i follow hope and destiny and the shimmer of our star at sundown. trying so desperately to think, this was made to be, it won’t end.

(when she walks in front of me, there is a fear that she will simply fade away. that i will have been nothing more than a religious fool in a hopeless myth)

-

we are driving home after work, and she’s resting her head on the cool window, breath fogging up the glass. i used to tease her that i would aim for the potholes on the freeway when she did that but. we both know my fingers rest ever so more carefully on the steering wheel when she’s next to me.

the freeway is near empty, this time of night. shift went late. her hands are neatly folded in her lap, and lines of fatigue are cast in neat shadows with every passing streetlight. we are 23, exhausted, and more than a bit scared.

looking at her, though, i know i am not lost. i am right where i need to be.

she tilts her head, and a smile cradles her face. she sits up from her slouched position and nods her chin towards the next exit. “this one,” she says.

“are you sure? we normally take the 15-”

another nod. “i’m sure.”

i flick my blinker on, head over shoulder, switch lanes. click, click, click. all the while wondering why tonight, of all nights, she’s decided to change her direction. i will follow her without doubt, of course, but i’m curious.

there’s a question in my gaze, but she doesn’t look at me. “do you remember that one trip we took after midterms that one year? after you failed your dev bio exam?”

i scrunch my eyebrows. “to the castle ruins?” they’re coastline barracks from a century old war, but we’ve always had overactive imaginations and a taste for youthful naivety.

“yeah.” there’s a hint of wistfulness now, shadowed by the weight of exhaustion. a wish for lighter thoughts, a touch of adolescent hope.

i tap my thumb on the steering wheel. “you wanna get some froyo and sit on the edge? for old time’s sake?”

there’s a little more light in her eyes, a quirk to her mouth. “for old time’s sake.”

when we finally make our way up the concrete riddled hill, the moon has started to reflect long lines across the rolling waves. my sneakers are wet from the dew-soaked brush and i can feel a chill along my neck.

there’s no warm blanket to sit on this time, so we find an outcropping and swing our legs over the side. the frozen yogurt sits sweet and cold on my tongue, an aftertaste of youth and old nostalgia.

she’s still quiet. i’ve tried to crack a few jokes here and there, but her responses have been short and soft. she needs time to think, whatever it is that is bothering her. i let her have the silence, just soaking in the salty air and letting the rumbling of the surf fill my chest.

i wonder, not for the first time, if this is it.

she hums, and i’m broken out of my thoughts. maybe i should wait longer, but i feel like i need to say something. “what is it?”

there’s a pause. my heart slows, echoing with the beat of the tides.

“I think,” she says, eyes still on the horizon, “i may be in love with you.”

i freeze, not daring to breathe. the chill spreads from my neck to my spine. for a second, I worry that she has somehow gotten the note I had sent, that the ocean had betrayed its vow of silence.

“i didn’t want to admit it. but i think i’d rather have you know and have you leave then spend any more time living a lie.”

her voice has dropped to a whisper. i don’t have to look to know that tears have begun to pool in her vision.

i take a breath, and it wobbles. her hand is cool to the touch, but i can feel the pulse beating frantically underneath her skin. i raise our conjoined fingers to her cheek, and our foreheads meet. her eyes are frantically looking between mine, but my gaze remains constant. in the space between us, whirlpools of fear and vulnerability and warmth and belief and life spin tirelessly.

i hum, a grin threatening to make its way on my lips, “seems like i had nothing to worry about after all.” the song in my soul, the shifting of the sea, comes to a crest, and the emotion comes crashing in.

i kiss her.

sitting upon that ledge, she tastes like hope and strawberry froyo and truth and salty ocean air, and i know that we were never, not once, a lie.

.

.

.

fin

Baby can't you see there's no other like you

When you leave I'll expect the things you'd always do

Maybe it's a death wish to have become so used to

You and me, you know I need to know that you'll be true

                      - Kate Bollinger, No Other Like You

#:) #hope you enjoyed!!! #i had fun with it lmao #thanks for the song rec!!

