Tumgik
#well go back in the spring to see it when the snow isn’t covering up several headstones
thecuriousquest · 8 months
Text
A Storm’s Brewing
Request: Would you mind writing a hawks x winged reader, fluff, and we have white wings that are bigger than hawks wings? I would love to see what you come up with for this one. Also thank you for writing my last request it was really well written. ☺️
Yandere Dabi!Hawks x Reader
Tag List: @issamomma
Warnings: Yandere themes, implied kidnapping, fluff, reader is scared of storms, traumatic past, PTSD
Checkout my Master List here.
—————————————————————————
Tumblr media
Keigo knows that thunderstorms and lightning are your weaknesses. Dabi couldn’t give less of a shit about what bothers you, but he likes the fact that they make you scared and docile.
Your snow white wings spring up as another lash of lightning cracks against the black sky, lighting up the clouds that hide the beautiful moon. Your wings might not have feathery weapons like Keigo’s wings, but they are massive compared to his.
You try to wait out the storm because you don’t want to run to your captors again, but you’re just so afraid of the loud noises. They remind you of the time you almost got hit by a building due to some random villain’s quirk. That’s how you met Keigo and then eventually Dabi. That’s how this entire ordeal began.
Hiding under the covers as another wave of thunder rolls over the house, you run towards the door, almost ripping it off its hinges. Your hands tremble as you make your way to the living room where the two men are watching a movie that you didn’t want to see.
“Princess, what’s wrong?” Keigo asks as he takes in your shaken up state.
“I…”
Just as you were about to explain why you’re so worked up, the thunder roars once more with the accompaniment of lightning, and you throw yourself on his lap. Straddling Keigo, you bury your head in his shoulder.
“Is the thunder bothering my sweet little dove? Do you want me to go beat it up, baby bird?” Keigo asks as he rubs your back soothingly.
Dabi rests his head against his hand. “She looks pretty cute when she cries. Maybe don’t beat up the thunder just yet,” he teases.
Keigo gives him a scolding look but doesn’t say anything about it. He focuses his attention on you instead. “What can I do to help you feel better?”
Gripping him even tighter, you whimper at the loud noises happening outside of the house. When you feel another pair of hands against your body growing warmer, you realize Dabi is trying to give you another sense to focus on.
His warm hands soak your back in relaxation. It’s as if you’re having hot stones at a spa. Your mind begins to feel a bit less foggy as the tension leaves you, and you find yourself going as limp as a wet noodle against Hawks.
“Every time I hear storms, it just takes me back to when I almost died,” you manage to whisper loud enough for both of them to hear.
Dabi rests his chin on your shoulder as he keeps his palm against your flesh. “You were saved, and now you’re with us. It’ll be alright, Baby Girl. We’ll take care of you and get rid of that mean storm.”
You know Dabi is being patronizing, but you find his playful promise amusing and comforting. Nodding, you lean your head against the crook of Keigo’s neck. You can feel him rubbing your lower back through the black shirt Dabi gave you, and it’s beginning to put you to sleep.
Maybe…it’ll be okay if you just close your eyes for a second, just to rest them. Convincing yourself that it would be alright to do so, your lashes shut. The last thing you feel is a blanket being wrapped around you.
Having them help you through this hard time isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.
190 notes · View notes
alwritey-aphrodite · 1 year
Text
one
Chapter 1 of I’ll Be Back Again To Stay
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Santiago Garcia x single mom!reader
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: parenthood/kids, if that isn’t your thing
Author’s Note: Santiago is quite literally not even mentioned in this chapter… I had to set it up, ok? He’ll be here, don’t worry
Tumblr media
The blaring of your phone wakes you up: it seems like no matter which alarm sound you use, it always yanks you aggressively from your slumber. You can feel a chill, even through all of your blankets, and a glance through your curtain gap shows you snow falling, powdery and fat.
Reluctantly, you get out of bed and start your day. It’s earlier than you’d normally wake up, and you’re especially exhausted with how late you had to stay up packing, and then it was practically impossible for you to fall asleep with your brain running through all of the worst case scenarios.
A glance at your weather app tells you the flurries should be stopping within the hour, and you feel like you can breathe a little easier. The last thing you need right now is getting your flight delayed.
You hurry through your morning routine to pack up the rest of your toiletries, and then move on to packing up your carryon, crossing things off your list as you go. As soon as you feel decently prepared, you go wake up Inez.
In her five years of existence, Inez has never been one to wake up before she’s ready. She’d sleep in till noon if she feels like it, and if you wake her up a minute sooner, you’ll be dealing with a grumpy kindergartener. So, you know the only way she’ll get out of bed and ready to go is if you bribe her.
“C’mon, baby, we can’t be late to see Aunt Sydney.” It’s been at least five minutes, and she still has a death grip on her blankets, her head completely covered.
“She can wait.” You really were raising a stubborn little girl.
Most of the time, she was well behaved, but she always had a little bit of sass. During parent-teacher conferences, Inez’s kindergarten teacher had told you she was “a leader”, which really meant that she wouldn’t let the other kids tell her what to do.
Which was fine by you. All that mattered was that she listened to you and her teachers, and always used her manners. You know for a fact that there are other kids in that class that are far bossier than she is.
Now, though, she’s letting all that stubbornness shine through.
“I’ll let you pick out any donut you want at the airport. And watch movies on my phone.”
“Deal,” she responds, springing out of bed, making a grin bloom on your face.
She didn’t know that was your plan all along. Sometimes, she just needed to feel like she was making the rules, and that’s fine by you.
You help her brush her teeth and pick out her outfit, letting her get dressed while you pack up her toiletries, along with the stuffed animals she’s picked out. She can’t sleep without at least three, and when you left her unsupervised with the luggage last night, she had tried to stuff ten of them inside.
You do one last double check of all of your luggage, before bundling Inez up in her winter jacket. Naturally, she complained about it, so you told her she could take it off once you got to the airport. You already had a lighter jacket for her in your carryon, knowing she’d get cold as soon as you got to security and the suitcases were checked.
Still, she was a little pouty, and understandably so. You woke her up early to bustle her off to some place she’s never been. It’s her first time in an airplane, and she’s a little bit nervous, even though she claims she’s not.
But, surprisingly, the terrifying horse outside of the Denver airport seems to cheer her up.
“Momma! Look at that scary horsie!” Her face is all pressed up against the window, but she still has a giant grin on her face.
While Inez was mostly a pleasant kid, wrangling her and two large suitcases was nothing short of a miracle. Lucky for you, there was no line at the check-in desk, and the worker seemed charmed by all that Inez had to share, even giving her a sticker which she immediately stuck to the front of her t-shirt.
Someone out there must be looking out for you, because there was barely any line at security either. So far, the day has been smooth sailing. You just hope that Inez keeps her good mood and high spirits throughout the flight.
After making it through security, finding a donut for Inez, and figuring out where your gate was, you still had plenty of time before your flight. You shoot Sydney a text that says 30 minutes til boarding! and she quickly responds with a bunch of cheering emojis.
When you look up from your phone, you have to stifle a laugh at Inez, who somehow managed to smear frosting up onto her forehead, in addition to the ring around her mouth.
“Will Santa bring me presents at Auntie Syd’s house?” Inez asks you as you do your best to wipe all of the frosting off her face.
“Of course he will.”
“Good, because otherwise we should stay here.”
Inez absolutely adored Sydney, who had been your best friend all throughout college. She’s had your back through everything, all the ups and downs, she was your entire support system most of your pregnancy. She even lived with you for the first few months of Inez’s life, and the two of them continue to have a strong bond, even now that Syd lives in a different state.
Sydney had to move to North Carolina for work two years ago, and had always come back to spend the holidays with you and Inez, who Sydney lovingly called Squish, a nickname born only shortly after Inez, because she was such a chunky little baby.
This year, though, Syd had invited you and Inez to spend the holidays with her and her now long-term boyfriend, Will. You’d been hesitant at first, terrified of intruding and making what should be a happy time awkward, but Sydney had insisted and Will promised it would be no trouble at all.
You’d only met Will one time before, when he flew out with Sydney for Inez’s birthday back in May. He was a sweet guy and nothing short of a gentleman, indulging Inez in any game she wanted to play. He arm-wrestled with her and let her win every time, played tag and hide-and-go-seek with her, and let her hang off of him like a little spider monkey, all without complaint.
So you agreed to spend the holidays with them, along with a few extra weeks. It really was a win-win scenario: you were able to work from anywhere, and Inez was only in kindergarten, so she can miss more school without it being completely detrimental to her. And you get to spend time with one of your favorite people ever. So really, a win-win-win.
You don’t have a long time to get settled before they’re calling you for boarding, so you juggle Inez and your backpack and the tickets and make your way onto the plane. Everyone seems enthralled by Inez this morning, and you can’t help but smile at her interaction with the flight attendant that’s helping with boarding.
And she gets to add another airline sticker to her t-shirt.
Lucky for you, it’s not a full flight, so you and Inez get a whole row to yourself. She claims the window seat and demands you sit in the middle, so you oblige her, because her peace of mind is more important to you than how physically comfortable you are.
She looks out at the snow covered ground as the plane takes off, and then promptly forgets about the window for the rest of the flight. You’d been worried about her getting bored, so you packed her coloring books and crayons, picture books, even activity sheets you’d printed out.
But, it seems she had no interest in those or the movies you’d downloaded onto your phone for her. Instead, she cuddled up with Blob the Monkey, and then in some impressive contortionist impression, she practically sits herself in your lap and falls asleep with her head on your chest.
You’re glad you decided to throw your book into your carry-on at the last minute, because Inez is down for the count. You manage to reach it without jostling her around too much, and you thank your lucky stars that she doesn’t wake up.
You spend the rest of the flight reading and rubbing small circles onto Inez’s back, trying to keep her asleep for as long as possible. With waking her up early for a big travel day and the next few weeks being full of excitement, you knew she needed every second of sleep she could get.
Three hours later, the plane finally lands, and Inez wakes up from her nap. You’re amazed at the fact that she doesn’t have a single sore spot in her body from the way she was sleeping, and is more energetic than you’ve ever seen her.
You shoot Sydney a text to let her know that you’ve landed, and that you’ll probably be ready for her to pick you up in 45 minutes. You had told her that it would be just as easy to rent a car, but she had insisted on picking you up. You didn’t mind, because it was less work for you, but Sydney was almost always late.
You exit the plane, hanging onto Inez’s hand as tight as possible while you try to maneuver your way to baggage claim, where Sydney promised to meet you. You can tell Inez is getting antsy with the way she pulls against your hand. She’s so excited she’s practically vibrating.
And, to your surprise, Will and Sydney are waiting for you when you enter the baggage claim area. When she notices, Inez slips out of your hold and sprints over to them, right into Sydney’s arms.
While Sydney squeezes Inez as if she’ll never see her again, you pull Will into a hug of your own. You’d only met him the one other time, but he really was a great guy and you were just counting down the days until the two of them got married.
When they came to visit last time, you’d told them, “Better make it quick, Inez is at prime flower girl age.” You’d been joking, but not really.
Sydney was your family, and Will wouldn’t be a terrible addition.
Once Inez is released from Syd’s grip, you’re the one being pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Even though the two of you talk to each other every day, it’s really not the same as seeing each other in person. You’d take her crushing your ribs over not seeing her any day.
“I’m surprised you were here on time,” you say as the four of you make your way over to the baggage carousel, Inez seated on Will’s shoulders.
“That’s because of him,” Sydney responds, “I was going to keep you waiting.”
“Well, thank god for Will.” That earns you a chuckle from the man in question, who hauls Inez off his shoulders to pull your suitcases from the carousel, despite your insistence that you could do it. You really didn’t mind, you just didn’t want Will to feel like he had to help you.
But, from what Sydney told you, he likes to feel needed, to feel helpful, and if that means he hauls your heavy suitcases and carries around your daughter, you really don’t mind.
There’s a definite chill when you finally step outside to make your way to Sydney’s car, but it’s nowhere near as bad as back home, where it’s been regularly below freezing since Thanksgiving. Here, you definitely need a jacket, but it’s not so cold that you feel like you’ll get frostbite the second you step outside.
The drive back to Sydney’s house is relatively short, but still long enough for Inez to sing along to the holiday songs playing on the radio. You haven’t been to her house since you helped her move in two years ago, but it looks just as cozy as you remember it.
It’s two stories, and painted a deep navy on the outside, with a red door that Inez had demanded was included, to match your door back home. Syd, of course, indulged her.
When you enter, bags and Inez in tow, you take in all of the changes Sydney and Will have made since you last visited. It looks different, but it still feels like home.
And, the picture of you and Sydney with newborn Inez is still in the spot of honor on her mantle. If she sees you tear up when you spot it, she doesn’t mention it.
The holidays are always a highly emotional time, both for positive and negative feelings. And spending them alone, or practically alone, only amplifies that. So, you’re eternally grateful to Sydney and Will for inviting you to stay with them.
Logically, you know you aren’t an imposition, and that Syd has been itching to spend more time with you and Inez, but it still feels like they’ve made some sort of huge sacrifice in including you.
Really, it wasn’t as if you had any crazy holiday plans. Christmas Eve was going to be spent with Sydney while Will visits with his buddies, and then Christmas Day has you and Inez relaxing on your own when Syd and Will spend the day with his family.
So really, no sacrifices are being made, except of their guest bedroom.
Since they only have the one room with the one bed, you’re sharing with Inez, which wouldn’t be an issue if she wasn’t a sleep-kicker. You’ve ended up punched in the face more times than you can count.
After a simple lunch, you spend the rest of the afternoon unpacking and settling in, actually putting your clothes away in the closet and dresser, something you wouldn’t have done if you weren’t at your best friend's house and if you weren’t staying for almost a month.
The hours pass by with you and Sydney catching up, making up for all of the times that texting or FaceTime just weren’t enough. Inez and Will have more arm-wrestling matches than you can count. Honestly, you’re amazed at how well he interacts with her, possessing a patience you don’t often see outside of parents.
Following your quick dinner of delivery pizza, Inez is bathed and put to bed early to make up for the time difference and the early start to her day. And, luckily, she practically passes out as soon as her head hits the pillow, barely staying awake for the entirety of her bedtime story.
Now, you find yourself settled on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of fuzzy blankets and warm lamp light, the cheesy Hallmark movie playing quietly on the TV only adding to the cozy atmosphere.
“So… we have something to ask you,” Sydney starts, breaking the almost silence that had naturally settled over the living room.
“Yes, I will be your maid of honor.” Your comment earns you an eye roll from Syd and a swift but gentle kick to your outstretched leg from Will. You can’t help but to fall into a fit of laughter.
There’s nothing you love more than teasing your best friend.
“Haha, you’re hilarious.” Syd deadpans before continuing, “No, we wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”
“What about it?”
Sydney shifts to sit up, swinging her legs off the couch to turn her body towards you. Will hunches forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and his chin in her hands. Their body language screams we know you won’t like this.
“So, every year, Will and his buddies and his little brother all do this casual Christmas Eve thing, and Frankie’s daughter’s almost the same age as Inez, and we just thought-“
“Syd, slow down,” you cut her off, sitting up from your relaxed position on the couch, “you really aren’t making a lot of sense.”
“Maybe we all go? I think you’d love ‘em, they’re great, really.”
“I’m sure they’re amazing, but I’ve never met them. Wouldn’t it be weird to spend a holiday with a group of guys I’ve never met before?” While it’s not unusual for Sydney to have some out of the box ideas, you truly weren’t expecting whatever this is.
“We could all do something before? And you could get to know them.”
“And if you’re still not comfortable, we won’t push it anymore.” Will, ever the calming presence, adds.
“Fine,” you sigh, even though you aren’t really upset. Sure, you’re a little confused as to why Sydney suddenly thought it was a great idea for you to meet Will’s friends, but you could tell she had some sort of ulterior motive.
Before you call it quits around 10 PM, you spend the rest of your night idly chatting and tuning in and out of the awfully cheesy made-for-TV movie that Will seemed to love. And, as you snuggled up underneath your covers, trying not to wake Inez, you wonder why Syd was so insistent on changing your Christmas Eve plans.
Tags: @disabledameron @itspdameronthings @campingwiththecharmings @loonymagizoologist @stevenngrant @andromeda-dear @welcometostayingawake @outmodead
163 notes · View notes
violetgreenlife · 7 months
Text
What colors represent to me and why-
White- When I think of white I think of snow and clouds, the relief of seeing white cover the sky with the promise of rain after seemingly endless scorching summer days. White is all light reflected, white is a barrier. White pushes things out and leaves space behind it for something new. The blank canvas. The beginning. The new year is celebrated under the cover of snow, as it muffles the sound and lets the world sleep, like a big midnight. It is beautiful, but it is cold, unforgiving, and uncompromising. Not all will survive the winter, but spring will come.
Red- rich, velvety, warm, sweet. Decadent cherries, soft-centered candies, the vanity of velvet cloaks and lipstick. Saying I’m not cold in my over-the-knee socks and miniskirt even though I very much am. Red is indulgence and not doing anything in half measures. Red is passion, it is love and it is hate, for those are just two sides of the coin of obsession. Red is lust—not just physical, but the greedy kind too. Look at me, look at me!
Pink- pink is safety and softness, I sit at this moment in a pink room, pink pillow supporting my leg as I lie on my side. Pink is the safe choice, comfy. But pink is strong. Pink is the man who I wish is known sooner, and his unending, innocent love for the world and for the simple beauties in it. Pink is the gentle love of wanting to hear someone’s voice forever. Pink is drawing fan art of your favorite video game. Pink is listening to your friend infodump about a new show they’re hyperfixated on. Pink is playing for the love of the game. The feeling in your chest when you see a puppy. What it’s like for someone to give you a nickname.
Orange- orange is bright and acidic, too much to handle sometimes but that’s what makes it unique. The feeling of finally, finally waking up well rested and motivated, the kitchen hasn’t been this clean in ages. It’s five am and you’re finally taking up dad’s offer to go hunting and you’re so tired and kinda cold but he bought a huge back of snickers and you can have as many as you want and you haven’t gotten to spend this much time with him in ages. Orange is native wild poppies you planted in the ditch on the side of the road on a whim. Get up and go. Go!
Yellow- school busses, pencils, the sun rising above the roof of the theater building. Yellow is learning. Yellow is spring, picking buttercups in the field and sneaking up to rub the pollen on your friend’s skin. The daffodils peeking up from the ground. Winter is over, and it isn’t quite so warm that it’s uncomfortable. It’s time to get working, but slower and calmer than orange is.
Green- what isn’t green, really. Lukewarm tea you drink in a gulp after forgetting it on the counter. The soft, hypnotic sway of long grass in the wind. Morning dew, pine needles, and fresh air. Things are growing, changing, expanding be it fast or slow. Older things are darker, the new growth is bright. But green is also other things. Green is a separation from the manufactured reality. Green is to look in the mirror and be honest: I know what I want, and what I don’t want.
Blue: blue can be the open sky, or the dark water of a lake. But blue is also slushies, and twilight, and my mother’s eyes. Blue is intelligence, deepens, infinity, and the murky depths beyond perception. It’s endless, and deep, and Knowing and kinda scary if you aren’t ready for it. But it also feels safe in its infinity, because it’s much to big for me to damage. And as long as I’m careful and don’t drift too far, I can play by the shore as much as I like.
Purple- purple is a friend of green. Not the same, but similar, it’s rare though, and hard to find. It’s a favorite of mine, when I think of purple I think of me! I think if lilacs, and how their scent fills my house every spring. Purple is loud, unapologetic, and personal. It is beauty in every sense, and it is home to me.
Brown- brown is cinnamon, brown is bread. Brown is garden soil. Nurturing, feeding, comfort. Brown is the tree first I used to make as a kid, the raw feeling of my hands after pulling on branches and bark, the satisfaction of building with my own two hands. Brown is steady, brown is kind, it may be plain but that’s alright. The movement is slow but continuous.
Black- black is nighttime, after everyone else has gone to bed, the world is quiet. Black is cast iron—for better or worse. Something that can be built up over time, but ruined in an instant by your mother leaving it in the sink for two days. The comfort of solitude, the agony of isolation. So good in the correct doses, but easy to mis-measure. I’ve yet to really find how to work with it. It is sweet, but it is temperamental. It is, physically, all light combined, none reflected. It is deep and complex and so, so MUCH. It is beautiful, and I am not used to handling such beautiful things.
7 notes · View notes
Text
It’s cold.
Kubo wakes up with frozen tears on his eyelashes. His fingers are numb, and his body is shivering. The last thing he remembers is being choked by overwhelming dread, so sudden and fierce that his body refused to take in air. He doesn’t remember anything before that, or after. 
It’s snowing. He doesn’t think he was somewhere this cold before, but he doesn’t know for sure. There’s large, aching gaps in his recollection, his head throbbing like the memories were violently ripped out of his mind. Perhaps they were. Again, he has no clue. 
Slowly, he props his body up. His arms tremor from holding up his weight, but they don’t buckle. He glances around, takes stock of his surroundings. The snowfall isn’t harsh, so his view isn’t too obscured. 
He sees no signs of civilization. That in itself isn’t strange. At least, he doesn’t find that particularly odd. What he does find odd is the fact that the area is a frozen tundra. No, not tundra. There’s quite a few trees, bushes, and other plants sprouting out from beneath the snow. Taiga, then.
His hand twitches. He has an urge to write his observations down. He can’t recall why. Not that it matters, of course. There’s more pressing concerns.
His overalls are getting soaked. He knows he needs to get up and find shelter, and fast. So, he ignores the shaking of his body and stands up. 
He’s unusually calm in his circumstances, probably. 
He sees steam rising not too far from his location, and sets out for warmth.
It’s fourteen days into his predicament when he finally meets another human being. It’s a shirtless man with bright blue hair who speaks a language he doesn’t understand. Or maybe it’s a language he knows, but heavily butchered to the point he cannot comprehend. Some words are recognizable, but the accent and structure is so off.
Kubo ignores him, for the most part. After all, he has work to do, and he’s not going to be wasting time trying to decipher what the man is trying to say. At some point, the man must realize that he’s not going to be getting a response out of the younger, and shuts up. He eyes Kubo as he works, not leaving despite the younger being a, naturally, horrible conversational partner. 
Kubo doesn’t necessarily like being gawked at, but it’s just one man, and he doesn’t do anything to impede on his work. So, Kubo continues on, plucking long blades of grass to weave with later, and thin sticks that he’ll easily be able to bend after soaking in the hot spring. 
The man watches him for another three days, before leaving and not coming back. 
He’s rather proud of the home he built. It doesn’t get much sunlight, being mostly underground, but it’s warm and dry. The furnace he built makes sure that he remains protected from the chill at night, and the bushy bed he crafted was pretty comfortable for something he made as quick as he did. 
He’s still going to upgrade to a hammock the second he can make some nice twine, but it’s good for now.
In any case, his home is well-built and comfortable. Its top looks like a regular snowy mound covered in foliage, and most Pokémon tend to avoid the small area because of the incense he burns inside the furnace. Plus, well, most Pokémon around are ice types, and ice types don’t tend to like anything warm. The outside of the home is nowhere near as warm as the inside, but ice types still seem to sense the source of heat and stay clear. 
Unfortunately, Pokémon that aren’t ice types have taken note of his comfortable little abode as well. 
It starts one night with a yip.
Living so close to nature meant sleeping with the noise of the wilderness, so typically, a yip wouldn’t be enough to wake Kubo up in the middle of the night. However, a singular yip quickly turned into many, and with a paw scratching at the wooden door of his home, Kubo found sleep quickly escaping him.
When he popped his head out, he was met with the sight of an injured Eevee, much too big for the average size.
For some reason, he immediately knew something was off.
“You are not an Eevee,” he says groggily. The Not Eevee blinks at him, uncomprehending. 
He lets the Not Eevee in.
At some point, his home gets crowded with more Pokémon. They come in the middle of the night, disguised as an injured Eevee, or Riolu, or Gible, scratching at his door and begging for entry. He’s pretty sure they’re all, in actuality, the same type of Pokémon, a kind with illusion-based abilities, but he doesn’t actually care too much. They never harm him, and in truth, he finds cuddling with so many balls of fluff rather comfortable, so none of it is truly a burden. 
One night, he opens the door to find a massive creature, one that’s Familiar but also Not, standing there with an intense glare. It is not disguised. It is not injured. It looks at him with suspicion, and resentment. 
He invites them in.
They do not leave.
The snowfall continues to get worse. There’s a voice in his head screaming at him, and it quickly becomes apparent that if he wishes to survive, he cannot stay here for much longer. The Pokémon he had taken in eyes him knowingly, as though they, too, realize the same thing. Day by day, they become just a bit more restless, a bit more anxious. 
Kubo finds himself being reacquainted with the feeling of dread, of panic, the same as he had when he had first arrived in this strange land. For the first time since then, he truly has no idea what he should do. For all his unexplained knowledge, the one thing he isn’t familiar with is the land. He doesn’t know where he could go to escape the cold, and he can’t travel far in a random direction and risk collapsing. Traveling takes energy, and it’s imperative that he doesn’t waste his energy. 
The massive, undisguised creature from before gazes at him often, expression unreadable. He pays them no mind. He has other things to worry about.
He doesn’t notice until later that the creature disappeared.
Three days after the disappearance of the undisguised creature, they return with company. 
Said company is tall, but nowhere nearing the height of the undisguised being. Purple fur, an almost smug-looking smirk tugging at their lips, and sharp claws secreting a fluid that Kubo is fairly sure to be poisonous.
There’s a sturdy basket on their back, big enough for one fully grown adult to fit in, so long as they curled up rather than stood up. 
Unceremoniously, the undisguised being picks Kubo up from the back of his sweater, opens the basket’s lid, and shoves him in. Then, right after that, stuffs the Not Eevee from before in as well. Not Eevee doesn’t seem too bothered by this, and immediately cuddles up against Kubo, engulfing him in warmth.
He is very confused.
A day and a half later, Kubo is looking through the slit of the basket, watching as the frosty taiga he’s grown so used to fades from sight and becomes lush with color. Berry trees clustered together, flower petals flying by on the wind, a meadow with dancing pink Pokémon and grass types sleeping in the greenery.
It’s likely still cold by normal standards, but after living in a snowy wonderland for the amount of time he had, it feels as though heat is licking against his cheeks, burning his skin. It feels incredible.
He’s hungry and aching, itching to get out of the basket and stretch his limbs. But above all, he’s thankful, because the panic in his chest has died with the knowledge that he’ll be able to survive the coming winter.
They stop moving. The basket is gently placed on the ground. Kubo knows it’s time to greet his new home, and get to work. 
60 notes · View notes
randomwriteronline · 1 year
Text
Iscan is worried about Melli.
He knows logically that Adaman and Mai are worried about him too, but they think he’s just being himself again - they think what he fears might have finally happened, that this is simply how he is; he fears he has managed at last to bury the original under a coat of heavy paint and made everyone forget that timid personality he grew to detest so much all of a sudden.
Iscan is not fooled by his flamboyantly carved mask, because he is older and kind, and wears his fears on his sleeve, and sometimes that is enough for some people to cuddle up to him and free themselves from the scripts of whatever play they are performing without rest.
So he goes to the Highlands despite the vicious Pokémon that haunt them.
Melli welcomes him with a face that is honestly surprised, hands playing anxiously with his long hair as he sputters about not having prepared anything for a visitor since nobody ever comes to see him - Iscan smiles kindly and assures him it’s alright, that it’s on him as he did not warn at all; he offers to help make supper and Melli’s shoulders lower, his smiles turns softer, his fingers stop pulling his hair and begin combing through it: there he is, Iscan thinks when he sees in his face something that isn’t practiced scorn or that strange hazy distance he’s had for a while now.
They forage a little before they can cook, and they talk. Melli speaks a lot, because he doesn’t get anybody who wants to listen to him except Lord Electrode or Skuntank, or the Zubat that followed him home, or the Skorupi brought to the settlement by accident; Iscan listens, happy to let him unwind and searching in his ramblings a reason for his recent peculiar moods.
Even at dinner, after rushing back in his hut before the Ghost Pokémon can come out, he feels like there’s something the other warden is purposefully avoiding to tell him, skirting around it over and over.