[cursetheground]

God’s Eye

  Senior year, Naomi Trazzi became a permanent fixture in the guidance office. Each week, it was something new: threatening a strip tease in the boy’s locker room, acting out an explicit puppet show with the frogs in biology, planting hallucinogenic mushrooms in horticulture’s model landscape. But every week, it was more of the same. She’d sit across from Miss K and whittle away at the desk with a sharpened pencil while her counselor floundered to instill her with some sort of moral consciousness.

  Colleges are watching, K would tell Naomi. The choices you make now could affect your future. The rest of your life.

  This week, the charges levied were something to the tune of smoking in the girl’s room.

  “What do you care anyway?” Naomi, bored of her whittling, propped her foot up on the desk’s edge and stabbed the pencil into her boot’s thick rubber heel. “I’m 18. It’s not like it’s illegal.”

  Miss K lunged forward and snatched the pencil. “It’s prohibited on school grounds. Which I’m sure is why you did it.”

  Naomi clicked her tongue. “We can agree this is the tamest I’ve been though, yeah?”

  “If you classify exposing your fellow students to cancerous chemicals as ‘tame,’ then yes.” Miss K slid open a drawer & rifled through its confiscated innards – a crinkled bag of chips that hadn’t been allowed in detention, a Confederate pride pennant, a can of spray paint, a pair of craft scissors – searching for the perfect place to stow the writing utensil.

  Naomi stomped her heel into the desk.

  Miss K startled, dropping the pencil next to a warped tech deck dude and his accompanying board, now little more than spaghettified plastic.  

  Ten minutes after Naomi would leave, River Albright would come to reclaim these items. He’d been bereft of them when he’d “accidentally” launched the miniature skateboard across his chemistry class into a beaker of sulfuric acid.

  Miss K’s eyes fixed on Naomi as the drawer slammed closed. “There’s something else.”

  Naomi’s brow ticked. “Isn’t there always.”

  The counselor braced herself with a sigh. “… We’ve spoken many times about your grades-”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Naomi tore apart the split ends of her lopsided pigtails with chewed fingernails. “Colleges don’t like me. I know.”

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than that.”

  Naomi’s eyes flicked up.

  Miss K wet her lips. “You won’t be graduating.”

  Naomi blinked.

  “You’d have to ace all your finals to pass,” Miss K’s voice quickened, “which, based on your attendance…” She shrugged.

  Naomi withdrew her foot from the desk. She circled her arms around herself. Her gaze retreated out the window.

  “It’s not the end of the world.” Miss K reached out. Halfway across the desk, she realized her arms would never cover the distance. She folded her hands instead. “You’ll have to retake this year, yes, but you’ll have a leg up on the material, and you can take advantage of the extra time to build up your resume…”

  Naomi hadn’t moved. Her mouth hung ajar, tongue paused against the back of her teeth, a girl frozen in time. Some part of her had gone away out there – had slipped through the blinds and taken off running.

  “I know you hate it when I bring this up,” Miss K tried, “but if this behavior is some way of… of preserving Tawna’s memory-”

  “Her memory?” Naomi’s head snapped forward. “Is that how you remember her?”

  Miss K was suddenly overcome with the hollow-boned cold one might feel upon opening the front door to discover a hornet’s nest. She pulled the knit shawl tighter about her shoulders, and she tried.

  “I remember having conversations like this with both of you.” She spoke slowly, using each pause to scan Naomi with an infrared gaze – checking for a tick of the eyebrow, a flinching lid, a tensing shoulder, any gauge of the girl’s temperature. “And I know that one way people sometimes try to process grief is by rooting themselves in old habits-”

  “Bad habits.” Naomi’s mouth hardened into a line.

  Miss K withdrew her hands to her lap.

  “Come on, teach.” A vein twitched in Naomi’s temple. “Say it like you mean it.”

  K swallowed. “One week detention for the smoking, starting Monday. We’ll set a meeting to discuss next year’s course load as soon as I know my schedule.”

  Naomi fisted her bookbag and swept from her seat. Miss K shouted at her retreating back, “I’m always here if you need-”  

  “Whatever.” Naomi didn’t turn her head.