Then Melli leaves, quietly, in the middle of the night, when he thinks his absence won’t be noticed.
Iscan stirs from his pretend sleep and wills his nerves steady as he follows.
The walk down wherever they’re going is fortunately a slope, and is unfortunately littered with Ghosts. Iscan is immensely glad that Melli avoids the graveyard just next to Moonview Arena, where Mismagius and Misdreavus gather to howl at the dark new moon sky, instead treading carefully the rocky line of land that separates Stonetooth Rows from the small plateau in which Chinglings and Rhydons sleep. He watches the younger man slide down a steep rock wall, hissing and struggling before he falls on the cliff below (he had begun walking strangely, like his lower back and knees hurt, and his hands were covered in scabs and callouses, Iscan remembers) and moves on.
The older warden tiptoes his way to a slower, safer descent down a few tall steps of rock. It leads him further away, but there is tall grass in which to hide, and he can see very well from here how Melli reaches - through another half-fall - the other end of the spring, near a tree.
Then, as he tries to approach quietly, crawling his way around the small body of water strangely devoid of any critters, he hears Melli start to sing.
The first instinct Iscan has is to throw all caution to the wind, rush to him, and hush him. Sinnoh knows what Pokémon might hear him and make ribbons out of him for bothering them so late at night.
But a light appears suddenly, and a voice sings with him.
It’s a heavenly voice, as thin as the mountain air, as precious as a wind chime made of nacre seashells, as powerful as an earthquake, reaching for his snow pale cheeks like a caress. Melli turns to its source - there is a strange expression on his face, clearer and clearer the closer Iscan comes to him, a sort of gasp, a reverence: it carries a shyness reminiscent of when he was a kid, and the vaguest hint of an awestruck smile as his hands twist one another on his chest.
The light sways gently, purple flames licking the cold air as they escape an iridescent shell that almost resembles a lantern. Under their impossible glow near lilac hands stretch outward, towards the mesmerized warden, to catch him in them, to cup him in them, as he gazes at the figure transfixed, seeming completely out of himself.
Dull eyes of a burning yellow turn away from the young man with sudden alarm, sewn mouth interrupting its unknown song as the whisper of a flute distracts it.
Lord Basculegion appears from the waterfall with a terrifying leap, the souls composing his tail burning red against the dark sky and beady crimson eyes fixing on the Ghost with a growling fury.
The flames shoot upwards, bring their purple glow into the stratosphere as the Wave Crash falls upon them with a sharp sound: the dead hand reach for Melli, grab him, and he disappears in an instant before the impact send stripes of rust to the ground, writhing and shaking as if in pain.
Iscan bolts to where the young man stood, horror overtaking him - the stripes move again, and he realizes there’s a body under there, there’s a shape to the darkness that he had not recognized under the near pitch black color, a shape struggling to pull itself back up on its trembling arm and leg, and Melli is still under it Sinnoh bless him, confused and curled on himself and starting to say something before his voice is drowned by a howling chime coming from far above him viciously hurling a Shadow Ball that sinks into the water when Basculegion evades it.
Iscan calls for him, and the shape covers him again, leg of black climbing over him and trying to pull itself upright. For a moment he thinks the face is the white squre jutting out of the dark folds, now exposed as it turns to him, attempts to stand on its unsteady limbs, but there are no eyes, no nose, no mouth: and the shape reveals itself to be almost human despite the floaty mane that falls on its back and folds at its neck - despite the absence of a neck.
Of a head.
It feels almost like cloth under his fingers, like there’s flesh under it when he pushes the apparition away with little to no effort despite his terror. Melli says something, with a face pale and eyes wide like he’s out of himself, reaches out for the collapsing body as the older warden grabs him and makes a run for the water, jumping on Basculegion - the iridescent shell housing the flames hurries away, back to its anthropomorphic vessel, shrieking in what seems to be worry -
- the drop down the waterfall ends in a minute splash, much quieter than anybody would expect.
Melli remains immoble in Iscan’s iron grip, completely clammed up.
He doesn’t speak as he wobbles back to his hut behind Iscan, nor does he speak the whole morning after, air coated in unspoken tension and nervousness as the older man quiet checks to see if he is fully within his own mind - if he hasn’t been charmed, or hypnotized, or turned into a husk to puppet around.
He cannot make heads or tails of his situation.
But Adaman comes in a little later to accompany Iscan back to the Coastlands, because there is a mass outbreak across the Highlands and the man is not used to battling his way through hordes of Pokémon, and he only rolls his eyes at Melli’s usual despondency and pomp masking the glaze in his look as he waves while he descends the mountain with the other warden.
Completely missing how the thin body is strangely closed in on himself.
Iscan is worried about Melli.
(What Iscan cannot know is that the hellish flames will come to Melli’s doorstep the next night, singing with their otherwordly voice, and he will let them in.)
34 notes · View notes
shmothman · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Judgement | Forgiveness
Part Fifteen
Previous Chapters
AO3 Link
Tags: @veethewriter​
It’s been nearly four weeks since you decided to search for more of the verses with Volo, the two of you dividing the entire Icelands up into quadrants on your map. You’ve spent about half of that time actually searching—the other half spent back in Jubilife and the Obsidian fieldlands, working on the Pokédex—but you don’t feel much closer to discovering anything than you did on day one. It’s difficult not to get discouraged, but you both know that the Alabaster Icelands cover a very large area: you started by combing the area around Volo’s hut, the Avalanche Slopes, finding nothing, and the Arena’s Approach is coming up empty, too—so far, all Ursaluna has found are iron deposits, star pieces, and a single fire stone, and you’re already nearing the Bonechill Wastes. Still, that hasn’t stopped the two of you from growing excited each time she scents something; Volo’s breath catching every time Ursaluna perks up.
He’s beyond excited, you can tell: he’s quicker to talk and laugh, and there’s a spring in his step and a brightness in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the two of you collected the plates together, all those months ago. Though, when you think back on it, you think there had been an anxiety to him then, too—something buzzing just below the surface that you hadn’t wanted to think too much about. Thankfully, that anxiety is absent now, as far as you can tell.
He seems more genuinely content than you’ve seen him since... well, maybe ever, even despite his banishment. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about the Gingko Guild, or maybe it’s because he’s given up his desperate desire to catch Arceus... but whatever the reason, it makes you happy to see him happy, even if you’re currently slowly slogging through the ice and snow together.
A howling gust of wind shakes you out of your reverie, and you look up at the sky as the light snow begins to turn fiercer. 
The snow hadn’t been bad this morning, when you set out, and you had reasoned that you were in no danger, but now, in the early afternoon hours, the wind is beginning to pick up, bringing stronger snowfall with it. You and Volo exchange worried glances, and you lead Ursaluna closer to the cliffside to the south; if you’re going to need to seek shelter, it will be much easier if you’re already out of the open space of the Bonechill Wastes, where you’ll be unable to see the mountains when the blizzard really gets going.
You have to yell to be heard over the quickly increasing winds. “Keep an eye out for a cave we can duck into!”
Volo nods, and Ursaluna huffs her assent. You think she doesn’t like this weather, either, her home being the relatively balmy marshes to the south.
With two pairs of eyes (and Ursaluna’s nose), isn’t long before you spot a likely candidate through the storm, and the blizzard is coming down in great white sheets of ice as you and Volo flee into the cave, Ursaluna on your heels. Visibility is nearly zero now, and if you hadn’t been hugging the cliffs, you would have been out of luck and out of shelter.
You cross the threshold with a sigh of relief. Any longer, and the two of you might’ve been in real danger—the snow already icing your eyelashes and turning your lips blue. The weather can turn in an instant up here, and you’d do well to remember that you’re a long way from home. Even with your pokemon by your side, mother nature can be a difficult adversary to face.
With a harrumph, Ursaluna shakes the snow and ice from her fur, and immediately heads to a corner of the cave against the wall, curling up into a ball and settling down for a nap. It’s certainly drier inside, but it isn’t any warmer—at least, not until Volo calls his Arcanine from her ball. She bounds in a circle excitedly, searching for her opponent, but when she sees none, she turns to you instead, pouncing down at your feet with her butt in the air.
You laugh, and your breath clouds the air. “Hold on, we can’t play right now.”
“Sorry,” Volo says, though he’s smiling slightly at her playful pose. “Could you keep us warm for the time being? I promise we’ll play when the storm is over.”
Arcanine barks once in understanding, trotting in a circle before lying down much like Ursaluna, though she makes sure to leave her flank exposed for you and Volo to lean against. Shivering, the two of you sit down beside her, and it doesn’t take long before the warmth of her fur seeps into your backs, through your snow-soaked coats. You pet her side.
“Good girl,” you say, and she gives a pleased huff that steams in the frigid air. 
Truly, what would the two of you do without her?
Volo settles at your side, though not touching you, and he rubs his hand into her fur as well, sighing. 
“It’s only going to get worse in the winter,” he says with a sniffle, his nose red from the cold.
You nod. You know that he’s never liked the cold very much—was it truly only last year that you had run into him here in your quest to quell the nobles?—So you can only imagine that this was never his first choice of places to build a home. In fact, he probably considers it a part of his punishment. 
But you’re both trying to make the best of the situation. 
“You know I’ll help out as much as I can,” you say, and he laughs.
“I know you will,” he smiles, and your heart gives a leap.
All this time spent in such close proximity to him—time spent searching together, talking together, unlike when he was injured—reminds you rather forcefully of camping with him, so many months ago. Before all of this started. Before Mount Coronet, before the Distortion World, before his banishment. You think... you think, now, that he would take it back, if he could. He would un-say the things he said to you. Undo the things he did. 
Would he un-kiss you, too?
Would he take back the way that you talked by the fire at night? The way that you laughed together? He said that kissing you hadn’t been a part of his plan, but what does that even mean? That he had kissed you because he felt something for you, despite his plans? Or that it had simply been a spur-of-the-moment action, something that truly didn’t mean anything to him?
You don’t want to admit just how much you hope that he had felt something.
How much you hope that, just maybe, he still feels something.
These thoughts come unbidden, and make your face grow red—though, with the cold, your cheeks and nose are already pink, and you doubt Volo notices your worsening blush. But, as you look over at him, you realize you’ve gotten lost in thought... and that he’s been speaking to you. 
You blink rapidly as he gives you a very confused look.
“...Are you alright?” Volo asks.
“S-sorry!” You stutter, giving a weak laugh and trying desperately to look like someone who was not just thinking about kissing him. Even if it had been him that kissed you in the first place. “What were you saying?”
He’s still looking at you strangely. “I just said that I wonder how long the storm will last.” He seems to internally debate something with himself. Then: “you look like you have something on your mind, though.” He looks into his lap, picks at the fur on his coat sleeve. “Do you... want to talk about it?”
Your face grows even redder, and he seems to become panicked at the way that his words make you panic. But the fact that he’s reaching out, trying to be a good friend, isn’t lost on you, and you feel that if you don’t say something now, he won’t open up like this again. You close your eyes and sigh, looking straight ahead at the howling blizzard so that you don’t have to meet his searching gaze. 
“I just...” you say, trying to pick your words carefully. “I was thinking that this feels... nostalgic.”
“...Nostalgic?” Volo repeats, confused.
You nod. “Traveling with you like this.”
“Oh,” he says, understanding. “I see.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek. When he says nothing else, you continue: “did you... enjoy it? Even a little bit?”
You sneak a glance at him in your periphery; he’s become quite interested in the buttons of his coat.
You sigh again. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it. I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes,” he interrupts, quietly, and you stop mid-sentence, snapping your mouth shut.
Now, you fully turn to look at him, unsure and soft. His long blond hair is hanging over his left eye, as it always is, but he tucks his bangs behind his ear with fidgeting fingers, doing his best to meet your gaze. 
There is something so very sad in those gray eyes. You’d do anything to soothe it.
“I did enjoy it,” Volo continues. “And then I was angry with myself for enjoying it.”
“Angry?” you ask, prodding gently.
He looks away again, speaking quietly. “I was always going to try to take the plates. I reasoned that you were a stepping stone on my path.”
Your heart wrenches terribly.
“So every time that I found myself enjoying your company... every time that I had fun by your side... I knew that I was being a hypocrite, and I hated it.” He takes a breath. “But sometimes, when we would be hiking together, and you would stop, and show me something—a pokemon or a plant or something—I just... forgot. I forgot what I was planning on doing to you. Forgot that I was just using you for my own selfish purposes. So many times, I let myself get closer to you, even knowing that I was making it harder on both of us.”
He sounds utterly disgusted with himself, yet resigned to the past—and you wonder just how many times he had these exact thoughts while he was stuck in the Distortion World. How many times he cursed you, and then cursed himself.
“And when you kissed me?” The words come tumbling out before you can even attempt to stop them, your face stinging with heat, despite the glacial chill of the cavern.
Volo hangs his head. “It was... it was the last plate,” he says. “For a moment, nothing else existed. And again, I forgot. You were so happy. I was so happy. And for a moment... for a moment I deluded myself into thinking I could have you.”
Your face flushes, and he gives a sad, self-derisive laugh. “I wanted you so badly that I acted even more selfishly than usual.” He meets your eyes with his own, red-rimmed and watering. “I can never be sorry enough. But I am sorry.”
It hurts. 
It hurts to know that he did want you, in his own way, and it hurts that he used you. 
“And that night?” You ask, your voice nothing more than a choked whisper. Later that night, when he had kissed you again, with a desperation you had been sure matched your own—what had he felt then?
His lower lip wobbles. “I was about to lose you,” he sniffs. “I had this... this delusion that maybe, somehow, you would listen to me, would help me, but I knew it wasn’t true. I knew that I was about to hurt you. I knew you’d never forgive me. And I did it anyway, because I wanted to feel something like—something like that—one more time. I’m... I was so selfish,” his voice breaks entirely as he buries his head in his hands, his next words barely choked out: “I’m so sorry.”
Your mind is whirling, back to that night, beneath the stars: Volo’s desperate kiss, his warm lips against your own, his gray eyes like gathering storm clouds. You had been entirely lost, giddy, euphoric; buoyed on the tides of your infatuation.
He had been drowning.
You let your weight fall against his side, and he stiffens in surprise when you rest your head on his shoulder, reaching to place your hand atop his own. He looks at you, confused, as tears slip down his cheeks.
“I do forgive you, though,” you say, and he doesn’t pull away when you intertwine your fingers with his: long and slender and so recently toughened by hard work.
He shakes his head with a sad, incredulous little laugh. “And I’ll never understand why.”
You shrug against him. 
You’re sure now that a part of it is because you love him. You loved him then—you loved a part of him, even if the other part was a lie—and you can no longer pretend that you don’t love him now, even more so than you thought. He has done things that he cannot take back; has made mistakes; has hurt you personally—and still you love him. You believe him, when he says he’s sorry, and you believe he’ll never intentionally hurt you again. You believe that he has a future, and you cannot deny that you want to be a part of that future.
And, leaning against him like this, with the raging blizzard outside; this cocoon of warmth you share, this den of hope; as he allows himself to be vulnerable with you in a way he never could be, before... is it too much to believe that you could have it? Is it too much to believe that maybe someday he’ll feel the same for you?
If he had wanted you then, could he still want you now?
You give his hand a squeeze, and he relaxes against you, minutely, with a squeeze of his own. 
That seems a dangerous hope to hold. But in this moment, you feel quite sure that it’s a danger you’re willing to face, so long as you face it with Volo by your side. 
Or maybe you’re just growing drowsy, with Arcanine’s warmth at your back, and Volo’s at your side. It’s been a long day already, and surely he feels it too as he lets his own head fall atop yours, his cheek pressed to your hat. 
“Volo?” you say, though you aren’t quite sure what it is you want to tell him.
He hums in response.
You tilt your chin up to look at him, and he moves just slightly to look back, the closeness of him intoxicating in a whole new way. The depth of his gray eyes draws you in, the burning heat of your cheeks nearly steaming the air, and you find yourself paralyzed, so close you could kiss him.
You dearly, dearly want to kiss him.
You hope you aren’t imagining the way his cheeks go pinker, too, his eyelashes fluttering softly.
But before you can get too carried away, you find your voice. “We should take a nap,” you say.
You watch his eyes as he huffs a soft laugh, then re-settles against you. “Yeah,” he says. “Sounds good.”
And with Arcanine’s warmth at your back, and Volo’s hand held loosely in your own, it doesn’t take long for your breathing to grow deeper, even with the racing of your heart. 
For the first time, you drift off with Volo at your side, and everything feels right.
---
When you awaken, it’s to Ursaluna’s cold snout on your face. It startles you, and you splutter, waking Volo just as harshly. The two of you jump apart and rise to your feet, and Ursaluna paws at the floor.
Outside, the blizzard has subsided to a light flurry once more.
Cheeks flushed, you give a laugh as you shake your head. “Sorry Ursaluna,” you say. “Did you wake us because the weather is better?”
Ursaluna shakes her head and paws at the rocky floor again with a huff, and you frown.
“Do you smell something?” Volo asks, and your eyebrows raise.
She nods, and turns to leave the cave.
Looking at each other with renewed enthusiasm, you and Volo run after her with Arcanine in tow, and she leads you east with single-minded focus, toward a rocky tower you can just barely see ahead. When she reaches it, she paws at it frantically.
You grin at Volo, releasing your Graveler from its ball, and it throws the boulders aside with ease, revealing the entrance to a small cave, much like the one you had just taken shelter in.
And Ursaluna runs inside and begins to dig.
93 notes · View notes
lilchibi-chan · 2 years
Text
part 1
part 2
part 3
Hawks Mafia AU x Reader Pt 4 (part 1)
Hawks makes his way to the elevator of your apartment building and rides it down to the lobby. All the while, thinking about the ensuing war and what he can do to protect you.
This isn’t his first rodeo, but this time it’s different. He has someone he cares for, someone to protect. If Twice were to find out about you, that would crush him. He doesn’t want this to get any bigger than what it is.
It’s the next morning, 6 am to be exact. You hadn’t slept a wink. You make your way to the kitchen to heat up some water in your tea kettle. You take out a packet of tea from one of the cabinets and grab a mug to set your tea bag in.
You spent the whole night thinking. Thinking about Hawks. Thinking about when you’ll return to work. IF you wanted to go back to work at the diner.
You were still shaken up, as anyone would be in that situation, but you also knew you had to get back eventually.
You let out a heavy sigh.
Your tea kettle started going off with a loud whistle. You pour the boiling water into your mug, holding the small tab of your tea bag to prevent it from falling in. You let the tea steep a little before removing the tea bag to add milk and sugar.
You head over to your couch carefully holding your tea, as to not burn yourself with the hot liquid.
You place the tea on the coffee table and pick up the tv remote. You start to flick through the channels, despite knowing that the only thing really on at this time was the news and paid programming. You decide to look through Disney channel and Nickelodeon before finally deciding to watch spongebob.
You honestly just wanted it for the background noise, so you kept the volume low.
You return the tv remote to its spot on the table and pick up your mug. You gently blow and bring the mug to your lips.
You feel the warmth of the tea flowing throughout your whole body, as well as a sense of calm taking over.
You place your mug on the end table next to you, so that you didn’t have to keep sitting up for it every time you wanted some.
As time passed and the more tea you drank, you felt your eye lids getting heavier and heavier. Sleep finally taking over your body.
You decide to go to your bed, so you could sleep comfortably.
You lay down and instantly, the bed starts hugging every curve of your body and within an instant you drift off to sleep.
You start to dream even.
A soft breeze, started hitting your face. It felt like spring. You open your eyes to see a peach colored sky and flower petals falling from the trees.
The petals lightly floating in the breeze, caressing your hair and skin every so often.
You continue you to look up at the sky and it starts to turn a crimson red color. The clouds turn black. The flower petals that once caressed your face are no longer, as they turned into ash. Falling from the sky like black snow.
A hand comes around and grips your face to cover your mouth.
You start to hear a sinister laugh, followed by a menacing voice.
“He really thought I would never find you” the voice says, followed by another laugh
The hand moves from your mouth to the back of your head swiftly and you soon felt your head being pushed to the ground with excessive force, but before you could hit the ground, you wake up.
You look at your alarm clock and it’s 9 am. The shock of the dream still hitting you. A lump forming in your throat from the fear.
“What was that dream” you think to yourself
You decide to check your phone and notice you have a couple missed calls from Hawks, your boss and your best friend.
You decide to call your best friend first since you haven’t spoken to them since you both worked a shift together prior to the incident. They’re actually the reason you got a job at the diner in the first place. You’ve known each other forever and even made sure to get in the same college, even if you didn’t end up rooming together.
They started working at the diner before you did and put in a good word with the owner, who is also your boss, and you started work a couple days later.
“Hey girlyyy~” they say excitedly
“Hey,” you say, trying to match their energy
“How are you feeling?,” they start,“I’ve been trying to check on you, but I also didn’t want to corner you or your emotions if I called or texted too much”
You let out a small sigh/laugh.
“I’ve been holding up. Honestly, I’ve been kinda distracted to really stop and think about it,” you say, your voice coming out happier at the thought of your very handsome distraction
“Oh?” they say interested,“details please”
You giggle
“His name is Hawks and he’s actually one of our regulars”
“Which one?”
“He has blonde hair, these really beautiful, amber colored eyes and always wears like REALLY nice suits. Like nicer than all the other men that come into the diner.”
“OHHH,” they say realizing who you’re talking about,“oh he’s fuckin hot”
This causes you to laugh
“Hm really? I haven’t noticed,” you say
“Oh you so totally have,” they say teasing you
You laugh
“I was just joking,” you say smiling,“I have definitely noticed, but he’s also very mysterious and kind. He’s actually the one who helped me that night. If he wasn’t there I-”
“Hey, you don’t have to think about that. All that matters is yourself now and the scumbag can’t lay a hand on you again”
“You don’t know that though. If I go back, how do we know he won’t try anything?”
It was quiet for a second
“You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking”
“I-it’s okay. I’m sorry for snapping at you. You were just trying to be positive and-”
“Dude, you literally have every right to snap at me. You went through something traumatic. Something I can’t even begin to understand how it feels, no matter how hard I try. I shouldn’t have said what I said, so thank you for holding me accountable,” they say reassuring you
Again it’s quiet. You try to fight the tears from forming, but you feel your eyes start to fill up.
“…I was so scared. I thought he was gonna-”
“I’m coming over,” they say as soon as they hear you crying,“should be to you in about 5 minutes. see you soon.”
You try and pull yourself together before your best friend arrives, but the tears continue to fall. You haven’t cried until now and it just feels like everything is hitting you all at once. Like a dam that held in too much and finally cracked.
Your best friend makes it to your door in exactly five minutes and rushes inside, surprising you a bit.
Seeing the tears streaming down your face, they immediately pull you into a hug and rub your back.
“Let it out babes”
****************************************************
Once you get your bearings, your best friend makes you a cup of tea to help calm your nerves.
“Careful, it’s hot,” they say handing you the mug
You give a small smile, as a way to say thank you.
They join you again on the sofa, adjusting the blanket you have over your legs and put their legs under as well.
“Ya know, that’s the first time I’ve cried since the attack happened,” you say
“Sometimes when people go through something traumatic, their emotions can shut down. You probably held it in for so long that you finally just broke,” they start
“Y/n, you went through something so incredibly horrible and I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you’re feeling, but I am always here you and it is okay to cry and be angry and feel hurt. Whenever you need to cry or feel like you want to hit something, just do it,” they end, never breaking eye contact with you
“I’ve spent this whole time..basically distracting myself. Telling myself ‘no, this won’t break me’ and now here I am,” you say, a small laugh/scoff escaping your mouth,“I can’t let him take my power away from me. I refuse.”
“And he won’t. Y/n, you are not broken because of this. You have always been resilient, no matter what you’ve had to face and I know that you can will get past this. It’s gonna take time and a lot of healing, but you will come out on the other side.”
You lay across to the other side of the couch, hugging your best friend’s waist. They hug you back and rub your shoulder.
Tears slowly leave your eyes, until you let sleep take over.
******************************************************
When you wake up, it’s 4 pm. You basically missed the whole day, but that was the last thing on your mind.
You realize your best friend’s legs were no longer under your head, so you sit up to look around for any sign of them still being in your apartment.
You see a note on your end table.
went out to get food to make dinner ♥️
You hear knocks at your door and decide to check your best friends location. You see they’re still at the grocery store and have been for the past few minutes.
“who could that be” you think to yourself
You look through the peep hole and see Hawks standing there.
“H-Hawks, w-what’re you doing here,” you ask slightly in shock, but happy for the most part
“Well, I called and you didn’t answer, so I got worried. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he speaks honestly
“Yeah, I’m okay…physically. It’s been…kind of a rough day,” you say, not making eye contact with him
You feel his arms wrap around you and he starts to rub your back.
He walks you back into the apartment, so that you weren’t left standing in the hallway and closes the door behind the both of you.
When you pull away from the hug, you look up at him and he kisses your forehead.
Tumblr media
Art by cherryviii
Thank you so much for reading !! I’m splitting this in two parts because I have held it hostage for long enough 😂
Working on part two neow!!!
32 notes · View notes
Text
Chapter 1: Journey of North Wind
Narrated by no one.
Narrator: Silent snow covers the white city outside the window. White houses ring neatly around the crystal castle in the city center.
Narrator: Every yard has only one snow shovel and one broom. Every chimney has been swept, with no fire or ashes in the fireplace.
Narrator: The residents of White Castle, who fear neither frost nor cold, turn in early, but not before reading a chapter of the December Anthology. They even hum notes and phrases from it in their sleep.
Narrator: The north wind sings a discordant harmony as it passes through the empty chimneys. Snowflakes flutter with gossip from the road, falling silently as they hit the ground.
Narrator: The northern pine forest seems to have appointed itself guardian of the land, protecting the frigid Mount Noddley and woods from frozen springs.
Narrator: From there, the north wind winds through the meandering trails, circling the streets and rooftops of White Castle and leaving its cold whispers in every corner, except one.
Narrator: At the edge of White Castle, on the other bank of the ripple-lit river, sits the red city whose lights never go out.
Narrator: Even the well-traveled north wind halts here, doubling back to circle the tall tower in the snow-white city center.
Narrator: After a series of gravity-defying maneuvers, the breeze alights on the queen’s windowsill at the top of the tower.
Narrator: On a feathery bed softer than snowflakes lies the master of the keep - Queen Erika. There isn’t another face finer than hers in White Castle.
Narrator: A crystal ball hovers in the air, rising and falling with the queen’s breathing.
Narrator: It’s always by the queen’s side. Through it, she sees all in her domain.
Narrator: Even the wind wishes to peek into the crystal ball and catch a glimpse of not-yet-visited places.
Narrator: When the queen’s in deep slumber, the ball would show her dreams, and the past of a set of twin sisters hidden within.
Narrator: But now, permafrost glazes the entire ball every night and confines the dreams within.
Narrator: Only faint singing and blurry firelight slip past the frosty barrier, as if from a land far, far away...
Singing: Light the candle and wake up the quiet night... Embrace the traveling snowflakes and collect winter’s warmth...
Narrator: From where comes a voice more moving, a dance more deft than the north wind itself?
Narrator: Even the proud north wind must bow to the melodious voice. Whose voice is it, singing in so deep a dream?
Narrator: The clever and worldly wind recalls a Starsnow long ago, when it combed the most ticklish tree in the castle square.
Narrator: Snow fell off the treetop onto a girl in a white dress. A girl in red next to her giggled.
Girl in Red Dress: Erika, you look dumber than an apple-roasted goose, haha!
Girl in White Dress: Why didn’t you warn me instead of laughing there...
Girl in Red Dress: You only got snowed on ‘cause you were walking so slow. Just your luck - ah!
Narrator: More snow fell, this time on Erinka. The girl in white burst into laughter.
Girl in White Dress: Now we’re both lucky, Erinka!
Narrator: The sisters brushed snow off each other and left hand in hand, leaving their footprints in the snow.
Narrator: Erinka, Erika... That’s it, those were their names.
Narrator: “Ding dong...” The bell in the town square rings as the sun peeks out behind rooftops. It’s a new day, time for the wind to go home and sleep.
Narrator: Roused by the bell, the queen turns over and opens her eyes. The frost of the crystal ball slowly melts away, as if rising with its master.