  Her locker got the better of her in her rage. She kept rotating over the digits of her combination: a product of either zeal or trembling hands. The second she finally sprang it, she clawed inside and began scattering books, hurling them onto the floor. When she exhausted her texts, she moved on to her scarf, her gym bag, her coat.

  When the coat hit the tile, it spat up something shiny. The clank of the something cut through the pulse of blood in Naomi’s ears. And when she saw what it was, she threw herself down after it.

  A silver zippo, ferruginous in its old age. On its side, a sticker inspired by a recovered zippo from the Vietnam War.

 Thoe I walk thru the valley  of the shadow of death,  I fear no evil, for I  am the meanest mother fucker in the valley.

                                                  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

  Less than a year ago, Tawna held that zippo to Naomi’s mouth and lit a blunt. They were on their backs on the faux fur rug occupying more than half Tawna’s floor, the rug so soft it felt like the real thing. So soft, you could sink right in.

  Naomi’s head was on Tawna’s stomach, her ear pressed against Tawna’s bottom rib. When everything else in the room was quiet, the quiver of Tawna’s heartbeat rattled Naomi’s eardrum.

  They were decompressing, or commiserating, while Tawna’s father stampeded around downstairs. A rejection letter peeked out at them from the top of the waste bin.

  UCLA was Tawn’as first pick. She was their last.

  “It’s all bullshit,” Naomi declared, waving the blunt idly about. “Art programs aren’t supposed to care about your grades.”

  “They didn’t.” Tawna pinched the blunt from Naomi’s ever-loosening grip. “It was my portfolio. I didn’t make the cut.”

  She took a long drag. Held it in her chest til she choked. When the coughing settled, she passed the blunt back to Naomi.

  “Rhode Island didn’t want me either.” She leaned back. Let her skull knock against the floor. “I’m never getting out of here.”

  “That’s not all bad.” Naomi lifted her head through a cloud of her own smoke. “Is it?”

  Tawna picked herself up on her elbows. She saw Naomi’s wide, nocturnal eyes, and a smile worked its way through her. “No.” She held the blunt to her lips with one hand and rested the other between Naomi’s topknots. Pressed her thumb into the crease of Naomi’s brow.

  That’s how her father found them: his baby girl’s hand massaging another girls’ scalp, smoking.

  Naomi tried not to think about what came next – the shouting, the slurring, the threatening. She tried not to think about Tawna pushing her father out of the way so Naomi could escape down the stairs.

  She tried not to think about any of it.

                                                 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “You staging a sit-in or something?” River Albright leered over her, twirling his recovered tech deck like a fidget spinner.

  Naomi stuffed the zippo back in pocket and scrambled to her feet. River offered his arm, which she dodged. He used that same arm to scratch the nape of his neck instead. “So, uh, you comin tonight?”

  “Coming?”

  “Tyler found this place out by Saw Hill.”

  Naomi sucked her teeth.

  “I know you haven’t been since what happened with Tawna.” River stowed the tech deck. I just thought-”

  “You’d think some girl OD’ing at one of your dumbass parties would make you, like…” Naomi’s eyes flicked to the side as she searched for the phrase, “I dunno, not have them.”

  River stepped back. “We look out for each other. You know that.”

  Naomi kneeled to gather her books. He sank with her, tugging her gym bag toward him by the strap. “Tawna was on some other shit. You know that, too.”

  Naomi leaned to grab the bag from his hands, but River swung it onto his shoulder.

  “Look, Ny, we’re just tryna blow off some steam before we get hit by the Great Big Real, alright? You seem like the type who could use that.”

  Naomi ripped the bag off of him. “You can go now.”

  River’s hands went up. “I’m going.” He stood. “But I’m texting you the address.”

  Naomi raised her head to argue, but found herself staring at his retreating Timberland soles.  

  Once that mustard yellow rubber faded from her eyeline, she took out the lighter and turned it over in her hands.