Narrator: The wind yawns, greets the esteemed queen, and strolls away in the morning air.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
3 notes · View notes
rootedincuteness · 1 year
Text
PSA: Common Weather Myths With Fernadette the Fernwitch
 @fishthegenderwitch
Tumblr media
Resident Human: “An excellent question, and I happen to have an expert on hand to discuss this. Miss Fernadette is an experienced fernwitch who knows a lot about the natural world. Thank you for coming today, Fernadette.” *shakes arm nub*
Fernadette: “No problem!”
Tumblr media
Resident Human: “So... does the blooming of early flowers really mean an extra hot summer is on the horizon?”
Fernadette: *giggles* “No, that’s a myth. Much like a groundhog seeing its shadow meaning six more weeks of winter. There’s no direct correlation between these things. But they are ways that our great, great grandroot ancestors used to explain natural phenomena they didn’t understand. Lets discuss some popular weather myths!”
Tumblr media
Fernadette: “Groundhog day (Feb. 2nd) is also the pagan holiday of Imbolc, which is right in the middle between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. The sun is halfway through its travels on its way toward the Spring Equinox, astronomically speaking. The days are starting to get longer, and we can look forward to things like buds, new flowers, and baby chicks, bunnies, and lambs. But beyond that, there’s no way groundhogs can predict more cold weather. Whether or not the groundhog sees its shadow depends only on whether it happens to be very sunny on February 2nd or not! But it is a fun holiday, isn’t it?”
Tumblr media
Fernadette: “Now, to your question. Flowers blooming early in the season have no causative effect on how hot Summer is going to be. However, there are some roots - no pun intended, tee hee - in the natural world, both old and new, that are reasons why this has become a perpetuated myth. Old reasons include believing early flowers mean a longer growing season, and therefore a longer amount of time things have to heat up for the Summer, as well as a belief that an early end to winter means a more robust and warmer Spring is driving away the cold.”
Tumblr media
Fernadette: “Newer reasons have to do with global warming and climate change. Flowers today in certain parts of the world are blooming almost a month earlier than they were just forty years ago! This is because the Earth has become insulated by greenhouse gases in the atmosphere due to air pollution. Warm sun rays are reflecting back and forth against its surface instead of only once. These chemicals trap heat and light like an incubator effect, so Earth’s temperature has warmed up a lot! Early flowers don’t mean a hot Summer every time, but their early blooming is a symptom of global warming, which results in hotter Summers.”
Tumblr media
Fernadette: “As for getting slapped in the face by one or two more wintry blasts in March, yeah, sometimes that happens. It's just temperatures and humidity levels of Winter and Spring ping-ponging a bit before Spring finally sets in. Personally, I would love to have a big snowstorm in March, considering we haven’t had any snow here all Winter long, for the second Winter in a row. Two other common weather myths, that large acorns and squirrels with extra fluffy tails in Autumn mean a super cold and snowy Winter ahead, were seen last Autumn and yet we had no snow this Winter. So you see, things like that don’t have a direct cause and effect relationship with the weather either.”
Tumblr media
Fernadette: “But don’t worry, the first flowers of Spring, such as crocuses, hyacinths, tulips, and daffodils, are very resilient. They’re used to blooming early, so they’re not as fazed by cold temperatures as later-blooming flowers are. We’ve had our flowers covered with one of those last-minute March wintry blasts you mentioned, and once the snow melted, they were just fine! A fun fact about snow: it actually helps to insulate and keep plants warm when they’re covered by it. Counterintuitive, I know, but it’s true. It keeps them out of the wind, which is much colder than the outside air, and can protect against freezing rain and sleet. What’s bad for plants is being coated by actual ice for too long, or freezing on the inside, because the ice crystals can damage their cells once they’re thawed.”
Resident Human: “Thank you, Fernadette! This was all very informative.”
Fernadette: “You’re very welcome! Happy to help!”
Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
edgewaterfarmcsa · 11 days
Text
"its the most wonderful time of the year..."
Andy Williams was wrong when he said Christmas was “the most wonderful time of the year…”
It really isn’t.
Mud season on the farm is!
What are we to make of the weather thus far in 2024?  I am personally torn. I feel for my skiing buddies, but as a person whom is no longer skiing, I have enjoyed the relatively ice free footing and the temperatures that have allowed me to cut brush and indulge in an occasional bike ride, say nothing about economizing on the firewood.
Spring fast approaches, maybe a little too fast. There is a palpable level of tension in the Macs Maple Sugarhouse as to the uncertainty of the weather and that its impacts could spell a very short sugaring season. Climate change  has wrought some real havoc with the trees as we lost not only the tree fruit in most of New England in 2023 but most of the leaves on the hardwoods got burned off as well. This is abnormal stress that they can once endure, but they wont do well if it becomes a normal event.
Let’s shift to to greenhouse season and early considerations about vegetable growing.
We pretty much adhere to a chronological schedule for doing things in the greenhouse. Things are timed as best we can to provide flower and vegetable starts for our farm and customers in May. This plant material is all grown in a controlled environment, so it is a mostly weather independent schedule. However, what we do in the field and gardens out in the real weather and the timing of when we do it becomes a whole other bucket of fish. We time the first plantings of our spring vegetables starts for early to mid May, especially the field crops that take a long time like peppers and tomatoes. The first part is easy: seed and grow in the greenhouse. Then there is a general planting date (mid May) that is adjusted and affected by temperature and moisture. You can’t keep transplants in the greenhouse forever until all threat of frost has gone, because the quality of the transplant diminishes. Maybe you cant (or dare) plant because it looks like a cold front coming at you in 3 days. Or perhaps the ground is too dry and the supplemental irrigation has not been set up.  After planting, the frost sensitive crops will need protection in the manner of row covers….and a bit of weather related luck by avoiding late frosts. Weather can affect the successive planting of vegetables. In 2023 we had all manner of vegetables backed up waiting for transplant, couldn’t get them planted in a timely manner because we couldn’t get into flooded areas or the ground was just too saturated.
Lets forget about last year….not a minute too soon…
The question in my mind (and every other farmer) is this : Are we to expect a drought like in 2022, or a wet year like 2023? From what I am seeing today, I put my money on a drought this summer. Loggers are complaining about the water running in the woods, but down here on these well drained sandy soils I fully expect dust clouds in May when we go to work up planting ground. There is no snow pack to keep the brooks and streams flowing full bank into May. There is no ice in the brooks and rivers and I would say by the lack of fishing huts on area ponds is that there isn’t much ice there either. That is not to say we could not have a wet spring. We certainly could, after all, don’t we live in New England? The Connecticut River across the road looks navigable in a kayak today (March 3, 2024) without much water in it. Thirty years ago (back in the Old Days…) we worried about “ice out” in the river resulting in ice dams and flooding. The river rarely skim coats ice now, and didn’t at all this year.  So it will be pretty easy to get things pretty dry around here pretty quickly with a strong spring sun and some breezy April days.
Other than the regular weather concerns we think we are ready (mostly) to hit the ground running. We will put in our first two houses of tomatoes by the end of this month. Jenny and Ray are busily grafting the later plantings of tomatoes and seeding vegetables and herbs for later vegetable tunnels and outdoor planting. Ali, Aly, Sarah, Holly and Anne are already cranking out hanging baskets and transplanting seedlings. We have passed the annual housing inspections by NHDOL for the H2A crew, and we have a good start on family firewood for the upcoming winter.  Youth hockey season is wrapping up and winter vacations are over so there are a lot of bodies here working already. With Jenny and Ray busy grafting tomatoes, Steve is seeding onions and I am seeding annuals and tying up the latter part of vegetative propagation of ornamentals. The warmth and relative dryness has been very nice to work in,  a silver lining to all that is  potentially dangerous about a warming climate. By week’s end we will have 8 greenhouses up and running.
Game on.
And finally we should mention the turnover in some of the farm team members. During the 2023 season we lost two of our favorite team players. Ray and Jenny lost Sugar, the benevolent dog beast with a sweet disposition and a firm advocate at Edgewater for a Woodchuck Free Zone. Anne and I saw our old pal Dixie leave the building. She too had a nice disposition, an un paralleled love of riding in a car and intently scrutinizing my cooking at dinner time. But there are a few new recruits that have come with the advent of the new growing season, With Walter and Mina the senior dogs, the new trainees are getting acquainted and we are learning names. There also seems to be a new breed of farm dogs showing up. They are very nimble, quick and are small. They look a lot like small goats, but I am assured they are not…….
0 notes
alleyskywalker · 2 months
Text
First Sentence Meme
Continuing this from previous years… Put down the first sentence of every fic you wrote/posted this last year (2023).
Theon isn’t exactly overjoyed at this mission Asha has inflicted on him – leading the delegation that is to oversee the final prisoner and hostage exchange of the war between the Islands and the North.
Daphne is fourteen when her parents begin negotiations with the Notts.
“Oh!” Juliet gasps in surprise, burying her nose in the yellow primroses.
“Mercutio, nothing about this is a good idea.”
“I must thank you, ser,” Princess Elia says, barely lifting her eyes to look at him, even though Ned can still discern a spark of defiance beneath her reticence. “If not for my sake, then for my children.”
The rain is pouring down in droves when Evan finally gets back to the safehouse.
She came to the parlay herself, hood up and face in shadow, her golden curls hidden under the folds of dark, thick cloth.
When Sansa had first come to King’s Landing she had been dying to see the Harvest Festival done in the glory and spirit it deserved.
At the end of the war, it had still felt much like the end of the world.
Of course Edmure wants to make the announcement during the festival.
They do the best they can in the circumstances with her dress and maiden’s cloak – some lace and silk ribbon sewn onto one of her white muslin dresses to spruce it up, their house sigil cut from a ruined cloak and stitched onto one of hers.
When they part on the night of the battle, Sansa can feel her heart hammering like a caught rabbit in her chest, getting stuck in her throat.
Theon gets his first bow when he is six.
Robb woke to the rumble of the surf against the rocks below, a soft breeze of salty, spring air seeping through the shutters.
Theon — My son is six today.
The rain was making everything more difficult.
Much of what had always been frustrating about Potter’s gang and their constant mission to make Severus’ life infuriatingly more difficult than it needed to be, to put it lightly, was how they always had an uncanny ability to figure out when to accost him.
The battle in the Whispering Wood was a resounding victory.
Theon drinks his coffee black, dark and bitter, swirls of steam rising up in the watery morning sunlight spilling across their kitchen.
The Starks arrive the day before the Water Festival feast and main festivities, bringing their three eldest trueborn children as well as Theon.
“Here, Ben, in here.”
The rain pours down in sheets, a true summer storm swallowing up the city in the middle of an especially hot July.
“Here, in here!” Evan tugs on Regulus’ sleeve with one hand, holding his wand aloft to keep the shielding charm active over them.
Snow in May has everyone talking that Voldemort left a curse on England even in death.
There’s a hailstorm on their wedding day.
Sansa wears a corset for her wedding.
When they tell him his sister is back, Theon doesn’t believe it at first, even though Tris Botley’s lovelorn eyes are evidence good as any.
When they tell him his sister is back, Theon doesn’t believe it at first, even though Tris Botley’s lovelorn eyes are evidence good as any.
In Robb’s dreams, telling his mother will go like this:
“Are you ready to go?” Benvolio asked.
The tapestry that overhangs Draco’s bed depicts two mermaids intertwined in something that could be a fight or a sex-act, depending on how you look at it.
Dearest Asha— They say that dark wings bring dark words, but I cannot help but wait for a raven.
The first days of summer find Sansa walking through the wolfswood, hand in hand with her goodsister.
The serenity of the forest pulls Benvolio away from the hunting party.
The new embroidery pattern Sansa was trying had begun to finally work out.
Mercutio doesn’t remember how they met; all he knows is that he and Romeo have been joined at the hip since they could walk.
May in Petersburg this year is unusually cold, and in the early morning mist, a thin layer of frost covers the ground, tendrils of ice spreading on the cobblestone and corners of windows like frozen spiderwebs.
The Black’s country estate is sunny and peaceful in the summers.
When Wex was told he would be squiring for Theon Greyjoy, the late King Balon’s last living son and rightful heir, Wex wasn’t certain what to expect.
Alicent’s first experience with boys was when she was three-and-ten.
The heir to Riverrun was born in the early hours of the morning, before the sun came up and the moon had not yet set.
They say goodbye on the beach – King Robert is too impatient to go down to the docks of Lordsport so the invaders take their leave from the nearest convenient place where rowboats can be loaded up and pushed out into the waves to struggle back to the warships and galleys.
“Do you have everything?”
Helaena is splendid on her wedding day.
Alys Karstark is a bony, wiry girl.
Wozarding Berlin was more integrated with its muggle counterpart than Wizarding London, Pansy found.
“Tell me how my nephew fairs.”
No one comes to Sonya’s wedding.
He’s dying, is all Alicent can think.
It’s almost funny in a way – darkly, ironically, not the kind that makes him happy – that the first time Criston sees Alicent truly vulnerable is when she questions him about Rhaenyra’s activities, just weeks after their ill-fated encounter in the Princess’ bedchamber and the same day that Rhaenyra had stomped on his heart and shattered his dignity.
Scooter found him on the roof of the dorms, staring into the darkness of the park surrounding Eden Hall.
Anatole bites his lip, fidgets with the quilted blanket in his lap. “Fedya… I’m not sure I want to do this.”
The first time Mercutio kisses Romeo, they’re children running through the Montague gardens and playing tag among the hedges.
One day when he is seven and ten, Edmure’s father calls him into his solar.
1 note · View note
th3eterna1diary · 2 years
Text
This page is old and yellowed, stained, and ripped on the edges. The writing is that of charcoal. Today is a day like many others, I am not one to get into trouble often anymore, today is an exception. This is a gross and wet place we have found ourselves. Hey, the ground is still wet from the snow falling, the sky grey but still chilly from the south winds, it is spring after all. This alley isn’t quite nice, well we will have to pass the time while we wait for the Military out there to stop looking for us, here have some bread while we wait, let me tell you a tale.
 As it may be well known since many like me, yet not so, have come through this way as of late. The tale of the cold North, how we fought through our disputes and celebrated said fights with vigor, it’s all true. 
One story you may not know… is my own.