  Tawna gave it to Naomi the night she died. She climbed the tree outside Naomi’s bedroom and asked Naomi to come with her – blow off being grounded, blow off school, blow off the whole town of Bumfuck, Nowhere.

  But Naomi came from a line of college graduates. Had a D in Spanish. Was already on thin ice with her mother for the disciplinary call about her & Tawna skipping class. So Tawna pressed the zippo into Naomi’s palm told her she had to go.

  Like, go go. Like go and never come back.

  Naomi assumed she meant running away.

                                                 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The place by Saw Hill was about as dingy as anyone who partied in abandoned houses would expect: peeling paint, holey walls, rotting floorboards. Naomi had shown up half a flask deep, and had only sunken deeper.

  Presently, she found herself staring down a patch of floor losing the war against termites. She felt a strong sense of kinship with that patch of floor – with those gnawed edges, and the darkness behind them. Like insects were chewing holes in her, too.  

  “You made it!” A River-colored shape materialized from the din, double-fisting SOLO cups. He passed one behind Naomi’s head, seizing the opportunity to get an arm around her. Naomi nabbed the cup from his hand and emptied it all down her throat.

  “That kinda vibe, huh?” River nudged her.

  Naomi gasped as she came up for air.

  “You might like this, then.” River fished something from his pocket: a tab of acid screen-printed with a cartoon pierced tongue.

  Naomi blinked down at that tab. Reached out to brush it with her fingertips.

  Tawna had a pierced tongue. It glinted every time she laughed.

  Naomi peeled the tab from River’s hand, sat it in her mouth, let her natural acids go to work.

  River’s arm went around her again. He was warmer against her shoulders than the air of the old house. He nudged her in the direction of the basement steps.

  “C’mon,” he egged. “Real party’s downstairs.”

                                                ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Downstairs was a haze of muddy colors and weed smoke. Tyler and the rest of River’s friends filled a wraparound couch in the corner like a booth of mob bosses playing hot potato with a bong.

  Some of them might’ve said of hi to Naomi. Several of them may have even made conversation. She would only hear a phrase or two, then suddenly she’d be on the tail end of it, watching whomever she’d been talking to turn to talk to someone else.

  There were only two constants: River and beer.

  Every time Naomi left the couch to get more of the latter, the former would follow. Then they’d return to the couch, and he’d put his hand on her thigh, only her thigh was a yard away.

  Every now and again he would whisper something in her ear, and it would be the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Then he’d kiss her earlobe, and that’d be funny, too. Then he’d kiss behind her ear, and that’d be funny, then the side of her neck, and that’d be funny, then her collar bone, and that’d be hysterical.

  Then he’d kiss the corner of her jaw, and she’d turn to giggle in his face – only his eyes would be burning. And that wasn’t funny at all.

  He kissed her on the mouth. She didn’t laugh.

  He asked if she wanted to come upstairs.

  She let him lead her.

  The voyage upstairs felt buoyant, like treading water. The waves stayed there, stirring air under her chin until the kissing resumed.

  After that, focus was paramount. River was a moving target – bobbing, weaving. Less than half Naomi’s kisses found their mark.

  River seemed to be having similar troubles. He’d go to kiss her hip, but it wouldn’t be where he thought it was. He’d go to kiss her breast, but it’d be rolling away.

  He had to anchor her to the floor so she wouldn’t drift.

  All the rest was like riding a bicycle: feet here, hands here, sit here. More mouths involved, though. It hurt Naomi’s brain less to let River steer.

  Everything was the same.

  Except, nothing was the same.

  River’s hands were not Tawna’s hands. River’s lips were not Tawna’s lips. River’s tongue wasn’t pierced. Couldn’t do the things Tawna’s could. Naomi reached out to hold Tawna’s head and found her fingers in River’s hair.

  River didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t Tawna. He wasn’t stopping. He didn’t see anything wrong.

  So there wasn’t anything wrong, Naomi decided, and she leaned her head back, and she closed her eyes.She crawled through the edges of that gnawed hole into an all-black world and let herself be eaten.  

                                              ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  

  When the tide went out, Naomi followed it to the bathroom. The porcelain felt heavy underneath her. It had all this gravity that kept pulling her sideways. For a moment after she finished, that gravity become too much for her to move, like she’d lost her own gravity in the go. Like she’d peed all her matter out.

  River was smoking a cigarette when she came back. She joined him at the window.

  That was something, he said.

  She meant to grab his collar, but she reached too far and nudged him instead. Sounds burbled in her.

  Let’s go for a drive, she said.

  They had minimal trouble finding River’s car, but then River couldn’t seem to fit his keys in the lock.

  Ny, he said, I’m too fucked up to drive.

  When Naomi took the keys from him, she let her fingertips linger on his palm. He didn’t argue with those fingertips.

  She let her hair loose as she settled in the driver’s seat. Something about the way the steering column fit between her legs made River’s jaw hang. She shook her hair out, and his jaw plummeted further. Naomi slammed her foot on the gas.

  Within minutes, River’s jaw filled with screams. He screamed out open windows, the air rushing past him. Naomi drove in a straight line, but the road kept curving under her. So of course, she had to swerve to keep up.

  Slow down!

  She almost didn’t hear River shout against the wind: Ny, slow down!

  Naomi didn’t want to slow down.

  Slow felt like sinking into a carpet of plastic fibers. Slow felt like the trickle of Tawna’s fingers on her scalp. Slow felt like bumping into Tawna’s ribcage on purpose just so she could hear the rhythm of her. Slow felt like staring down the barrel of a second semester of senior year with no Tawna, no future.

  NAOMI, River shouted. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

  But his voice wasn’t his. And he wasn’t the one shouting anymore.

  They whipped around another corner into a pair of oncoming headlights. The lights swelled and melted together. Like staring down the face of heaven.

  One big glow.

  And if Naomi squinted, it was the light in Tawna’s door – the light falling on a man’s face, red and swollen with rage, ready to direct all the kinetic energy building taut in his veins onto the Naomi tripping down the stairs. But Tawna’s body blocked his. Tawna stood stock still before the shadow of death, looked over her shoulder, and told Naomi: Go.

  River screamed something else – maybe a prayer, maybe a warning. His voice was bowled over by the force of the other car’s horn. They sounded the same to Naomi. It was all the same.

  River reached over. Tried to rip the wheel out of her hands. But she was anchored now.

  I have to go, she said.

  And she thought, driving straight through the middle of God’s eye: I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.

This story was published in the 2019 issue of The Underground Pool (link when available). 

#short fiction #short story #creative writing #writing #writers of tumblr #fiction

[jotawakening-blog]

3 Septober, 5A 169: Down, Down to Goblin-Town...

To start with, a few words about the arrangement of Dorgesh-Kaan.  The city is built in tiers around a large, ovaloid central cavern that serves as a marketplace.  As size goes, it is impressive: its population must be double that of Lumbridge, and perhaps the equal to that of Falador.  Though there are no natural light sources, the place is wired up with coils of copper connecting orbs that are induced by some magic to emit a steady glow.  (These are dimmed at a time of day that roughly corresponds to night on the surface.)  As for the inhabitants, they are almost without exception friendly and rather more cultured than the average commoner of Lumbridge, and while their first encounter with a real live human tends to be jarring, curiosity usually wins out over any anxieties HAM or simple fear of the unknown might have given them.

After a breakfast of giant frog legs (a dish oddly similar to the gnome specialty, albeit missing the spices) I make up my mind to have a walk around the market square and talk with some of the locals.  The first ones I run into are two councillors, Ur-Taal and Ur-Zek, who are deep in conversation about Ur-Tag’s ambitions not only to keep the gates of the city open to humans, but also to seek closer relations with the dwarves.  Ur-Taal seems to think it’s a rather good idea, yet Ur-Zek has reservations about such radical openness: humans will be difficult enough to deal with, he argues, and adding dwarves to the mix won’t help.  Also, dwarves built and delivered the machine that almost drowned the city so very recently!  So never mind that they’re not technically surface dwellers, he says, there’s a dangerous precedent being set.  I don’t butt in, but it’s clear to me that Ur-Tag will have a fight on his hands to ram through more radical changes to the cave goblin way of life before the shockwaves from the current ones die down.