I did grow up in the north like most of the people I now call my own, at the time though when I was just a babe, they were not my people. I was born into a slave family that a Jarl was particularly fond of, I didn’t know why he was so fond of us at the time, I had not guessed either for I was too young. My father was a farmhand on the Jarls lands, Jarl Erling was his name, and my mother simply took care of me, it seemed that’s all she did... I was wrong.
As I grew I learned many things, to keep my mouth shut, always obey, and never ask questions you don’t want the answers to… but I wanted all the answers, so I never understood that rule. All I knew is any breaks in the rules would end in whippings. I got a lot of punishment because of the questions I would ask, where do babies come from, can I hear a story, why isn’t my baba back yet? Despite the fact I knew he was always working, he looked worse and worse every day, we could never talk much as a family because of the rules set down so I could never ask him how he was or simply talk. One day he left and didn’t come back, mother cried, oh, did she cry. Instead of asking what had happened, I snuck out to find my father.
My mother was torn by her grief and did not notice me leave, I took to the fields then the streets, nothing. Then, on the way back, I noticed someone wheeling a cart by, I thought it was weird, off-season, and all that, and it was dark enough so I followed quietly… maybe my curiosity got the best of me that night. The hooded man went to a nearby secluded lake, which I have many times seen smoke rising from though I have never been here as I am not allowed far from the longhouse. He had a small boat with straw all set up before placing a large cloth bag into the boat and pushing it out before seeming to leave. I decided to follow the boat out, seeing as it was going very slowly, so I waded out and slipped onto the boat, I quickly regretted it. What hit me immediately was the familiar smell of my father, despite the grit and grime, there was always a comforting undertone to his presence.
 So I wondered what he was doing wearing a bag. 
I was hit by a flaming arrow.
I screamed, it wasn’t the first pain I had ever felt, but the first most memorable. Upon climbing the boat I had covered myself in straw so I was easily flammable. Not knowing what to do I stood up in the boat and it rocked like the water was reaching for me. I believe I hit the water and stayed half-conscious. I remember it was all blurry. I saw the boat on fire, I heard confused yells, then some authoritative voice, and I wondered why someone shot at the boat for no reason, why was the lake so busy tonight… Why was I so tired?
I dreamt.
There was fire, but it was not at the lake. It was at the Jarls' house. There was yelling and screaming, but my mother was nowhere to be seen. There seemed to be a standoff. The Jarl Erling was standing in front of me almost protectively, and a blonde girl, shorter than me with braids and a mighty ax covered in a beautiful scarlet red. The warrior had others behind her, but they were nothing in comparison to my perspective. There was yelling, asking for surrender, and I felt compelled to, but the Jarl did not. There was yelling, commands from that girl, a blur… and then.
I woke up.
My Mother was crazed when I woke up, visually I mean, she didn’t say anything. Now I wonder if she was mute. The Jarl was angry, ferocious, raving that I was out at night, saying something about how I could have been further hurt and how he was trying to protect us. Then he put us in solitary for quite some time… too long.
A Few Months.
My wound healed very slowly.
It wasn’t without food, but it was without real substance. Bread, some greens here and there, but we both knew the Jarl saved the meat for his body men and a few high-price traders that came through. So really, my mother and I starved. One day, they forgot to bring us food, every night after that mother seemed to have nightmares, and every day my mother was trying to tell me something I couldn’t understand. Food came sparsely, and my mother finally got me to understand what she was trying to tell me. She pointed at me, gently bit my arm, then pointed to herself. 
I suffered from nightmares after that, but I also knew when the Jarl was going to let me out.
So, when that day came, I was awake and waiting. 
The door finally opened and the Jarl almost seemed pleased. Saying stuff like, since I had known when he was going to come; that meant his plan worked. 
I was oddly pampered after that, I cleaned the physical remains of my mother off of myself, all that remained of her was now with me internally, and spiritually.
Apparently, my mother was a prophet that let the Jarl know how the harvests would fare, and about future raids from the Norse, so the Jarl could prepare, and it was expected that when she had a child they would be a prophet as well, if not more powerful. 
I spent my time after that with the Jarl, telling him how the harvest would fare, telling him of unimportant raids, getting a brand upon the top of my right hand of his insignia, just an ‘E’ rune. 
Uninspired.
I knew the day was coming, so I bided my time.
There I was again, behind the Jarl Erling and the girl with the ruby-coated ax with the blonde braids. There was yelling, she was commanding Jarl to surrender, but he did not. Then there was a blur…  I moved. Using surprise to my advantage I took a grip on his ear causing him to bellow out in pain like an ox. I then whipped around to his front, leaped upon him as though he was nothing more than a fat cow and I was a wolf... I tore his throat out... with my teeth. With the force that I threw against him, I had hoped he would fall onto his back, but he fell atop of me instead, crushing my small form and all the air in it, and all the same, I held onto his throat between my depraved teeth. Breathing through the blood that was entering my mouth and lungs, until I felt him stop breathing. 
There was silence in the room, it felt like I was alone. Tilting my head I got the throat out of my mouth, coughed some, and whispered the best I could with what little language I knew into this now dead man’s corpse; Your Plan. Worked Out. For Me.
At least that’s what I meant to say before my rush wore out and I passed out under his corpse.
I was 16 when it happened, then I was a proper labor slave. I was not pampered as I was before.
 Her name was beautiful, the blonde girl I mean, her eyes were blue like ice and she was the reason I was free from that Jarl. Sure I was a slave now, to that of her own family and village, but I have a debt to pay to her, I always will.  
I got to choose my name as well, I was Nari since then. The Jarl never gave me a name, he simply called me "Thr Prophet," or "Girl."
And to the family that claimed and saved me, I took on their last name in private in hopes to do good by them.
The village was lively, and some of the slaves knew how to speak well so I got lots of help from others like me. I was often working with the medicine woman of the village, doing lots of wound mending, finding herbs, and learning how to read a calendar stick to tell when was a good time to harvest what. I hardly got those prophetic dreams anymore. I may have been a slave, but the environment was full of enrichment here, I felt no need to leave. I learned a lot about fighting from the Northerners I would practice at night with a stick as my sword and a bush as my aggressor. I did this many nights. 
Tonight was unlike the rest and I could feel it, but it didn’t feel like the bad nights at the Jarl Erling’s so I ignored it and went out to do my pho-training, believing I just ate something with more maggots than usual. I wasn’t all that subtle. The girl with wheat-colored hair found me practicing with a stick fighting a green enemy with no motive, I was silent, and composed, it’s what I’ve always known to do when I got into trouble. The blue-eyed girl passed me a wooden sword, that of a child's, hilt first and we practiced. 
We practiced a lot for quite some time, once I became good at the sword she taught me the ax, then the bow. She told me stories about creatures and gods alike, which I found myself very invested in. I tried to teach her some about medicines, herbs, and palm reading which I had just recently learned from a traveling merchant. Her anger sometimes flared up at my teachings, lacking in patience, she didn’t seem to quite grasp all the small things like that, and she was always more keen on fighting and the physical aspects of life. Then there were nights where we would kiss and explore each other under the dark cold blanket that was the night sky, it was never truly cold with her though.
I think back on it now and I wonder how many times she had come to the barn where the slaves slept, looking for me in the dead of night, and how long it took her to decide to follow and help me in my life’s journey.
Life as a slave was hard, but it got better after that. I almost seemed to be in semi-better standing with the majority of her family, and they treated me well. I even was allowed to wear regular clothes and work with the Medicine woman who was grateful for my help, even when I was a slave.
Then, for once in my life, there came a question I was not sure If I wanted the answer to.
Did she Long for me the way I longed for her?
I found I never actually asked the question. Even if she never said it, and I never asked, the answer was there.
I once had a dream about large humanoid creatures, Jottun as my love had called them, eating the families of the village though they all fought with axes and might. It wasn’t enough. 
Then the Horn sounded, waking me…  and the dream became reality. 
I left the village with the others, the bravest of the village stayed back to let us get away safely, no one left easily. All of them wished to die in battle and get to Valhalla, others knew it was not today that they would meet their gods.
The trail to Maria was tiresome and treacherous, we lost many, but made it in the end. Life was hard, Even I resorted to stealing food from other families to feed my people. Not the worst thing I’ve done, which is also why we both are here today, hiding.
My hjarta left to enlist in the training corps, a chance to fight back she said, I miss her.
 I should have gone with her.
1 note · View note
koifrog · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Visited an old Victorian graveyard last night 😳
15 notes · View notes
koto-wari · 2 years
Text
Reimeiroku -  Hijikata Toshizou & Yukimura Chizuru after story translation - Humble Happiness (ささやかな幸せ)
Note: As of 5/7/2023 this story has been included in my translation of Hijikata’s Reimeiroku route. It has been updated and revised on my livejournal.
Tumblr media
I found this clip on YouTube and it seemed to answer some questions I had after finishing Toshi’s route (more historical details, yay), so I decided to translate it. I don’t actually know where it’s from (based on the title of the video I think it’s an after story from Reimeiroku? I can update the title if someone tells me). I’m also 10 years late, but I recently got back into Hakuouki and I need to catch up on a lot (and now that I have a better understanding of Japanese, I can and I will).
Before you read, here are some notes:
While I do speak some Japanese (and enjoy translating as a hobby), I’m far from fluent, so it is possible there are mistakes in the text below.
While I tried following the wording of the Japanese text, I did add some extra words here and there to add more flavour or make some lines a bit more easy to read.
English is also not my first language, so I apologize for any errors there.
I added some of my thoughts on the actual content at the end.
***
The winter in Ezo dyed everything white.
In the corner of a snowy field, with nothing in sight as far as the eye could see, we lived a quiet life. It was a place well-suited for a hidden life where no one could ask us whom we really were. With even the animal trails leading to nearby villages covered in snow, going down the mountains was also nearly impossible.
It was a tough place to live, but I didn’t feel the slightest need to complain. No cold is too harsh when I’m together with the person I love. I could even think that the snow which piled up deeply was quite beautiful.
I always felt happy.
Then, one cold night--
“It seems like it stopped snowing, huh.”
He’d muttered just a few words before suddenly leaving the house.
I found it strange that he hadn’t returned yet after a while, and when I looked outside….
Chizuru: “……!”
The howling wind had gone silent and he was standing in the snowfield, looking straight up towards the night sky.
Chizuru: “You’ll get sick if you keep standing there. Please come back  inside…”
Hijikata-san.
In my impatience I had almost called out to him the way I used to a long time ago.
He had said it would be strange not to call each other by our first names as we were “in that kind of relationship” … so I started calling him “Toshizou-san” not too long ago.
Chizuru: “Come on, Toshizou-san…. Your body isn’t quite as sturdy as it once was. You have to take proper care of it.”
Though his body had survived countless battles, it suddenly seemed worn-out. I thought it was a miracle that he was still alive like this. That’s why I couldn’t just let him be and called him back, almost as if I was reprimanding him. That we would end up having this sort of relationship was something I couldn’t have dreamed of when I first met Toshizou-san.
Chizuru: “…H-hey… Toshizou-san? Can you hear me…?”
When he didn’t answer me, my tone got a little angrier.
At last, he turned around and headed my way.
Hijikata: “This isn’t such a big deal. It’s just that during nights when the moon is this beautiful, I can’t help but think about the past.”
He smiled wryly like it was too much to bear and let out a long sigh.
I smiled and nodded.
Though different from the mysterious beauty of the hazy Spring Moon he had praised, the almost transparent beauty of the Winter Moon gave me a heavy heart for some reason.
Chizuru: “The moon was also exceptionally beautiful on the night when I first met you.”
Though absolutely terrifying at the time, the memory of that moment was very precious to me now.
Toshizou-san squinted as he looked up to the sky, his breath white as he let it out.
Hijikata: “While we were changed bit by bit in the continuous bloodshed of the battles of the Bakumatsu period, the moon is the only thing that didn’t change…. Just like it has done until now, it will continue to wane and wax in the future ahead.”
I could hear that his words were hiding his true intent, and that led me to believe that he had a lot going on his mind. The memories made during the night come to mind more often than those made in the light of day. Of course, there was also that period where the light of the sun was poisonous to Toshizou-san.
Chizuru: “… If they knew you were alive, I’m sure everyone would be overjoyed.”
I blurted it out while thinking back on the days we had spent with everyone.
Hijikata: “Chizuru.”
He called out my name in a chiding tone.
Chizuru: “It’s not like I don’t understand. When I dream about contacting the others, it’s just that: a dream. Even though the Meiji Era has already begun, there’s still a lot of flak from the new government towards the old shogunate army…”
It would be bad if they found out that Toshizou-san was still alive, even though he should have died. If he would run into someone, they might end up destroying each other.
Chizuru: “But nonetheless, it’s something I wish for. It would be great if I could see everyone again, but I wonder if that day will ever come. Having been by your side for so long, I’ve seen first-hand just how much you were loved by them.”
I was convinced that everyone would want to see him again as well.
Like, Shimada-san and his men, for example, with whom he fought together until the final battle of the Hakodate war, or Nagakura-san, who left the Shinsengumi on our way north, but also seemed to have made it out alive. And though we had first received the news that he had perished in battle, it seemed that Saitou-san was also alright somehow.
And besides, if I was right about Toshizou-san, he wouldn’t just want to visit the cherry blossoms and offer sake, but would also want to pay their graves a visit in person; Kondou-san whom he couldn’t save, Okita-san whom we had to leave behind in Edo, Heisuke-kun and Sannan-san who both fought until the bitter end.
And so many others….
But there are also a lot of people of whom we do not know whether they are alive or not. Even if Harada-san had died in battle, there were also rumours saying he was still alive.
And then there was the person I’d met in Ezo just before the beginning of the final battle.
Hijikata: “… Chizuru, do you remember the guy who couldn’t speak? He had a katana wound on his throat.”
Chizuru: “I-I do. He’s the guy I found when Toshizou-san was treating everyone to sake, right?”
I didn’t know what their relationship was. Though I wouldn’t say that Toshizou-san and that guy were close, it did seem to me like they’d know each other from quite a while ago.
I’d fallen into silence, having trouble finding the right words, so Toshizou-san explained to me. His voice was calm.
Hijikata: “Ibuki Ryunosuke…. He used to be a member of the Shinsengumi in the past.”
Chizuru: “…….!!”
That caught my breath involuntarily.
According to one of the fundamental rules of the Shinsengumi, soldiers were forbidden from leaving…. Though it was of course a different story if a soldier could no longer fight for a reason, like an illness.
Chizuru: “Was that katana wound the reason he left the Shinsengumi…?”
The wound must have been life-threatening if he was no longer able to speak. I put my hands on the base of my own throat and cast my gaze down.
 Hijikata: “… Chizuru, let’s get back inside first. His story is gonna be a long one.”
He embraced my shoulders with cold hands.
As prompted by Toshizou-san, we returned to the house enveloped in a warm light. When I suddenly looked up to the sky, I noticed that the snow had begun to fall again. Lit up by the light of the moon, the white flakes almost resembled cherry blossom petals.
… Was it that sight that caused both him and myself to remember more and more of the old days?
***
Tumblr media
Toshizou-san gently stroked my cold cheeks as if he wanted to share his warmth with me.
Hijikata: “I gave him a photo of me and a lock of my hair and asked him to deliver it to my family’s house in my hometown.”
I could understand a couple of things from those words.
Chizuru: “So to you… Toshizou-san, he was someone you could entrust such an important task with.”
Toshizou-san gave me a terribly complicated smile in response.
Hijikata: “Yeah. It’s also why I will most certainly be treated like a dead man even in my hometown.”
Even though I’m sure both parties would be able to live happily if they knew he was actually still alive…. It’s sad that the way to get rid of this sadness is still out of reach. I spoke up while reflecting back on those days.
Chizuru: “Back then, everyone wanted to fight. Everyone was prepared to give up their life as a warrior. For those that had wanted to become samurai, your last battlefield…. They turned it into the place where you died.”
Even Toshizou-san himself was also prepared to continue fighting together with everyone, until the end.
Chizuru: “But… You sent him away from that battlefield, didn’t you?”
In other words, that’s exactly how it was. That guy shouldn’t have to die.
Hijikata: “Thanks for putting it that way. There are things even I can’t put into words very well.”
Toshizou-san shook his head and sighed in bewilderment.
Hijikata: “But what I wanted to talk to you about…. It starts way before both of us even met, even predating the formation of the Shinsengumi. Though I should probably tell you first about the man called “Serizawa Kamo” before I tell you about Ibuki’s background.”
Serizawa… Kamo….
I knew very little of him despite having lived with the Shinsengumi for a couple of years. That’s to say, I knew that he was a Shinsengumi commander who died.
Hijikata: “I figured you might have heard of him. You have been with the Shinsengumi until the very end, standing under our flag of truth together with its members. I guess one day I will have to tell you the stories of the Shinsengumi that you don’t know.”
I was so happy he felt that way that I clenched both of my hands tightly.
Hijikata: “It was all strangely unorganised. Though I know it couldn’t be helped, it was quite different from how it was when you joined.”
Chizuru: “Though I really like your cool and collected side…”
I kept staring straight at him while I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. It was a bit embarrassing, but I didn’t want to hide when I was speaking the truth.
Chizuru: “I also love you when you’re not feeling quite as great. I love the way you live, every little part included.”
Hijikata: “You don’t have to tell me. I think that’s exactly why I felt like I wanted to talk to you about the old times.”
Chizuru: “… … I-I’ll go make some tea. Since it seems like it’ll be quite a complicated story…!”
I was feeling more than a little embarrassed, so I stood up from my seat in a hurry
Chizuru: “O-of course I won’t make the western black tea that you hate, Toshizou-san… I’ll prepare that Japanese tea you said you liked!”
He tilted his head a little, looking puzzled at my sudden agitation.
Hijikata: “Hey, Chizuru, what’s gotten into you?  Don’t fret about it so much and come here.”
I shook my head and stood up.
Chizuru: “No, no, no, I have to make tea! You’ve been outside all this time, so your body must have cooled down significantly!”
I turned my back towards Toshizou-san and tried to head to the kitchen, but then –
Chizuru: “…Ah!”
He reached from behind and hugged me tightly.
*STORY CG*
Hijikata: “If you’re that worried about me, I’ll use your body to warm me up.”
At the sound of his gentle voice whispering in my ears, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks again. As if to tell me that this was where I belonged, Toshizou-san pulled me against his chest.
Hijikata: “Chizuru.”
My body was tense and I couldn’t speak up, but he called my name with such affection.
Hijikata: “You seem worried that I can’t meet with the living guys because I’m dead… But it’s not that big of a deal. Cause for me, Chizuru, it’s more than enough to be living like this with you by my side.”
Just as he had said, Toshizou-san gave me a satisfied smile. I felt his embrace become a little stronger, as if he was confirming my presence.
Hijikata: “You should already know that, for having continued to stand by my side and watch how I lived.”
I felt the tension in my body relax just a little, and I leaned into him as well.
Chizuru: “You have always continued to fight for the sake of the Shinsengumi, for the sake of protecting Kondou-san as its chief…. Even when you were called the demon vice commander, feared by the soldiers, you worked yourself to the bone for the sake of the organisation.”
I was muttering only about the memories from a time when I wasn’t allowed to stand by his side yet.
Chizuru: “But… When Kondou-san died, you started changing bit by bit, Toshizou-san.”
Hijikata: “I guess it’s because I lost sight of my goal. But because those guys entrusted everything to me before they went ahead, I felt like I couldn’t just stop.”
He never abandoned his companions who wanted to become real samurai, nor those who followed him believing in the standard of the Shinsengumi. Though Toshizou-san had called them a bunch of idiots, there was always a deep compassion behind those words. And so, he had always dedicated everything he had to the Shinsengumi, until the very end.
Hijikata: “And then I became a real demon…. I became “Hakuouki”.”
I remembered that vividly.
The two demons were fighting in a park filled with cherry blossoms and I remembered their every move.
Hijikata: “On that day when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, he fought against Kazama Chikage and then in the end the “Demon Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi” died.”
He spoke as if he was talking about someone else, his gaze directed somewhere distant. He absentmindedly looked around, until his gaze finally caught mine. He was smiling gently.
Hijikata: “Being here makes me feel like a ghost. But it’s not like I can just lay down and die when I have to use what life I have left for the woman I fell in love with.”
Chizuru: “….”
My chest hurt.
If I could fulfil all the reasons as to why Toshizou-san was still alive… I couldn’t help but to feel happy about that. Now that he was freed from all the obligations that were expected of him, I wanted to live with him forever.
That’s all I could wish for.
Hijikata: “To be honest, I was worried if it really was alright for me to keep such a great woman like yourself as my own. If it was alright for me to embrace you with these hands that have been covered in blood so many times.”
I wanted to get rid of his past hesitations and deliberately spoke up in a cheerful tone.
Chizuru: “Toshizou-san, no matter what you say, you and I, we look good together.”
Like the cherry blossoms which bloomed in spring and the moon which shone during the night. It was only natural that we were together.
Chizuru: “Though you have been saying we were idiots for wanting to become samurai and for wanting to fight while being prepared to forfeit our lives until the very end … It’s just one of those sides of you that I really love, so there’s no one I could have picked besides you, Toshizou-san.”
Hijikata: “….”
He let out an unvoiced sigh from his thin lips.
Hijikata: “When I was weak to blood and trapped in a vortex of hatred and punishment, you were the one who pulled me out of it.”
As he continued his slightly sullen voice was filled with various emotions. It brought a feeling of a pain that was rarely seen these days now that we’re living in peace. I knew how many trials he had overcome, how much he had suffered… My heart would always hurt more for him than it did for myself.
Hijikata: “Though I’m living with the woman I love now and I feel like I’m given a disproportionate amount of happiness every day. … Thank you, Chizuru.”
I felt the same about having been given such happiness, but I couldn’t put it into words. I wouldn’t be able to stop my tears the moment I opened my mouth.
People would say that we were living a modest life, but each day we had more than enough.
Hijikata: “… Let’s keep living while cherishing our two-person household. Forever, ok?”
Though it was a promise of a limited future, the feeling behind our vow wasn’t any less true.
He wanted to live.
That enough made me feel saved.
Chizuru: “…!”
All of a sudden, I grabbed at my stomach.
The feeling of discomfort disappeared as soon as it had come, and I wasn’t able to find an answer for him.
Hijikata: “… What’s wrong, Chizuru? If you’re not feeling well, you should probably head to bed.”
Toshizou-san spoke in a gentle tone to me, who was rendered silent. Before long I shook my head quietly, though I was a little worried.
Chizuru: “It’s nothing…. Though it would be a problem if I got sick, so I’m going to bed a little earlier than usual today.”
No way.
But, what if…?
Embracing the mysterious hunch in my chest, I thought back on how he had said “our two-person household”.
Though this modest happiness was more than enough for us…
Maybe happiness is something that increases naturally over time.
Of course, I had no certainty on the matter whatsoever, so it might be a little early to tell him.
Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that both of us would have to push our bodies  harder than ever.
Chizuru: “….”
I felt very warm.
Toshizou-san had given his great love to me and I felt blessed with my way of life. I wanted to tell him that, not with words, but with actions, and I nestled my body against his. Like a child sleeping in a cradle, it felt natural and peaceful.
I felt so happy.
I couldn’t feel any happier.
I slowly closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the person I love…
***
Thoughts after reading:
SAITOU IS STILL ALIVE LIKE HE SHOULD BE. YES! Also mention of Nagakura and Harada’s rumoured survival.
Actual Hijikata did indeed send a picture and a lock of hair back to his hometown, it makes me happy to see they included it. What they don’t mention, however, is that his katana (Izuminokami Kanesada) was also sent back.
IBUKI RYUNOSUKE?! I thought he was having the happy ever after with Kosuzu
CHIZURU IS VOICED?!
Looks like the Yukimura clan is growing a little after all. (❁´◡`❁)
If Saitou survived, he’s going to follow his historical path, right? So if Saitou turned into a fury in Toshi’s route and lives to the age of 71, does that mean Hijikata himself will also be able to grow old?
116 notes · View notes
lazyevaluationranch · 3 years
Text
On a post about the Blue Haired Girlfriend's quixotic citrus breeding experiments, @voidingintotheshout​ asked:
I mean, if you wanted a hearty citrus relative, why didn’t you just grow Osage Orange? They can grow as far north as Michigan which is surely further north than anyone could reasonably expect to grow a citrus tree. They’re not edible but then hearty orange isn’t either. Osage Orange are so cool and such a interesting historical plant from the Shelterbelt era of American agriculture. Apparently they do smell like citrus.
This is part three of three. Part one. Part two.
Now you've done it! It's time for A Very Brief (But Also Insufficiently Brief) History of Twentieth Century Hardy Citrus Cultivation! Growing citrus trees this far north is kind of nuts, it's true, but I promise you it is not even close to the weirdest things people have done to grow citrus in places where the citrus doesn't think it should grow.
A note: This post will written using the Swingle citrus taxonomy system, including things that are definitely wrong. The citrus taxonomic tree looks like that one box of orphaned computer cords I keep moving with me to new houses "in case I need them" except some sort of adorable five-dimensional kitten has entertained herself with them and some of the resulting knots are not technically possible in our space-time continuum. 
The powers that be gave us citrus because nothing pleases them like seeing a geneticist cry.
1. The Migrant Trees
The Soviet Union wanted lemons for tea, and they wanted to be independent enough not to have to trade with anyone else to get them, which meant they wanted to grow their own citrus. That part of the world is not a great place to grow plants that die when the temperature goes below zero, but at the foundation of the Soviet Union, there were citrus orchards in the warmest part of Georgia, along the Black Sea. Specifically, there was about, uh, one and a half square kilometers of somewhat implausible citrus orchard.
Hang on, it is about to get way less plausible.
This is the great citrus migration: any tree that did well in one spot, they'd try planting its seeds a few kilometres further north, or a few kilometres further east. Prizes were offered for breeding hardier citrus. Slowly the orchards spread, but they were extremely weird orchards.
It's usually a few degrees warmer at ground level than up in the air, and there's way less wind. So as the trees grew, they were bent over and tied along the ground. Some of them had the central trunk run in a straight line along the ground, with branches spreading out from it like the leaves of a fern, like an espaliered tree on its side. Others were starfish shaped, with the central trunk looped down until it ended up next to the base, and the branches sprawling out along the ground from the centre like starfish legs. The citrus trees were no taller than particularly vigorous strawberry plants, but they survived the winters, and you could throw a blanket over them to help them stay warm.
None of that helped if the ground froze solid, so they needed Underground Citrus. You'd dig a ditch, down below the lowest area where the ground froze, and you'd plant flat Starfish Trees or Flat Frond Trees running along the bottom of it, too deep to freeze. In winter, you'd just cover the ditch with boards any time the temperature was expected to go below freezing - citrus would tolerate the lack of light, but not the cold. Mandarins (Citrus reticulata) seemed to do best, so that’s most of what was grown.
It is a nearly unimaginable amount of work to grow citrus this way, along the bottoms of pits and trenches. We are experimentally trying to grow a Soviet-developed mandarin breed of unknown parentage, Shirokolistvennyi, but we will definitely not be putting in that level of effort.
2. The Mixed Up Trees
There are a couple species of citrus that tolerate cold well, but taste awful. A lot of effort has gone into crossbreeding them with more edible citrus. The results are ... mixed.
The Ichang Papeda (Citrus cavaleriei) generally survives temperatures down to -18 degrees C. It is stoic and calm and has mastered emptiness. Unfortunately, it has mastered emptiness too well. The fruit smells like lemons, with maybe a hint of rose, but there's nothing to eat here. It has a rind and seeds. No juice, no flesh.
Tumblr media
(Photo by Michael Saalfield)
The Ichang Papeda is the parent or grandparent to several delicious, extremely sour Asian citrus types. Yuzu/yuja smells like grapefruit and clean wet stones from the bottom of a fast-flowing stream. Sudachi smells like grapefruit and leaves with dew on them. (I haven't met kabosu or any other papeda hybrids personally, but they are numerous.)  They're all too sour to eat plain, unless you really need to turn your face inside out for some reason, but make for excellent flavouring. 
(We have a yuzu tree and a sudachi tree and they're surviving, but no fruit yet.)