Just off the market square, dug into the cave wall, is the small, cozy abode of a Dorgeshuun named Oldak, who seems to be a dedicated inventor.  So much so, in fact, that two figures I know quite well are there visiting him when I come in!  The first is, of course, Zanik, who’s back from another trip to Lumbridge.  This time, she brought back some runestones, which it turns out the cave goblins are unfamiliar with.  Oldak, having studied them for a bit, has discerned their basic properties and is wondering aloud how rune essence came into existence: what great force could have imbued the essence with its power?  That’s a question neither I nor the other visitor has the answer to, sadly.  The other visitor is a human, one of the first handful to come through the gates of the city, a human I know well: Ariane!  She greets me, and tells me she was in the area when she heard the Council of Dorgesh-Kaan was opening the gates and that she came at once upon hearing the news.  We share a few remarks, just between the two of us, about my efforts to complete the Tower of Life and the ethical implications of using its powers to create new life, at which point she leaves for the market, leaving me and Zanik to our chat with Oldak.

Oldak turns out to be a kindly fellow, though rather too keen to lapse into technical detail using terms that are completely unfamiliar to me as a human.  He tells me of his initial experiments with the runes Zanik had brought him, and what I gather is that he’s had most luck with the law runes.  He did something what most human mages would have thought crazy, mere waste of runes or invitation to magical disaster, and ground the runes into powder.  When he threw the dust on the ground, he found he would teleport to random places in the city!  With some more experimentation, he was able to perfect the process and eliminate the element of randomness, and now he’s willing to make teleportation orbs for adventurers who provide him with two law runes and some molten glass.  Sadly, I’ve got no glass stored up, but I thank Oldak and make a note to come back when I have some.

The next building over, on the level of the market, is the bank, which by the terms of the accord signed yesterday has joined the Bank of Gielinor network.  They’re still ironing a few kinks out, but it’s amazing that I can withdraw and deposit stuff in the cave goblin capital as easily as I can in Lumbridge!  And however strange it is to think, without my intervention it might not have been possible at all!

In the main square, I speak with some of the locals.  Most of the regular folk are either ambivalently curious or appreciative of my deeds, but among the martial types I sense an undercurrent of resentment.  Some of the rank-and-file members of the guard seem to blame the opening of the city gates, though the influx of humans has barely even begun, to an increase in crime in the city.  Meanwhile, their leader, the captain of the guard, notes warily that the Council has been pressuring him to break a longstanding Dorgeshuun taboo and transform the city police force into a standing army, in response to the threat from the surface.  Oh dear— I hope the Dorgeshuun can preserve what makes them great in these turbulent times, but I get the unpleasant feeling there may be more upheavals ahead.

Around the centre of the main square, I run into another council member, Ur-Vass.  He seems to be of the pro-openness faction, or at least has nothing to say to me but thanks for my efforts alongside Zanik.  Maybe he’s just being polite, though.  Anyway, he rushes off and I head to the market, which seems to be the most bustling part of this happening city.  Despite all the mining that the Dorgeshuun have set up outside the city gates, the main item on sale here appears to be food: my first encounter with cave goblin cuisine!  It is, as one would expect, very reliant on the ingredients that are abundant in the Lumbridge caves, but quite diverse for all that!  For instance, there are frog legs, bat kebabs, frog burgers between slices of mushroom, cave slime soup, frogspawn gumbo and wall beast fingers on sale, all in the first few stalls I visit!  I buy a sampling of each, for a fine dinner later on.  

Besides these foods, the market also offers some local handicrafts, including frog-leather armour not too unlike the kind I had made for me a while back, and lamps.  By talking with the lamp merchant, I learn a bit about the lighting system that keeps Dorgesh-Kaan illuminated.  The principles on which it operates escape me, but magic is involved, and the lighting orbs are made of glass with a copper filament inside.  The technology is not perfectly reliable, though, and occasionally the orbs burn out and need to be replaced.  I’m told there’s a wire-making machine somewhere in the city that’s used to make the filament.

Most interesting, though, are the goblins who throng me, asking me to sell them surface foods.  I don’t have much on me right now, but I bring out a cabbage and one of my gnome battas and show it to the goblin gourmets.  Before I can make a sale, though, the manager of the marketplace refuses to let me trade unless I gain Council authorisation!  This, fortunately, turns out to be a mere formality, and Ur-Vass, who happens to be passing by, quickly sets things right.  Unfortunately, the prices the goblins offer aren’t very good, but I sell the goods at a discount anyway.  It’s only fair, if I get to sample their food, that they should get to sample mine.

After I finish trading, I leave the market, and on my way out run into Zanik again.  She’s just come back from the mines, where a really, really big frog was causing trouble until she chased it off.  An adventurer’s work never ends, even when one is a cave goblin!  Well, she goes off on her business and I continue on, past a delegation of human merchants come to satisfy the goblins’ craving for surface food.  They’re an equal mix of Misthalians and Kharidians, and they’re all quite protective of their turf and not very friendly, so after studying them for a short while, I move on.

There are a few side passages into small residential areas, which are mostly empty at this time of day, the residents being mainly out in the common areas and taking care of their business.  In one of the dwellings, though, I run into a member of the Council, a female goblin by the name of Ur-Meg.  She confesses to me that she is worried about the decision the Council just took.  While she’s happy to have us humans visiting the city, she cannot help but worry that the new openness will bring other, unwanted visitors.  In a whisper, she tells me who these are: the G-O-D-S…  It’s a legitimate worry, as I learned from Zanik not long ago, but fortunately, I have good news for Ur-Meg: the God Wars have been over for over two millennia now, and the gods no longer interfere in mortals’ affairs, at least not overtly.  That seems to set Ur-Meg at ease, and she tells me she hopes I’m right about that.

I leave and continue down a side hallway, which terminates at a modestly sized shop that’s filled from floor to ceiling with bones of all shapes and sizes!  It’s the sort of place you’d never find on the surface, but that would make a certain elderly guy I know squeal for joy if he knew it existed.  The place is owned by a goblin named Barlak, and he’s got a business proposition for me.  Specifically, he’s clean out of exceptionally large bones, the kind that make great structural supports, and he’s willing to pay me a decent sum of money if I bring him some, as well as teach me some goblin construction techniques to sweeten the deal even more.  In addition, he’s looking for large shells, which can be crafted into useful stuff, and will pay extra for them, as well as give crafting advice, if they’re of sufficient quality.  I don’t have any really nice shells or bones to trade right now, but I’ll definitely keep this place in mind!

Since I’ve seen most of what there is to see at ground level, I double back through the market and plaza and head up the grand staircase at the far end of the cavern onto the upper tier.  Just at the head of the stairs, I find the large, stately building of the Dorgeshuun Council, and head inside.  Nothing is going on inside at the moment, but the opulence of the decor and the large meeting table leave no doubt about its purpose.  The only person there at present is the Council scribe, who is using the downtime in his duties to work on what he claims will be the definitive history of Dorgesh-Kaan.  In connection with that, he asks me a few questions against the HAM cult, and takes my answers down stoically, even as I’m telling him how the organisation considers him and his countrymen monsters.  

In return, he tells me a bit about his work in service of the Council (a body, it turns out, of seven members) and relates to me his research on the city’s history.  At first, he relays the information I’d already found out, about how the Dorgeshuun were one of the goblin tribes caught up in the God Wars.  He gives me a bit more detail on how the tribe came to live underground, though: apparently, a Dorgeshuun general named Bloodfist was handed orders from the Big High War God that would have meant the destruction of the tribe.  Refusing to comply, he marched his army to a fissure in the ground and stood at its mouth, shouting defiance against the gods.  The Big High War God, angered, smote the ground around him, killing the general, but also closing the fissure.  His lieutenant, Strongaxe, led the tribe into the caves until they found this cavern and founded a settlement in it.