Trifoliate orange (Poncirus trifoliata) can survive temperatures down to -30 degrees C. This may be partly because, uniquely amoung citrus, they can drop leaves in autumn or winter and regrow them in spring, like a maple tree. They also produce an internal antifreeze. They are angry, twisted, thorny little plants that yell swears when you walk past them. They make a great hedge. The fruit is furry, smells like flowers and pine trees and taste like burnt, bitter plastic. It may or may not be possible to breed the horrible taste completely out of trifoliate oranges without losing cold-hardiness, if it's due to their antifreeze chemicals. Here’s Stabby:
Tumblr media
(Photo by Rob Hille)
Even the least terrible trifoliate crossbreeds are bitter enough to qualify as “acquired tastes.” There are recipes for trifoliate marmalade: put a dozen trifoliate oranges, a kilogram of sugar, and a kilogram of pebbles in a pot, cook until it gels, then sieve out the oranges and eat the pebbles. 
We are growing a trifoliate orange / minneola orange hybrid. And, of course, someday our own trifoliate hybrids. The Blue Haired Girlfriend planted 200 trifoliate oranges a couple years ago. There are fewer now, but the survivors have lived through two winters of snow and frost, and they might have somehow gotten more stabby. We're going to breed them, to each other or to less angry fruit, try and make something new and good from them.
I've limited this post to twentieth century hardy citrus breeding, but I have to give a shoutout to somatic hybridization, a decidedly twenty first century technique, where you take a cell from each of two different plants, remove their cell walls, put them next to eachother, and shock them with electricity until they merge into a single cell whose nucleus contains all genes from both plants. Then the new plant is like, "Wow, I guess these are all my genes? It seems like a lot, haha, but it's not like somebody made me from dismembered body parts and electricity, that is not how science works. Anyway I guess it's time to do some plant stuff now."
3. The Mutant Trees
In the 1950s, people started using radiation to randomly scramble the genes of plants. You'd irradiate seeds enough to change the genes somehow, and then you'd have to plant them to see what had happened. Maybe it was people horrified by the atomic bomb desperately wanting to find some life-supporting use for atomic fission, maybe it was government-supported cold war "atom bombs are good actually, look how many we have, USSR" propaganda. Probably both. 
This time period also saw serious plans for Orion, a spaceship with a huge metal plate for a butt, intended to be propelled by exploding atomic bombs under it, which I am not actually making up.
Thousands of people in Europe and the US signed up to receive seeds with random mutations in the mail, plant them, and report back on what they heck they grew into and if it had any useful weirdness. (The gamma radiation used to mutate the seeds did not make them radioactive themselves - the seeds were completely safe.) There were also more formal and carefully controlled university research programs in China, Japan, and the US, where plants where grown in a circular research garden with a coverable radiation source at the centre, so that the farther you got from the centre, the less radiation the plants got. Radiation breeding is less popular than it used to be, but Japan still has a very productive citrus radiation breeding program.
The most popular radiation-bred citrus is the "Rio Red" grapefruit and its offspring, which has a much deeper red than non-mutant red grapefruit.
There aren't many radiation-developed citrus breeds noted for cold-hardiness - with radiation you get whatever you get  - but there are a few, and I want one just because I think they're neat, a monument to that lovely human vision that looks at terrible weapons and somehow sees glossy-leaved trees with bright fruit.
4. The Monster Trees
Citrus are usually grown via grafting. That is, you plant a seed from a fast-growing sturdy breed, you let it grow roots and all that, and then you cut the top off and replace it with a branch from a more delicious breed. The two citruses grow together, and you end up with a tree that's disease and cold resistant in the roots, below the graft, but makes tasty fruit above the graft.
Occasionally, this process goes Wrong. 
The first recorded instance is the tree called Bizarria, discovered in 1640. Someone attempted to graft a sour orange branch onto a citron. But instead of a clean line between sour orange branches and citron roots, the graft was damaged somehow, and the two different species of cells got tangled and mixed through the whole tree. It has branches that produce citron fruit. It has branches that produce sour orange fruit. And it has branches that produce, uh ... these:
Tumblr media
(Photo by Labrina)
Most graft chimeras are made accidentally, when the graft site is damaged. Trifoliate orange is often used as rootstock, so there are many reported chimeras involving trifoliate orange and a nicer fruit. The mixed-up cells can be arranged a lot of ways, but it's possible to have the outside layer of the tree be trifoliate orange, and the core of the tree be the other citrus (periclinal chimera). This means you could theoretically get a tree with frostproof trifoliate leaves and branches, but fruit that doesn’t taste like burnt plastic rolled in quinine.
This lucky monstrosity has, in fact, reportedly happened. Twice. There is the Prague Citsuma, discovered in a greenhouse in Prague and suspected to have been created by a Soviet breeding program. And then there is the Hormish, discovered in China and thought to have been made by frostbite messing up the clean lines of the graft. The Blue Haired Girlfriend has managed to track down budwood from the Prague Citsuma - I’m so excited! - so we'll see how the fierce thorny monster tree with a heart of gold, or at least heartwood of gold, does for us.
5. Conclusion
Humans have been trying to grow citrus trees where they don't belong for nearly two thousand years, at least since the Jewish Diaspora and people trying to grow holy etrog trees - trunks gnarled as barnacle stones and the whole tree scented like the best dream you can't remember - in Europe. Maybe longer.
The Blue Haired Girlfriend's citrus-breeding schemes aren't going to singlehandedly transform Canada into a net citrus exporter. But history shows us: it might be possible to have a little gleaming sweetness from the stony ground here, with the ravens and the fir trees and the auroras. A sweetness we made ourselves, that exists nowhere else. 
Or maybe we'll just have a bunch of weird inedible fruit. I don't know, but it's worth finding out, worth weaving together leaf and thorn and stone and the light of our hands as the years unwind. Worth it to have a quixotic project we can expect to spend decades on together, hands and hearts. This is how home is made, sometimes, with a balcony full of angry thorny little trees that shout swears at passerby.
831 notes · View notes
teacupcollector · 2 years
Text
Out In The Open - Part 2
Main Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Summary- Being closeted in a normal world is hard, but being closeted in a fungal apocalypse is even harder. Ellie was your form of escape and you loved her more then words can describe. A year later your relationship seems to be on the rocks and when Ellie lets your secret slip someone with an affinity for tattoos comes to your rescue. Warnings: illusions to coerced sex, homophobia, language, unsafe households.
A/N: If anyone is in an unsafe enviroment please remember that it is alright to reach out and get help. Remember you are loved no matter what anyone says. :)
Tumblr media
The journey was long as the snow fell against your skin. It was cold and tiring as you approached a building. “What is this Cat?” “It’s a hot spring...” She says and Jesse nods. “It is natural so I hope it sooths your body a little bit.” You nod. “How do we know it’s safe?” You ask and Jesse pulls up next to you. “I will be keeping a look out. There is no need to worry okay?” He says placing a hand on your shoulder. 
You nod and follow Cat closer to the natural spring. She hops off her horse and you follow suit. You tie your horse up and follow her to the nice pond. She turns around and you look around to see if Jesse is gone before you undress and get into the water. Cat follows suit but makes sure to keep her distance. You lean your head against the rocks as you recline back to ease your bruised body. You sniffle when you look down at yourself. You feel your face flush red with embarrassment. You feel Cats eyes on you and look over. She has Tattoos lining her arms and some on her legs. 
“I could give you a tattoo if you want.” She says propping up her arm looking at you. Her eyes scan your body. Not in a lustful way more of a concerned way as she sees the bruises littering your body. “You would do that?” You ask and she nods. “They hide bruises and scars pretty well...” She says slowly and you nod again. “But I don’t want you to hide from this... I’d like for you to talk to me.” You sigh. “Other then the fact I got my shit handed to me?” “The fact that you went to Ellie’s and came back.” You whimper and cover your face with your hands. “She is sleeping with someone else. I saw them together. Ellie looked so relaxed under her.” You sniffle. “She was never like that with me... All I ever did was stressed her out.” Your breathing begins to pick up as you begin to ramble. “N-Now I am going to be dead by the time I step into that house. I am so sca-” You cut yourself off with a sob. “That isn’t going to happen.” You hear Jesse’s voice from behind you both. You look back to see his back turned and crouched to the ground as he makes a fire. “We have a strong community and you have a lot of people who care for you. We will stand by you and protect you.” He says and you smile. “Thank you but my dad is somewhat influential to this community... He could use that against me...” “We won’t let him (Y/N)” Cat says placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“So what now?” You ask looking at them both. “Now you are going to relax and watch the sun come up an-” Cat gets cut off by Jesse. “Then you are going to get out, get dressed, and eat a can of beans.” He says and you sigh. “Beans? Why beans?” You ask and Jesse scoffs. “Because I said so... And it was the only thing I could grab on the go. You need to eat...” You nod and recline back against the rocks again. “What am I going to do about Ellie?” You ask the both of them. “What do you want to do?” Cat asks. “I want to confront her... But I don’t know if I am ready for that yet.” Cat nods in understanding. “I mean she was my first girlfriend and my first ever relationship. I have never gone through this before...” You say as a few stray tears fall down your cheeks. “It hurts a lot... I mean I saw this coming... I was never going to be enough for her. I’m just a coward.” You mumble. “Don’t go on saying shit like that. “Jesse says his footsteps drawing closer. You cover your chest and cross your legs to cover yourself. “JESSE!” You exclaim. He isn’t looking at either of you. “You are more then enough for anyone who is lucky to have you! Now watch the fucking sunset and think about Christmas and puppies or some shit.” Cat who is just as covered as you are nods in agreement. “You are worth more then you think (Y/N). Your shit father can’t take that away from you.” You nod and sigh as you watch the sunrise over the horizon.
Ellie wakes up to the early morning sunrays seeping through the curtains. She rolls over to her side and wrap her arms around the figure next to her. She smiles to herself until she opens her eyes. “Dina?” Ellie asks more to herself then the figure sleeping next to her. Ellie looks underneath the blanket and curses. “Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck did I do?” Dina moves against Ellie only to be shoved back. “What the fuck Ellie!” She exclaims. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?!” Ellie shouts. “Making you feel appreciated. At least that is what you said last night. “ Dina says sitting up. “I wouldn’t fucking say that. I wouldn’t fucking sleep with you. I have a girlfriend! Sh-” “Didn’t appreciate you enough. Believe it or not you said it.” Ellie scowls at her. “I was drinking last night...” She leans forward toward and sniffs Dina’s breath. “What the fuck are you doing?” She asks. “You don’t smell like alcohol. Why the fuck don’t you smell like it!” “Maybe because I wasn’t drinking?” She asks a “Duh” tone in her voice. 
“Yet I was! Why would you come on to me like that! You must have known I was vulnerable!” Ellie shouts. “It was actually you that came on to me.” “That doesn’t mean I wanted it! Oh god what am I going to tell (Y/N).” Tears begin to collect in her eyes. “You are going to look me in the face and tell me you regret last night.” Dina says crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes Dina. I do. I have a wonderful, beautiful girlfriend who loves me and I did this to her.” “Tell me that you don’t remember everything you did...” Dina says suddenly sounding sad. “What do you mean?” Ellie asks frightened. “You outted her to the entire town last night... Including her dad and he didn’t look happy.” “Get out.” Dina looks shocked. “What?” “I said: Get. Out.” Ellie growls as she starts putting on her clothes from last night. “Wai-” “GET THE FUCK OUT DINA!” Ellie screams at the top of her lungs. This makes Dina jump and quickly get dressed.
Ellie does the same putting on her usual hoodie and quickly marches out. Dina following behind her. Joel begins to walk out the back door. “He must have heard the commotion” Dina says and Ellie shoots her a glare. Ellie makes a beeline for the street keeping her eyes peeled for you. The sun is well into the sky as she looks over the town. She begins to make her way to your house when he sees your father throwing things on the street. From pictures of you, to your jewlery box, to your stuffed animals they were all being thrown out. “What the hell is going on?” Ellie exclaims and your father scowls. “What do you think? That bitch isn’t staying here anymore.” He says tossing out another box of your stuff. “Well where is she?” Ellie asks feeling more on edge by the second. “Thought she was with you with what ever you fa-” Ellie cuts him off. “What the fuck is that?” She says gesturing to his hand. She sees that it his knuckles are bruised. “Did you fucking touch her! Did you lay your fucking hands on her!” She cries and begins storming up to him. “So what if I did. She needed to repent to which she refused. She is gone now so it doesn’t matter.” He grunts. This makes Ellie snap. She throws a quick jab to his noise and it gushes with blood. 
“You fucking bitch!” He shouts as he grabs his nose with one hand and her hoodie with the other. They both go for another punch when she is suddenly free from his grasp. “You keep you hands off of her.” The voice of Joel echoes throughout the space. “She fucking broke my nose that bi-” Joel kicks him in the knee causing a loud crack to resonate through the air. Your father cries out in pain falling to the ground. He grips his leg which is bent at a weird angle. “I don’t tolerate bullshit (Y/F/N) (Your fathers name). And you beating on your kid is bullshit.” He says and stands over him placing his foot over your dads leg and pressing down. He cries out again. “If you ever lay your hands on her...” He points to Ellie. “Your kid or anybody else here I swear I will...” “Will what you fucking chump!” Joel twists his foot causing your dad to whine. “That is for me to know and you to find out...” Joel growls out. Ellie has never seen this side of Joel before. He has never been this malicious towards anything. Ellie felt a coldness seep in her bones but was suddenly brought out of it by the sound of Tommy’s voice. 
“What are you doing Joel!” Tommy says with a tone of annoyance in his voice. “Dealing with a rat...” He says and Tommy goes to say something but Ellie beats him to it. “He was abusing (Y/N)! Look at his hands!” Tommy looks and a glare sets in aimed at (Y/F/N). “Well then... We will take you to the infirmary and then we will deal with you properly. Lets go Joel.” He says walking over to Joel picking up your dad and Joel doing the same. “I thought I should let you know. Three horses are gone so I can only assume that (Y/N) was on one of them. They sho-” Ellie takes off running down the street, through town square, and to the gate. Just as she reaches it she sees You, Jesse, and her ex-girlfriend Cat getting off your horses. “(Y/N)!” Ellie calls out in relief. She begins to walk up to you but Jesse and Cat shield you from her. She can see the look in your eyes and she never knew how much her heart could break until just now.
243 notes · View notes