In the early years of the settlement, the scribe continues, the Dorgeshuun were ruled by generals, much like on the surface.  A new general would succeed the old when he defeated the old in single combat.  The generals were advised by a council of elders, but as generations passed and it became clear that the Dorgeshuun were no longer an army, many of the tribe came to believe that the Council, not the generals, should have supreme authority.  The people voted to become a republic, but General Bonehelm refused to give up his hard-won power, and a civil war began.  The sides were about evenly matched: while the republicans commanded the support of most of the population, the military had all the best warriors and weapons, including magical equipment brought down from the surface.  In the initial fighting, Bonehelm was driven out of the city itself, but established a base nearby.  Once his forces had regrouped, the general launched a bloody attack on the city using troops mounted on giant frogs, but was once again repulsed.  The war would have continued, except that General Bonehelm, in mining out his base, had compromised the structural integrity of the cavern he’d made it in, and the roof collapsed on his withdrawing army, killing the great majority of them.  The Council, secure in its power, took over the governance of the city, and there has been peace among the Dorgeshuun ever since.  Hm— there must be something special about the Dorgeshuun, for them not to have had a major war in all this time since then!

I ask the scribe about recent history.  He recounts the events I was caught up wth, starting with the accidental tunnelling into Lumbridge Castle in the 29th Century since the goblin city’s founding.  His account is mostly accurate, though with a few odd details: he confuses humans with ogres and calls Duke Horacio ‘General’.  Still, he fills me in on a few details I didn’t know from the cave goblin perspective: that the decision to open the gates stirred a lot of controversy among the people while it was deliberated, and that it came down to a very narrow 4 - 3 split on the Council.  But, in the end, what’s done is done, and history, for better or worse, marches on.

I thank the scribe for his most insightful account and continue my tour by having a walk around the upper tier, which turns out to be a quiet residential area, where the more well-heeled cave goblins seem to live.  The only place there that’s significantly busy is a goblin nursery, where the children of the Dorgeshuun are raised collectively. I say hello to the kids; they’re pleasant enough, but pretty shy about strangers, especially a stranger from the surface.  I play with them a bit, then move on, back toward the Council hall.  There, to my surprise, I run into Zanik again, right by what turns out to be her house!  She invites me in, and we talk for a while about what Juna told her, that she is destined to lead all goblins into a new age.  ‘All goblins’, Zanik says.  ‘Not just the Dorgeshuun.’  She’s puzzled about what it all means, but when she spoke to Juna about it, she just told her that when the time is right, everything will become clear to her.  Which, of course, is no help to her right now.  I confess myself uncertain as well of the meaning behind Juna’s words, but tell her that should anything happen, I will be on hand to lend her and the Dorgeshuun all the support I can.  Zanik thanks me and excuses herself, then takes one of Oldak’s teleportation orbs and vanishes off somewhere, no doubt on her next adventure.

There’s one part of the city I haven’t yet explored, and that’s the industrial area to the south of the marketplace.  Though I’m getting tired, I head down there at least to have an initial stroll around.  Unlike the other parts of the city, this one is noisy and sooty, even with the excellent ventilation facilities the Dorgeshuun have put in over the centuries.  Prominent against one of the walls is the contraption used to spin metal bars into wire.  It’s spinning fast and looks quite dangerous: one misstep and it’s likely to rip your fingers clean off.  Beside it is the city’s forge, staffed by a goblin whose sole authority it is to keep all the metal items in the city in good repair, and the responsibility of his position is telling on him.  I reassure him that it looks to me like everything is working quite properly, then leave the forge and continue my tour of the area.  Heading over to the other side of the district, I find a sand-pit that ought to give me everything I need to make molten glass, the essential raw material for Oldak’s teleport orbs!  Nearby, finally, are the communal kitchens (it’s probably a ventilation thing, not only a manifestation of the collectivist bent to cave goblin culture), where the food sold on the market is prepared.  The smells coming from there make me quite hungry, and I’ve covered basically all of the city today, so I backtrack to the market area for another meal and return to my quarters as the lights are being dimmed to rest for the night.

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